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Title: The Powers of Europe and Fall of Sebastopol
Author: Officer, A British
Language: English
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[Illustration: THE BATTLE-FIELD OF THE NATIONS.
A Panoramic View of the Seat of War around Sebastopol, including
Danubian Provinces, Turkey, Asia Minor, Southern Russia, and the
Crimea, from a Survey by order of Louis Napoleon, Emperor of France.
Published by HIGGINS & BRADLEY, 20 Washington Street, Boston.]
THE
POWERS OF EUROPE
AND
FALL OF SEBASTOPOL.
BY A BRITISH OFFICER.
ILLUSTRATED FROM SUPERIOR PHOTOGRAPHS.
BOSTON:
HIGGINS AND BRADLEY,
20 WASHINGTON STREET.
1856.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
HIGGINS & BRADLEY,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States,
for the Southern District of New York.
PREFACE.
This work makes no pretensions to absolute originality being
partially a compilation, with incidents in the life of the Author,
who was an actor in many of the scenes narrated. He has striven to be
judicious in selecting, from the most authentic sources, only that
which would be interesting, at this crisis, to the general reader.
Some extracts are given entire; in other cases, long passages have
been abridged and condensed.
Information from a vast variety of sources has, in many instances,
been put together, and presented in a new and more graphic form.
Minute details, as far as practicable, have been avoided; whilst
the whole ground has been, more or less, completely surveyed. The
Author has sought to make a popular volume, which might be read with
pleasure, and be permanently serviceable as a book of reference.
The bloody sieges of Saragossa, Gerona, and Badajos, have been
referred to more in detail to afford the opportunity of comparison
with that of Sebastopol; while the battles of Austerlitz and Waterloo
have been described for comparison with those of Alma and Inkermann.
The origin and progress of the present war are detailed. The
biographies of the principal characters now engaged in the East will
be found entertaining; and the Author confidently hopes it may prove
a volume of interest and permanent value.
H. F. G.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Summary survey of Europe--Aristocracy of France--France previous
to the Revolution--Revolutionary Symptoms--The Great Powers,
1792-6--William Pitt--Execution of Louis XVI.--The Allies against
France--Siege of Toulon--Invasion of Holland--Napoleon--His early
youth--Thirteenth Vendemiaire--The Campaign in Italy--Rapid victories
of Bonaparte--Expedition to Egypt--Return of Bonaparte--First
Consulate--The passage of the Alps--Second Campaign in Italy
--Napoleon Emperor--War with England--Alliance between the Great
Powers, 1805--Indecision of Prussia--Alexander visits the tomb
of Frederick the Great--Battle of Austerlitz--Treaty of Tilsit
--Secret understanding respecting Turkey--British orders in
Council--Battle of Wagram--Annexation of Finland--Campaign of
Moscow--The Grand Alliance, 1813--Battle of Leipsic--Allies
enter Paris, 1
CHAPTER II.
Origin of the War in the Peninsula--Siege of Saragossa--Murderous
Character of the War--Success of the French in Portugal--Battle of
Rolica--Battle of Vimiero--Convention of Cintra--The French
evacuate Portugal--Preparations of Napoleon for another Campaign
--He subdues the Country, and enters Madrid--Address to the Spanish
People--Napoleon recalled by the War with Austria--Soult and Ney
intrusted with the Command of the French Army in Spain--Retreat
of Sir John Moore--Battle of Corunna--Death of Sir John Moore
--The British Army sail for England, 50
CHAPTER III.
Joseph Bonaparte again King of Spain--His Difficulties with Soult
--Second Siege of Saragossa--Another English Army, under Sir Arthur
Wellesley, lands at Lisbon--Battle of Talavera--The English retire
into Portugal--Siege of Gerona--Principal Events of the Campaign
of 1810--The English Troops make a Stand at Torres Vedras--Retreat
of Massena--Siege of Cadiz--Escape of French Prisoners--Opening
of the Campaign of 1811, 99
CHAPTER IV.
The Author, with his Regiment, leaves Gibraltar, for Tarifa
--Dissensions between the Spanish and English Officers--Battle
of Barossa--Retreat of the French--Suffering of the Pursuing Army
--Guerillas--Don Julian Sanchez--Juan Martin Diaz--Xavier Mina
--Continued Privations of the British Army--Adventures of the
Author in Search of Food--Arrival of the Commissariat with
Provisions--Extravagant Joy of the Troops--Departure of the
British Army for Badajos, 123
CHAPTER V.
Badajos--Its Capture by the French--Attempts to retake it by the
English--Wellington invests it in Person--Assault upon Fort
Christoval--Storming of the Town--Terrific Conflict--The place
sacked by the Victors--Disgraceful Drunkenness and Debauchery of
the Troops--The Main Body of the Army depart for Beira, 160
CHAPTER VI.
Brief Summary of Events for Four Years preceding the Battle of
Waterloo--Author’s Narrative resumed at that Period--Preparation
of Troops for the Battle--Skirmishing preceding its Commencement
--Reception of the News at Brussels--Departure of the English for
the Field of Battle--Disposition of the Forces--Attack upon
Hougomont--Progress of the Battle--Arrival of the Prussian
Reinforcements--Charge of the Old Guard--Flight of the French, 199
CHAPTER VII.
TURKEY AND RUSSIA.
Origin of the Ottoman Empire--Siege and Capture of Constantinople
by the Turks--Mahomet--The Sultans--_Abdul Medjid_--His popularity
and power--The Koran.
The Russian Empire--Area and population--Social organization
--Religious policy--Nobility--Serfs--Conscription--The Army
--Progress of Russia and extension of her frontiers--_Nicholas_
--Poland, 231
CHAPTER VIII.
HISTORY OF THE WAR.
Arrival of Menschikoff at Constantinople--Demands of the Czar
--The Sultan--Occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia--Conference
of Vienna--Protest of the Porte--Turkish forces--Commencement
of hostilities, 258
CHAPTER IX.
OMER PACHA.
Anecdote--His Birth--Reforms--Sultan Mahmud--Enlistment in the
Turkish army--His application--Expeditions among the wild tribes
--Appointed Generalissimo--Present high position--Domestic life
--Marriage--Personal habits--Kossuth and Hungarian refugees--War
on the Danube--Battle of Oltenitza, 268
CHAPTER X.
SCHAMYL, THE PROPHET-WARRIOR OF THE CAUCASUS.
Caucasus--Character of the tribes--Circassian slave trade--Birth
of Schamyl--Personal appearance--Form of government--His army
and body-guard--Financial rule--Struggles with Russia--Personal
habits--Legend--Circassian women in battle--Escape from the
Russians, 283
CHAPTER XI.
SINOPE.
Town of Sinope--Osman Pacha--The Mussulmans--The Black Sea
squadron--Exploit of Captain Drummond--Sebastopol harbor--Achmet
Pacha--Citate--The Battle--Turkey, as a military power--Christian
population--War in Asia--England and France--Declaration of War
--Embarkation of Troops, 298
CHAPTER XII.
TREATY OF ALLIANCE.
The Five Articles of the Treaty--War on the Danube--General
Luders--The Pestilence--Decree of the Czar--Governor of Moscow
--Loss of the frigate Tiger--Captain Gifford--Black Sea fleet
--Duke of Cambridge--Arrival at Varna--Captain Hall--Admiral
Plumridge--General Bodisco--Silistria--The Siege--Mussa Pacha
--Evacuation of the Principalities by the Russians, 309
CHAPTER XIII.
CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.
The Crimea--The Fleet--Appearance in the Bay of Baltjik--Sail
from Varna--Land at Eupatoria--March inland--Battle of the Alma
--Lord Raglan--Appearance of the Troops--Distance from Sebastopol
--The morning of battle--Advance to the river Alma--Russian
Position--The Zouaves--Storming the heights--March to Sebastopol
--Death of Marshal St. Arnaud--General Canrobert, 323
CHAPTER XIV.
SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL.
Bay of Balaklava--Landing of the Siege guns--Russian guns
--Sebastopol--Its appearance--Military harbor--Fortifications
--Vessels of war--The country around Sebastopol--Allies opening
trenches--Message of the governor to Lord Raglan--Bombardment
--Lancaster guns--Explosion in the French batteries--Russian
powder magazine explodes--The Allied Fleet--The Cannonade
--Riflemen--Battle of Balaklava--British and French Position
--The Combat--The Turks--The Highlanders--The Russian Cavalry
--Captain Nolan--Lord Cardigan, 344
CHAPTER XV.
SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL.
Lord Raglan--His life--Battle of Inkerman--Morning of battle
--Sons of Emperor Nicholas--The attack--Troops engaged--Fierce
encounters--Sir George Cathcart--His death--Russian cruelty
--French infantry--The Zouaves--Chasseurs--Russians retire
--Renewed attack--Repulsed by the French--Defeat--Sorties--Night
after battle--Treaty with Austria of 2d Dec.--Negotiations for
peace--The four points--Landing of Omer Pacha at Eupatoria--Death
of the Emperor Nicholas--Alexander II.--Fall of Sebastopol, 372
CHAPTER XVI.
SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL.
Siege of Sebastopol continues--Sardinia joins the Western Alliance
--Battle of Eupatoria--Sudden death of Emperor Nicholas--His
love and pride for his Army--His last Words--Alexander II.
ascends the Throne--His Manifesto to his Subjects--A Sketch of
him--Recall of Prince Menschikoff from command in the Crimea
--His abilities and failings--His Successors--Gortschakoff’s
Military Career, 393
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.
Summary survey of Europe--Aristocracy of France--France previous
to the Revolution--Revolutionary Symptoms--The Great Powers,
1792-6--William Pitt--Execution of Louis XVI.--The Allies against
France--Siege of Toulon--Invasion of Holland--Napoleon--His early
youth--Thirteenth Vendemiaire--The Campaign in Italy--Rapid victories
of Bonaparte--Expedition to Egypt--Return of Bonaparte--First
Consulate--The passage of the Alps--Second Campaign in Italy--Napoleon
Emperor--War with England--Alliance between the Great Powers,
1805--Indecision of Prussia--Alexander visits the tomb of Frederick
the Great--Battle of Austerlitz--Treaty of Tilsit--Secret understanding
respecting Turkey--British orders in Council--Battle of Wagram
--Annexation of Finland--Campaign of Moscow--The Grand Alliance,
1813--Battle of Leipsic--Allies enter Paris.
“The fate of the East depends upon yon petty town,” was the
exclamation of Bonaparte to Murat, as he pointed towards Acre, which
even his military genius was unable to subdue. Repeated and desperate
assaults proved that the consequence which he attached to the taking
of it was as great as the words expressed. The imagination reverts
from the position of the army of Egypt before that oriental city,
and rapidly traversing the events of succeeding history, runs down
to the position of the army of the successor of Bonaparte, and of
his English and Turkish allies, who, on nearly the precise parallel
of longitude, are unitedly engaged in besieging one of the first
strongholds of Europe.
In recounting some of the great events of the times which have
filled the world with their grandeur, and whose present and future
place in history overshadows the preceding ages, a rapid _resumé_ of
the situation of Europe, just previous to and at the commencement of
the great drama, may be useful, and serve to recall facts and events
which may to the general reader have been known but forgotten.
One who stands amid the gardens and grounds of Versailles, and
contemplates the enormous luxury and expenditure of its builder,
while he recalls his vast wars, his policy, and his intrigues, can
better understand the declaration of Louis XIV. to his assembled
parliament. “The State! I am the State!” And such an observer can
also discover the truth of that statement, that it was that builder
who laid the foundations of the French Revolution with the stones of
Versailles. The keen sagacity of the polite Chesterfield could detect
that approaching revolution a quarter of a century before it took
place; and his remarkable prediction shows how rapidly the signs of
the gathering storm must have accumulated in the years succeeding the
Augustan age of France. The energies of the nation had been devoted
to the service and pleasure of the monarch; they now began to be
directed to their proper end, the examination of their own interests.
From the theatre and the pulpit the genius of the French people
hurried precipitately into morals and politics, a sudden revolution
took place in the minds of all, and the conflict it produced lasted
during a whole century.
The exclusive privileges of the aristocracy, who monopolised every
official position, and who alone were eligible to rank in the army,
choked the development of the great body of the people; and
while they consumed the revenues of the State they were in a great
measure exempt from taxation. Cradled in the luxury of courts, the
aristocracy were sunk in vice and effeminacy. And they looked upon
the great body of the people as only a necessary appendage to a
government in which they had neither right nor control.
In the most martial nation of Europe the private soldier could not,
by the greatest daring or genius, elevate himself, because only the
aristocracy could obtain rank. The effects of the opposite system
were afterwards seen with Napoleon, who boasted that he conquered
Europe with the bivouac; with generals raised from the ranks.
The oppressions of the feudal tenure in France exceeded belief; the
people were even obliged to grind corn at the landlord’s mill, press
their grapes at his press, and bake their bread at his oven on his
own terms.
The fermentation which had long been going on in the public mind;
“the revolt against eighteen centuries of oppression” began to
develop itself rapidly. Yet the monopolizers of all the national
rights continued to dispute for a worn out authority. The court,
careless and tranquil in the midst of the struggle, were wasting
the property of the people while surrounded by the most frightful
disorders. When it was told to the effeminate and dissolute Louis XV.
that the nation could not suffer much longer, he characteristically
said, “Never mind, if it last my time it is sufficient for me!” Such
was the eighteenth century.
It was during the years 1787 and ’88, that the French nation first
conceived the idea of passing from theory to practice. The weak and
vacillating Louis XVI., the least fitted of all men to guide the
destinies of a nation in the throes of political convulsion, had
successively tried ministry after ministry, and one expedient after
the other; yet the ship of state was swiftly approaching the vortex
of the whirlpool in which it had entered.
“Upon what trivial events often depend the most important affairs.
The mistake of a captain, who bore away instead of forcing his
passage to the place of his destination, has prevented the face
of the world from being totally changed,” said Napoleon. “Acre,”
continued he, “would otherwise have fallen: I would have flown to
Damascus and Aleppo; and in the twinkling of an eye, would have
been at the Euphrates. I would have reached Constantinople and the
Indies, and would have changed the face of the world.” It was thus in
the assembly of the Notables, called by the intelligent, brilliant,
and careless Calonne, then minister of state, that a member,
complaining of the prodigality of the court, demanded a statement of
the expenses. Another member, punning on the word, exclaimed, “It
is not statements, but States General that we want.” This single
random expression struck every one with astonishment, and seized
by the people was immediately acted upon; the States General were
called, and the public mind was filled with the wildest fermentation:
France and Europe were to be immediately regenerated; visionary
schemes without number were formed; and that general unhinging of
opinions took place, which is the surest prelude of revolution. That
revolution now came, and in its tumults and convulsions the Ancient
French Monarchy rapidly approached its extinction. Amid frightful
disorders, famine appeared; the elements seemed to partake of the
savagery of the times; and the severity of the tempests of summer
which destroyed the harvests, was succeeded by a winter, 1788-9, of
unparalleled rigor. Soon began that vast emigration of the nobility,
which was afterwards succeeded by the attempted flight of the king;
while all authority but that of the Sans Culottes seemed abolished.
Foreign affairs became daily more menacing; the young Emperor,
Francis II. of Austria, was gathering his armies, and soon demanded
the reëstablishment of the monarchy on its ancient footing. All
classes in France now anxiously desired war; the aristocracy hoped
to regain their lost privileges with the assistance of Germany;
the democracy hoped, amid the tumult of victorious campaigns, to
establish their principles.
At length, on the 20th of April, 1792, oppressed with the solemnity
and grandeur of the occasion, the declaration of war against
Austria was received by the National Assembly of France in solemn
silence. Thus commenced the greatest, the most bloody, and the most
interesting war which has agitated mankind since the fall of the
Roman Empire. Rising from feeble beginnings, it at length involved
the world in its conflagration; rousing the passions of every class,
it brought unheard of armies into the field; and it was carried on
with a degree of exasperation unknown in modern times. “A revolution
in France,” says Napoleon, “is always followed, sooner or later, by a
revolution in Europe.” Situated in the centre of modern civilization,
it has in every age communicated the impulse of its own changes to
the adjoining states Thus, the great changes which had taken place
in France had excited all Europe, and spread the utmost alarm in all
her monarchies.
Austria, Russia, Prussia, and England were at that period, as now,
the great powers of Europe, and they were the principal actors in the
desperate struggle which ensued. They were in a situation capable
of great exertion; years of repose had fitted them to enter upon a
gigantic war. England, although she had lost one empire in the west,
had gained another in the east; and the wealth of India began to pour
into her bosom. The public funds had risen from 57, at the close of
the American War, to 99. Her army consisted of 32,000 men in the
British Isles, besides an equal force in the East and West Indies;
but these forces were rapidly augmented after the commencement of
the war, and before 1796, the regular force amounted to 206,000 men,
including 42,000 militia. Yet experience proves that Britain could
never collect above 40,000 men upon any one point of the continent of
Europe. But her real strength consisted in her great wealth, in the
public spirit and energy of her people, and in a fleet of 150 ships
of the line, which commanded the seas.
England, like other monarchies, had slumbered on contented and
prosperous, and for the most part inglorious, during the eighteenth
century. A great writer observed, that while America was doubling
her population every twenty-five years, Europe was lumbering on with
an increase, which would hardly arrive at the same result in five
hundred; and Gibbon lamented that the age of interesting incidents
was past, and that the modern historian would never again have to
record the moving events, and dismal catastrophes of ancient story.
Such were the anticipations of the greatest men on the verge of a
period that was to usher in a new Cæsar, and to be illustrated by
an Austerlitz and a Trafalgar, a Wellington and a Waterloo; and the
human race, mowed down by unparalleled wars, was to spring up again
with an elasticity before unknown. William Pitt was the great Prime
Minister of England at this time, and modern history cannot exhibit a
statesman more fertile in resources, and whose expedients seemed as
exhaustless as his great abilities. Fox and Burke, each distinguished
by a high order of intellect, filled the British Parliament with
their reasoning and eloquence.
The great Austrian empire contained at that time nearly 25,000,000
of inhabitants, with a revenue of 95,000,000 florins, and numbered
the richest and most fertile districts of Europe among its provinces.
The wealth of Flanders, the riches of Lombardy, and the valor of
the Hungarians added to the strength of the Empire. Her armies
had acquired immortal renown in the wars of Maria Theresa. At the
commencement of the war, her force amounted to 240,000 infantry,
35,000 cavalry, and 100,000 artillery. Her court, the most
aristocratic in Europe, was strongly attached to old institutions,
and the marriage of Maria Antoinette to Louis XVI. gave the Austrian
court a family interest in the affairs which preceded and followed
the French Revolution.
The military strength of Prussia, raised to the highest pitch by
the genius of Frederic the Great, had rendered her one of the first
powers of Europe; her army of 165,000 strong was in the highest state
of discipline and equipment, and by a system of organization the
whole youth of the kingdom were compelled to serve a limited number
of years in the army, so that she had within herself an inexhaustible
reserve of men trained to arms. Her cavalry was the finest in Europe.
The majesty and power of Russia was beginning to fill the north with
its greatness, and in her struggles and battles from the time of
Peter the Great, through her wars with Sweden, with Frederic and with
the Turks, she had constantly advanced with gigantic strides towards
the Orient and the West. Her immense dominions comprehended nearly
the half of Europe and Asia; while she was secure from invasion
by her position, and by the severity of her climate. The Empress
Catharine, endowed with masculine energy and ambition, had waged a
bloody war with Turkey, in which the zeal of a religious crusade was
directed by motives of policy and desire for the acquisition of new
territory which should pave the way for that future expected conquest
of the whole of European Turkey, and which should give Russia the
shores of the Bosphorus and the Sea of Marmora as her southern
boundary, and should make Constantinople, the seat of her commerce
and her power over the Mediterranean and the East, the centre through
which she might command the world. The infantry of Russia has long
been celebrated for its invincible firmness, and the cavalry, though
greatly inferior to its present state of discipline and equipment,
was formidable. The artillery, now so splendid, was then only
remarkable for its cumbrous carriages and the obstinate valor of
its men. Inured to hardship from infancy, the Russian soldier is
better able to bear the fatigues of war than any in Europe; he
knows no duty so sacred as obedience to his officers. Submissive to
his discipline as to his religion, no privation or fatigue makes
him forget his obligations. The whole of the energies of the Empire
are turned to the army. Commerce, the law, and civil employment are
held in no esteem. Immense military schools, in different parts of
the Empire, annually send forth the flower of the population to this
dazzling career. Precedence depends entirely upon military rank, and
the heirs of the greatest families are compelled to enter the army at
the lowest grade. Promotion is open equally to all, and the greater
part of the officers have risen from inferior stations of society.
The military strength of France, which was destined to oppose and
triumph over these immense forces, consisted at the commencement
of the struggle of 165,000 infantry, 35,000, cavalry and 10,000
artillery. But her troops had relaxed their discipline during the
revolution, and her soldiers had been so accustomed to political
discussion, that it had introduced a license unfavorable to
discipline. At first they lacked steadiness and organization, but
these defects were speedily remedied by the pressure of necessity,
and by the talent which emerged from the lower classes of society.
Such was the state of the principal European powers at the
commencement of the war. The celebrated 10th of August, 1792, came,
and the throne was overturned, the royal family put in captivity,
while the massacres of September drenched Paris with blood. The
victories of Dumourier rolled back the tide of foreign invasion to
the Rhine. War was declared against Sardinia, 15th September, and
Savoy and Nice were seized and united to the French Republic.
“The die is thrown, we have rushed into the career; all governments
are our enemies, all people are our friends; we must be destroyed or
they shall be free,” exclaimed the orator of the convention. Geneva
surrendered to the French without a blow, and the Convention declared
it would grant its assistance to all people who wished to recover
their liberty. Flanders was overrun by the French in a fortnight, and
they committed an aggression on the Dutch by opening the Scheldt, and
by pursuing the fugitive Austrians into Dutch territory.
While the tide of Austrian and Prussian invasion was rolled back
to the Rhine, the great frontier city of Germany was wrested from
Austria almost under the eyes of the imperial armies; and although
the campaign commenced only in August, under the greatest apparent
disadvantage to the French, yet before the close of December all this
had been accomplished. The execution of Louis XVI. on the 21st Jan.,
1793, completed the destruction of the French monarchy, accelerated
the Reign of Terror, and brought the accession of England to the
league of the _Allied Sovereigns_; Chauvelin, the French Ambassador,
received orders immediately to quit London; and this was succeeded
in a few days by a declaration of war, 1st February, 1793, by France
against England, Spain, and Holland. The audacity of the Convention,
which thus threw down the gauntlet to nearly all of Europe, excited
universal astonishment. The feeling of national honor, in all ages so
powerful among the French, was awakened to its highest pitch. Every
species of requisition was cheerfully furnished under the pressure
of impending calamity; and in the dread of foreign subjugation the
loss of fortune and employment was forgotten only one path, that
of honor, was open to the brave. The Jacobins, the ruling power in
France, were no longer despised but feared by the European powers,
and terror prompts more vigorous efforts than contempt. No sooner
did the news of the execution of Louis reach St. Petersburg than the
Empress Catharine took the most decisive measures, and all Frenchmen
who did not renounce the principles of the revolution were ordered
to quit her territory; the most intimate relations were established
between the courts of London and St. Petersburg; and a treaty between
them, which laid the basis of the Grand Alliance, was signed, 25th
March, in which they engaged to carry on the war against France, and
not to lay down their arms without restitution of all the conquests
which France had made from either of them, or such states and allies
to whom the benefit of the treaty should extend. Treaties of the same
nature were made with Sardinia and Portugal, and thus all Europe
was arrayed against France. A congress of the allies assembled at
Antwerp, which came to the resolution of totally altering the objects
of the war; and it was openly announced there that the object was
to provide _indemnities_ and _securities_ for the allied powers by
partitioning the frontier territories of France among the invading
states. Soon after, when Valenciennes and Condé were taken, the
Austrian flag, and not that of the Allies, was hoisted on the walls.
The Prussians and Austrians, numbering 100,000, were on the Rhine
early in the spring, and the Ring of Prussia crossed in great force.
The French army, inferior in numbers and discipline, retreated.
Mentz capitulated to the Allies after a long and dreadful siege,
and the French continued to retreat in disorder. But the Allies
wasted their splendid opportunity. The French retreated to their
entrenched camp before Arras, after which there was no place capable
of defence on the road to Paris. The Republican authorities took to
flight, the utmost consternation prevailed, and a rapid advance of
the Allies would have changed the history of Europe. But from this
time dissension began among them; and from this period may be dated
a series of disasters to them, which went on constantly increasing
until the French arms were planted on the Kremlin, and all Europe,
from Gibraltar to the North Cape; had yielded to their arms.
The mighty genius of Carnot, who, in the energetic language of
Napoleon, “_organized victory_,” soon appeared at the head of the
military department of France. Austere in character, unbending in
discipline, and of indefatigable energy, he resembled the great
patriots of antiquity more than any other statesman of modern times,
and in the midst of peril and disaster he infused his unparalleled
vigor into his department, and France became one vast workshop of
arms, resounding with the note of military preparation. The roads
were covered with conscripts hastening to their destination; and
fourteen armies, and 1,200,000 men, were soon under arms. The siege
of Dunkirk, undertaken by the English, was raised, and the Austrian
and Prussian armies were driven back to the Rhine.
The siege of Toulon, whose inhabitants had revolted from the horrors
of the Reign of Terror, was remarkable for the horrible carnage with
which it was accompanied, as well as for the appearance of a young
officer of artillery, then chief of battalion, _Napoleon Bonaparte_.
Its capture, which was owing to his genius, was accompanied by the
destruction of nearly the whole French fleet in its harbor by the
retreating English. At eight in the evening a fire-ship was towed
into the harbor; soon the flames arose in every quarter, and fifteen
ships of the line and eight frigates were consumed. The volume
of smoke which filled the sky, the flames which burst as it were
out of the sea, the red light which illuminated the most distant
mountains, and the awful explosions of the magazines formed, says
Napoleon, “a grand and terrible spectacle.” The arms of France, on
the frontiers of Flanders and elsewhere, now began to be successful,
while the dubious conduct or evident defection of Prussia paralysed
all operations on the Rhine; and before the close of 1794 the
Republican armies, in a winter campaign, invaded Holland and subdued
almost the whole of that rich country without a battle. Amsterdam,
which had defied the whole power of Louis XIV., was conquered; these
successes were followed by others still more marvellous. On the
same day on which General Dandels entered Amsterdam, the left wing
of the army made themselves masters of Dordrecht, containing six
hundred pieces of cannon, ten thousand muskets, and immense stores
of ammunition. The same division passed through Rotterdam and took
possession of the Hague, where the States General were assembled;
and to complete the wonders of the campaign, a body of cavalry and
flying artillery crossed the Zuyder Zee on the ice, and summoned the
fleet lying frozen up at the Texel; and the commander, confounded
at the hardihood of the enterprise, surrendered his ships to this
novel species of assailant; and at the conclusion of the campaign,
the Spaniards, defeated, were suing for peace. The Piedmontese were
driven over the Alps; the Allies had everywhere crossed the Rhine;
Flanders and Holland were subjugated; La Vendée pacificated; and the
English fled for refuge to Hanover; 1,700,000 men had combated under
the banners of France; and peace was concluded soon after between
France, Spain, and Prussia.
Napoleon Bonaparte was born at Ajaccio, in Corsica, on the 15th of
August, 1769. Corsica is essentially Italian, and to this day a
state of society prevails which differs from that of any other part
of Europe. The wildest and most deadly feuds are common among its
principal families. The people are turbulent and excitable. Napoleon
was too great a man to derive distinction from any adventitious
advantages, and when the Emperor of Austria, after he became his
son-in-law, endeavored to trace his connexion with the obscure Dukes
of Treviso, he answered that he was the Rudolph of Hapsburg of his
family, and that his patent of nobility dated from the battle of
Montenotte. His mother, a woman of no common beauty, being at the
festival of the Assumption on the day of his birth, was seized with
her pains during high mass. She was brought home and hastily laid
upon a couch covered with tapestry representing the heroes of the
Iliad, and there the future conqueror was brought into the world.
The winter residence of his father was usually at Ajaccio; but in
summer the family retired to a villa near the isle of Sanguinere,
once the residence of a relation of his mother’s, situated on a
romantic spot near the sea shore. The house is approached by an
avenue overhung by the cactus, acacia, and other shrubs, which grow
luxuriantly in a southern climate. It has a garden and lawn showing
vestiges of neglected beauty, and surrounded by a shrubbery permitted
to run to a wilderness. There, enclosed by the cactus, the clematis,
and the wild olive, is a singular and isolated granite rock, beneath
which the remains of a small summer-house are still visible. This
was the favorite retreat of young Napoleon, who early showed a love
of solitary meditation, during the period when his school vacations
permitted him to return home. And it may be supposed, perhaps, that
here the magnificence of his oriental imagination formed those
visions of ambition and high resolves, for which the limits of the
world were, ere long, felt to be insufficient. At an early age he was
sent to the military school at Brienne; his character there underwent
a rapid alteration; he became thoughtful, studious, and diligent in
the extreme.
On one occasion, while the youths were playing the death of Cæsar
in their theatre, the wife of the porter, well known to the boys,
presented herself at the door, and being refused admittance made
some disturbance; the matter was referred to the young Napoleon,
who was the officer in command on the occasion. “Remove that woman
who brings here the license of camps!” said the future ruler of the
revolution. At the age of fourteen he was sent to the military school
at Paris, and at _sixteen_ he received a commission in a regiment of
artillery. When the revolution broke out he adhered to the popular
side. After the siege of Toulon, Dugommier, the general in command,
wrote to the Convention, “Reward and promote that young man, for if
you are ungrateful to him he will raise himself alone.” He commanded
the artillery in 1794 during the campaign in Italy. Dumbion, in
command of the army, who was old, submitted the direction of affairs
principally to Bonaparte. His intimacy with the younger Robespierre,
and his refusal of a command in La Vendée in the civil insurrection,
led to his being deprived of his rank as a general officer, and he
was reduced to private life. But his talents being known led to his
being called to the command of the forces in Paris, which triumphed
over the sections; his decision saved the Convention. The story of
his introduction to and marriage of Josephine is too well known to
need repetition.
In 1796 Bonaparte took command of the forces destined to operate
against Italy. With an army destitute of almost every thing, he, in
a short time, overran Piedmont, conquered a peace with Sardinia,
passed the Po and crossed the Adda at the Bridge of Lodi. The nervous
eloquence of Napoleon, in his address to his soldiers, and the
splendor of his success, intoxicated Paris with joy. The first day,
they heard that the gates of the Alps were opened; the next, that the
Austrians were separated from the Piedmontese army; the third that
the Piedmontese army was destroyed and the fortresses surrendered.
The rapidity of this success, the number of prisoners, exceeded
all that had yet been witnessed. Every one asked, who was this
young conqueror whose fame had burst forth so suddenly, and whose
proclamations breathed the spirit of ancient glory?
“The 13th of Vendemiaire and the victory of Montenotte,” said
Napoleon, “did not induce me to think myself a superior character. It
was after the passage of Lodi that the idea shot across my mind that
I might become a decisive actor on the political theatre; then arose
for the first time the spark of great ambition.”
With pomp and splendor Napoleon made his triumphal entry into Milan,
to the sound of military music and the acclamations of an immense
concourse of spectators. The rapidity of the French victories in
Italy, and the destruction of the Austrian armies, sent to oppose
them, crowned Napoleon as the greatest chieftain of his time. The
marshes of Arcola, the heights of Montebello, and the plain of Rivoli
witnessed his successive glories. But while the arms of Republican
France were conquering in Italy, they suffered reverse and defeat
under Moreau on the frontiers and the Rhine; and the Archduke Charles
drove back the French legions who had dared to penetrate Germany. At
the close of the year the death of the great Empress, Catharine of
Russia, and the accession of Paul to the throne, changed, in many
important respects, the fate of the war.
In the midst of threatened invasion from France, a general panic
seized England, and while the public funds had fallen from 99 to
51, a run commenced on the Bank of England, which was on the verge
of bankruptcy. This caused those orders in Council in February,
1797--suspending specie payments, which, although only considered
temporary at the time, continued a quarter of a century. The defeat
of the Spanish fleet at St. Vincent, by Nelson and Collingwood, soon
quelled the fear of invasion in England.
The army of Napoleon in Italy opened the campaign of 1797 by
attacking, early in March, the Archduke Charles before he had
received his reinforcements. Napoleon arrived by rapid marches, with
his army in front of the Austrians, who had chosen, on the line of
the Julian Alps, the river Tagliamento on which to oppose the French.
By a feint, Napoleon deceived the Austrians, crossed the river,
charged them with fury, and drove them back with considerable loss.
They retreated by the blue and glittering waters of the Isonza, and
in twenty days the army of Charles was driven over the Julian Alps,
and the French were within sixty leagues of Vienna; pushing forward,
they came within sight of its steeples. But unsupported, and with
Italy in insurrection behind his back, Napoleon proposed peace to
Austria. Delay after delay occurring in the negotiation, Napoleon
declared if the ultimatum of the Directory was not accepted in twelve
hours, he would commence hostilities. The time having expired, he
entered the presence of the Austrian ambassador, and taking up a
porcelain vase of great value, and which had been presented by the
Empress Catharine to the ambassador, he declared energetically,
“The die is cast, the truce is broken, war is declared. But mark my
words, before the end of autumn I will break in pieces your monarchy,
as I now destroy this porcelain;” and with that he dashed it in
pieces on the ground. Bowing, he retired, mounted his carriage, and
despatched a courier to the Archduke, to announce that hostilities
would commence in twenty-four hours. The Austrian plenipotentiary,
thunderstruck, forthwith agreed to the ultimatum, and the celebrated
treaty of Campo Formio was signed the next day; and thus terminated
the Italian campaign of Napoleon, the most memorable in his military
career.
Returning to Paris, Napoleon was soon anxious to resume those schemes
of ambition which continually occupied his mind. The expedition
for the conquest of Egypt sailed with pomp from Toulon, and after
occupying Malta, and narrowly escaping the English fleet under
Nelson, the French army landed at Alexandria. Victory after victory
soon completed the subjugation of the Land of the Pharaohs, while at
the battle of the Nile the French fleet was almost entirely destroyed
by Nelson.
Cut off by this disaster from Europe, Napoleon projected that
expedition to Syria, which, unsuccessful at Acre, returned to Egypt
in time to destroy the Turkish army, which had landed at Aboukir.
Reverses in the Alps, the loss of Italy, the retreat of the French
to Zurich, and the capture of Corfu by the Russians and English,
determined Napoleon to return to France, which he accomplished in a
small frigate, which escaped the English cruisers. Arrived in Paris,
he found the government in disorder, and without a head, and, while
disaster surrounded the country, its armies had been beaten, and its
finances were in hopeless confusion.
On the celebrated 18th Brumaire (8th November), Napoleon having
command of the troops in Paris, accomplished that sudden revolution
which placed him at the head of affairs. His schemes of ambition
began now to ripen, and France soon felt in all her departments the
energy of his mighty genius. One of his first acts was to propose
peace with England. Disregarding the ordinary rules of negotiation,
Napoleon addressed a letter personally to George III., proposing
peace. This letter was replied to by Lord Grenville, the Prime
Minister, who declined the proposition.
Disappointed in his hopes of negotiating peace, Napoleon prepared
with renewed vigor for war. The campaign was the most important of
his life. Its daring and success are almost unparalleled in history.
Crossing the Alps, the highest chain of mountains in Europe, without
roads, his artillery had to be dragged over narrow foot-paths, up
the rugged sides of frowning mountains, and on the brink of awful
precipices covered with snow; while provisions and stores for a whole
army had to be carried by sheep-paths on the backs of men. Arrived
at Geneva, having deceived the Austrians as to his intentions, he
asked General Marescot, whom he had despatched to survey Mont St.
Bernard, “Is the route practicable?” “It is barely possible,” replied
the engineer. “Let us press forward then,” said Napoleon. Arrived
at the little village of St. Pierre, everything resembling a road
ended. An immense and apparently inaccessible mountain reared its
head amidst general desolation and eternal frost, while precipices,
glaciers, and ravines appeared to forbid access to all living things.
Yet, surmounting every obstacle, the passage was accomplished; and
a French army of 30,000 men precipitated themselves, apparently
from the clouds, on the plains of Italy, and appeared to the
thunderstruck Austrians, cutting off their retreat from Genoa, and
completely dividing their forces; speedily marching upon Milan,
leaving the Austrian army under Melas, behind him, he returned to
attack them, and at the battle of Marengo gained the most important
of his victories. By the close of 1801 the continental states had
all concluded peace with France, leaving her with the most enormous
aggrandizements of territory. A short interval of peace occurred with
England in 1802, which was broken by a declaration of war in June,
1803, and all the English residents between the ages of eighteen and
sixty were detained as hostages. Hanover was seized by the French,
and the English retaliated by blockading the Elbe and the Weser.
The war with Great Britain, and a conspiracy to overthrow the
authority of the First Consul, which was discovered, served as a
ladder for Napoleon to mount from the Consulate to the Imperial
Dignity; and on the 3d May, 1804, the senate communicated to
Napoleon this address: “We think it of the last importance to the
French people to confide the government of the Republic to Napoleon
Bonaparte--HEREDITARY EMPEROR.”
The Empire was proclaimed at St. Cloud, 18th May, 1804; and Napoleon
was crowned by Pope Pius VII., on the 2d December, in the church of
Notre Dame. War was declared by Spain against England, after she
had unwarrantably attacked and seized four large Spanish frigates
filled with cargoes of immense value. The rising hostility of Russia
and Sweden at this moment incensed the French government still more
against England, to whose influence she attributed their conduct. All
appearances foretold the beginning of another general eruption.
On the 11th of April, 1805, a treaty offensive and defensive was
formed between Russia and England, the object of which was to put
a stop to what they considered the encroachments of the French
government, and to form a general league of the states of Europe.
The accession of Austria was finally obtained to the alliance, after
great difficulty and delay: the deplorable state of her finances,
and the vacillating policy of her government, being (then as now)
stumbling-blocks in the way of negotiation. On the 31st of August,
Sweden was also included. But notwithstanding all the efforts of
England and Russia, it was found impossible to overcome the scruples
of Prussia, who inclined towards the French in hopes of obtaining
Hanover, promised her by France as a reward for her neutrality.
For ten years Prussia had flattered herself that by keeping aloof
she would avoid the storm, that she would succeed in turning the
desperate strife between France and Austria to her own benefit by
enlarging her territory, and augmenting her consideration in the
North of Germany; but at once all her prospects vanished, and it
became apparent, even to her own ministers, that this vacillating
policy was ultimately to be as dangerous as it had already been
discreditable. On the 25th of Oct., the Emperor Alexander arrived
at Berlin, and employed the whole weight of his great authority,
and all the charms of his captivating manners, to induce the King
to embrace a more manly and courageous policy; and on the 3rd of
November a secret convention was signed between the two monarchs
for the regulation of the affairs of Europe, and the erection of a
barrier against the ambition of the French Emperor. The conclusion
of the Convention was followed by a scene as remarkable as it was
romantic. Inspired with a full sense of the dangers of the war,
the ardent and chivalrous mind of the Queen conceived the idea of
uniting the two sovereigns by a bond more likely to be durable than
the mere alliances of cabinets with each other. This was, to bring
them together at the tomb of the great Frederick. The Emperor who
was desirous of visiting the mausoleum of that illustrious hero,
accordingly repaired to the church at Potsdam, where his remains are
deposited.
And at midnight the two monarchs proceeded together by torchlight
to the hallowed grave. Uncovering when he approached the spot, the
Emperor kissed the pall, and taking the hand of the King of Prussia,
as it lay on the tomb, they swore an eternal friendship to each
other, and bound themselves by the most solemn oaths to maintain
their engagements inviolate in the great contest for European
independence in which they were engaged.
It would have been well for the Allies, if, when Prussia had thus
taken her part, her cabinet had possessed sufficient resolution
to have taken the field instead of continuing in her old habit
of temporizing, and thus permitting Napoleon to continue without
interruption his advance on Vienna. But her long indecision had been
her ruin. Her territory had been violated by France, who, while
apparently her ally, was reserving for her only the melancholy
privilege of being last destroyed.
In the meantime, a combined force of English, Russians, and Swedes,
thirty thousand strong, had been landed in Hanover, and the Prussian
troops occupying that Electorate had offered no resistance--a sure
proof to Napoleon of a secret understanding between the Cabinet of
Berlin and that of London.
While she was thus giving daily proofs of her indecision and
treachery, the ever-vigilant Bonaparte was pouring his armies through
Bavaria into Austria and concentrating his divisions for the sweeping
victory which was so soon afterwards destined to scatter to the winds
the opposing allies.
We now come to the campaign of Austerlitz; the most remarkable, in a
military point of view, which the history of the war afforded.
In the beginning of August the French army was cantoned on the
heights of Boulogne; and by the first week of December, Vienna was
taken, and the strength of Austria and Russia prostrated.
The allied armies presented a total of 80,000 men, including a
division of the imperial guard under the Grand Duke Constantine,
brother of the Emperor of Russia.
The forces which Napoleon had to resist this great array hardly
amounted to 70,000 combatants.
On the 30th November, 1805, the light troops of the Allies were seen
from the French outposts marching across their position towards the
right of the army. Napoleon spent the whole of both days on horseback
at the advanced posts watching their movements. At length on the
morning of the 1st Dec. the intentions of the enemy were clearly
manifested, and Napoleon beheld with “inexpressible delight” their
whole columns dark, and massy, moving across his position at so short
a distance as rendered it apparent a general action was at hand.
Carefully avoiding the slightest interruption to their movement, he
merely watched with intense anxiety their march, and when it became
evident that the resolution to turn the right flank of the French
army had been decided upon, he exclaimed, prophetically--“To-morrow,
before night-fall, that army is mine.”
At four in the morning the Emperor was on horseback. All was still
among the immense multitude concentrated in the French lines. Buried
in sleep the soldiers forgot alike their triumphs and the dangers
they were about to undergo. Gradually, however, a confused murmur
arose from the Russian host, and all the reports from the outposts
announced that the advance had already commenced along the whole line.
Gradually the stars which throughout the night had shone clear and
bright began to disappear, and the ruddy glow of the east announced
the approach of day. At last, the “Sun of Austerlitz” rose in
unclouded brilliancy on that field of blood.
The French army occupied an interior position, from whence their
columns started like rays from a centre, while the allies were
toiling in a wide semicircle round their outer extremity.
His marshals, burning with impatience, stood around Napoleon,
awaiting the signal for attack. At last the word was given, and on
they rushed to the onslaught.
The results of the conflict in different sections of the battle-field
were various, the Russians and French alternately being victorious,
till Napoleon, seeing there was not a moment to be lost, ordered
Marshal Bessières with the cavalry of the guard to arrest a terrible
onslaught of Russian cuirassiers of the guard, two thousand strong,
which had already trampled under foot three battalions of the French.
Instantly spurring their chargers, the French precipitated themselves
upon the enemy. The Russians were broken and driven back over the
dead bodies of the square they had destroyed.
Rallying, however, they returned to the charge, and both imperial
guards met in full career! The shock was terrible! and the most
desperate cavalry action that had taken place during the war ensued.
The infantry on both sides advanced to support their comrades. The
resolution and vigor of the combatants were equal. Squadron to
squadron, company to company, man to man, fought with invincible
firmness. At length, however, the stern obstinacy of the Russian
yielded to the enthusiastic valor of the French. The cavalry and
infantry of the guard gave way, and after losing their artillery
and standards, were driven back in confusion almost to the walls of
Austerlitz, while from a neighboring eminence the Emperors of Russia
and Germany beheld the irretrievable rout of the flower of their army.
This desperate encounter was decisive of the fate of the day. The
Russians no longer fought for victory, but for existence. Great
numbers sought to save themselves by crossing with their artillery
and cavalry a frozen lake adjoining their line of march. The ice
was already beginning to yield under the enormous weight, when the
shells from the French batteries bursting below the surface, caused
it to crack with a loud explosion. A frightful yell arose from the
perishing multitude, and above two thousand brave men were swallowed
up in the waves. At noon the allies gave way, and commenced their
retreat in the direction of Austerlitz.
Those who escaped being made prisoners succeeded before nightfall in
reaching Austerlitz, already filled with the wounded, the fugitives
and the stragglers from every part of the army.
Thus terminated the battle of Austerlitz.
The loss of the allies was immense. Thirty thousand (30,000) men
were killed, wounded, or made prisoners. Of the latter were 19,000
Russians, and 6,000 Austrians, most of whom were wounded. Almost
the whole of their baggage fell into the hands of the victors. One
hundred and eighty pieces of cannon, four hundred covered wagons,
and forty-five standards, were taken, and the disorganization of the
combined forces was complete.
Twelve thousand French had been killed and wounded, making the
frightful sum total of that dreadful day’s carnage, 42,000 men.
On the 6th of Dec. an armistice was concluded at Austerlitz, and
Alexander sent to Berlin the Grand Duke Constantine to ascertain if
the Prussian King was prepared to join with him, according to the
principles which he had sworn to adhere to at the tomb of the great
Frederick, in the vigorous prosecution of the war. But the disaster
of Austerlitz had wrought a perfidious change in the policy of the
Prussian Cabinet.
An ambassador was sent to Napoleon to congratulate him upon his
success, and to propose a treaty. Napoleon broke out into a vehement
declamation against the policy of the Prussian Cabinet, and expressed
his determination now to turn his whole forces against them; but at
last yielding, the treaty was concluded, and a new alliance entered
into between Prussia and France, the former receiving as a reward
Hanover, with all the other continental dominions of his Britannic
Majesty.
During the year 1807, disagreements sprang up between France and
Prussia, which resulted at the battle of Jena, (Oct. 14th) in the
total discomfiture of the latter, and triumph of Napoleon, who now
became master of the whole country from the Rhine to the Vistula.
Passing the sanguinary contests of Eylau and Friedland, we come to
the treaty of Tilsit, the arrangement of which took place under
circumstances eminently calculated to impress the imagination of
mankind.
Certain misunderstandings having arisen between England and Russia,
and the latter power being somewhat crippled for the moment by
numerous defeats, an armistice was proposed by Alexander, and
accepted by Napoleon, on the 22d of June, which ended in the treaty
of Tilsit.
There was little difficulty in coming to an understanding, for France
had nothing to demand of Russia, except that she should close her
ports against England! Russia nothing to ask of France but that she
should withdraw her armies from Poland, and permit the Emperor to
pursue his long cherished projects of conquest in Turkey.
The armistice having been concluded, it was agreed that the two
Emperors should meet, to arrange, in a private conference, the
destinies of the world.
It took place accordingly on the 25th June. On the river Niemen,
which separated the two armies, a raft of great dimensions was
constructed. It was moored in the centre of the stream, and on its
surface a wooden apartment surmounted by the eagles of France and
Russia, was framed with all the magnificence which the time and
circumstances would admit.
This was destined for the reception of the Emperors alone; at a
little distance was stationed another raft less sumptuously adorned,
for their respective suites.
The shore on either side was covered with the Imperial Guard of the
two monarchs, drawn up in triple lines. At one o’clock precisely,
amid the thunder of artillery, each Emperor stepped into a boat on
his own side of the river, accompanied by a few of his principal
officers. The splendid suite of each monarch followed in another boat
immediately after.
The bark of Napoleon advanced with greater rapidity than that of
Alexander. He arrived first at the raft, entered the apartment,
and himself opened the door on the opposite side to receive the
Czar; while the shouts of the soldiers drowned even the roar of the
artillery.
In a few seconds Alexander arrived, and was received by the Conqueror
at the door on his own side. Their meeting was friendly, and
Alexander expressed his dissatisfaction with his ally, the Government
of _Great Britain_.
“I hate the English,” said he, “as much as you do, and am ready to
second you in all your enterprises against them.” “In that case,”
replied Napoleon, “everything will be easily arranged, and peace is
already made.” And peace was made. A treaty was concluded between
France and Russia, also between France and Prussia, by which the
latter ceded to Napoleon about half her dominions, and Alexander and
Napoleon, deeply impressed with the genius of each other, became,
for the time being, intimate friends. By the provisions of this
celebrated treaty, Russia was assigned the Empire of the East, while
France acquired absolute sway in the Kingdoms of the West, and both
united in cordial hostility against Great Britain.
France being the ally of Turkey, Napoleon could do no less than
arrange for the evacuation of Moldavia and Wallachia (at that time
occupied by Russian troops); but it is supposed there was a secret
understanding between the two Emperors, that ultimately, Wallachia,
Moldavia, and Bulgaria were to fall into the possession of Russia,
while France was to arrange to her liking, the affairs of Greece and
the Spanish Peninsula.
But the sagacity of Napoleon would not permit him to agree to
the cession of Constantinople and Roumelia, and rivalry for the
possession of that Capitol was one of the principal causes which
afterwards brought about the disastrous campaign of Moscow.
As a consequence of the downfall of Prussia, the neutrality of
Austria, and the accession to the confederacy of Alexander at Tilsit,
Napoleon was emboldened to attempt the carrying out of his long
cherished “_Continental System_” of combining all the Continental
States into one great alliance against England, and to compel them to
exclude the British Flag and British merchandise from their harbors.
It was at this time that he promulgated the famous _Berlin Decree_,
which declared the British Islands in a state of blockade,
and subjected all goods of British produce or manufacture, to
confiscation within his dominions, or those of the countries subject
to his control, and prohibited all vessels from entering any harbor,
which had touched at any British port.
As a retaliatory measure the celebrated _Orders in Council_ were
issued by the British Government (on the 11th Nov. 1807), which
proclaimed France and all the Continental States in a state of
blockade, and declared all vessels good prize, which should be bound
for any of their harbors, excepting such as had previously cleared
out _from_ or touched _at_ a British harbor.
This was followed on the 17th December, by the _Milan Decree_, which
declared that any vessel, of whatever nation, which shall have
submitted to be searched by British cruisers, shall be considered and
dealt with as English vessels, and every vessel of whatever nation,
coming _from_ or bound _to_ any British harbor, shall be declared
good prize.
England, being mistress of the seas, enforced with unfeeling rigor
her orders in council, entailing immense losses upon the commerce of
neutral States, but more particularly upon America, which ultimately
brought about the war between herself and the great Republic; while
France, comparatively powerless on the ocean, invoked the aid of
privateers and seized upon all British persons and property within
her grasp.
Since the defeat of Austria at Austerlitz, in 1805, the Cabinet of
Vienna had adhered with cautious prudence to a system of neutrality.
Still the Imperial Government had been successfully at work to fill
up the ranks of their decimated armies, and to place themselves again
in a position of strength.
Napoleon was no sooner informed of these military preparations than
he demanded an explanation of their import.
Austria made professions of pacific intentions, but still continued
to arm herself; the war in Spain, which Napoleon had at this time on
his hands, leading her to suppose that he would not for so slight a
cause undertake another contest.
In the meantime, the wily Metternich, Austrian Ambassador at Paris,
was endeavoring to maintain apparently amicable relations with the
French government, while every effort was made to induce Alexander to
join with Austria; but the Czar had pledged his word to Napoleon, and
was not inclined to break a personal engagement of such importance.
The French ambassador left Vienna finally, on the 28th Feb., 1809,
and in April active hostilities broke out thus kindling again the
flames of war.
Warsaw, garrisoned by the French, was taken by the Austrians, at
which time occurred an event of significant importance.
In pursuing the Austrians, a courier was taken with despatches
from the Russian General Gortschakoff to the Austrian Arch-Duke,
congratulating him on the capture of Warsaw, and breathing a wish
that he might soon join his armies to the Austrian Eagles.
This letter was immediately forwarded to Napoleon, who remarked, “I
see, after all, I must make war upon Alexander.”
The Czar disavowed the letter, and attempted explanations, but a
breach was opened which was never again healed.
Austria endeavored to win Prussia to her side after the battle of
Aspern (unfavorable to Napoleon), and secret negotiations were
carried on. But the Prussian government replied to Austria’s
overtures, that they had every disposition to assist her, but could
not take part in the contest till the views of Russia in regard to it
were known.
In the meantime the struggle continued, and after a great number
of contests, in some of which Napoleon’s chances were desperate,
finally, on the 5th of July, 1809, was fought the celebrated battle
of Wagram, under the walls of Vienna, which resulted in victory to
Napoleon, though at so dear a price as almost to equal a defeat.
50,000 men were killed and wounded.
The peace of Vienna followed on the 14th of October, and was of so
humiliating a nature that it was received with marked disapprobation
by the Cabinet of St. Petersburg, and was attended with a most
important effect in widening the breach which was already formed
between the two Emperors.
The Turkish empire at this time was in a state of decay, and the
people, from the inefficiency of the government, and the constantly
recurring insurrections, in a state of misery.
But amid the general decay, the matchless situation of Constantinople
still attracted a vast concourse of inhabitants, and veiled under a
robe of beauty the decline of the Queen of the East.
This celebrated capital, the incomparable excellence of whose
situation attracted the eagle eye of Alexander, had long formed the
real object of discord between the Courts of Paris and St. Petersburg.
War had been formally declared by Russia against Turkey, in Jan.,
1807, in consequence of a dispute about the hospodars, or governors,
of Wallachia and Moldavia. Soon after, the conspiracy of the
Janizaries broke out against the reforms of the Sultan, assisting
materially Russia’s designs.
In the beginning of the year 1810 an _Imperial Ukase_ appeared,
annexing Moldavia and Wallachia, which for three years had been
occupied by their troops, to the Russian Empire, and declaring the
Danube, from the Austrian frontier to the Black Sea, the southern
European boundary of their mighty dominion.
A bloody war was the consequence, in which both parties made
prodigious efforts, and neither gained decisive success, until the
peace of Bucharest was concluded on the 28th of May, 1812.
Russia was as anxious as Turkey for the cessation of hostilities,
being desirous of withdrawing her armies from the Danube to engage in
the formidable contest which was impending over them with Napoleon.
ANNEXATION OF FINLAND.
Sweden was summoned to join in the alliance against Great Britain,
to which the Swedish monarch did not accede. Alexander consequently
declared war, and on the 28th of March, 1808, the following Imperial
Ukase appeared at St. Petersburg:
“_We unite Finland, conquered by our arms, for ever to our Empire,
and command its inhabitants forthwith to take the oath of allegiance
to our throne._”
The Swedish Monarch, however, not being willing to surrender so
important a portion of his dominions, was forced to abdicate; and his
successor endeavored to conclude a peace with Russia, and to retain
Finland through appeals to Napoleon.
The latter was, however, bound to Alexander by the treaty of Tilsit,
and refused to interfere. The Czar, determined to retain his
conquest, marched an army across the gulf of Bothnia, on the ice, in
March, 1809, and arrived by the middle of that month on the Swedish
side, en route for Stockholm.
This had the effect to intimidate the court of Stockholm, who
therefore ceded Finland, and peace was concluded Sept. 17, 1809.
On the 13th Dec., 1810, Napoleon formally annexed to the French
Empire the Hanse towns and the Duchy of Oldenburg. This measure
irritated Alexander, who now grew apprehensive lest some of his
ill-gotten gains should be wrested from him, and that the restoration
of Poland might next be thought of.
A convention was drawn up at St. Petersburg, and signed by the
representatives of France and Russia, by which it was stipulated,
that “_The kingdom of Poland shall never be reëstablished; and the
name of Poland and Poles shall never in future be applied to any of
the districts, or inhabitants; and shall be effaced for ever from
every public and official act._”
Napoleon, however, refused to ratify it, and thus again exasperated
the Czar, who commenced to place Poland in a state of defence, which,
in its turn, excited the jealousy of the French Emperor.
Alexander, therefore, published, on the 31st of Dec., 1810, an
order, containing a material relaxation of the rigour of the decrees
hitherto in force in the Russian Empire against English commerce.
On the 24th Feb., 1812, the Cabinet of Prussia concluded a treaty
offensive and defensive with France; and a royal edict appeared
prohibiting the introduction of colonial produce, on any pretence,
from the Russian into the Prussian territory. Austria being at this
time in close alliance with France, another treaty was concluded
March 14, 1812, between them, placing a considerable part of her
resources at Napoleon’s command.
In consequence of the overbearing demands of Napoleon, the Swedish
Government allied itself with Russia on the 5th of April (1812), and
with Great Britain on the 12th of July following.
The differences between Alexander and Napoleon had now become so
serious, that war was inevitable. But Napoleon knew the foe he had
to grapple with, and proposed terms of peace to Great Britain on the
17th of April, hoping to be left to meet the Russians single-handed,
and thus humble the overweening pride of the Czar. His proposals
were, however, rejected.
Down to the very commencement of hostilities, notes continued to be
interchanged between the representatives of the two Emperors, which
did little more than recapitulate the mutual grounds of complaint of
the two cabinets against each other. Finally, on the 24th of April,
Alexander sent to Napoleon his ultimatum, offering an accommodation
on condition that France would evacuate Prussia, and come to an
arrangement with the king of Sweden which remained without any
answer, on the part of the French Government.
Both prepared for the worst, and on the 23d of June, Napoleon arrived
on the banks of the Niemen, with his countless hosts, for the
invasion of Russia.
The armies at his command, at this time, amounted in the aggregate,
to the enormous sum of 1,250,000 men; and the force which entered
Russia, during the year 1812, was 647,158 men--187,111 horses, and
1372 cannon.
The regular forces of the Russians amounted, at the close of 1811,
to 517,000 men, 70,000 of whom were in garrison, and the remainder
dispersed over an immense surface.
To oppose the invasion of the French, the Russians had collected
about 200,000 men, and upwards of 800 pieces of cannon. The forces
of the French, therefore, exceeded those of the Russians, by nearly
300,000 men; but the former were at an immense distance from their
resources, and had no means of recruiting their losses; whereas the
latter were in their own country, and supported by the devotion of a
fanatical and patriotic people.
The face of the country on the Western frontier of Russia is in
general flat, and in many places marshy; vast woods of pine cover the
plains, and the rivers flow in some places through steep banks, in
others stagnate over extensive swamps, which often present the most
serious obstacles to military operations. The villages are few and
miserable.
The wants of such a prodigious accumulation of troops speedily
exhausted all the means of subsistence which the country afforded,
and the stores they could convey with them. Forced requisitions from
the peasantry became, therefore, necessary, and so great was the
subsequent misery that the richest families in Warsaw were literally
in danger of starving, and the interest of money rose to 80 per cent.
Napoleon reached Wilna on the 28th of June, the Russians receding as
he advanced, and destroying everything before them. On the 15th of
August, the starving army reached the city of Smolensko, which was
burned by the Russians, and abandoned on the 18th.
The losses in the meantime by battle, exposure, want, and sickness,
were fast decimating the French ranks. The soldiers were seized with
disquietude as they contrasted their miserable quarters amid the
ruins of Smolensko, with the smiling villages they had abandoned in
their native land; but amid the universal gloom, their Emperor was
ever present, and by words and deeds of kindness, sustained their
drooping spirits.
Leaving Smolensko, Napoleon pressed forward, and on the 5th of
September, arrived at Borodino where the Russians had made a stand to
oppose their march upon Moscow.
On the 7th, two days subsequently, was fought the bloody battle of
Borodino, the most murderous and obstinately contested of which
history has preserved a record.
The Russian force was 132,000 men, with 640 pieces of artillery.
The French consisted of 133,000 men, with 590 pieces of cannon.
There were killed 15,000 Russians and 12,000 French, besides upwards
of 70,000 wounded on both sides, making a total loss of 100,000 men
in this one battle.
The French were, however, victorious, and reached Moscow on the 14th.
The Holy City was found to be evacuated, not only by the Russian
army, but by the inhabitants, and as the French hosts defiled through
the silent streets, it was like entering a city of the dead.
Not a sound was to be heard in its vast circumference! the dwellings
of three hundred thousand persons seemed as silent as the wilderness.
Evening came on! With increasing wonder the French troops traversed
the central parts of the city, recently so crowded with passengers,
but not a living creature was to be seen to explain the universal
desolation. Night approached! an unclouded moon illuminated those
beautiful palaces, those vast hotels, those deserted streets--all was
still!
The officers broke open the doors of some of the principal mansions
in search of sleeping quarters. They found every thing in perfect
order; the bedrooms were fully furnished as if guests were expected;
the drawing-rooms bore the marks of having been recently inhabited;
even the work of the ladies was on the tables, the keys in the
wardrobes--but still not an inmate was to be seen. By degrees a few
of the lowest slaves emerged pale and trembling from the cellars, and
showed the way to the sleeping apartments, and laid open every thing
which these sumptuous mansions contained; but the only account they
could give was that the whole of the inhabitants had fled, and that
they alone were left. The persons intrusted with the duty of setting
fire to the city, only awaited the retreat of their countrymen to
commence the work of destruction. The terrible catastrophe soon
commenced. On the night of the 13th a fire broke out in the bourse,
and spread to the streets in the vicinity. At midnight, on the 15th,
a bright light was seen to illuminate the northern and western parts
of the city; fresh fires were then seen breaking out every instant
in all directions, and Moscow soon exhibited the spectacle of a sea
of flame agitated by the wind. But it was chiefly during the nights
of the 18th and 19th that the conflagration attained its greatest
violence. At that time the whole city was wrapped in flames, and
volumes of fire of various colors ascended to the heavens in many
places, diffusing a prodigious light on all sides, and attended by an
intolerable heat. These balloons of flame were accompanied in their
ascent by a frightful hissing noise, and loud explosions, the result
of the vast stores of oil, tar, rosin, spirits, and other combustible
materials, with which the greater part of the shops were filled. The
wind, naturally high, was raised by the sudden rarefaction of the
air to a perfect hurricane. The howling of the tempest drowned even
the roar of the conflagration; the whole heavens were filled with
the whirl of the burning volumes of smoke, which rose on all sides,
and made midnight as bright as day, while even the bravest hearts,
subdued by the sublimity of the scene, and the feeling of human
impotence in the midst of such elemental strife, sank and trembled
in silence. Imagination cannot conceive the horrors into which the
remnant of the people who could not abandon their homes were plunged.
Bereft of every thing, they wandered amid the ruins eagerly searching
for a parent or a child: pillage became universal, and the wrecks of
former magnificence were ransacked alike by the licentious soldiery
and the suffering multitude.
In addition to the whole French army, numbers flocked in from
the country to share in the general license; furniture of the
most precious description, splendid jewellery, Indian and Turkish
stuffs, stores of wine and brandy, gold and silver plate, rich
furs, gorgeous trappings of silk and satin were spread about in
promiscuous confusion, and became the prey of the least intoxicated
among the multitude. A frightful tumult succeeded to the stillness
which had reigned in the city when the troops first entered. The
French soldiers, tormented by hunger and thirst, and loosened from
all discipline by the horrors which surrounded them, often rushed
headlong into the burning edifices to ransack their cellars for
wines and spirits, and beneath the ruins great numbers miserably
perished, the victims of intemperance and the surrounding fire.
Napoleon abandoned the Kremlin on the evening of the 16th. Early on
the following morning, casting a melancholy look to the burning city,
which now filled half the heavens with its flames, he exclaimed after
a long silence, “This sad event is the presage of a long train of
disasters.”
Thus vanished the hopes of those indefatigable soldiers who had
endured so much, and fought so well. To reach the fabulous city whose
domes and minarets were now fallen--had been the dream of their
ambition--the goal which once attained, would give rest and food to
their weariness and hunger.
Thus Napoleon found himself possessed of a heap of burning ruins
without food for his famishing soldiers and horses.
All negotiations with the Russian authorities having failed, a
retreat was decided upon, and the Emperor left Moscow on the 19th
of October, at the head of 105,000 combatants. The disasters of that
retreat are too well known to require recapitulation.
Suffice it to say that the survivors of the French army, who entered
Russia 500,000 strong, were but 20,000. The total loss of the
campaign, in killed, prisoners, died from cold, fatigue, and famine,
was over 450,000. And on the 13th of December, the wretched remnant
of the French army passed the bridge of the Niemen. The losses of the
Russians were also so great that at the end of the campaign not above
30,000 men could be assembled around the head-quarters of the Emperor
Alexander.
On the 10th Dec., early in the morning, a travelling carriage in
great haste drove into the Hotel d’Angleterre, at Warsaw. It was a
small travelling britschka placed without wheels on a coarse sledge,
made of four pieces of rough fir-wood, which had been almost dashed
to pieces in entering the gateway. The travellers were ushered into a
small dark apartment, with the windows half-shut, and in a corner of
which a servant girl strove in vain to light a fire with green damp
billets of wood, which, after kindling for a moment, gradually went
out, leaving those in the apartment to shiver with cold during three
hours of earnest conversation.
The travellers were Napoleon and his friend Caulaincourt, who five
days previously had bidden the remnant of his retreating army, in
Russia, an affectionate farewell, and started for Paris.
At length, it being announced that the carriage was ready, they
mounted the sledge, and were soon lost in the gloom of a Polish
winter. Outstripping his couriers in speed, on the 18th Dec., at 11
at night, the Emperor arrived at the Tuileries, before the Imperial
government was even aware that he had quitted the army. And early
next morning, while the streets of Paris were yet vacant, he was
buried in state papers, investigating and arranging the disorganized
affairs of the empire.
THE GRAND ALLIANCE.
Napoleon’s power being no longer dreaded, Prussia became disaffected,
and on the 28th of February, 1813, entered into an alliance offensive
and defensive with Russia, called, _the treaty of Kalisch_, which was
the foundation stone of that grand alliance which finally overthrew
the French Emperor. Great efforts were made to induce Saxony to join
the league; but she remained permanently attached to the fortunes of
Napoleon.
Meanwhile Alexander despatched a confidential agent to Vienna, in
order to sound the Imperial Cabinet on the prospect of a European
alliance against France, and it was soon after discovered that,
notwithstanding Austria’s professed friendship for Napoleon, there
was a secret understanding existing between the Cabinets of St.
Petersburg and Vienna, as also with the King of Prussia.
The accession of Sweden was received on the 3d of March.
During the month of April a convention took place between Great
Britain, Russia, and Prussia, when England, in addition to the
immense supplies of arms and military stores which she was
furnishing, agreed to advance two millions sterling ($10,000,000) to
sustain the operations of the Prince Royal of Sweden in the north of
Germany, and a like sum to enable Russia and Prussia to keep up their
vast armaments in Saxony.
On the 14th of June another treaty was signed stipulating that
England should pay to Prussia, for the six remaining months of the
year, about £700,000, in consideration of which, the latter was to
keep in the field an army of 80,000 men.
By another treaty, signed the day after, between Russia and Great
Britain, it was stipulated that Great Britain should pay to its
Emperor, till January, 1814, £1,333,334 in monthly instalments, by
which he was to maintain 160,000 men in the field, independent of
the garrisons of strong places. On the 27th of July Austria joined
the alliance (against their Emperor’s son-in-law), England agreeing
to pay her equal to one million sterling, in the event of her taking
part in the war; thus completing the formidable alliance of Great
Britain, Russia, Prussia, Austria, and Sweden.
While the accession of new and formidable powers to the league
was taking place, the energy of Napoleon seemed to rise with the
difficulties against which he had to contend, and to acquire an
almost supernatural degree of vigor.
His shattered armies were reinforced, and, undiscouraged by the
recollection of Moscow, he prepared again to make his power felt
against the formidable odds which the energies of five empires were
concentrating for his destruction.
Already again in the month of April was he in the field, and in May
occupied Dresden, driving his enemies before him.
In August, however, the allies having been strongly reinforced, made
their first attack upon that city. Through August and September
there were constantly recurring battles, by which the French were
so harassed that Napoleon at length resolved to retreat in the
direction of Leipsic, and on the 15th of October his army, consisting
of 175,000 men and 720 pieces of cannon, occupied that city, and
encamped around it. The allies followed with 290,000 men and above
1300 guns. The 18th dawned, and the last hour of the French Empire
began to toll. The celebrated battle of Leipsic was fought. The
conflict of such masses was terrible, and was so disastrous to the
French, that a retreat was resolved upon, which commenced the next
morning, the allies entering the city as the French retired across
the river.
The battle of Leipsic was, perhaps, the most unfortunate in its
results which Napoleon ever experienced; and the subsequent retreat
of his army to the Rhine partook, in a measure, of the horrors of
that from Moscow.
While the discomfited French were retiring across the Rhine at
Mayence, the allied troops followed closely on their footsteps, and
Alexander entered Frankfort on the 5th of November. Napoleon had left
on the 1st, remaining six days with his army on the opposite shores
of the river, and reached Paris on the 9th.
The day after, in the council of state, he unfolded the danger of his
situation with manly sincerity, and with nervous eloquence referred
to the invasion by Wellington of his southern frontiers, while the
allies menaced the north. A levy by conscription was made of 600,000
men, and preparations to resist the invasion were immediately ordered.
On the 1st of Dec. the allied sovereigns published a declaration
from Frankfort, offering peace to France on condition that she would
confine her limits between the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees.
But the negotiation was protracted by Napoleon to gain time, until
the impatient allies crossed the Rhine, and Denmark, Naples, and the
Rhenish Confederation, joined the alliance.
The allies had now accumulated forces so prodigious, for the
invasion of France, that nothing in ancient or modern times had ever
approached to their magnitude.
Including 80,000 Austrians, destined to act in the north of Italy,
and a hundred and forty thousand British, Portuguese, and Spaniards,
who, under the guidance of Wellington, were assailing the south,
the whole force of the allies formed a mass of _a million and
twenty-eight thousand men_, which was prepared to act against the
French empire.
The French army was so reduced, that the Emperor could not, with
the utmost exertion, reckon upon more than 350,000 men to defend
the frontiers of his widespread dominions. Of these, 100,000 were
blockaded in Hamburg and on the Oder, 50,000 were maintaining a
painful defensive against the Austrians in the north of Italy, and
100,000 were struggling against the superior armies of Wellington on
the Spanish frontiers. So that the real army which the Emperor had
at his disposal to resist the invasion on the Rhine did not exceed
110,000.
On the 31st of Dec., 1813, the united and victorious allies crossed
that river. Numerous battles ensued. At length a conference was held,
and the allied sovereigns offered to conclude peace, and recognize
Napoleon as Emperor of France, on certain conditions, which would
have left him an empire greater than that over which his nephew now
reigns. This did not, however, satisfy his ambition. The overtures
were refused, and on the 30th of March, 1814, after numerous
sanguinary engagements, and the storming of the city, the allies
entered Paris, which had been forced to capitulate.
On the 11th of April Napoleon signed his abdication at Fontainbleau,
and on the 28th of the same month, at eight at night, set sail from
Frejus for the island of Elba, on board the English frigate “_The
Undaunted_.”
On the 1st of March, 1815, having escaped from Elba, he again entered
France, with a few hundred men, and was everywhere received with
acclamation and shouts of joy, which resounding throughout the land,
were echoed to the Tuileries, and caused such consternation, that the
court became alarmed, and at midnight, on the 19th, Louis XVIII. and
the royal family, left Paris, and escaped into Belgium, while at nine
o’clock in the evening of the next day Napoleon entered the vacated
palace.
The allies became alarmed, and on the 25th of March, Russia, Prussia,
Austria, and Great Britain, concluded a treaty, engaging to unite
their forces against Bonaparte, with a secret stipulation that the
high contracting parties should not lay down their arms till the
complete destruction of Napoleon had been effected. Such, however,
was the poverty at this time of the Continental powers, that
they were unable to put their armies in motion without pecuniary
assistance. And a treaty was entered into at Vienna on the 30th
of April, by which England agreed to furnish Austria, Russia, and
Prussia, the necessary means for the prosecution of the war, and
actually paid to foreign powers during the year above £11,000,000
($55,000,000).
Napoleon left Paris on the morning of the 12th of June, and joined
his army, which had been concentrated near the frontiers of Belgium,
on the 13th. The returns on the evening of the 14th, gave 122,400
men under arms, and at day-break on the 15th his army crossed the
frontier.
Various conflicts ensued between different portions of his forces,
directed to different points, and those of the allies, who, under
Wellington, were in occupation of Brussels.
At length, the morning of the 18th dawned upon the battle field of
Waterloo, and its evening witnessed the annihilation of the French
army, and flight of Napoleon.
On the 17th of July, the victorious allies, headed by Wellington, a
second time entered Paris; and on the following day, Louis XVIII.
made his public entry into that gay capital, escorted by the national
guard.
On the 29th of June, Napoleon had left Malmaison (the home of his
lost Josephine) for Rochefort, arriving at that harbor on the 3d of
July, from whence he was anxious to embark for America.
But the blockade of English cruisers was so vigilant that there was
no possible chance of avoiding them.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON AND JOSEPHINE]
Under these circumstances, he at length adopted the resolution of
throwing himself upon the generosity of the British government; and
on the 14th of July embarked on board the “Bellerophon,” which set
sail immediately for England,--and Napoleon looked for the last time
upon the receding shores of that land which had been the home of his
greatness.
CHAPTER II.
Origin of the War in the Peninsula--Siege of Saragossa--Murderous
Character of the War--Success of the French in Portugal--Battle of
Rolica--Battle of Vimiero--Convention of Cintra--The French
evacuate Portugal--Preparations of Napoleon for another Campaign--He
subdues the Country, and enters Madrid--Address to the Spanish
People--Napoleon recalled by the War with Austria--Soult and
Ney intrusted with the Command of the French Army in Spain--Retreat
of Sir John Moore--Battle of Corunna--Death of Sir John Moore--The
British Army sail for England.
Before entering into a particular account of the battles in which I
was myself an actor, it might not be uninteresting to my readers to
take a hasty survey of the war which was now raging in the Peninsula,
and the causes which led to British intervention. In doing this, I
can, of course, in so small a work, only allude to its principal
events, and relate some anecdotes, interesting, as well from their
authenticity, as from the patriotism of which they were such bright
examples.
Charles IV., a descendant of the Spanish Bourbons, in 1807, occupied
the throne of Spain. He was feeble in mind, impotent in action, and
extremely dissolute in his habits. Writing to Napoleon, he gives an
account of himself which must have filled with contempt the mind of
the hard-working emperor for the imbecile king who thus disgraced a
throne. “Every day,” says he, “winter as well as summer, I go out to
shoot, from morning till noon. I then dine, and return to the chase,
which I continue till sunset. Manuel Godoy then gives me a brief
account of what is going on, and I go to bed, to recommence the same
life on the morrow.” His wife, Louisa, was a shameless profligate.
She had selected, from the body-guard of the king, a young soldier,
named Godoy, as her principal favorite; and had freely lavished on
him both wealth and honors. He was known as the Prince of Peace. A
favorite of the king, as well as queen, the realm was, in reality,
governed by him. Ferdinand, Prince of the Asturias, and heir to the
throne, hated this favorite. Weak, unprincipled, and ambitious,
unwilling to wait until the crown should become his by inheritance,
it is said that he concerted a scheme to remove both his parents
by poison. He was arrested, and imprisoned. Natural affection was
entirely extinct in the bosoms of his parents. Louisa, speaking of
her son, said that “he had a mule’s head and a tiger’s heart;” and
history informs us that if injustice is done here, it is only to the
tiger and mule. Both king and queen did all they could to cover his
name with obloquy, and prepare the nation for his execution. But the
popular voice was with Ferdinand. The rule of the base-born favorite
could not be tolerated by the Spanish hidalgos; and the nation,
groaning under the burdens that the vices and misrule of Charles
had brought upon them, looked with hope to the youth, whose very
abandonment had excited an interest in his favor. From the depths of
his prison he wrote to Napoleon, imploring his aid, and requesting an
alliance with his family. Charles, too, invoked the assistance “of
the hero destined by Providence to save Europe and support thrones.”
A secret treaty was concluded between the emperor and Charles, whose
object was nominally the conquest of Portugal; and thus French
troops were brought to Madrid. A judicial investigation was held on
the charge against Ferdinand, which ended in the submission of that
prince to his parents. But the intrigues of the two parties still
continued. In March, 1808, hatred of Godoy, and contempt of the king,
had increased to such a degree, that the populace of Madrid could no
longer be controlled. The palace of the Prince of Peace was broken
open and sacked. The miserable favorite, allowed scarcely a moment’s
warning of the coming storm, had barely time to conceal himself
beneath a pile of old mats, in his garret. Here, for thirty-six
hours, he lay, shivering with terror and suffering. Unable longer to
endure the pangs of thirst, he crept down from his hiding-place, was
seen, and dragged out by the mob. A few select troops of the king
rushed to his rescue; and, half dead with fright and bruises, he
was thrown into prison. The populace, enraged by the loss of their
victim, now threatened to attack the palace. Charles, alarmed for
his own safety, abdicated in favor of Ferdinand, and that prince was
proclaimed king, amid the greatest rejoicings. But Charles wrote to
Napoleon that his abdication was a forced one, and again implored his
aid. Soon after, determined to advocate his cause in person, he went
to Bayonne to meet the emperor, accompanied by Louisa and Godoy, and,
with them, his two younger sons. Ferdinand, jealous of his father’s
influence with Napoleon, determined to confront him there. His people
everywhere declared against this measure. They cut the traces of
his carriage; they threw themselves before the horses, imploring
him, with prayers and tears, not to desert his people. But Ferdinand
went on. The emperor received them all with kindness. In a private
interview with him, Charles, Louisa, and Godoy, willingly exchanged
their rights to the uneasy crown of Spain for a luxurious home in
Italy, where money for the gratification of all their voluptuous
desires should be at their command. Ferdinand and his two brothers,
Carlos and Francisco, were not so easily persuaded to surrender
the crown of their ancestors. But Napoleon’s iron will at length
prevailed, and the three brothers remained not unwilling prisoners
in the castle of Valencey. The throne of Spain was now vacant.
The right to fill it was assumed by the emperor, in virtue of the
cession to him, by Charles, of his rights. The council of Castile,
the municipality of Madrid, and the governing junta, in obedience to
Napoleon’s dictate, declared that their choice had fallen upon Joseph
Bonaparte, King of Naples. He was already on his way to Bayonne.
On the 20th of July he entered Madrid; and, on the 24th, he was
proclaimed King of Spain and the Indies.
But, if the rulers of Spain, and a few of her pusillanimous nobles,
had agreed to accept a king of Napoleon’s choice, not so decided
the great body of the people. They everywhere flew to arms. To
acknowledge the authority of the self-constituted government, was to
declare one’s self an enemy to the nation. Assassinations at Cadiz
and Seville were imitated in every part of Spain. Grenada had its
murders; Carthagena rivalled Cadiz in ruthless cruelty; and Valencia
reeked with blood. In Gallicia, the people assembled and endeavored
to oblige their governor to declare war against France. Prompted by
prudence, he advised them to delay. Enraged at this, the ferocious
soldiers seized him, and, planting their weapons in the earth, tossed
him on their points, and left him to die. In Asturias, two noblemen
were selected, and sent to implore the assistance of England. In
England, the greatest enthusiasm prevailed. The universal rising of
the Spanish nation was regarded as a pledge of their patriotism, and
aid and assistance was immediately promised and given. Napoleon,
with his usual promptness, poured his troops into Spain. They were
successful in many places; but the enemy, always forming in small
numbers, if easily defeated, soon appeared in another place. The
first permanent stand was made at Saragossa. Palafox had, with some
hastily gathered followers, disputed the passage of the Ebro, and,
routed by superior force, had fallen back upon this city, whose
heroic defence presents acts of daring courage of which the world’s
history scarcely furnishes a parallel. It was regularly invested
by the French, under Lefebre Desnouttes. The city had no regular
defences, but the houses were very strong, being vaulted so as to
be nearly fire-proof, and the massy walls of the convents afforded
security to the riflemen who filled them. The French troops had at
one time nearly gained possession of the town, but, for some unknown
reasons, they fell back. This gave confidence to the besieged. They
redoubled their exertions. All shared the labor,--women, children,
priests and friars, labored for the common cause,--and in twenty-four
hours the defences were so strengthened that the place was prepared
to stand a siege. But the next morning Palafox imprudently left the
city, and offered battle to the French. He was, of course, quickly
beaten; but succeeded in escaping, with a few of his troops, into
the city. A small hill rises close to the convent of St. Joseph’s,
called Monte Torrero. Some stone houses on this hill were strongly
fortified, and occupied by twelve hundred men. This place was
attacked by Lefebre, and taken by assault, on the 27th of June, 1808.
The convents of St. Joseph’s and the Capuchins were next attacked
by the French, and, after a long resistance, taken by storm. The
command of the besiegers was now transferred to General Verdier.
He continued the siege during the whole of July, making several
assaults on the gates, from which he was repulsed, with great loss.
The Spaniards, having received a reinforcement, made a sortie to
retake Monte Torrero; but were defeated, their commander killed,
and most of their number left dead. On the 2d of August, the enemy
opened a dreadful fire on the town. One of their shells lighted upon
the powder magazine, which was in the most secure part of the city,
and blew it up, destroying many houses and killing numbers of the
besieged. The carnage, during this siege, was truly terrible. Six
hundred women and children perished, and above forty thousand men
were killed.
It was at this place that the act of female heroism so beautifully
celebrated by Byron was performed. An assault had been made upon one
of the gates, which was withstood with great courage by the besieged.
At the battery of the Portillo, their fire had been so fatal, that
but one artillery-man remained able to serve the gun. He seemed to
bear a charmed life. Though shot and shell fell thick and fast around
him, he still stood unharmed, and rapidly loaded and discharged his
gun. At length, worn out by his own exertions, his strength seemed
about to fail. There was little time, in a contest like this, to
watch for the safety of others; but there was one eye near which not
for a moment lost sight of him. Augustina, a girl twenty-two years
of age, had followed her daring lover to his post. She would not
leave him there alone, although every moment exposed her to share
his death. When she saw his strength begin to fail, she seized a
cordial, and held it to his lips. In the very act of receiving it,
the fatal death-stroke came, and he fell dead at her feet. Not for
a moment paused the daring maid. No tear fell for the slain. She
lived to do what he had done. Snatching a match from the hand of a
dead artillery-man, she fired off the gun, and swore never to quit it
alive, during the siege. The soldiers and citizens, who had begun to
retire, stimulated by so heroic an example, rushed to the battery a
second time, and again opened a tremendous fire upon the enemy. For
this daring act, Augustina received a small shield of honor, and had
the word “Saragossa” embroidered on the sleeve of her dress, with the
pay of an artillery-man. Byron thus commemorates this heroism, in his
own transcendent manner:
“The Spanish maid, aroused,
Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,
And, all unsexed, the anlace hath espoused,
Sung the loud song, and dared the deeds of war.
And she, whom once the semblance of a scar
Appalled, an owlet’s ’larum filled with dread,
Now views the column-scattering bayonet jar,
The falchion flash, and o’er the yet warm dead
Stalks with Minerva’s step, where Mars might quake to tread.
Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale,
O! had you known her in the softer hour,--
Marked her black eye, that mocks her coal-black veil,--
Heard her light, lively tones in lady’s bower,--
Seen her long locks, that foil the painter’s power,--
Her fairy form, with more than female grace,--
Scarce would you deem that Saragossa’s tower
Beheld her smile in danger’s Gorgon face,
Thin the closed ranks, and lead in glory’s fearful chase!
Her lover sinks--she sheds no ill-timed tear;
Her chief is slain--she fills his fatal post;
Her fellows flee--she checks their base career;
The foe retires--she heads the sallying host,
Who can appease like her a lover’s ghost?
Who can avenge so well a leader’s fall?
What maid retrieve, when man’s flushed hope is lost?
Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul,
Foiled by a woman’s hand, before the battered wall!”
On the 4th of August, the French stormed the city, and penetrated
as far as the Corso, or public square. Here a terrible conflict was
maintained. Every inch of ground was manfully contested; but the
enemy’s cavalry was irresistible, and the besieged began to give
way. All appeared lost. The French, thinking the victory gained,
began to plunder. Seeing this, the besieged rallied, and attacked
them. They succeeded in driving the enemy back to the Corso. They
also set fire to the convent of Francisco, and many perished in its
conflagration. Night now came, to add its horrors to the scene. The
fierce contest still raged on. The lunatic asylum was invaded, and
soon the dread cry of “Fire” mingled with the incoherent ravings
of its inmates. “Here,” says one writer, “were to be seen grinning
maniacs, shouting with hideous joy, and mocking the cries of the
wounded; there, others, with seeming delight, were dabbling in the
crimson fluid of many a brave heart, which had scarcely ceased to
beat. On one side, young and lovely women, dressed in the fantastic
rigging of a mind diseased, were bearing away headless trunks and
mutilated limbs, which lay scattered around them, while the unearthly
cries of the idiot kept up a hideous concert with the shouts of the
infuriated combatants. In short, it was a scene of unmingled horror,
too fearful for the mind to dwell upon.” After a severe contest and
dreadful carnage, the French forced their way into the Corso, in
the very centre of the city, and before night were in possession
of one-half of it. Lefebre now believed that he had effected his
purpose, and required Palafox to surrender, in a note containing
only these words: “Headquarters, St. Engrucia,--Capitulation.”
Equally laconic the brave Spaniard’s answer was: “Headquarters,
Saragossa,--War to the knife’s point.”
The contest which was now carried on stands unparalleled. One side
of the Corso was held by the French soldiery; the opposite was in
possession of the Arragonese, who erected batteries at the end of
the cross-streets, within a few paces of those the French had thrown
up. The space between these was covered with the dead. Next day,
the powder of the besieged began to fail; but even this dismayed
them not. One cry broke from the people, whenever Palafox came among
them, “War to the knife!--no capitulation.” The night was coming
on, and still the French continued their impetuous onsets. But now
the brother of Palafox entered the city with a convoy of arms and
ammunition, and a reinforcement of three thousand men. This succor
was as unexpected as it was welcome, and raised the desperate courage
of the citizens to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. The war was now
carried on from street to street, and even from room to room. A
priest, by the name of Santiago Suss, displayed the most undaunted
bravery, fighting at the head of the besieged, and cheering and
consoling the wounded and the dying. At the head of forty chosen men,
he succeeded in procuring a supply of powder for the town, and, by
united stratagem and courage, effected its entrance, even through
the French lines. This murderous contest was continued for eleven
successive days and nights,--more, indeed, by night than by day, for
it was almost certain death to appear by daylight within reach of
houses occupied by the other party. But, concealed by the darkness of
the night, they frequently dashed across the street, to attack each
other’s batteries; and the battle, commenced there, was often carried
into the houses beyond, from room to room, and from floor to floor.
As if not enough of suffering had accompanied this memorable siege,
a new scourge came to add its horrors to the scene. Pestilence, with
all its accumulated terrors, burst upon the doomed city. Numbers of
putrescent bodies, in various stages of decomposition, were strewed
thickly around the spot where the death-struggle was still going on.
The air was impregnated with the pestiferous miasma of festering
mortality; and this, too, in a climate like Spain, and in the month
of August! This evil must be removed,--but how? Certain death would
have been the penalty of any Arragonese who should attempt it. The
only remedy was to tie ropes to the French prisoners, and, pushing
them forward amid the dead and dying compel them to remove the
bodies, and bring them away for interment. Even for this office, as
necessary to one party as the other, there was no truce; only the
prisoners were better secured, by the compassion of their countrymen,
from the fire.
From day to day, this heroic defence was kept up, with unremitting
obstinacy. In vain breaches were made and stormed; the besiegers were
constantly repulsed. At last Verdier received orders to retire; and
the French, after reducing the city almost to ashes, were compelled
to abandon their attacks, and retreat.
Meanwhile, all over Spain the contest was continued, and everywhere
with the most unsparing cruelty. Her purest and noblest sons often
fell victims to private malice. “No one’s life,” says one author,
“was worth a week’s purchase.” One anecdote may serve as an example
to illustrate the spirit of the times.
It was night. The rays of the full moon shed their beautiful light
on the hills of the Sierra Morena. On one of these hills lay a small
division of the patriotic army. Its chief was a dark, fierce-looking
man, in whose bosom the spirit of human kindness seemed extinct
forever. A brigand, who had long dealt in deeds of death, he had
placed himself without the pale even of the laws of Spain. But, when
the war commenced, he had offered his own services and that of his
men against the French, and had been accepted. On this night he sat,
wrapped in his huge cloak, beside the decaying watch-fire, seemingly
deep in thought. Near him lay a prisoner on the grass, with the
knotted cords so firmly bound around his limbs that the black blood
seemed every moment ready to burst from its enclosure. He might have
groaned aloud in his agony, had not the pride of his nation,--for
he, too, was a Spaniard,--and his own deep courage, prevented. His
crime was, that, yielding to the promptings of humanity, he had shown
kindness to a wounded French officer, and had thus drawn upon himself
suspicion of favoring their cause. Short trial was needed, in those
days, to doom a man to death; and, with the morning’s dawn, the brave
Murillo was informed that he must die.
With closed eyes and a calm countenance, his heart was yet filled
with agony, as he remembered his desolated home and his defenceless
little ones. Suddenly, a light footstep was heard in the wood
adjoining. The sentinel sprang to his feet, and demanded, “Who goes
there?” A boy, over whose youthful brow scarce twelve summers could
have passed, answered the summons. “I would speak with your chief,”
he said. The ruthless man raised his head as the boy spoke this;
and, not waiting for an answer, he sprang forward and stood before
him. “What is your errand here, boy?” asked the brigand. “I come a
suppliant for my father’s life,” he said, pointing to the prisoner on
the grass. “He dies with the morrow’s sun,” was the unmoved reply.
“Nay, chieftain, spare him, for my mother’s sake, and for her
children. Let _him_ live, and, if you must have blood, I will die for
him;” and the noble boy threw himself at the feet of the chief, and
looked up imploringly in his face. “He is so good!--You smile: you
will save his life!” “You speak lightly of life,” said the stern man,
“and you know little of death. Are you willing to lose one of your
ears, for your father’s sake?” “I am,” said the boy, and he removed
his cap, and fixed his eyes on his father’s face. Not a single tear
fell, as the severed member, struck off by the chief’s hand, lay at
his feet. “You bear it bravely, boy; are you willing to lose the
other?” “If it will save my father’s life,” was the unfaltering
response. A moment more, and the second one lay beside its fellow,
while yet not a groan, or word expressive of suffering, passed the
lips of the noble child. “Will you now release my father?” he asked,
as he turned to the prostrate man, whose tears, which his own pain
had no power to bring forth, fell thick and fast, as he witnessed
the bravery of his unoffending son. For a moment it seemed that a
feeling of compassion had penetrated the flinty soul of the man of
blood. But, if the spark had fallen, it glimmered but a moment on the
cold iron of that heart, and then went out forever. “Before I release
him, tell me who taught you thus to endure suffering.” “My father,”
answered the boy. “Then that father must die; for Spain is not safe
while he lives to rear such children.” And before the morning dawned
father and son slept their last sleep.
While Lefebre and Verdier were prosecuting the fatal siege of
Saragossa, Marshal Bessières was pursuing his victorious course
in Castile, compelling one force after another to acknowledge
the authority of Joseph. General Duhesme and Marshal Moncey, in
Catalonia, met with varied success;--repulsed at Valencia and at
Gerona, they yet met with enough good fortune to maintain their
reputation as generals. In Andalusia, the French army, under Dupont,
met with serious reverses. At Baylen, eighteen thousand men laid down
their arms, only stipulating that they should be sent to France. This
capitulation, disgraceful in itself to the French, was shamefully
broken. Eighty of the officers were murdered, at Lebrixa, in cold
blood; armed only with their swords, they kept their assassins some
time at bay, and succeeded in retreating into an open space in the
town, where they endeavored to defend themselves; but, a fire being
opened upon them from the surrounding houses, the last of these
unfortunate men were destroyed. The rest of the troops were marched
to Cadiz, and many died on the road. Those who survived the march
were treated with the greatest indignity, and cast into the hulks,
at that port. Two years afterwards, a few hundreds of them escaped,
by cutting the cables of their prison-ship, and drifting in a storm
upon a lee shore. The remainder were sent to the desert island of
Cabrera, without clothing, without provisions, with scarcely any
water, and there died by hundreds. It is related that some of them
dug several feet into the solid stone with a single knife, in search
of water. They had no shelter, nor was there any means of providing
it. At the close of the war, when returning peace caused an exchange
of prisoners, only a few hundred of all those thousands remained
alive. This victory at Baylen greatly encouraged the Spanish troops,
whose ardor was beginning to fail, before the conquering career of
Bessières, and the disgust and terror occasioned by the murders and
excesses of the populace. When the news of the capitulation reached
Madrid, Joseph called a council of war, and it was decided that the
French should abandon Madrid, and retire behind the Ebro.
But if the French arms had met with a reverse in Spain, it was
compensated by their success in Portugal. Junôt, at the head of
twenty-five thousand men, marched from Alcantara to Lisbon. At an
unfavorable season of the year, and encountering fatigue, and want,
and tempests, that daily thinned his ranks, until of his whole force
only two thousand remained, he yet entered Lisbon victorious. This
city contained three hundred thousand inhabitants, and fourteen
thousand regular troops were collected there. A powerful British
fleet was at the mouth of the harbor, and its commander, Sir Sidney
Smith, offered his powerful aid, in resisting the French; yet such
was the terror that Napoleon’s name excited, and such the hatred
of their rulers, that the people of Lisbon yielded, almost without
a struggle. When Napoleon, in his Moniteur, made the startling
announcement that “the house of Braganza had ceased to reign,” the
feeble prince-regent, alarmed for his own safety, embarked, with
his whole court, and sailed for the Brazils. Junôt himself was
created Duke of Abrantes, and made governor-general of the kingdom.
He exerted himself to give an efficient government to Portugal; and
met with such success, that a strong French interest was created,
and steps were actually taken to have Prince Eugene declared King
of Portugal. The people themselves, and the literary men, were in
favor of this step; but it met with the strongest opposition from the
priests, and this was nurtured and fanned into a flame by persons in
the pay of the English, whose whole influence was exerted in making
Napoleon’s name and nation as odious to the people as possible.
Among a people so superstitious as the Portuguese, the monks would,
of course, exert great influence; and many were the prodigies which
appeared, to prove that their cause was under the protection of
Heaven. Among others, was that of an egg, marked by some chemical
process, with certain letters, which were interpreted to indicate the
coming of Don Sebastian, King of Portugal. This adventurous monarch,
years before, earnestly desirous of promoting the interests of his
country, and of the Christian religion, had raised a large army,
consisting of the flower of his nobility, and the choicest troops of
his kingdom, and crossed the Straits into Africa, for the purpose of
waging war with the Moorish king. Young, ardent and inexperienced,
he violated every dictate of prudence, by marching into the enemy’s
country to meet an army compared with which his own was a mere
handful. The whole of his army perished, and his own fate was never
known. But, as his body was not found among the dead, the peasantry
of Portugal, ardently attached to their king, believed that he would
some time return, and deliver his country from all their woes. He was
supposed to be concealed in a secret island, waiting the destined
period, in immortal youth. The prophecy of the egg was, therefore,
believed; and people, even of the higher classes, were often seen on
the highest points of the hills, looking towards the sea with earnest
gaze, for the appearance of the island where their long-lost hero was
detained.
The constant efforts of the English and the priests at length had
their effect, in arousing the Portuguese peasantry into action; and
the news of the insurrection in Spain added new fuel to the flame.
The Spaniards in Portugal immediately rose against the French; and
their situation would have become dangerous in the extreme, had
not the promptness and dexterity of Junôt succeeded in averting
the danger for the present. Such was the state of affairs in the
Peninsula, when the English troops made their descent into Spain.
It has often been said that England was moved by pure patriotism,
or by a strong desire to relieve the Spanish nation, in being thus
prodigal of her soldiers and treasures; but her hatred to Napoleon,
and her determination, at all hazards, to put a stop to his growing
power, was, in all probability, the real motive that influenced her
to bestow aid upon that people.
The English collected their army of nine thousand in Cork, in
June, 1808. Sir Hugh Dalrymple had, nominally the chief command of
the army, and Sir Harry Burrard the second; but the really acting
officers were, Sir Arthur Wellesley and Sir John Moore. These troops
disembarked at the Mondego river on the first of August, and marching
along the coast, proceeded to Rolica, where they determined to give
battle to the French. Junôt, having left in Lisbon a sufficient force
to hold the revolutionary movement in check, placed himself at the
head of his army, and advanced to the contest. He was not, however,
present at the battle of Rolica. The French troops were under the
command of Generals Loison and Laborde. Nearly in the centre of the
heights of Rolica stands an old Moorish castle. This, and every
favorable post on the high ground, was occupied by detachments of the
French army. It was a strong position; but Sir Arthur, anxious to
give battle before the two divisions of the French army should effect
a junction, decided upon an immediate attack.
It was morning, and a calm and quiet beauty seemed to linger on
the scene of the impending conflict. The heights of Rolica, though
steep and difficult of access, possess few of the sterner and more
imposing features of mountain scenery. The heat of summer had
deprived them of much of that brightness of verdure common in a
colder climate. Here and there the face of the heights was indented
by deep ravines, worn by the winter torrents, the precipitous banks
of which were occasionally covered with wood, and below extended
groves of the cork-tree and olive; while Obidas, with its ancient
walls and fortress, and stupendous aqueduct, rose in the middle
distance. In the east Mount Junto reared its lofty summit, while
on the west lay the broad Atlantic. And this was the battle-ground
that was to witness the first outpouring of that blood which flowed
so profusely, on both sides, during the progress of this long and
desolating war. Sir Arthur had divided his army into three columns,
of which he himself commanded the centre, Colonel Trant the right,
while the left, directed against Loison, was under General Ferguson.
The centre marched against Laborde, who was posted on the elevated
plain. This general, perceiving, at a glance, that his position was
an unfavorable one, evaded the danger by falling rapidly back to the
heights of Zambugeria, where he could only be approached by narrow
paths, leading through deep ravines. A swarm of skirmishers, starting
forward, soon plunged into the passes; and, spreading to the right
and left, won their way among the rocks and tangled evergreens that
overspread the steep ascent, and impeded their progress.
With still greater difficulty the supporting column followed, their
formation being disordered in the confined and rugged passes, while
the hollows echoed with the continual roar of musketry, and the
shouts of the advancing troops were loudly answered by the enemy,
while the curling smoke, breaking out from the side of the mountain,
marked the progress of the assailants, and showed how stoutly the
defence was maintained. The right of the 29th arrived first at the
top; and, ere it could form, Col. Lake was killed, and a French
company, falling on their flanks, broke through, carrying with them
fifty or sixty prisoners. Thus pressed, this regiment fell back, and,
re-forming under the hill, again advanced to the charge. At the same
time, General Ferguson poured his troops upon the other side of the
devoted army. Laborde, seeing it impossible to effect a junction with
Loison, or to maintain his present position, fell back,--commencing
his retreat by alternate masses, and protecting his movements by
vigorous charges of cavalry,--and halted at the Quinta de Bugagleira,
where his scattered detachments rejoined him. From this place he
marched all night, to gain the position of Montechique, leaving
three guns on the field of battle, and the road to Torres Vedras
open to the victors. The French lost six hundred men, killed and
wounded, among the latter of which was the gallant Laborde himself.
Although the English were victors in this strife, the heroic defence
of the French served to show them that they had no mean enemy to
contend with. The personal enmity to Napoleon, and the violent party
prejudices in England, were so great, that the most absurd stories
as to the want of order and valor in his troops gained immediate
credence there; and many of the English army believed that they
had but to show themselves, and the French would fly. The bravery
with which their attack was met was, of course, a matter of great
surprise, and served as an efficient check to that rashness which
this erroneous belief had engendered.
Instead of pursuing this victory, as Wellesley would have done, he
was obliged to go to the seashore, to protect the landing of General
Anstruthers and his troops. After having effected a junction with
this general, he marched to Vimiero, where the French, under Junôt,
arrived on the 21st of August. The following brief and vivid sketch
of this combat is taken from Alexander’s Life of Wellington:
“Vimiero is a village, pleasantly situated in a gentle and quiet
valley, through which flows the small river of Maceria. Beyond, and
to the westward and northward of this village, rises a mountain, of
which the western point reaches the sea; the eastern is separated
by a deep ravine from the height, over which passes the road that
leads from Lourinha and the northward to Vimiero. On this mountain
were posted the chief part of the infantry, with eight pieces of
artillery. General Hill’s brigade was on the right, and Ferguson’s
on the left, having one battalion on the heights, separated from them
by the mountain. Towards the east and south of the town lay a mill,
wholly commanded by the mountain on the west side, and commanding,
also, the surrounding ground to the south and east, on which General
Fane was posted, with his riflemen, and the 50th regiment, and
General Anstruthers’ brigade, with the artillery, which had been
ordered to that position during the night.
“About eight o’clock a picket of the enemy’s horse was first seen on
the heights, toward Lourinha; and, after pushing forward his scouts,
soon appeared in full force, with the evident object of attacking the
British.
“Immediately four brigades, from the mountains on the east, moved
across the ravine to the heights on the road to Lourinha, with three
pieces of cannon. They were formed with their right resting upon
these heights, and their left upon a ravine which separates the
heights from a range at Maceria. On these heights were the Portuguese
troops, and they were supported by General Crawford’s brigade.
“The enemy opened his attack, in strong columns, against the entire
body of troops on this height. On the left they advanced, through
the fire of the riflemen, close up to the 50th regiment, until they
were checked and driven back by that regiment, at the point of the
bayonet. The French infantry, in these divisions, was commanded by
Laborde, Loison, and Kellerman, and the horse by General Margaron.
Their attack was simultaneous, and like that of a man determined to
conquer or to perish. Besides the conflict on the heights, the battle
raged with equal fury on every part of the field. The possession
of the road leading into Vimiero was disputed with persevering
resolution, and especially where a strong body had been posted in the
church-yard, to prevent the enemy forcing an entrance into the town.
Up to this period of the battle the British had received and repulsed
the attacks of the enemy, acting altogether on the defensive. But
now they were attacked in flank by General Ackland’s brigade, as it
advanced to its position on the height to the left, while a brisk
cannonade was kept up by the artillery on those heights.
“The brunt of the attack was continued on the brigade of General
Fane, but was bravely repulsed at all points. Once, as the French
retired in confusion, a regiment of light dragoons pursued them with
so little precaution, that they were suddenly set upon by the heavy
cavalry of Margaron, and cut to pieces, with their gallant colonel at
their head.
“No less desperate was the encounter between Kellerman’s column of
reserve and the gallant 43d, in their conflict for the vineyard
adjoining the church. The advanced companies were at first driven
back, with great slaughter; but, again rallying upon the next ranks,
they threw themselves upon the head of a French column in a ravine,
and, charging with the bayonet, put them to the rout. At length the
vigor of the enemy’s attack ceased. They, pressed on all sides by the
British, had lost thirteen cannons and a great number of prisoners;
but were still enabled to retire without confusion, owing to the
protection of their numerous cavalry. An incident occurred in this
battle, so highly characteristic of Highland courage, that I cannot
refrain from quoting it. It is very common for the wounded to cheer
their more fortunate comrades, as they pass on to the attack. A man
named Stewart, the piper of the 71st regiment, was wounded in the
thigh, very severely, at an early period of the action, and refused
to be removed. He sat upon a bank, playing martial airs, during the
remainder of the battle. As a party of his comrades were passing, he
addressed them thus: ‘Weel, my brave lads, I can gang na langer wi’
ye a fightin’, but ye shall na want music.’ On his return home, the
Highland Society voted him a handsome set of pipes, with a flattering
inscription engraved on them.”
The total loss of the French was estimated at three thousand. Soon
after the battle, General Kellerman presented himself, with a
strong body of cavalry, at the outposts, and demanded an interview
with the English general. The result of this interview was the
famous convention of Cintra. By it, it was stipulated that Portugal
should be delivered up to the British army, and the French should
evacuate it, with arms and baggage, but not as prisoners of war;
that the French should be transported, by the British, into their
own country; that the army should carry with it all its artillery,
cavalry, arms, and ammunition, and the soldiers all their private
property. It also provided that the Portuguese who had favored the
French party should not be punished.
According to the terms of this convention, Junôt, on the 2d of
September, yielded the government of the capital. This suspension of
military rule was followed by a wild scene of anarchy and confusion.
The police disbanded of their own accord, and crime stalked abroad on
every side. Lisbon was illuminated with thousands of little lamps,
at their departure; and such was the state of the public mind, that
Sir John Hope was obliged to make many and severe examples, before he
succeeded in restoring order.
On the 13th, the Duke of Abrantes embarked, with his staff; and
by the 30th of September only the garrisons of Elvas and Almeida
remained in Portugal. This convention was very unpopular in England.
The whole voice of the press was against it; and such was the state
of feeling, that Sir Harry Burrard and Sir Hugh Dalrymple were both
recalled, to present themselves before a court of inquiry, instituted
for the occasion. After a minute investigation, these generals were
declared innocent, but it was judged best to detain them at home.
Having seen Portugal under the control of the English, let us return
to the affairs of Spain. Immediately after the battle of Baylen,
which induced the retreat of Joseph from Madrid, Ferdinand was again
declared king, and the pomp and rejoicings attendant on this event
put an end to all business, except that of intrigue. The French were
everywhere looked upon by the Spanish as a conquered foe, and they
spent their time in the pageant of military triumphs and rejoicings,
as though the enemy had already fled. From this dream of fancied
security Palafox was at length awakened by the appearance of a French
corps, which retook Tudela, and pushed on almost to Saragossa. He
appealed to the governing junta for aid and assistance. Much time was
lost in intrigue and disputes, but at length the army was organized
by appointing La Pena and Llamas to the charge. To supply the place
usually occupied by the commander-in-chief, a board of general
officers was projected, of which Castanos should be chief; but when
some difficulty arose as to who the other members should be, this
plan was deferred, with the remark, that “when the enemy was driven
across the frontier, Castanos would have leisure to take his seat.”
Of the state of the Spanish forces at this time, Napier says, “The
idea of a defeat, the possibility of a failure, had never entered
their minds. The government, evincing neither apprehension, nor
activity, nor foresight, were contented if the people believed the
daily falsehoods propagated relative to the enemy; and the people
were content to be so deceived. The armies were neglected, even to
nakedness; the soldier’s constancy under privations cruelly abused;
disunion, cupidity, incapacity, prevailed in the higher orders;
patriotic ardor was visibly abating among the lower classes; the
rulers were grasping, improvident, and boasting; the enemy powerful,
the people insubordinate. Such were the allies whom the British
found on their arrival in Spain.” Sir Arthur Wellesley had returned
to Ireland, and the chief command was now given to Sir John Moore.
This general, with the greatest celerity, marched his troops to the
Spanish frontier, by the way of Almeida, having overcome almost
insurmountable obstacles, arising from the state of affairs in Spain.
Sir David Baird, with a force of ten thousand men, landed at Corunna,
and also advanced to the contest; but they soon found that they were
to meet an enemy with whom they were little able to cope.
Napoleon, with that energy so often displayed by him, when the
greatness of the occasion required its exercise, collected, in an
incredibly short space of time, an immense army of two hundred
thousand men, most of them veterans who had partaken of the glories
of Jena, Austerlitz, and Friedland. These were divided by the emperor
into eight parts, called “corps d’armée.” At the head of each of them
was placed one of his old and tried generals,--veterans on whom he
could rely. The very names of Victor, Bessières, Moncey, Lefebre,
Mortier, Ney, St. Cyr, and Junôt, speak volumes for the character of
the army.
These troops were excited to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, by
the emperor’s address, as he passed through Paris, promising that
he would head them in person, to drive the hideous leopard into the
sea. What were the scattered and divided troops of the Spaniards,
to contend with such a force? The grand French army reached
Vittoria almost without an interruption. Blake was in position at
Villarcayo, the Asturians were close at hand, Romana at Bilboa,
and the Estremadurans at Burgos. With more valor than discretion,
Blake made an attack upon Tornosa. The enemy pretended to retreat.
Blake, flushed with his apparent success, pursued them with avidity,
when he suddenly came before twenty-five thousand men, under the
Duke of Dantzic, and was furiously assailed. Blake, after a gallant
defence, was obliged to retreat, in great confusion, upon Bilboa. He
rallied, however, and was again in the field in a few days, fought
a brave action with Villate, and was this time successful. With the
vain-glory of his nation, he next attacked the strong city of Bilboa.
Here, Marshal Victor gained a signal success, Blake losing two of
his generals, and many of his men. Romana, who had joined Blake,
renewed the action, with his veterans. They were made prisoners, but
their brave chief escaped to the mountains. Napoleon himself now left
Bayonne, and directed his course into Spain. Only one day sufficed
for his arrival into Vittoria. At the gates of the city, a large
procession, headed by the civil and military chiefs, met him, and
wished to escort him to a splendid house prepared for his reception;
but they were destined to a disappointment. Napoleon was there, not
for pomp or show, but to direct, with his genius, the march of that
army which he had raised. Jumping from his horse, he entered the
first small inn he observed, and calling for his maps, and a report
of the situation of the armies on both sides, proceeded to arrange
the plan of his campaign. By daylight the next morning, his forces
were in motion. The hastily levied troops of the Condé de Belvidere,
himself a youth of only twenty years, were opposed to him. These were
routed, with great slaughter,--one whole battalion, composed of the
students of Salamanca and Lecon, fell to a man.
The army of the centre, under the command of Castanos, which was
composed of fifty thousand men, with forty pieces of cannon, was
totally routed at Tudela, by the French, under Lasnes and Ney; and
now but one stronghold remained to the Spaniards, between the enemy
and Madrid. This was the pass of the Somosierra. Here the Spanish
army, under St. Juan, had posted their force. Sixteen pieces of
artillery, planted in the neck of the pass, swept the road along
the whole ascent, which was exceedingly steep and favorable for
the defence. The Spanish troops were disposed in lines, one above
another; and when the French came on to the contest, they warmly
returned their fire, and stood their ground. As yet, the grand
battery had not opened its fire. This was waiting for the approach
of the centre, under Napoleon himself. And now Napoleon, seeing
that his troops were not advancing, rode slowly into the foot of the
pass. The lofty mountain towered above him. Around its top hung a
heavy fog, mingled with the curling smoke that was ascending from
the mouth of all those cannon, rendering every object indistinct in
the distance. Silently he gazed up the mountain. A sudden thought
strikes him. His practised eye has discerned, in a moment, what
course to pursue. Turning to his brave Polish lancers, he orders them
to charge up the causeway, and take the battery. They dashed onward.
As they did so, the guns were turned full upon them, and their front
ranks were levelled to the earth; but, ere they could reload, the
Poles, nothing daunted, sprang over their dying comrades, and before
the thick smoke, which enveloped them as a cloud, had dispersed,
they rushed, sword in hand, upon the soldiers, and, cutting down
the gunners, possessed themselves of the whole Spanish battery. The
panic became general. The Spaniards fled, leaving arms, ammunition,
and baggage, to the enemy, and the road open to Madrid. Meanwhile,
this city was in a state of anarchy seldom equalled. A multitude of
peasants had entered the place. The pavements were taken up, the
streets barricaded, and the houses pierced. They demanded arms and
ammunition. These were supplied them. Then they pretended that sand
had been mixed with the powder furnished. The Marquis of Perales, an
old and worthy gentleman, was accused of the deed. The mob rushed to
his house. They had no regard for age. They seized him by his silvery
hair, and, dragging him down the steps, drew him through the streets
until life was extinct. For eight days the mob held possession of the
city. No man was safe; none dared assume authority, or even offer
advice. Murder, and lust, and rapine, and cruelty, stalked fearlessly
through the streets. On the morning of the ninth, far away on the
hills to the north-west, appeared a large body of cavalry, like a
dark cloud overhanging the troubled city. At noon, the resistless
emperor sat down before the gates of Madrid, and summoned the city to
surrender. Calmness and quiet reigned in the French camp, but Madrid
was struggling like a wild beast in the toils. Napoleon had no wish
to destroy the capital of his brother’s kingdom, but he was not to be
trifled with. At midnight, a second summons was sent. It was answered
by an equivocal reply, and responded to by the roar of cannon and the
onset of the soldiery. This was an appeal not to be resisted. Madrid
was in no state to stand a siege. At noon, two officers, in Spanish
uniform, and bearing a flag of truce, were observed approaching
the French headquarters. They came to demand a suspension of arms,
necessary, they said, to persuade the people to surrender. It was
granted, and they returned to the city, with Napoleon’s message.
Before six o’clock in the morning, Madrid must surrender, or perish.
Dissensions arose, but the voice of prudence prevailed, and the
capital yielded. Napoleon was wise; he had no wish to goad a people
already incensed to fury. The strictest discipline was maintained,
and a soldier of his own guard was shot for having stolen a watch.
Shops were reöpened, public amusements recommenced, and all was
quiet. In six short weeks every Spanish army was dissipated. From
St. Sebastian to the Asturias, from the Asturias to Talavera, from
Talavera to the gates of Saragossa, all was submission, and beyond
that boundary all was apathy or dread.
An assemblage of the nobles, the clergy, the corporations, and the
tribunals, of Madrid, now waited on Napoleon at his headquarters, and
presented an address, in which they expressed their desire to have
Joseph return among them. Napoleon’s reply was an exposition of what
he had done and intended doing for Spain. Could the people but have
yielded their prejudices, and submitted to his wise plans, what seas
of tears and blood, what degradation and confusion, might have been
spared to poor, unhappy Spain!
“I accept,” said he, “the sentiments of the town of Madrid. I regret
the misfortunes that have befallen it, and I hold it as a particular
good fortune, that I am enabled to spare that city, and save it yet
greater misfortunes. I have hastened to take measures to tranquillize
all classes of citizens, knowing well that to all people and men
uncertainty is intolerable.
“I have preserved the religious orders, but I have restrained the
number of monks; no sane person can doubt that they are too numerous.
Those who are truly called to this vocation, by the grace of God,
will remain in the convents; those who have lightly, or for worldly
motives, adopted it, will have their existence secured among the
secular ecclesiastics, from the surplus of the convents.
“I have provided for the wants of the most interesting and useful of
the clergy, the parish priests.
“I have abolished that tribunal against which Europe and the age
alike exclaimed. Priests ought to guide consciences, but they should
not exercise any exterior or corporal jurisdiction over men.
“I have taken the satisfaction which was due to myself and to my
nation, and the part of vengeance is completed. Ten of the principal
criminals bend their heads before her; but for all others there is
absolute and entire pardon.
“I have suppressed the rights usurped by the nobles during civil
wars, when the kings have been too often obliged to abandon their own
rights, to purchase tranquillity and the repose of the people.
“I have suppressed the feudal rights, and every person can now
establish inns, mills, ovens, weirs, and fisheries, and give good
play to their industry, only observing the laws and customs of the
place. The self-love, the riches, and the prosperity, of a small
number of men, were more hurtful to your agriculture than the heats
of the dog-days.
“As there is but one God, there should be in one estate but one
justice; wherefore all the particular jurisdictions have been
usurped, and, being contrary to the national rights, I have destroyed
them. I have also made known to all persons that which each can have
to fear, and that which they may hope for.
“The English armies I will drive from the Peninsula. Saragossa,
Valencia, Seville, shall be reduced, either by persuasion or by force
of arms.
“There is no obstacle capable of retarding, for any length of time,
my will; but that which is above my power is to constitute the
Spaniards a nation, under the orders of a king, if they continue to
be imbued with divisions, and hatred towards France, such as the
English partisans and the enemies of the continent have instilled
into them. I cannot establish a nation, a king, and Spanish
independence, if that king is not sure of the affection and fidelity
of his subjects.
“The Bourbons can never reign again in Europe. The divisions in the
royal family were concerted by the English. It was not either King
Charles or his favorite, but the Duke of Infantado, the instrument
of England, that was upon the point of overturning the throne.
The papers recently found in his house prove this. It was the
preponderance of England that they wished to establish in Spain.
Insensate project! which would have produced a long war without end,
and caused torrents of blood to be shed.
“No power influenced by England can exist upon this continent. If any
desire it, their desire is folly and sooner or later will ruin them.
I shall be obliged to govern Spain; and it will be easy for me to do
it, by establishing a viceroy in each province. However, I will not
refuse to concede my rights of conquest to the king, and to establish
him in Madrid, when the thirty thousand citizens assemble in the
churches, and on the holy sacrament take an oath, not with the mouth
alone, but with the heart, and without any jesuitical restriction,
‘to be true to the king,--to love and support him.’ Let the priests
from the pulpit and in the confessional, the tradesmen in their
correspondence and in their discourses, inculcate these sentiments in
the people; then I will relinquish my rights of conquest, and I will
place the king upon the throne, and I will take a pleasure in showing
myself the faithful friend of the Spaniards.
“The present generation may differ in opinions. Too many passions
have been excited; but your descendants will bless me, as the
regenerator of the nation. They will mark my sojourn among you as
memorable days, and from those days they will date the prosperity of
Spain. These are my sentiments. Go, consult your fellow-citizens;
choose your part, but do it frankly, and exhibit only true colors.”
The ten criminals were the Dukes of Infantado, of Hijah, of
Mediniceli, and Ossuna; Marquis Santa Cruz, Counts Fernan, Minez, and
Altamira; Prince of Castello Franco, Pedro Cevallos, and the Bishop
of St. Ander, were proscribed, body and goods, as traitors to France
and Spain.
Napoleon now made dispositions indicating a vast plan of operations.
But, vast as his plan of campaign appears, it was not beyond the
emperor’s means, for, without taking into consideration his own
genius, activity and vigor, there were upon his muster-rolls above
three hundred and thirty thousand men and above sixty thousand
horse; two hundred pieces of field artillery followed his corps to
battle; and as many more remained in reserve. Of this great army,
however, only two hundred and fifty thousand men and fifty thousand
horses were actually under arms with the different regiments, while
above thirty thousand were detached or in garrisons, preserving
tranquillity in the rear, and guarding the communications of the
active forces. The remainder were in hospitals. Of the whole host,
two hundred and thirteen thousand were native Frenchmen, the residue
were Poles, Germans and Italians; thirty-five thousand men and five
thousand horses were available for fresh enterprise, without taking
a single man from the lines of communication.
The fate of the Peninsula hung, at this moment, evidently upon a
thread; and the deliverance of that country was due to other causes
than the courage, the patriotism, or the constancy, of the Spaniards.
The strength and spirit of Spain was broken; the enthusiasm was
null, except in a few places, in consequence of the civil wars, and
intestinal divisions incited by the monks and British hirelings; and
the emperor was, with respect to the Spaniards, perfectly master of
operations. He was in the centre of the country; he held the capital,
the fortresses, the command of the great lines of communication
between the provinces; and on the wide military horizon no cloud
interrupted his view, save the city of Saragossa on the one side, and
the British army on the other. “Sooner or later,” said the emperor,
and with truth, “Saragossa must fall.” The subjugation of Spain
seemed inevitable, when, at this instant, the Austrian war broke
out, and this master-spirit was suddenly withdrawn. England then put
forth all her vast resources, and the genius and vigor of Sir John
Moore, aided, most fortunately, by the absence of Napoleon, and the
withdrawal of the strength of his army for the subjugation of the
Peninsula; and it was delivered from the French, after oceans of
blood had been spilt and millions of treasure wasted, to fall into
the hands of the not less tyrannical and oppressive English. “But
through what changes of fortune, by what unexpected helps, by what
unlooked-for events,--under what difficulties, by whose perseverance,
and in despite of whose errors,--let posterity judge; for in that
judgment,” says Napier, “only will impartiality and justice be found.”
Tidings having reached the emperor that the Austrian army was about
to invade France, he recalled a large portion of his army, and
appointing his brother Joseph to be his lieutenant-general, he
allotted separate provinces to each corps d’armée, and directing the
imperial guard to hasten to France, he returned to Valladolid, where
he received the addresses of the nobles and deputies of Madrid, and
other great towns; and after three days’ delay, he departed himself,
with scarcely any escort, but with such astonishing speed as to
frustrate the designs which some Spaniards had, in some way, formed
against his person.
The general command of the French army in Spain was left with Soult,
assisted by Ney. This gallant general, bearing the title of the
Duke of Dalmatia, commenced his pursuit of the English army with
a vigor that marked his eager desire to finish the campaign in a
manner suitable to its brilliant opening. Sir John Moore had arrived
in Salamanca by the middle of November, and on the 23d the other
divisions of the army had arrived at the stations assigned them.
Sir David Baird had already reported himself at Astorga, when Moore
received positive information that the French had entered Valladolid
in great force. And this place was only three days’ march distant
from the British. At a glance, the great mind of Moore comprehended
the full difficulty of his critical situation. In the heart of a
foreign country, unsupported by the Spanish government, his army
wanting the very necessaries of life, he found himself obliged to
commence that retreat in winter, over mountains covered with snow,
which proved so fatal to the British army, or wait to meet the French
troops, flushed with victory, and sustained by an overwhelming force.
In vain he appealed to the junta of Salamanca for aid. In vain he
endeavored to arouse the spirit of patriotism, which had shone forth
so brightly in the first days of the insurrection. Instead of aiding
him either to advance or retreat, they endeavored to direct him what
course to pursue; and painted, with true Spanish pride and hyperbole,
in glowing colors, what their armies had done, and what they could
do. His camp was therefore struck, and he retreated through the
rocks of Gallicia, closely followed by the pursuing army. Whenever
the advance guards of the enemy approached, the British rallied with
vigor, and sustained their reputation for bravery; but they displayed
a lamentable want of discipline in all other parts of their conduct.
The weather was tempestuous; the roads miserable; the commissariat
was utterly defective, and the very idea that they were retreating
was sufficient to crush the spirits of the soldiery. At Bembibre,
although the English well knew that the French were close behind,
they broke into the immense wine-vaults of that city. All effort by
their officers to control them was utterly useless. Hundreds became
so inebriated as to be unable to proceed, and Sir John Moore was
obliged to proceed without them. Scarcely had the reserve marched out
of the village, when the French cavalry appeared. In a moment the
road was filled with the miserable stragglers, who came crowding
after the troops, some with shrieks of distress and wild gestures,
others with brutal exclamations; while many, overcome with fear,
threw away their arms, and those who preserved them were too stupidly
intoxicated to fire, and kept reeling to and fro, alike insensible
to their danger and disgrace. The enemy’s horsemen, perceiving this,
bore at a gallop through the disorderly mob, cutting to the right
and left as they passed, and riding so close to the columns that
the infantry were forced to halt in order to protect them. At Villa
Franca even greater excesses were committed; the magazines were
plundered, the bakers driven away from the ovens, the wine-stores
forced, the doors of the houses were broken, and the scandalous
insubordination of the soldiers was, indeed, a disgrace to the
army. Moore endeavored to arrest this disorder, and caused one man,
taken in the act of plundering a magazine, to be hanged. He also
endeavored to send despatches to Sir David Baird, directing him to
Corunna, instead of Vigo; but his messenger became drunk and lost his
despatches, and this act cost the lives of more than four hundred
men, besides a vast amount of suffering to the rest of the army. An
unusual number of women and children had been allowed to accompany
the army, and their sufferings were, indeed, dreadful to witness.
Clark, in his history of the war, gives a heart-rending account of
the horrors of this retreat. “The mountains were now covered with
snow; there was neither provision to sustain nature nor shelter from
the rain and snow, nor fuel for fire to keep the vital heat from
total extinction, nor place where the weary and footsore could rest
for a single hour in safety. The soldiers, barefooted, harassed and
weakened by their excesses, were dropping to the rear by hundreds;
while broken carts, dead animals, and the piteous appearance of
women, with children, struggling or falling exhausted in the snow,
completed the dreadful picture. It was still attempted to carry
forward some of the sick and wounded;--the beasts that drew them
failed at every step, and they were left to perish amid the snows.”
“I looked around,” says an officer, “when we had hardly gained the
highest point of those slippery precipices, and saw the rear of
the army winding along the narrow road. I saw their way marked by
the wretched people, who lay on all sides, expiring from fatigue
and the severity of the cold, their bodies reddening in spots the
white surface of the ground. A Portuguese bullock-driver, who had
served the English from the first day of their arrival, was seen on
his knees amid the snow, dying, in the attitude and act of prayer.
He had, at least, the consolations of religion, in his dying hour.
But the English soldiers gave utterance to far different feelings,
in their last moments. Shame and anger mingled with their groans
and imprecations on the Spaniards, who had, as they said, betrayed
them. Mothers found their babes sometimes frozen in their arms, and
helpless infants were seen seeking for nourishment from the empty
breasts of their dead mothers. One woman was taken in labor upon
the mountain. She lay down at the turning of an angle, rather more
sheltered than the rest of the way from the icy sleet which drifted
along; there she was found dead, and two babes which she had brought
forth struggling in the snow. A blanket was thrown over her, to
hide her from sight,--the only burial that could be afforded; and
the infants were given in charge to a woman who came up in one of
the carts, little likely, as it was, that they could survive such a
journey.”
Soult hung close on the rear of this unfortunate army, and pursued
them until they reached Corunna, on the 12th of January. As the
morning dawned, the weary and unfortunate general, saddened by the
dark scenes through which he had passed, sensible that the soldiers
were murmuring at their retreat, unsupported by his Spanish allies,
and well aware that rumor and envy and misunderstanding would be
busy with his name in his own native land, appeared on the heights
that overhung the town. With eager and anxious gaze, he turned to
the harbor, hoping to perceive there his fleet, which he had ordered
to sail from Vigo. But the same moody fortune which had followed
him during his whole career pursued him here. The wintry sun looked
down upon the foaming ocean, and only the vast expanse of water
met his view. The fleet, detained by contrary winds, was nowhere
visible; and once more he was obliged to halt with his forces, and
take up quarters. The army was posted on a low ridge, and waited
for the French to come up. The sadness of the scene was by no means
passed. Here, stored in Corunna, was a large quantity of ammunition,
sent over from England, and for the want of which both the Spanish
and English forces had suffered, and which Spanish idleness and
improvidence had suffered to remain here for months, unappropriated.
This must now be destroyed, or fall into the possession of the enemy.
Three miles from the town were piled four thousand barrels of powder
on a hill, and a smaller quantity at some distance from it. On the
morning of the 13th, the inferior magazine blew up, with a terrible
noise, and shook the houses in the town; but when the train reached
the great store, there ensued a crash like the bursting forth of a
volcano;--the earth trembled for miles, the rocks were torn from
their bases, and the agitated waters rolled the vessels, as in a
storm; a vast column of smoke and dust, shooting out fiery sparks
from its sides, arose perpendicularly and slowly to a great height,
and then a shower of stones and fragments of all kinds, bursting out
of it with a roaring sound, killed many persons who remained too
near the spot. Stillness, slightly interrupted by the lashing of the
waves on the shore, succeeded, and then the business of the day went
on. The next scene was a sad one. All the horses of the army were
collected together, and, as it was impossible to embark them in face
of the enemy, they were ordered to be shot. These poor animals would
otherwise have been distributed among the French cavalry, or used as
draft-horses.
On the 14th, the transports from Vigo arrived. The dismounted
cavalry, the sick and wounded, the best horses, belonging to the
officers, which had been saved, and fifty-two pieces of artillery,
were embarked during the night, only retaining twelve guns on shore,
ready for action. And now the closing scene of this sad drama was
rapidly approaching, giving a melancholy but graceful termination to
the campaign.
On the night of the 15th, everything was shipped that was destined
to be removed, excepting the fighting men. These were intending to
embark, as soon as the darkness should permit them to move without
being perceived, on the night of the 16th; but in the afternoon the
French troops drew up, and offered battle. This the English general
would not refuse, and the action soon became general. The battle
was advancing, with varied fortune, when Sir John Moore, who was
earnestly watching the result of the battle in the village of Elvina,
received his death-wound. A spent cannon-ball struck him on his
breast. The shock threw him from his horse, with violence; but he
rose again, in a sitting posture, his countenance unchanged, and his
steadfast eye still fixed on the regiments before him, and betraying
no signs of pain. In a few moments, when satisfied that his troops
were gaining ground, his countenance brightened, and he suffered
himself to be carried to the rear. Then was seen the dreadful nature
of his hurt. The shoulder was shattered to pieces; the arm was
hanging by a piece of skin; the ribs over the heart were broken and
bared of flesh, and the muscles of the breast torn into long strips,
which were interlaced by their recoil from the dragging shot. As
the soldiers placed him in a blanket, his sword got entangled, and
the hilt entered the wound. Captain Hardinge, a staff officer, who
was near, attempted to take it off; but the dying man stopped him,
saying, “It is as well as it is; I had rather it should go out of the
field with me.” And in that manner, so becoming to a soldier, he was
borne from the fight by his devoted men, who went up the hill weeping
as they went. The blood flowed fast, and the torture of his wound was
great; yet, such was the unshaken firmness of his mind, that those
about him judged, from the resolution of his countenance, that his
hurt was not mortal, and said so to him. He looked steadfastly at
the wound for a few moments, and then said, “No,--I feel that to be
impossible.” Several times he caused his attendants to turn around,
that he might behold the field of battle; and, when the firing
indicated the advance of the British, he discovered his satisfaction,
and permitted his bearers to proceed. Being brought to his lodgings,
the surgeon examined his wound, but there was no hope. The pain
increased, and he spoke with great difficulty. Addressing an old
friend, he said, “You know that I always wished to die this way.”
Again he asked if the enemy were defeated; and being told that they
were, observed, “It is a great satisfaction to me that we have beaten
the French.” Once, when he spoke of his mother, he became agitated.
It was the only time. He inquired after his friends and officers who
had survived the battle, and did not even now forget to recommend
those whose merit entitled them to promotion. His strength failed
fast; and life was almost extinct, when he exclaimed, as if in that
dying hour the veil of the future had been lifted, and he had seen
the baseness of his posthumous calumniators, “I hope the people of
England will be satisfied; I hope my country will do me justice.”
In a few minutes afterwards he died, and his corpse, wrapped in a
military cloak, was interred by the officers of his staff, in the
citadel of Corunna. The guns of the enemy paid his funeral honors,
and the valiant Duke of Dalmatia, with a characteristic nobleness,
raised a monument to his memory. The following is so beautiful and
touching a description of his burial, that we cannot refrain from
quoting it, even though it may be familiar to most of our readers. It
was written by the Rev. Charles Wolfe, of Dublin.
“Not a drum was heard--not a funeral note--
As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where our hero was buried.
“We buried him darkly, at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeams’ misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
“No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
“Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And bitterly thought of the morrow.
“We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow.
“Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone,
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
“But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring
And we heard the distant and random gun
Of the enemy, suddenly firing.
“Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;
We carved not a line--we raised not a stone--
But we left him alone with his glory.”
The battle was continued until dark, under great disadvantages on
the part of the French, owing to the difficulty they experienced
in dragging their heavy cannon on to the heights, and their small
amount of ammunition. The French loss has been estimated at three
thousand, and the British at eight hundred; but the loss of the
French was undoubtedly exaggerated. The English availed themselves
of the darkness and the confusion among the enemy to embark their
troops; and so complete were the arrangements of Sir John Hope, who
succeeded to the command, that it was all effected, without delay
or difficulty, before morning. The wounded were provided for, and
the fleet, although fired upon by the French, sailed on the 17th for
their home in England.
But their trials were not yet closed. It was Sir John Moore’s
intention to have proceeded to Vigo, that he might restore order
before he sailed for England, but the fleet went directly home from
Corunna, and a terrible storm scattered it, many ships were wrecked,
and the remainder, driving up the channel, were glad to put into
any port. The soldiers thus thrown on shore were spread all over
the country. Their haggard appearance, ragged clothing, and dirty
accoutrements, struck a people only used to the daintiness of parade
with surprise. A deadly fever, the result of anxiety and of the
sudden change from fatigue to the confinement of a ship, filled the
hospitals at every port with officers and soldiers, and the terrible
state of the army was the all-absorbing topic of conversation.
CHAPTER III.
Joseph Bonaparte again King of Spain--His Difficulties with Soult
--Second Siege of Saragossa--Another English Army, under Sir Arthur
Wellesley, lands at Lisbon--Battle of Talavera--The English retire
into Portugal--Siege of Gerona--Principal Events of the Campaign
of 1810--The English Troops make a Stand at Torres Vedras--Retreat
of Massena--Siege of Cadiz--Escape of French Prisoners--Opening
of the Campaign of 1811.
Having closed the history of this unfortunate army, let us now return
to Spain. Joseph had returned, a nominal king, to Madrid. More than
twenty-six thousand heads of families had come forward, of their
own accord, and sworn, by the host, that they desired his presence
amongst them. The marshals, under his directions, were pursuing
the conquest of Spain with vigor. Though Joseph was nominally
lieutenant-general, Soult was in reality at the head of operations.
A modern writer, speaking of these two commanders, says Soult was
crippled in all his movements, his sound policy neglected, and his
best combinations thwarted, by Joseph. His operations in Andalusia
and Estramadura, and the firmness with which he resisted the avarice
of Joseph, all exhibited his well-balanced character. In Andalusia he
firmly held his ground, although hedged in with hostile armies, and
surrounded by an insurgent population, while a wide territory had to
be covered with his troops.
King Joseph could not comprehend the operations of such a mind as
Soult’s, and constantly impeded his success. When, without ruin to
his army, the stubborn marshal could yield to his commands, he did;
but where the king’s projects would plunge him into irredeemable
errors, he openly and firmly withstood them. The anger and threats of
Joseph were alike in vain. The inflexible old soldier professed his
willingness to obey, but declared he would not, with his eyes open,
commit a great military blunder. King Joseph would despatch loud and
vehement complaints to Napoleon, but the emperor knew too well the
ability of Soult to heed them. Had the latter been on the Spanish
throne, the country would long before have been subdued, and the
French power established.
We shall not enter into detail of all the operations in Spain. A
short account of some of the principal battles we will give; and, as
we have already detailed the first siege of Saragossa, our readers
may perhaps like to know the final fate of this devoted city. We
quote from Headley’s description of the second siege.
“The siege at Saragossa had been successively under the command of
Moncey and Junôt. The camp was filled with murmurs and complaints.
For nearly a month they had environed the town in vain. Assault after
assault had been made; and from the 2d of January, when Junôt took
the command, till the arrival of Lannes in the latter part of the
month, every night had been distinguished by bloody fights; and yet
the city remained unconquered. Lannes paid no heed to the murmurs
and complaints around him, but immediately, by the promptitude
and energy of his actions, infused courage into the hearts of the
desponding soldiery. The decision he was always wont to carry into
battle was soon visible in the siege. The soldiers poured to the
assault with firmer purpose, and fought with more resolute courage.
The apathy which had settled down on the army was dispelled. New life
was given to every movement; and on the 27th, amid the tolling of
the tower-bell, warning the people to the defence, a grand assault
was made, and, after a most sanguinary conflict, the walls of the
town were carried, and the French soldiers fortified themselves
in the convent at St. Joseph’s. Unyielding to the last, the brave
Saragossans fought on, and, amid the pealing of the tocsin, rushed
up to the very mouths of the cannons, and perished by hundreds and
by thousands in the streets of the city. Every house was a fortress,
and around its walls were separate battle-fields, where deeds of
frantic valor were done. Day after day did these single-handed fights
continue, while famine and pestilence walked the city at noonday,
and slew faster than the swords of the enemy. The dead lay piled
up in every street, and on the thick heaps of the slain the living
mounted, and fought with the energy of despair for their homes and
their liberty. In the midst of this incessant firing by night and
by day, and hand to hand fights on the bodies of the slain, ever
and anon a mine would explode, blowing the living and dead, friend
and foe, together in the air. An awful silence would succeed for a
moment, and then, over the groans of the dying, would ring again
the rallying cry of the brave inhabitants. The streets ran torrents
of blood, and the stench of putrefied bodies loaded the air. Thus,
for three weeks, did the fight and butchery go on, within the city
walls, till the soldiers grew dispirited and ready to give up the
hope of spoils, if they could escape the ruin that encompassed them.
Yet theirs was a comfortable lot to that of the besieged. Shut up in
the cellars with the dead, pinched with famine, while the pestilence
rioted without mercy and without resistance, they heard around them
the incessant bursting of bombs, and thunder of artillery, and
explosions of mines, and crash of falling houses, till the city
shook, night and day, as within the grasp of an earthquake. Thousands
fell daily, and the town was a mass of ruins. Yet, unconquered and
apparently unconquerable, the inhabitants struggled on. Out of the
dens they had made for themselves among the ruins, and from the
cellars where there were more dead than living, men would crawl to
fight, who looked more like spectres than warriors. Women would work
the guns, and, musket in hand, advance fearlessly to the charge; and
hundreds thus fell, fighting for their homes and their firesides.
Amid this scene of devastation,--against this prolonged and almost
hopeless struggle of weeks,--against the pestilence that had appeared
in his own army, and was mowing down his own troops,--and, above all,
against the increased murmurs and now open clamors of the soldiers,
declaring that the siege must be abandoned till reinforcements could
come up,--Lannes remained unshaken and untiring. The incessant
roar and crash around him, the fetid air, the exhausting toil, the
carnage and the pestilence, could not change his iron will. He had
decreed that Saragossa--which had heretofore baffled every attempt
to take it--should fall. At length, by a vigorous attempt, he took
the convent of St. Laran, in the suburbs of the town, and planted
his artillery there, which soon levelled the city around it with the
ground. To finish this work of destruction by one grand blow, he
caused six mines to be run under the main street of the city, each of
which was charged with three thousand pounds of powder. But before
the time appointed for their explosion arrived, the town capitulated.
The historians of this siege describe the appearance of the city and
its inhabitants, after the surrender, as inconceivably horrible.
With only a single wall between them and the enemy’s trenches, they
had endured a siege of nearly two months by forty thousand men, and
continued to resist after famine and pestilence began to slay faster
than the enemy. Thirty thousand cannon-balls and sixty thousand bombs
had fallen in the city, and fifty-four thousand of the inhabitants
had perished. Six thousand only had fallen in combat, while
forty-eight thousand had been the prey of the pestilence. After the
town had capitulated, but twelve thousand were found able to bear
arms, and they looked more like spectres issuing from the tomb than
like living warriors.
“Saragossa was taken; but what a capture! As Lannes rode through
the streets at the head of his victorious army, he looked only on a
heap of ruins, while six thousand unburied corpses lay in his path.
Sixteen thousand lay sick, while on the living famine had written
more dreadful characters than death had traced on the fallen. Infants
lay on the breasts of their dead mothers, striving in vain to draw
life from bosoms that would never throb again. Attenuated forms,
with haggard faces and sunken eyes and cheeks, wandered around
among the dead to search for their friends; corpses, bloated with
famine, lay stretched across the threshold of their dwellings, and
strong-limbed men went staggering over the pavements, weak from want
of food, or struck with the pestilence. Woe was in every street,
and the silence in the dwellings was more eloquent than the loudest
cries and groans. Death and famine and the pestilence had been there,
in every variety of form and suffering. But the divine form of
Liberty had been there too, walking amid those mountains of corpses
and ruins of homes, shedding her light through the subterranean
apartments of the wretched, and, with her cheering voice, animating
the thrice-conquered, yet still unconquered, to another effort,
and blessing the dying as they prayed for their beloved city. But
she was at last compelled to take her departure, and the bravest
city of modern Europe sunk in bondage. Still her example lives, and
shall live to the end of time, nerving the patriot to strike and
suffer for his home and freedom, and teaching man everywhere how to
die in defending the right. A wreath of glory surrounds the brow of
Saragossa, fadeless as the memory of her brave defenders. Before
their achievements,--the moral grandeur of their firm struggle,
and the depth and intensity of their sufferings,--the bravery and
perseverance of the French sink into forgetfulness. Yet theirs was no
ordinary task, and it was by no ordinary means that it was executed.”
The English had by no means relinquished their designs upon the
Peninsula. The successes of Napoleon and his victorious army but
served to stimulate their hatred of the French, and spur them on
to further efforts. Another army was accordingly collected, and
placed under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, who landed in
Lisbon on the 22d of April, 1809. The force under his command was
fourteen thousand five hundred infantry, fifteen hundred cavalry, and
twenty-four pieces of artillery. The passage of the river Dwero was
his first contest with the French. In this he was successful, and his
success opened to him the gates of Oporto. Soon after occurred the
celebrated battle of Talavera. King Joseph was himself nominally
at the head of his troops; but Marshal Victor was, in reality, the
leader. Victor and Soult had both laid their plans before the king,
and urged them with all the eloquence they were capable of. So sure
was Victor of the victory, should his advice be followed, that
he said that, if his plans should fail, all military science was
useless. The event proved, however, that Soult was correct.
“The morning dawned beautifully clear, but a July sun poured down its
burning heat, until the soldiers were glad to seek shelter from its
rays in the quiet shade. Between the camps of the two armies flowed
a little murmuring rivulet, and, as the French and English met there
to slake their thirst, pleasant words passed between them. Familiar
conversation, the light laugh and the gay jest, were heard on every
side. But, about one o’clock, the deep rolling of drums along the
French lines announced to the allies that the hour had come when
those who had met to slake their thirst in those quiet waters were
soon to mingle to quell in blood their thirst for strife. They, too,
prepared for combat; and, when the loud booming of the guns gave the
signal that the battle was commenced, eighty cannon opened their
destructive fire, and the light troops went sweeping onward with the
rapidity of a thunder-cloud over the heavens, while the deep, dark
columns marched sternly after, and charged, with terrible strength,
the English lines. Then all along their fronts the deep-mouthed guns
opened their well-directed fire, and the infantry responded to the
furious attack with their rapid volleys, as they closed around the
head of the advancing columns, enveloping them in one sheet of flame,
that streamed like billows along their sides. It was too much for
human courage to endure; and, after bravely breasting the storm, they
were obliged to fall back in disorder.
“After various successes and reverses, the French seemed about to
gain the day. The English centre was broken, and Victor’s columns
marching triumphantly through it. Just at this juncture, when the
English were scattering on every side, Colonel Donellan, anxious to
save the honor of his army, was seen advancing through the disordered
masses, at the head of the 48th regiment. The retiring masses on
every side pressed hard against these brave soldiers, and it seemed,
at first, as though they must be carried away by them; but, wheeling
back by companies, they opened to let the fugitives pass, and then,
pursuing their proud and beautiful line, they marched straight upon
the pursuing columns on the right side, and poured their rapid
fire into the dense ranks. Closing on the foe with steadiness and
firmness, these few soldiers arrested the progress of the entire
mass. Then their artillery opened its fire upon them, and the cavalry
rallied, and rode round to charge their flanks; and, after a short
and earnest warfare, the tide of success turned, and victory, which
seemed a moment before in the hands of the French, was wrested
from their grasp, amid the loud shouts and earnest cheerings of
the British. Their troops retired in good order to their former
position, and at six o’clock the battle had closed. And now, as both
parties were preparing to remove their wounded, and pay the last
sad duties to the dead, one of those terrible events occurred which
sometimes come to shock the human soul, and overrun a cup of misery
already full. Hardly had the last troops withdrawn from the scene of
contest, when the long dry grass took fire, and one broad flame swept
furiously over the field, wrapping the dead and wounded together in
its fiery mantle. The shrieks of the scorched and writhing victims,
that struggled up through the thick folds of smoke that rolled darkly
over them, were far more appalling than the uproar of battle, and
carried consternation to every heart that heard. Two thousand men
were killed on both sides, and eight thousand wounded.”[1]
Soon after, the army effected a junction with Soult, and Sir Arthur
Wellesley was obliged to retreat. He obtained, however, a promise
from the Spanish general that the English wounded should be removed
from the hospitals of Talavera to some other place. But this promise,
like too many others, was shamefully violated; and he left the place,
abandoning them all to the mercy of the enemy. When Victor entered
the town, he found the public square covered with the sick and maimed
of both armies, scattered around on the pavement, without any one
to care for them. He immediately sent his soldiers into the houses,
commanding the inhabitants to receive the wounded sufferers. He
ordered that one English and one French soldier should be lodged
together,--thus softening the asperities of war, and setting an
example to his foes which they would have done well to follow. If
the Spanish had refused to care for the sick and wounded of their
allies, they showed scarcely more consideration for the men on whose
success their own safety depended. They refused to supply them with
provisions. The soldiers were weakened by hunger, and the sick dying
for want of necessary succor. Half a pound of wheat in the grain,
and, twice a week, a few ounces of flour, with a quarter of a pound
of goat’s flesh, formed the sole subsistence of men and officers. The
goats were caught and killed by the troops; and it was so difficult
to procure even these, that the mere offal of a goat would bring
three or four dollars. Sir Arthur’s warm remonstrances to the Spanish
junta were answered only by promises. The soldiers were murmuring
at their bad treatment; and, when pestilence broke out in the army,
and five thousand men died in their hospitals, Wellesley, deeming
it useless to struggle longer against the force of circumstances,
judged it best again to evacuate Spain, and withdraw his troops
into Portugal. However lightly the English had, in anticipation,
regarded the bravery of the French troops, experience--that stern
and truthful monitor--had taught them that they were an enemy
not to be despised, and that Soult, their chief commander, was as
skilful, and, as a tactician, fully equal to Wellington. Many English
writers, in speaking of Wellington, have drawn a parallel between him
and Napoleon, because he was commander-in-chief when the battle of
Waterloo was won. Yet this long struggle between the English general
and Soult, in Spain, in which he was as often defeated as conqueror,
shows conclusively that the French and English commanders were well
matched,--that there was little to choose between them; and who would
think, even for a moment, of instituting a comparison of equality
between Napoleon and Soult?
We cannot follow the Spaniards, in all their operations, after the
English forces had been withdrawn; marked, as they often were, by
want of courage, and oftener by want of skill and foresight in their
arrangements. The Partida warfare was now instituted, and many of the
French troops were cut off in this way; yet the system was a decided
injury to Spain. The heroic defence of Saragossa, already recorded,
and the almost equally courageous one of Gerona, rise as bright spots
on the dark page of Spanish history, and are well worthy of a name
and place in this history. Most of the siege of Gerona we shall take
the liberty to extract from Tucker’s Life of Wellington.
Gerona is a city of Catalonia, situate on the little river Onar.
It is protected by four forts, upon the high ground above it. Its
principal defence, however, was the citadel, called the Monjuie.
This is a square fort, two hundred and forty yards in length on each
side, with four bastions. The garrisons consisted of three thousand
four hundred men, commanded by Mariano Alvarez,--a man at once noble,
brave, and humane. Alvarez, who knew that he could place small
dependence on reinforcements from without, gave every encouragement
to the feelings of the citizens to defend their town to the last
extremity. For this purpose, he formed them into eight companies of
one hundred men each. Nor was the enthusiasm of the defence shared
alone by the men. Maids and matrons also enrolled themselves in an
association, which they termed the Company of St. Barbara, to perform
whatever lay in their power. Alvarez knew full well the power which
superstition would exert on the minds of the bigoted Spaniards. He,
therefore, invested St. Narcis, the patron saint of the Geronans,
with the insignia of generalissimo of all their forces, by land and
by sea. This was done on the Sabbath; and the shrine of the saint was
opened, and a general’s staff, a sword and richly-ornamented belt,
were deposited with his holy relics. Such was the joy and excitement
of the Spaniards, that one of their writers says, “It seemed as
if the glory of the Lord had descended and filled the church,
manifesting that their devotion was approved and blessed by heaven.”
A proclamation was also issued by Alvarez, forbidding all persons, of
whatever rank, from speaking of capitulation, on pain of immediate
death. This was received, both by the garrison and people, with
acclamation.
The city was closely invested by eighteen thousand French, under
the command of General Verdier, on the 6th of May, on the heights
of Casa Roca, where they erected a battery of eleven mortars, and
began to form their first line of circumvallation. The garrison was
too weak to make a sally, or otherwise prevent them. A flag of truce
was sent, with the conditions on which the French would leave the
city; but the only reply it drew forth was, that the Geronans would
hold no communication with the French, but at the cannon’s mouth. At
one o’clock on the morning of June 14th, the bombardment commenced.
As soon as the first shell struck, the loud tones of the _generale_
resounded through the streets, and every one flew to his post. The
female Company of St. Barbara, so far from shrinking from danger,
sought everywhere those spots where most was anticipated. What
bravery or daring could do was done; yet two castles were yielded
up, after a brave but vain resistance. Palamas was also carried
by assault. Very few of the garrison escaped, and those only by
throwing themselves into the sea. In July, three batteries kept up
an incessant fire upon three sides of the Monjuie. By one of these
discharges the angle on which the Spanish flag was planted was cut
off, and the flag prostrated into the ditch below. In an instant, a
man was lowered down from the walls to regain it. Balls fell like
hail around him; yet, apparently unmindful of the dangers to which he
was exposed, he calmly descended, and, having recovered the prostrate
banner, returned to his comrades unhurt, and again hoisted it on the
walls.
A breach was now made in the walls so wide that forty men might enter
abreast. The works progressed with more rapidity, as the fire of the
besieged had entirely ceased. It was not that Gerona was conquered,
but, finding that their ammunition was growing short, they prudently
reserved it until the nearer approach of the enemy should make it
more efficient. On the morning of the 8th, about three o’clock, the
French, under cover of a most tremendous bombardment, again assaulted
the city. Six thousand men marched up to the breach, and endeavored
to rush through; but, concealed there in the ruins of the ravelin,
lay a mortar, which discharged five hundred musket-balls every
shot. As they advanced, it was turned upon them, and their way was
soon impeded by the slain. Three times during that day the assault
was repeated, with the utmost resolution, by the assailants; and
three times were they obliged to retire before the heroic defenders
of Gerona, leaving sixteen hundred men lifeless on the field of
battle. But the effect of that dreadful attack was severely felt
by the besieged. The tower of St. Juan had been blown up, and only
twenty-three of its brave little garrison remained alive.
An instance of extraordinary heroism, in a youthful drummer, which
occurred during the assault, deserves to be recorded. His name was
Luciana Ancio, and he belonged to the artillery. He was stationed to
give the alarm, when a shell was thrown. A ball struck his leg off to
the knee, and felled him to the ground. Some women, who saw him fall,
hastened to remove him to a place of greater safety; but he refused,
saying, “No, no! my arms are left, and I can still beat the drum to
give my comrades warning in time to save themselves.” Heaven seemed
to smile upon his bravery; for he alone, of all those who suffered an
amputation of the thigh during the siege, recovered.
The Company of St. Barbara were everywhere to be seen, covered
with dust and blood, under the burning heat of a July sun. Those
courageous women, through an incessant fire of the batteries and the
musketry, carried water and wine to the soldiers, and bore back the
wounded. Every day produced acts of heroism equally conspicuous, for
the attack continued with unabated force. The sharp-shooters of the
enemy were stationed thickly in the trenches; and so fatal was their
aim, that for any of the garrison to be seen, only for a moment,
was certain death. And, although the sentinels were changed every
half-hour, nine were killed, in one day, at one post; and, after
this, it was only possible to observe what the enemy were about, by
some one in the force lifting up his head, and taking a momentary
glance.
Early in August, the besiegers had pushed their parallels to the
very edge of the fosse; but here their efforts were delayed, because
the nature of the soil obliged them to bring earth from some distance
to finish their works. About this time, Castellar de la Silva, at
the head of fifteen hundred men, attempted to throw supplies into
the city; but no precautions could escape the watchful eye of the
besiegers. The convoy was seized, and only five hundred men, of the
fifteen hundred who defended it, lived to tell the tale.
The main attacks of the besiegers were now directed against the
ravelin, which had become the chief defence of Monjuie. Attempts were
made, night after night, to storm it; but in vain. It was mined, but,
as the breastwork was wholly of earth, the explosion did no injury. A
battery was planted against it, and a sally was made by the besieged,
hoping to destroy it. This attack was headed by a priest. He was
fired upon, and fell. One of the French officers, at the risk of his
own life, protected him from further injury. But his humanity cost
him his life. One of the Spaniards, mistaking his object, cut him
down. The guns of the battery were spiked; but this brave attack was
of little use, for the French were well supplied with artillery, and
fresh guns were soon mounted, and played upon the gate and ravelin.
For thirty-seven days had this fierce conflict been sustained. The
numbers of the besieged were greatly reduced; the hospitals were
filled to overflowing, and pestilence, with all its horrors, spread
unchecked, on every side. Yet this was not all. Grim, gaunt famine
was among them, and began to be severely felt. Of all their stores,
only some wheat and a little flour remained. Still, there was no
thought of capitulation, although every day diminished their little
stock. On the 19th of September, another general assault was made,
and as bravely met. “Frequently,” says Southey, “such was the press
of conflict, and such the passion that inspired them, that, impatient
of the time required for reloading their muskets, the defendants
caught up stones from the breach, and hurled upon their enemies
these readier weapons. Four times the assault was repeated in the
course of two hours, and at every point the enemy was beaten off. The
noble Alvarez, during the whole assault, hastened from post to post,
wherever he was most needed, providing everything, directing all,
and encouraging all. Eight hundred of the besiegers fell, on this
memorable day. A glorious success had been gained, yet it brought
with it no rest,--no respite,--scarcely a prolongation of hope. There
was no wine to cheer the wearied soldiery, when they returned from
the assault--not even bread. A scanty mess of pulse, or corn, with
a little oil, or morsel of bacon, in its stead, was all that could
be served out; and even this was the gift of families, who shared
with the soldiers their little stores.” “What matters it?” was the
answer of these heroes to the lament of the inhabitants that they had
nothing better to give; “if the food fail, the joy of having saved
Gerona will give us strength to go on.” Every day, every hour, added
to the distress of the besieged. Their flour was exhausted, and, for
want of other animal food, mules and horses were slaughtered, and
sent to the shambles. A list was made of all within the city, and
they were taken by lot. Fuel became exceedingly scarce; yet such was
the patriotism of the people, that the heaps placed at the corners
of the streets, to illuminate them in case of danger, remained
untouched. A glimmering of hope still remained that the city might be
supplied with provisions by the army of Blake; but even this faint
hope was cut off when Marshal Augereau superseded St. Cyr in the
control of the siege,--for his first act was to take possession of
Haslatrich, at which place Blake had stored the greater part of his
magazines. Augereau sent letters to the city threatening an increase
of horrors in case the siege was prolonged, and offering them an
armistice of a month, with provisions for that time, if Alvarez would
then capitulate; but these terms were rejected with scorn. Hitherto,
the few animals which had remained had been led out to feed near the
burying-ground; but this was no longer possible, and the wretched
animals gnawed the hair from each other’s bodies. The stores of the
citizens were now exhausted, and the food for the hospitals was
sometimes seized on the way, by the famishing populace. Provisions
were prepared in the French camp, and held out to the garrison as a
temptation to desert; and yet, during the whole siege, only ten so
deserted.
At length, human nature could endure no more. The chief surgeon
presented to Alvarez a report on the state of the city. It was,
indeed, a fearful one. It stated that “not a single house remained
in a habitable state” in Gerona. The people slept in cellars, and
vaults, and holes, amid the ruins; and the wounded were often
killed in the hospital by the enemy’s fire. The streets were broken
up, so that the rain-water and sewers had stagnated, and their
pestilential breath was rendered more noxious by the dead bodies
which lay perishing in the ruins. The incessant thunder of artillery
had affected the atmosphere, and vegetation had stopped. The fruit
withered on the trees, and nothing would grow. Within the last three
days, says the report, five hundred of the garrison alone have died
in the hospitals, and the pestilence is still raging unchecked. “If,
by these sacrifices,” say its authors, in conclusion, “deserving
forever to be the admiration of history,--and if, by consummating
them with the lives of us, who, by the will of Providence, have
survived our comrades,--the liberty of our country can be secured,
happy shall we be, in the bosom of eternity, and in the memory
of all good men, and happy will be our children among their
fellow-countrymen.”
Alvarez himself could do no more. Yet would he not yield to the
enemy; but, being seized with a delirious fever, his successor
in command yielded the city on honorable terms, on the 10th of
December, the siege having lasted seven months. Alvarez died soon
after, and the central junta awarded honors and titles to his family,
and exempted the whole city from taxation.
The surrender of this devoted city closed the campaign for 1809.
The principal events of the campaign of 1810 were the battle of
Busaco, in which the English gained the victory, and the retreat
of the French Marshal Massena. For four months and a half, Massena
had continually followed the retreating forces of Wellington, until
now he had retired beyond the lines of Torres Vedras. The English
had been engaged on these lines a year, until they had at last
rendered them almost impregnable. They consisted of three lines of
intrenchments, one within another, extending for nearly thirty miles.
On these lines were a hundred and fifty redoubts, and six hundred
mounted cannon. Here Massena saw his enemy retire within these lines,
and he then knew that his utmost efforts to dislodge him must prove
abortive. Besides, Wellington here received reinforcements to his
army, which increased it to one hundred and thirty thousand men.
Besides these defences, there were twenty British ships of the line,
and a hundred transports, ready to receive the army, if forced to
retire. Unwilling to retreat, Massena sat down with his army here,
hoping to draw Wellington to an open battle. But he preferred waiting
for an attack upon his intrenchments, or to starve the enemy into a
retreat. This he knew must soon be done. Wellington himself declares
that Massena provisioned his sixty thousand men and twenty thousand
horses, for two months, where he could not have maintained a single
division of English soldiers. But his army was now reduced to
starvation; and he, driven to the last extremity, saw that he must
either commence his retreat at once, or his famine-stricken army
would be too weak to march. Arranging his troops into a compact mass,
he placed the rear guard under the command of Ney, and retired from
the Torres Vedras. Wellington immediately commenced the pursuit; but,
owing to the skilful arrangements of the French marshal, he found
it impossible to attack him with success. Taking advantage of every
favorable position, he would make a stand, and wait until the main
body of the army had passed on, and then would himself fall back.
Thus, for more than four months, did this retreat continue, until he
arrived at the confines of Portugal, having lost more than one-third
of his army. Many were the cruelties practised on this retreat.
They have often been described, and form a dark spot on the English
historian’s page. All war is necessarily cruel; and the desolation
and barrenness that followed in the track of the French army, wasting
the inhabitants by famine, were a powerful check on Wellington in his
pursuit. The track of a retreating and starving army must always be
covered with woe; and one might as well complain of the cruelty of a
besieging force, because innocent women and children die by hunger.
The siege of Cadiz occupied the spring and summer of this year.
During this siege, a tremendous tempest ravaged the Spanish coast,
lasting four days. By it more than forty sail of merchantmen, besides
three line-of-battle ships, were driven on shore. It was during this
tempest that the French and Swiss on board the prison-ships in the
harbor made their escape. “The storm was so great,” writes one of the
unhappy captives, “that we could not receive our supply of provision
from the shore. Our signals of distress were wholly disregarded
by the Spanish authorities; and, had it not been for the humanity
of the British admiral, who sent his boats to their relief, many
more of our miserable men must have perished. The pontoons in which
these prisoners were confined were not properly secured; and the
prisoners on board the Castilla, seeing that the wind and tide were
in their favor, cut the cable, and, hoisting a sail which they had
made from their hammocks, steered for the opposite coast. They were
seven hundred in number, and most of them officers. English boats
were sent against them, but they found the French were prepared. The
ballast of the vessel in which they were confined was cannon-balls of
twenty-four and thirty-six pounds’ weight. These the French hurled
by hand into the boats of their pursuers, and soon disabled them,
so that the fugitives finally succeeded in escaping with but little
loss.”
The first two months of the year 1811 were most inauspicious for the
Spanish cause. General Suchet possessed himself of Tortosa, and on
the 23d of the same month Soult became master of Olivenza. On the
same day died the Marquis de la Romana, one of the most skilful and
noblest of the Spanish leaders; and he had scarcely expired, before
his army met with a signal defeat at Gebora.
CHAPTER IV.
The Author, with his Regiment, leaves Gibraltar, for Tarifa
--Dissensions between the Spanish and English Officers--Battle
of Barossa--Retreat of the French--Suffering of the Pursuing Army
--Guerillas--Don Julian Sanchez--Juan Martin Diaz--Xavier Mina
--Continued Privations of the British Army--Adventures of the
Author in Search of Food--Arrival of the Commissariat with
Provisions--Extravagant Joy of the Troops--Departure of the
British Army for Badajos.
Having given to my readers some slight sketches of the rise and
progress of this war previous to the time when I first became an
active participator in its scenes, I shall now continue it, with the
history of my own adventures.
In looking back through the long series of years that have elapsed
since those eventful days, there are few scenes that I can recall
more vividly than that which occurred on the morning I left
Gibraltar. It was my first experience of the kind, and, therefore,
made a deeper impression than many after scenes, which might have
been far more worthy of record than this. It was a beautiful morning,
and everywhere the troops were in motion. Horses were brought out,
our baggage prepared and sent on; the light jest and laugh and
joke went freely round, serving, in many instances, to conceal the
thoughts that longed for utterance. Farewells were exchanged, last
words spoken; and, finally, all were prepared, the word given, and
our gallant little army marched out of Gibraltar. It was truly a
brilliant sight; and the lively strains of our music contributed its
share to make us forget that we were marching into a country at all
times perilous, and now doubly so, to meet certain dangers, and,
many of us, certain death. Yet these were in the future, and lost
beneath the crowd of bright and joyous anticipations that kindled in
our hearts as the last loud cheering of our comrades died away, and
the walls of the far-famed city receded in the distance behind our
onward march. Our course was directed to Tarifa; here we had orders
to wait until the forces from Cadiz should come up. An expedition had
been sent out from this city, consisting of ten thousand men, three
thousand of whom were British, whose object was to drive the French
general out of his lines. Victor, having heard of this project,
enlarged and strengthened his own forces, which now amounted to about
twenty thousand men, in Andalusia.
The allied army sailed from Cadiz on the 20th of February, for
Tarifa; but, a storm arising soon after they left, they were driven
past this port, and disembarked at Algesiras. They marched to Tarifa
on the 23d, under the command of General Thomas Graham. Here we
met; and, as we were more recently from home than these troops, we
had many questions to answer, and much information both to give and
receive. Before night, however, we had all our places assigned to us,
and were now ready for our march. But the Spanish General La Pena
had not yet arrived; and so we remained encamped here until the
27th, when he came up, with his forces; and to him General Graham,
for the sake of unanimity, ceded the chief command. All day we were
busy in preparations for our morrow’s march, expecting at its close
to come within a short distance of the enemy’s outposts. Early the
next morning, our whole army was in motion. We moved forward about
twelve miles, over the mountain ridges that descend from Ronda to
the sea; and then, having learned that the enemy were only four
leagues distance, we halted, for the purpose of reorganizing the
army. The command of the vanguard was given to Lardizabal, that
of the centre to the Prince of Anglona, while General Graham had
charge of the reserve, consisting of two Spanish regiments and the
British troops. The cavalry of both nations, formed in one body, was
commanded by Colonel Whittingham. The French army were encamped near
Chiclana, narrowly observing the movements of the allied armies, and
determined, at all events, to hold complete possession of the country.
The next day, March 2d, the vanguard of our army stormed Casa Viejas.
Having gained this small place, and stationed here a regiment, we
continued our march on the 3d and 4th.
Early in the morning of the 5th, as the advanced guards of our
cavalry had proceeded a short distance from the main army, they
suddenly came upon a squadron of French troops. Unfortunately for
them, several stone fences and enclosures prevented an immediate
attack, so that the French had time to form into a square, and
received their charge with great coolness and intrepidity. Their
square was unbroken, although numbers had fallen on both sides.
A second charge was equally unsuccessful, and the colonel of our
cavalry was mortally wounded. Our men then judged it most prudent to
fall back upon the main army, and no attempt was made to follow them
by the enemy. An anxious look-out was instituted, but the foe did not
again make his appearance, and at nine o’clock the same morning our
commander took up his position on the heights of Barossa.
The hill of Barossa is a low ridge, creeping in from the coast about
a mile and a half, and overlooking a high broken plain. On one side
of this plain rise the huge coast cliffs, while the other is skirted
by the deep forest of Chiclana. Directly in front, there lies a
light pine wood, beyond which rises a long narrow height, called
the Bermeja. There were two ways by which this might be reached;
the first was through the woods, while the second was a narrow road
directly under the coast cliffs.
I have already alluded to the fact, that, although the English and
Spanish were fighting under the same banner, there was a great want
of unanimity of feeling and opinion as to the course which ought to
be pursued in ridding their country of their common foe. Nowhere,
in the history of the war, was this more apparent than at the
battle whose history I am about to relate. The deep-seated pride
of the Spanish made them unwilling to acknowledge or yield to the
superiority of the British, or hardly to allow that they were at
all indebted to them. A modern traveller tells us that, in a recent
history of this war, which was, not long since, published in Spain,
the British are not even mentioned, nor the fact of their assistance
at all alluded to. It was impossible for two nations so unlike in
their customs and manners, so different in language, religion,
and education, to be so closely associated together as they were
obliged to be, without occasions of dispute constantly occurring,
which would, probably, have terminated in open rupture, had not the
discipline of war prevented.
The fact that our gallant general had ceded the chief command to
the weak and imperious Spanish commander had occasioned no little
dissatisfaction among our men; while, from the conditions required
of him by Graham, we may judge that that general himself did not
pursue this course because he judged La Pena his superior in military
tactics. These conditions were, that his army should make short
marches; that they should be kept fresh for battle, and that they
should never approach the enemy except in concentrated masses.
Although the Spanish general had pledged his word of honor that these
conditions should be fulfilled, how much attention he paid to them
may be judged from the fact, that, on the day but one preceding this,
we had marched fifteen hours, through bad roads; and, after a short
rest, had occupied the whole night in our march to Barossa. Before
the troops had all arrived, or had any time for rest or refreshment,
La Pena commanded the vanguard to march against San Petri, which lay
about four miles distant. A detachment of the Spanish army, under
Zayas, had, only two days before, commenced an intrenchment at this
point; but had been surprised by the French, and driven back, so that
the enemy now held possession of all the outposts down to the sea.
But a short time had elapsed, after the departure of the vanguard,
when we were startled by the roar of the artillery, whose rapid
discharge, together with the quick volleys of musketry, showed us
that a sharp engagement had already taken place. Lardizabal,--far
more worthy of command than his superior,--notwithstanding the
unfavorable situation in which he found himself placed, succeeded in
forcing his way through the enemy’s troops, leaving three hundred men
dead on the field of battle, and in effecting a junction with Zayas.
Graham now endeavored to persuade La Pena to occupy the heights
of Barossa, as a superior position to the Bermeja. The Spanish
general not only refused to listen to his representations, but sent
an immediate order to General Graham to march through the wood to
Bermeja with all the British troops. This order he obeyed, although
it was in opposition to his own better judgment, leaving only two
detachments at Barossa, under Major Brown, to guard the baggage. He
would have left a stronger force, had he not supposed that La Pena
would remain in his present position, with his own troops, and would
thus assist those detachments, in case of an attack. But scarcely
had the British entered the wood, when La Pena, without the least
notice to his colleague, with his whole army, took the sea road under
the cliffs, and marched to San Petri, leaving Barossa crowded with
baggage, within sight of the enemy, and guarded only by four guns and
five battalions.
No sooner did Victor, the French general, observe its defenceless
state, than he advanced with a rapid pace, and, ascending behind the
hill, drove off the guard, and took possession of the whole stores
and provisions of our army. Major Brown, finding his force wholly
inadequate to face the enemy, slowly withdrew, having immediately
despatched an aide-de-camp to inform General Graham of the attack.
Our army had then nearly reached the Bermeja; but, as soon as
the messenger arrived with the news, our general saw at once the
necessity of taking the direction of affairs himself. Orders were
immediately given to retrace our steps as rapidly as possible, that
we might assist the Spanish army in its defence. Judge, then, of the
astonishment of our general, on reaching the plain, at the view that
presented itself! One side of the heights was occupied by the French,
while the Spanish rear-guard was flying, with their baggage, in great
confusion, on the other. On one side of us lay the cavalry of the
French, and, on the other marching to the attack was a large body of
troops, under Laval. “Where is La Pena?” was the first exclamation of
our commander, as, casting his eye rapidly around, he could nowhere
see the least trace of him. It was impossible that he could have
been defeated. The cannonade would have been heard, or at least some
fugitives have taken the direction of our army. Slowly the conviction
forced itself upon his mind that he had been deserted. A general
burst of indignation ran along our lines; but short time was allowed
for feelings like these. Only one alternative existed,--a hasty
retreat, or an immediate attack. It need hardly be said that Graham
chose the latter.
Ten guns immediately opened their fire upon Laval’s troops, and
were promptly answered back by the artillery of the French. No time
was given to the British to form with any attention to regiments;
but, hastily dividing themselves into two masses, they rushed to
the attack. The charge on the left was, indeed, a furious one, for
we felt that conquest or death was the alternative. It was bravely
met, however, on the part of the French. After the first discharge
of artillery, the soldiers pressed rapidly onward, and were soon
mingled with the foe in fierce and deadly conflict. The front ranks
of the French were pressed back upon the second line, which, unable
to withstand the shock, was broken in the same manner, and scattered
in much confusion, only the chosen battalion remaining to cover the
retreat.
Ruffin, who commanded the enemy on the right, had stationed his
troops just within the wood, where they awaited, in perfect order,
the division under Brown, who rushed with headlong haste to the
contest. When they had nearly reached the wood, they discharged
their musketry. Nearly half of Brown’s detachment fell at the
first fire; yet, nothing daunted, the remainder maintained their
ground, until another detachment came to their aid. Then, mingling
close in the dreadful combat, they pressed together to the brow of
the hill, without either party gaining a decided advantage. Here
the contest continued, with more bravery than before. The issue
still remained quite doubtful, when the British, retiring a short
distance, again rushed to the attack. Ruffin and Rousseau, the French
leaders, both fell, mortally wounded, and the French were obliged to
retire, leaving three of their guns in possession of their enemies.
Discomfited but not disheartened, they withdrew again, re-formed,
and rushed to the attack. But they found no slumbering foe. Our guns
were well manned. Their fire was reserved until the enemy were close
at hand, and then they were allowed to tell upon that living mass.
The execution was terrible. Closely and rapidly, discharge followed
discharge. Again and again were they summoned to the attack; but
the lines had hardly closed over their dying comrades, when another
volley would again send confusion and death among the advancing
ranks. Victor saw it was useless to struggle longer. The trumpet
sounded, the contest stopped, and in less than an hour the English
were again undisputed masters of Barossa.
And where, during this conflict, were the Spanish troops, in whose
cause the British were so freely lavishing, not only treasure, but
their own lives? Scarcely three miles away, the report of every round
of musketry reached La Pena’s ears. He knew that his ally was placed
under great disadvantages; yet he could look idly on, not knowing,
scarcely caring, apparently, how the contest should be decided. In
vain did many of his brave troops mount their chargers, and wait only
for the word of command to rush upon the enemy. He listened neither
to the voice of honor nor to the entreaties of his officers, nor to
the ill-repressed murmurings of the soldiery. No stroke in aid of the
British was struck by a Spanish sabre that day; although one or two
regiments, unable longer to contain their indignation, left without
orders, and came up in season to witness the defeat of the French.
And thus terminated the attack on Barossa. Scarcely two hours had
passed from the first alarm before the French were retreating beyond
our reach, for our troops were too much exhausted by their twenty-two
hours’ march, and their still longer fast, to think of pursuing. Yet,
short as the conflict was, the terrible evidences of its fatality
lay all around us. Fifty officers, sixty sergeants, and more than
eleven hundred British soldiers, had fallen, while two thousand of
the enemy were either killed or wounded. Six guns, an eagle, two
generals mortally wounded, and four hundred prisoners, fell into
the power of the English. La Pena’s conduct during this battle was
complained of by our commander, and the Spanish cortes went through
the forms of arresting him; but he was soon after released, without
investigation, and published what he called his justification, in
which he blamed Graham severely for his disobedience of orders.
When the last of the enemy had disappeared in the distance, the
troops were all summoned to the field of battle. We collected there,
and gazed around with saddened hearts. Four hours ago, and there
was not one, of all that now lay lifeless on that bloody field,
whose heart did not beat as high as our own, whose hopes were not
as brilliant; and yet, their sun had now set forever! I know of
no sadder scene than a field of battle presents soon after the
conflict, even though the glorious result may have filled our hearts
with joy. When the roll is called, and name after name uttered
without response, it cannot but awaken the deepest sensibility in
the heart of the survivors. And then the hasty burial of the dead,
and the hurried sending off the wounded, the surgeon’s necessary
operations, and the groans of the sufferers, all make us feel
that these are the horrors of war. Before the battle is the rapid
marching and counter-marching, and the enlivening strains of martial
music, the encouraging words of the officers,--more than all, the
excitement which must exist in such a scene,--and all these serve to
elevate and sustain the spirits. During the contest the excitement
increases, until all sense of fear and danger is lost. But one
thing is seen--the foe;--but one object exists--to conquer. When
all these have passed away, and there is no longer aught to excite,
then the eye opens on stern and dread reality, and we realize what
we have escaped, and the pain and suffering ever attendant on such
scenes. There is something awfully trying to the soul, when the
last sad rites are being performed for those so lately buoyant in
life and health,--especially when we meet with the corpses of those
we have known and loved. I have seen many affecting instances of
such recognitions. Among others that I might name, is that of a
French captain of dragoons, who came over after the battle with a
trumpet, and requested permission to search among the dead for his
colonel. His regiment was a fine one, with bright brass helmets and
black horse-hair, bearing a strong resemblance to the costume of
the ancient Romans. Many of our own soldiers accompanied him in his
melancholy search. It was long before we found the French colonel,
for he was lying on his face, his naked body weltering in blood. As
soon as he was turned over, the captain recognized him. He uttered
a sort of agonizing scream, sprang off his horse, dashed his helmet
on the ground, knelt by the body, and, taking the bloody hand in his
own, kissed it many times, in an agony of grief. He seemed entirely
to forget, in his sorrow, that any one was present. We afterwards
learned that the colonel had, in his youth, done him a great service,
by releasing him from the police when evil company had led him to
the commission of some crime. It was his first act of the kind; and
gratitude to the colonel led to an immediate enlistment in his corps.
From that hour he had been to the captain as a father, and it was
through his influence that he had attained his present rank in the
army. The scene was truly an affecting one; and it was with feelings
of deep sympathy that we assisted him in committing the body to the
earth.
Our gallant commander remained on the field of battle all that day;
and when all the last sad duties were performed, and as many of the
commissariat mules as could be found were gathered in, we marched
from the scene of our late victory, and took up our position behind
the Isla. The news of our victory was received in England with much
joy, and our own regiment, the 28th, was spoken of with peculiar
honor. These contests in Spain called forth much newspaper praise,
and awakened the lyre of many a poet in the halls of old England.
Perhaps the following lines from Southey, written on this battle, may
be acceptable to the reader:
“Though the four quarters of the world have seen
The British valor proved triumphantly
Upon the French, in many a field far famed,
Yet may the noble island in her rolls
Of glory write Barossa’s name. For there
Not by the issue of deliberate plans,
Consulted well, was the fierce conflict won,--
Nor by the leader’s eye intuitive,
Nor force of either arm of war, nor art
Of skilled artillerist, nor the discipline
Of troops to absolute obedience trained,--
But by the spring and impulse of the heart,
Brought fairly to the trial, when all else
Seemed like a wrestler’s garment thrown aside.
By individual courage, and the sense
Of honor, their old country’s and their own,
There to be forfeited, or there upheld,--
This warmed the soldier’s soul, and gave his hand
The strength that carries with it victory.
More to enhance their praise, the day was fought
Against all circumstance; a painful march
Through twenty hours of night and day prolonged
Forespent the British troops, and hope delayed
Had left their spirits palled. But when the word
Was given to turn, and charge, and win the heights
The welcome order came to them like rain
Upon a traveller in the thirsty sands.
Rejoicing, up the ascent, and in the front
Of danger, they with steady step advanced,
And with the insupportable bayonet
Drove down the foe. The vanquished victor saw,
And thought of Talavera, and deplored
His eagle lost. But England saw, well pleased,
Her old ascendency that day sustained;
And Scotland, shouting over all her hills,
Among her worthies ranked another Graham.”
The brilliant success gained on the heights of Barossa was but the
prelude of other victories. The star of Napoleon, so long in the
ascendant, had begun to decline in the horizon. Obliged to draw
off many of his troops, those that remained felt the want of his
guiding hand. Division reigned in the councils of his generals; and
the British leader, ever ready to take advantage, and ever on the
watch for opportunity, saw his favorable moment, and followed it
up. The French had retreated from Portugal, followed at every step
by the army of the English. After the battle of Barossa, Graham
had withdrawn from the command of our army, and joined that of
Wellington, while Sir Thomas Picton took his place. We remained for
a number of days near our position, while these changes were taking
place, and then orders arrived that we should proceed at once to the
mountains of the Sierra Morena, to assist in harassing the retreat of
the French. We had scarcely commenced our march when our provisions
began to fail, owing to the conduct of the Portuguese government,
who would not supply their troops with provisions; and so they were
unable to continue the pursuit, while numbers were perishing for
want of food. Our generals could not see their allies suffering
thus, and our own supplies were shared with them, and we were all
put upon short allowance. Half a pound of bread, and half a pound
of salt pork, was all that we received for a day’s provision. And
we were ascending mountains covered with woods and deep forests,
infested by guerillas, who often fell upon and murdered our men, if
they strayed away from the ranks. To prevent this was impossible;
for, if there were provisions in the country, men in our starving
condition would not fail to obtain them; but scarcely anything could
be found, at this season. The French army were also suffering for
want of food, and, as they preceded us in their retreat, they either
devoured or destroyed everything that could sustain life. The poor
peasants on their route fled from their homes, and shrunk equally
from French and English, for they well knew that either would equally
deprive them of the little they possessed. The sufferings of the
peasantry were truly terrible. In the third day of our march, a scene
occurred which I shall never forget. We were slowly toiling up a
huge mountain, so exhausted, from fatigue and want, that we could
hardly proceed. When about half-way to the summit, we perceived
before us a large house. Some of our men hastened to it at once,
hoping to procure some provision. The slight fastenings of the door
soon yielded to their eager haste, and they were about to rush in,
when their steps were arrested by the misery the scene presented.
The floor was covered with persons in a state of actual starvation.
Thirty women and children had already expired; and, scattered around
among the corpses, lay fifteen or sixteen more wretched beings, still
breathing, but unable to speak. Hungry as we were, the hearts of the
soldiers were moved at the scene, and our next day’s provision was
cheerfully contributed to rescue them from death. But this kindness
could only delay their fate. They were too weak to seek for more
food; they had scarcely strength to eat the little we could offer
them; and it is more than probable that every one perished.
The next day my comrade, who had been fast failing, declared himself
unable to proceed. He was a fine fellow,--one that I had known in
Ireland, and to whom I was much attached. Feeble as we were, we could
not leave him behind, and we carried him a short distance; but he
soon died. Permission was given us to carry him a little way from the
camp to bury him. We hollowed out a shallow grave, wrapped him in his
blanket, and left him to his fate. Near the spot where we interred
him was a small house, which we entered, and were fortunate enough
to obtain a little wine. While in the house, we heard a scream, as
of fear. We hastened out, and saw several of our soldiers running
swiftly towards the camp, from the place where we had interred our
comrade. They had dug him up, for the purpose of robbing him of his
blanket. As they were ripping it open, the knife entered the flesh,
and he began to struggle. It was this that had so frightened them.
We went to the poor fellow, finished removing his blanket, and found
that he was still alive. Want and fatigue had produced a state of
insensibility resembling death, from which he had been aroused by
the pain of his wound. We shared with him the little wine we had
obtained, which so revived him that he was able to accompany us back
from his own funeral. He soon after recovered, and returned home to
Ireland.
A day or two after this occurrence, I left the company, with one
of my companions, and went higher up the mountain, in search of
wild pigs, which are sometimes found there. This was absolutely
against our orders; but, as we were literally starving to death,
the consequences of disobedience, and the dangers of our journey,
weighed but little in the balance. I agreed to search one side of the
mountain, while he ascended the other, and we were to meet at the
top. When about half-way up the mountain, I was stopped by a ball
whizzing close past my ear. Thinking that it might be my comrade,
who did not see me, I turned, and, looking around, soon saw the
green feather of my assailant, projecting over a rock. At this I was
somewhat alarmed; for he was so completely hid behind the rock that I
could not fire at him, and I knew that he was reloading his musket.
In a moment more he fired again, but, fortunately for me, his musket
flashed in the pan. There was still only his feather in sight; at
this I fired, and struck it. I then reloaded as hastily as possible,
and advanced cautiously up the mountain, hoping to get sight of him.
As I was coming round the point of the rock, he sprang forward, laid
down his gun, spread out his arms, and exposed himself to my shot.
I knew, by his motions, that he had no ammunition, and as I had no
desire to kill him, I fixed my bayonet on my gun, as if I would make
a charge, and then advanced towards him, in a friendly manner. But,
when I was within twice the length of my gun from him, he picked up
his musket and attacked me. Darting back to avoid his bayonet, I
fired my own gun, and he fell to the ground. I examined his knapsack,
and found that it bore the mark of the 95th rifle brigade of our
own division. He was a guerilla, and had doubtless killed the man
whose knapsack he bore. I examined his canteen, and found, to my
great surprise, a pint of Jamaica brandy. In my exhausted state, this
was a discovery which gave me the greatest pleasure. I took some of
it, and, feeling quite refreshed, pursued my search for game. I had
not gone far before I discovered a small pig, which I succeeded in
shooting. This I carried with me to the top of the mountain, where
I found my comrade awaiting me. He had been less successful than
myself, having found nothing. He asked me how I had fared. I told him
that I had shot an old hog and a little pig, at which he expressed
great pleasure. I then showed him the contents of the canteen, which
he joyfully shared with me; and, having related my adventure, we
retraced our steps to the camp. We concealed our treasure as well as
we were able; but, notwithstanding all our care, the first person we
saw, on our return, was the adjutant. He came up to us, and demanded
where we had been. Upon the mountain, in search of food, was my
reply. He told me, if he should report us, as he was required to do,
we should be shot for disobeying orders. I answered, that it made
little difference with us; it would only hasten affairs, as it was
impossible to survive much longer without food. “Did you find any?”
he asked. We showed him our prize. He would gladly have purchased it
of us; but food, in our condition, was far more precious than money,
and we refused his offer of a doubloon, with the assurance that
five would be no temptation to part with it. But, on arrival at our
quarters, as we were cutting up the pig, gratitude for his kindness,
in not reporting us, so far overcame our selfishness, that we sent
him a quarter of it. The remainder made our mess a fine meal; and we
certainly were never in a better condition to estimate the value of
food than when we devoured the little pig of the Morena.
I have alluded to the annoyance by guerillas, or, as they were
sometimes called, Partidas. These were principally, at first, Spanish
peasants, who, unable to present any efficient force against the
French, and unwilling to submit to them, threw themselves into
the mountains, and, being well acquainted with all the passes and
hiding-places, did the French much damage, by cutting off their
communications, robbing their stores, and murdering every one who
dared to stray from the main army. As the war proceeded, their
numbers were enlarged by all those who were weary of the restraints
of law;--every robber that feared a jail, or could break from one;
every smuggler whose trade had been interrupted,--and there were
thousands of these, as there still are, in Spain; every one who was
weary of the restraints of his life, and sought for excitement; and
all idlers who preferred the wild and reckless daring of these troops
to the drill and watch of the army, were found either as associate
or chief in these bands. They soon became regularly organized, chose
their chiefs, and had watchwords, by which they could obtain a safe
pass all over the country. They were professedly our allies, but
they were almost as much a terror to us as to our foes. They proved,
however, invaluable to our army, as a means of communication with
each other, and as spies on the movements of our enemies. It was
impossible for the French to communicate with each other at all,
except by sending strong escorts, and these were often cut off;
while, on our side, news could be sent with almost the rapidity of
telegraph, and this undoubtedly was a great advantage to us. The
chiefs of these bands were often obliged to procure subsistence
and treasure for themselves, by robbing their own countrymen; and,
indeed, one of the principal causes of the sudden growth of these
bands was the hope of intercepting the public and private plate,
which was being carried from all parts of Spain to be coined into
money. Yet, though most of the bands were worthless characters,
there were some among them of more noble spirit. Some were actuated
by revenge--some by a gallant, enterprising spirit--and a few by an
honest ambition to serve their country.
Our troops often met with many adventures with these foes; and many
were the weary hours, in our toilsome marches, that were beguiled by
the recital of their hair-breadth escapes, or their own wonderful
adventures. Some of these were of so much interest that I cannot
refrain from a desire to recount a few to my readers.
Don Julian Sanchez was the son of a farmer, on the banks of the
Guebra. The little cottage where he resided, with his parents and
one sister, was the abode of happiness and plenty. In an evil hour,
the French army passed that way. Their cattle were driven away and
slaughtered, and their little harvest, just reaped, became the prey
of the plunderers. Terrified and despairing, Julian fled, with his
parents and sister, to the woods. But his parents were old, and,
before they could reach the shelter of the wood, they were overtaken,
carried back to the cottage, and murdered, in cold blood, on their
own hearthstone. Julian and his sister concealed themselves in a
cave; but the next day he left her there, and went to see if he
could obtain any trace of his parents. Directing his course to their
little cottage, he found their murdered corpses. Revenge and anger,
in a spirit like Julian’s, was deep, not loud. He shed no tear,
uttered no complaint,--but calmly proceeded to inter the bodies of
his parents in a humble grave. Then, kneeling on the sod, he swore
revenge on their murderers,--a revenge which should be followed till
his latest breath. He returned to his sister; but, as he approached
the cave where he had left her, what a sight met his view! A party
of the hated army were just issuing from its precincts. The body
of his beautiful sister lay on the ground naked,--dishonored,--the
victim of a vile outrage. Julian gazed for a moment on the scene. He
had no time for tears, and he had sworn to live for revenge,--a vow
which now burned itself in deeper characters upon his soul. He turned
away. A huge rock overhung the cave. He ascended it, and, secreting
himself in a little fissure where he could be heard, not seen, he
gazed for a few moments on the chief of the band, till every line of
his countenance was impressed on his soul. Then, calling to him from
the rock, he said, “You hear me, but you see me not. I am a Spaniard,
the son of those parents you murdered yesterday--the brother of her
whose corpse lies before you. You are their murderer; and I swear,
by the Holy Virgin, that I will never lose sight for one day of your
path, until my hands are imbrued in your heart’s best blood! You may
think to escape me; but remember, you shall die by my hand!”
In a moment, the troops of the French were on the rock. They searched
everywhere for the speaker, but no trace of him could be found,
until, just as they had relinquished their search, one of the number
fell dead by the blow of an unseen assassin. He was the first of
the band that fell. Months passed away. Julian had never since met
his foe; but the frequent death of his followers, and the daring
exploits of robbery that were constantly performing in his camp,
often called to mind the voice he had heard. A few months after, in
battle, this officer was attacked, and would have been killed, had
not a Spaniard saved his life, at the risk of his own. He turned to
thank his unknown deliverer, but was met with so fierce a look of
hate, that he involuntarily shrunk from it. “I desire no thanks,”
said the Spaniard; “your life is mine, and none but me shall take
it.” The voice was recognized, but its owner had glided away in the
confusion. A year had elapsed, when this officer was again sent to
the banks of the Guebra, and took up his quarters in the very house
Julian’s father formerly occupied. The first night of his stop there
was enlivened by the arrival of four of the same party who had met
with him the year before. In joyous mood, they had seated themselves
around the table, and were discussing the events of the campaign.
Suddenly they were startled by a deep voice, which the officer had
cause to remember, and Julian, with four of his associates, glided
into the room. So sudden, so unexpected, was the attack, that they
had not time to grasp their swords, ere they were pinioned and led
away. Julian and the chief alone remained. “Look at me,” said Julian;
“do you know me? In this very room, a year ago, my parents fell
by your murderous hand. The stain of their blood still remains to
witness against you. In that wood lies the corpse of my idolized and
only sister. You were her assassin. You heard my vow. Not for one day
have I left your steps. Twice have I warded death from your head;
but when I saw you desecrate again this hearthstone by your accursed
presence, I knew that your time had come. Frenchman, prepare to die!”
After the death of this man, Julian succeeded in organizing a regular
band. At the head of these, he would again and again assault the
enemy, even though they outnumbered his own band many times. Another
instance of his daring intrepidity, at a time when we were suffering
for want of provisions, and of the patience with which he followed up
his designs, deserves to be recorded. It was the custom of the French
garrison to send out their cattle beyond the walls every morning, for
the purpose of grazing, under the protection of a guard, which at
once kept them from wandering too far, and also watched the movements
of the Spanish army. Don Julian determined, if possible, to surprise
the herd. For this purpose, he concealed himself, with his band, day
after day, among the broken ground, near the river. But the guard was
still too powerful and vigilant to allow him to make the attempt. At
length, as if to reward him for his patience, fortune threw in his
way, not only the object for which he sought, but one of far more
importance to him. On a certain day, the governor of the place where
the garrison was stationed came out, accompanied by a very slender
escort, and ventured imprudently to cross the river, at the self-same
spot where Julian lay concealed. He was instantly surrounded, and
made prisoner. Almost at the same moment, the cattle, frightened
by the explosion of a shell which fell among them, ran towards the
river. The guard followed, but overtook them at such a distance
from the city, that Julian thought himself justified in making the
attack. It was attended with perfect success, and governor and cattle
were conveyed in triumph to the British headquarters.
Another of these chiefs was named Juan Martin Diaz, or the
“Empecinado.” When the news of the detention of Ferdinand at Bayonne
first reached Spain, he was engaged as a farmer. Young, ardent, and
daring, he threw aside his plough, and persuaded a neighboring youth,
only sixteen, to join him. Their first object was to procure horses
and arms. They took post upon the high road from France to Madrid,
for the purpose of intercepting the French couriers. An occasion
soon occurred. A party of six men were riding past a narrow defile.
An old woman went out and arrested the progress of the last two, by
offering them some fruit for sale. She detained them until the others
were in advance some distance; then the two youths fired from their
covert, and their victims fell. Long before the others returned for
their comrades, their horses and arms were far away. These boys were
soon joined by others, of which Juan was the chief; and, as he grew
older and had more experience, his band increased, until it numbered
one thousand five hundred men. With these he performed the most
daring exploits, cutting off supplies, and intercepting convoys. By
his intelligence, activity, and bravery, he was enabled to do the
enemy much mischief. In vain were armies sent to surround his band.
They concealed themselves in their fastnesses, and baffled them
all, until his very name became a terror to the French armies. He
gave no quarter to the conquered; and such was his discipline of his
followers, and his generosity in the division of the spoils, that he
became the idol of his band, and they were willing to undertake any
exploit at his bidding.
A convoy was conveying, in a carriage, a lady, a relative of Marshal
Moncey. The coach was escorted by twelve soldiers, in the centre
of two columns of six thousand each, about a mile asunder. The
Empecinado, with only eight of his followers, was concealed close
to the town of Caraveas. He allowed the leading column to pass,
then boldly rushed upon the convoy, put to death the whole of the
escort, seized and carried off the carriage; and, when the alarm was
given, Martin and his prize were in safety in the mountains, where he
effectually eluded the search made after him. He saved the life of
the lady, who was sent to his own house, and had every attention paid
her. This convoy was a very rich prize of money and jewels. This he
divided among his men, reserving only a small share for himself. He
often met with very narrow escapes. On one occasion, he was unhorsed
and disarmed, and the sword of his opponent passed through his arm,
and entered his side. His wound seemed to give him new courage. He
suddenly sprang at his foe, and, seizing him by the neck, dragged
him to the ground. He fell with him, however, but continued to keep
uppermost. The other refusing to surrender, the Empecinado held him
fast with one hand, while with the other he snatched up a stone, and
beat him to death. On another occasion, he was nearly made prisoner
by some Spanish troops in the pay of the French; and, finding every
other hope of escape impossible, he threw himself down an immense
precipice, rather than fall into their hands. His fall was broken
by the projecting limbs of trees, covered with very thick foliage.
He was discovered here by one of his followers, and taken home. He
recovered finally, after suffering a severe illness, which for some
time prevented his taking the field.
The most distinguished of these courageous leaders was Xavier Mina.
He was a student at Pamplona when the revolution broke out. His
father was a considerable land-owner, and deputy for one of the
valleys of Navarre. Some act of injustice, practised towards his
father, had driven young Xavier to desperation. His resolution was
taken. He threw aside his studies, went to his native village, and,
summoning around him the young men of his acquaintance, related his
wrongs, and urged them to join him in his career of revenge. Moved
by his enthusiastic address, twelve of his companions volunteered
to join him. Arming themselves with muskets and ammunition, they
sought the mountain passes, and maintained themselves, while awaiting
opportunities of action, by subsisting on the sheep belonging to
Mina’s father. His first adventure was to surprise a party of seven
artillery-men, who were carrying two pieces of cannon and a quantity
of ammunition from Saragossa to Pamplona. When the news of this
success reached his village, others were encouraged to volunteer.
His next exploit was, with his band of twenty, to attack a general
officer, who was escorted by twenty-four foot and twelve horsemen.
Stationing his men in a narrow defile, he gave orders to fire as
they were descending, each one having selected his man. Twenty of
the escort were thus levelled to the earth, before they had any
intimation of their danger. The general was one of the number. The
rest of the escort were made prisoners, and a large sum of money
fell into Mina’s hands. This he distributed among his men, advising
them to send part to their families, and retain no more than would
suffice for the expenses of their own interment, exposed as they now
continually were to death. The men were thus raised in their own
estimation, and in that of their countrymen, wherever this was told;
and volunteers soon presented themselves in abundance, attracted by a
success which was reported everywhere with the usual exaggerations.
He received, however, only such persons as he regarded as a valuable
acquisition to his band. These wore a red ribbon in their hats, and
a red collar to their jackets. In Arragon, a band of fifty robbers
were adding to the miseries of that unhappy country. Having heard of
their atrocities, Mina turned his course thither. He succeeded in
surprising them. The greater part were killed on the spot, and the
remainder sent as prisoners to Tarragona. Rations were voluntarily
raised for his people, wherever they were expected, and given as
freely at one time as they were paid for at another by the spoils of
the enemy. It was in vain that the French made repeated efforts to
crush this enterprising enemy. If his band were dispersed, it was
only to unite, and, by striking a blow in some weak point, render
themselves more formidable than before.
A large number of prisoners, and an amount of treasure, were to be
sent from Vittoria to France. Twelve hundred men accompanied it
as an escort. At the Puerto de Arlaban, they were attacked by the
seemingly omnipresent Mina, of whose absence, in another part of
the country, they thought themselves assured. They were entirely
routed; but, unfortunately, two hundred of the prisoners were slain
in the contest. Information of the journey of this escort had been
procured from a new recruit in Mina’s band, who had his own object
to accomplish by it. He was a gentleman of some standing, who was
engaged to a beautiful Spanish lady. Her affections had been stolen
from him by a wounded French officer, quartered in her father’s
house. He had recovered, and was now taking his bride home to France.
The former lover had sworn a deep revenge, and, unable himself to
accomplish this object, had enlisted the powerful Mina on his side.
When the band returned to their haunts, they carried with them six
ladies, who were guilty of the same crime, viz., having accepted,
as husbands, French officers. Their fate was, indeed, a sad one.
The contest for them had been fierce in the extreme. They had seen
their protectors, one by one, fall around them, fighting until the
last breath in their defence; and now they were left helpless to the
mercy of their conquerors. A mock trial was instituted. They were
found guilty of aiding the enemies of their country, and all of them
executed.
But Mina was not always successful. Not long after this, he had
attacked and overcome a party of French. As he was conveying his
prisoners to Robres, he was betrayed by one of his own men, and was
attacked as suddenly as he had fallen upon others. His band were
scattered, many of them slain, and he escaped, with great difficulty,
with his own life. One week afterward, he appeared in the Rioja,
with five thousand men, and attacked a Polish regiment, which was
retiring to France. They were entirely routed. Mina enlarged his
band by an accession of every one of the Spanish prisoners whom he
had liberated, and filled his coffers with the booty. One million of
francs fell into his hands, besides the equipages, arms and stores
of all kinds, and a quantity of church plate. Two weeks after, he
captured another convoy, going from Valencia to France. General Abbé
now bent his whole force to disperse his troops. For three days in
succession he followed Mina’s troops to their haunts, and each day
defeated them; so that, on the last day, Mina was obliged again
to flee alone for his life. Yet, not discouraged, he struggled on
with various success, until at length he fell into the hands of the
French, who sent him a prisoner to France. Great rejoicings were made
when the capture of this formidable enemy was reported; but they
soon found that they had little reason for joy, for his place at
the head of the band was taken by his uncle, Francisco, who proved
himself, if possible, even more formidable than his nephew. His
various adventures would well fill a volume, and it is easy to see
the interest they must have possessed when related around the bivouac
fire on those mountains, where no one knew but that any moment might
bring his army around them.
But to return to my own history. We were still pursuing our weary
course, sometimes coming within sight of our enemies, and sometimes
marching and counter-marching, when our leaders thought best to avoid
a battle. We were still suffering the pangs of hunger, our principal
food being a supply of ground bark. The soldiers continued to wander
away, and often escaped, with their lives, from imminent peril. One
of our men observed, at a little distance from the camp, a commotion
in the bushes, which he thought was occasioned by some wild animal;
and he hastened out to secure it. Creeping cautiously along under the
bushes, his course was suddenly arrested by a bullet flying over him.
Having passed around a rock which concealed him from the camp, he
hastily jumped up, and looked round. He soon spied a woman sitting
near a small spring, with a child in her arms, as he thought; but,
concluding that it was best to be on his guard, he crept cautiously
near her, and soon saw that she was thoroughly armed, and what seemed
to be a child was something which certainly did not possess life.
The shot had evidently been fired by her, and she was watching for
his reäppearance. He fired, and killed her. On taking her arms,
he discovered that it was one of the guerillas, dressed in female
apparel, and evidently intended for a decoy. Judging from articles
found around him, all our troops had not been so successful as was
our soldier in discovering the disguise.
There are not many villages on these mountains, and but few scattered
habitations. The next day after the adventure I have just related, a
small party of us again left in search of food. We soon found, in a
beautiful valley, a small house. We knocked for admission. There was
no answer; so, without further ceremony, the door was broken down,
and we entered. A fire was found burning on the hearth, showing,
however desolate the hut might now be, it had not long wanted
inhabitants. We found, however, no food, and were turning away,
quite disappointed, when one of our number spied an open hole in
the garden. We found there, to our great delight, two pigs of wine,
which our near approach had probably disturbed its owners in their
attempts to conceal. These pig-skins were to us quite a curiosity.
The skin is taken as entire as possible from the animal, and turned
so that the hair will be inside, and then preserved in such a way as
to make it capable of holding wine. These are the common wine-casks
of the country. I have often seen loads of them; and so perfectly do
they retain their resemblance, that any one unaccustomed to the sight
would say, at once, that they were loads of dead porkers. We took our
wine, and returned as rapidly as possible to the lines, to share our
good fortune with our comrades.
A day or two after this, as we were encamped on one of the hills
which overlooked the country to a great distance, a movement on
the plains below attracted the attention of our officers. Scouts
were instantly sent out, to learn the nature of it. Animation again
appeared in the faces of our men; for, even if it were the enemy,
we all felt it would be far better to win an honorable death in an
open battle, than to perish daily, as we were doing, by hunger and
murder. It was not long before our messengers returned, spurring
their horses, and joy in every feature of their countenances. As
soon as they came within hearing, they flung up their caps in the
air, shouting, “Relief, relief! our commissariat is coming! It will
soon be here!” The excitement among our men was intense. They could
hardly be restrained from rushing down immediately to break upon
the long-expected, long-delayed supplies. When, at length, they
came near, and we saw the baggage-wagons, accompanied by a strong
escort, the ill-repressed enthusiasm of the men burst forth in one
long, deafening shout, that reverberated from the tops of those
mountains for miles around. The scene then presented by our camp
was, indeed, an exciting one. Officers were engaged on all sides
in distributing provisions to the starving troops, and these in
administering cordials and refreshments to their sick comrades. Many
of the sick, who were apparently near their end, revived and soon
recovered. The same escort brought information that the destination
of Wellington’s army was now to be changed, and our division of it
was directed to proceed immediately to Badajos. This, too, was joyful
news; and, with the morrow’s dawn, everything was ready for motion.
Tents were struck, our baggage stored, and order everywhere restored.
Once more we had an aim, an object; and, with this, it was easy to
become again docile and obedient. I shall never forget the sensation
of pleasure that throbbed in our hearts, as our last column defiled
down the mountain, and we bade farewell to those haunts, which had
been so nearly fatal to us all. Our course was immediately directed
to Badajos, and, on the 3d of May, we sat down three leagues from its
walls.
CHAPTER V.
Badajos--Its Capture by the French--Attempts to retake it by the
English--Wellington invests it in Person--Assault upon Fort
Christoval--Storming of the Town--Terrific Conflict--The place
sacked by the Victors--Disgraceful Drunkenness and Debauchery of
the Troops--The Main Body of the Army depart for Beira.
Badajos, the capital of the Spanish province of Estremadura, is
situated near the Portuguese frontier, at the confluence of the
small stream of the Rivillas with the Guadiana. It is very strongly
fortified, both nature and art having contributed their stores to
render its position impregnable. A huge rock, one hundred feet
high, overlooks the meeting of the waters. On the top of this rock
rises an old castle, venerable from its age, and itself a strong
fortification. The town occupies a triangular space between the
rivers, and is protected by eight curtains and bastions, from
twenty-three to thirty feet high, with good counterscarps, covered
way and glacis. On the left bank of the Guadiana there is a lunette,
covering a dam and sluice, which commands an inundation. Beyond
the Rivillas stands an isolated redoubt, called the Picurina. This
is four hundred yards from the town. Two hundred yards from the
ramparts, rises a defective crown-work, called the Pardaleras. On the
right bank of the Guadiana rises a hill, crowned by a regular fort,
three hundred feet square, called San Christoval. A bridge, supported
by twenty-two stone arches, crosses the stream, and this is protected
by a bridge head. The strength of this place made its possession a
desirable object to both parties. It had been early invested by the
French, under Soult, and vigorously assaulted. It was, however, well
defended, and would probably have maintained its position, had it not
been for the weakness and inefficiency of its commanding officers,
which caused the battle of the Gebora to terminate in a shameful
defeat and immense loss to the Spanish army. Rafael Menacho was
next made commander of the place. He sustained the siege with great
spirit, and everything seemed to promise favorably, when Menacho
was unfortunately killed, during a sally, and the command devolved
upon Imas, a man most unfitted for this situation. He surrendered,
almost without a struggle, to the French; although he had received
certain information that a strong army was moving to his assistance,
and would soon raise the siege. He demanded that his grenadiers
should march out of the breach. Permission was granted, but they
were obliged themselves to enlarge it, before they could do so. The
French immediately took possession of the city, and strengthened its
defences. Lord Wellington was much chagrined at the loss of this
place, and early in May sent Lord William Stewart to invest it. The
siege was carried on with vigor, but under great disadvantages,
arising from want of the proper materials for construction of the
works. In endeavoring to erect their batteries, the engineers were
obliged to labor exposed to a heavy fire from the city, which proved
so destructive, that, before one small battery against one of the
outworks of the town was completed, seven hundred men and five
officers had fallen. When, at length, on the morning of the 11th
of May, this battery was completed, before night five of its guns
were silenced by the enemy, and the rest were so exposed that it was
impossible to man them. The same day news reached our army that the
French army were coming to the relief of Badajos. Immediately our
commander took steps to raise the siege, as to remain there would
have exposed our whole force to destruction. On the night of the
13th, he removed all his artillery and platforms; and on that of the
14th, his guns and stores. But so secretly was this done, that the
French were entirely ignorant of it, until, as the rear guard were
about being drawn off, they made a sally, and, of course, discovered
it. Soon after this, the battle of Albuera occurred.
Our own division was not, however, engaged in this battle, having
been ordered to Campo Mayor, where, on the 24th, orders reached us
that we were again to march for Badajos, Lord Wellington having
resolved to invest it in person. We immediately marched, and arrived
on the evening of the 27th, where we found Lord Wellington, with
ten thousand men. During the absence of our army, Phillipon, the
governor of the place, had entirely destroyed the little remains
of fortifications left by them, repaired all his own damages, and
procured a fresh supply of wine and vegetables from the country. He
had also mounted more guns, and interested the towns-people on his
side. The works of the siege were commenced under Wellington’s own
direction, on the 29th, and carried on a week, with various success.
Then it was resolved to make an assault upon Fort Christoval.
The storming party, preceded by a forlorn hope, and led by Major
McIntosh, with the engineer Forster as a guide, reached the glacis
and descended to the ditch about midnight, on the night of the sixth
of June. The French had, however, cleared all the rubbish away, so
that seven feet perpendicular still remained; and above this were
many obstacles, such as carts chained together, pointed beams of
wood, and large shells ranged along the ramparts, to roll down upon
the assailants. The forlorn hope, finding that the breach was still
impracticable, was retiring, with little loss, when they met the main
body, leaping into the ditch with ladders, and the ascent was again
attempted; but the ladders were too short, and the confusion and
mischief occasioned by the bursting of the shells was so great that
the assailants again retired, with the loss of more than one hundred
men. Two nights after, a second attack was made, but met with no
better success. The British troops, with loud shouts, jumped into
the ditch. The French defied them to come on, and at the same time
rolled barrels of powder and shells down, while the musketry made
fearful and rapid havoc. In a little time, the two leading columns
united at the main breach; the supports also came up; confusion arose
about the ladders, of which only a few could be reared; and the
enemy, standing on the ramparts, bayoneted the foremost assailants,
overturned the ladders, and again poured their destructive fire upon
the crowd below. One hundred and forty men had already fallen, and
yet not a single foot had been gained, nor was there one bright spot
in the darkness to encourage them to proceed. The order was given to
retire. The next day, Wellington heard that the army of Soult was
again advancing to attack him; and as to receive battle there would
throw all the disadvantage on his side, he thought best to raise the
siege. On the 10th, the stores were all removed, and the siege turned
to a blockade, which was afterwards terminated, when the armies
of Marmont and Soult, having effected a junction, advanced to its
relief. It was nearly a year before the allied army again found it
desirable to approach Badajos. Meanwhile the war was carried on with
great activity, although with varied success.
My own time was passed with the regiment to which I belonged,
either in the mountains, or in foraging or bringing supplies, as
circumstances dictated. Although again and again engaged in light
skirmishes with small bodies of the enemy, occupied as our own
regiment were, it was not my fortune to engage in a general battle,
until the last siege of Badajos. And as this city was one of the most
important, and its siege the best sustained of any on the Peninsula,
I shall give an account of it more in detail than I have thought best
to do of the rest.
The unfavorable issue of the two former investments, had induced Lord
Wellington to wait until a combination of favorable circumstances
should at least give more hope of success. The auspicious moment
had, in his view, now arrived. The heavy rains which occur at this
season of the year would so raise the rivers in the high lands,
where his troops were located, that there would be no risk of their
detention in proceeding at once to the Alemtejo, while this same
flow of waters, in the more level portion occupied by the French,
would prove a fatal impediment to the junction of their forces, which
were at this time considerably scattered, owing to the difficulty of
obtaining provisions. Regiments were despatched, therefore, to bring
all the stores of clothing and provisions from the different points
where they had been left, and concentrate them near Badajos.
Wellington himself, having remained at his head-quarters, on the
Coa, until the last moment, in order to conceal his real intentions,
now came in person to superintend the new works. As the French had
strongly occupied the stone bridge over the Guadiana, he ordered
a flying bridge to be thrown across, which was completed on the
15th of March, 1812. Over this Major-general Beresford passed, and
immediately invested Badajos, with an army of fifteen thousand men.
A covering army of thirty thousand occupied different positions
near; and, including a division on its march from Beira, the whole
of the allied forces now in Estremadura numbered fifty-one thousand.
The garrison of the enemy, composed of French, Hessian and Spanish
troops, was five thousand strong. Phillipon, its brave commander,
had been busily occupied, since the last siege, in strengthening the
defences of the place, and in procuring supplies for the expected
invasion. Every family was obliged to keep three months’ provision
on hand, or leave the place, and every preparation was made for an
obstinate and long-continued resistance. General Picton took the
chief command of the assailants. He was alternately assisted by
Generals Kempt, Colville, and Bowis.
The night of the 17th was ushered in by a violent storm of wind and
rain. It was extremely dark and uncomfortable; but, as the loud roar
of the tempest would effectually drown the noise of the pick-axes,
eighteen hundred men were ordered to break ground only one hundred
and sixty yards from the Picurina. They were accompanied by a guard
of two thousand men. So rapidly did they work, that, though it
was late when they commenced, before morning they had completed
a communication four thousand feet in length, and a parallel six
hundred yards long, three feet deep, and three wide. The next night
these works were enlarged, and two batteries traced out. To destroy
these works was now the first object of the besieged. On the 19th,
thirteen hundred of their number stole out of the city, unobserved,
into the communication, and began to destroy the parallel. They
were soon discovered, however, and driven away. As they rode up,
part of the French cavalry entered into a mock contest, giving the
countersign in Portuguese, and were thus permitted to pass the
pickets; but they soon betrayed their real character, and our troops,
hastily seizing their arms, drove them back to the castle, with a
loss of three hundred men. One hundred and fifty of the British
fell, and, unfortunately, Colonel Fletcher, the chief engineer, was
badly wounded. Owing to this circumstance, and the continued wet
and boisterous state of the weather, the works advanced slowly; but
the batteries were at length completed. Owing to the heavy rains,
the parallel remained full of water, and it was found impossible
to drain it. But this was in some degree remedied by making an
artificial bottom of sand-bags. One place yet remained, on the right
bank of the Guadiana, which Wellington had not invested. The eagle
eye of Phillipon soon perceived his advantage. He erected here three
batteries, which completely swept our works with a most destructive
fire; and its effect would have been yet greater, had it not been
that the mud obstructed the bound of the bullets. A courier was
instantly despatched to the fifth division, stationed at Campo Mayor,
for assistance. But misfortunes seldom come alone. The heavy rains
had caused such a rise in the river, that the flying bridges were
swept away, and the trenches filled with water. The provisions and
ammunition of the army were still on the other side of the river,
so that we were soon in want of both. To add to this, the earth
thrown up for intrenchments became so saturated with water that it
crumbled away, and our labors were for the time wholly suspended. A
few days of fine weather, however, relieved us from our unpleasant
situation. The river subsided, another flying bridge was constructed
and row-boats obtained, so that the communication might not again be
interrupted, under any circumstances. On the 25th the reinforcement
from Campo Mayor arrived, and the right bank of the Guadiana was
immediately invested. The same day, our batteries were opened upon
the fort. The enemy were by no means silent spectators of this
invasion. They returned our fire with such vigor, that several of our
guns were dismounted, and quite a number of officers killed. Marksmen
were also stationed on the trenches, to shoot every one who should
show his head over the parapet.
General Picton now resolved to take the fort by assault. Its external
appearance did not indicate much strength, and he hoped for an easy
victory. But the event proved that these appearances were deceptive.
The fort was strong; the ditch fourteen feet perpendicular, and
guarded with thick, slanting poles, and from the top there were
sixteen feet of an earthen slope. Seven guns were mounted on the
walls, and two hundred men, each armed with two loaded muskets, stood
ready to repel all intruders. Loaded shells were also ranged along
the walls, to be pushed over, in case of an attack. General Kempt
took the direction of the assault, which was arranged for the night
of the 25th. Five hundred men were selected from the third division,
of which two hundred were stationed in the communication of San
Roque, to prevent any assistance reaching the fort from the town; one
hundred occupied a position at the right of the fort, one hundred at
the left, and the remainder were held as a reserve, under the command
of Captain Powis.
About nine o’clock, the signal was given, and the troops moved
forward. The night was very clear, although there was no moon; and
the fort, which had loomed up in the darkness still and silent, as
though untenanted, answered back the first shot of the assailants
with a discharge that caused it to resemble a sheet of fire. The
first attack was directed against the palisades in the rear; but
the strength of these, and the destructive fire poured down upon
them, obliged them to seek some weaker part. They turned to the face
of the fort; but here, the depth of the ditch, and the slanting
stakes at the top of it again baffled their attempts. The enemy
lost not a moment in pouring their fire upon the assailants, and
the loud death-screams told that the crisis was becoming more and
more imminent. The alarm-bells in the city itself now rung out their
shrill sounds, the guns on the walls and on the castle opened on the
assailants, rockets were thrown up by the besieged, and the answering
shots from the trenches served to increase the tumult. All eyes were
turned in the direction of the fort. A battalion, hastily sent out
from the city, advanced to its aid; but they had scarcely entered the
communication, when the troops stationed there rushed to the onset,
and in a few moments they were driven back within the walls. By the
light of those streams of fire, which ascended every moment from the
Picurina, dark forms might be seen struggling on the ramparts, in all
the energy of determined contest. Continued rounds of artillery had
broken down the palisades in front, and the assailants were fighting,
hand to hand, for an entrance.
The party in the rear of the fort had thrown their ladders, like
bridges, across the ditch, resting them on the slanting stakes, and
springing on them, drove back their guards. Fifty men, bearing axes,
now discovered the gate, which soon fell beneath their blows, and
they rushed in to a nearer contest. The little garrison, stern in
their resistance, did what they could. Powis, Gips, Holloway and
Oates, fell on the ramparts. Nixon, Shaw, and Rudd, were not long
behind. Scarcely an officer was left; and yet the struggle continued.
At length, when only eighty-six men remained, they surrendered, and
the Picurina passed to the allies. Only one hour had that fierce
conflict lasted, yet of our troops four officers and fifty men had
fallen, and fifteen officers and two hundred and fifty men were
wounded. Phillipon felt deeply the loss of this fort. He did not
conceal from his soldiers the increase of danger to their city from
it; but he stimulated their courage by reminding them that death
was far preferable to an abode in the English prison-ships. They
deeply felt that appeal, and, with the first dawn of light, their
guns were manned with renewed activity. These were turned against
the fort, and so raked it that it was impossible for our troops to
remain there, and it was deserted. This victory gave fresh courage
to the besiegers. Our whole force was occupied, the three succeeding
nights, in erecting new batteries, and in extending the parallels
and communications. In the daytime, comparatively little could be
done, as the fire from the town so galled the workmen. Repeatedly
they dismounted our guns, and destroyed the defences which had been
erected to shield the laborers, so that we were obliged to wait until
the darkness prevented their marksmen from taking aim, in order to
carry on our works. The night of the 27th, an attempt was made to
destroy the dam, which had been built for the purpose of forming an
inundation, and lessening the space where our troops could work; but
the moon had now made her appearance, and shone so brightly that the
effort was unsuccessful.
On this night a most daring feat was performed by one of the French.
Having disguised himself, he crept over the wall, and concealed
himself until he had caught the watchword for the night. Then,
boldly mingling with the troops, he proceeded to the works. Here the
engineer had placed a line to mark the direction of the sap. Just
before the workmen arrived, he moved the string, until he brought it
within complete range of the castle guns. The men commenced work at
once, but the light of the moon enabled the guns to tell with fearful
precision upon them; and it was not until a severe loss had been
sustained, that the mistake was discovered. Meanwhile, the intruder
stole quietly back to his old quarters, which he reached unmolested.
Soult, trusting to the strong intrenchments of the place, had
but little fear that it would finally surrender; but he knew a
hard-fought battle was inevitable. He therefore endeavored, as much
as possible, to concentrate his forces near; but, while they were
marching for this purpose, Graham and Hill attacked their flanks, and
forced them to take another direction. The whole of the Spanish army
now moved on to the Ronda hills, and threatened to attack Seville.
This movement obliged Soult to detach a large part of his army to
the assistance of this city, and had, as the event proved, fatally
delayed his march to Badajos. On the 30th, Wellington received
information that Soult had resumed his march, and would soon arrive;
but this news only served to hasten the preparations for the attack.
Forty-eight pieces of artillery were now constantly playing against
the San Roque, and the siege advanced at all points. Still the
San Roque stood firm. General Picton was the more anxious for its
destruction, as the inundation, which was caused by the dam, and
protected by this lunette, prevented the free action of the troops.
On the night of the 1st of April, several brave fellows determined
to see if they could not accomplish by stratagem what open force
had failed to effect. Two officers placed themselves at the head
of a small company of sappers. Under cover of the darkness, and
their motions encumbered by the powder they were obliged to carry,
they stole rapidly, but noiselessly, into the camp of the enemy. It
was, indeed, a dangerous experiment. The least noise, the slightest
accident, might alarm the sentinel; and then, they well knew, none
would return to tell their fate. Scarcely venturing to breathe, they
reached, in safety, a spot near the place. One of the officers then
went to examine the dam. During his absence, the rest of the party
could see the sentinel, as he approached within a very few feet of
where they lay concealed. They saw, if they could dispose of him
without noise, they might probably accomplish their aim undiscovered.
The officer, having examined the dam, now returned, just as the
sentinel approached. “Now, boys, is your time,” he whispered.
“Remember, one word, one sound, and we are lost.” Riquet, a powerful
Irishman, selected for this purpose, seized his cloak, and stood
prepared. As the man was passing, he sprang forward, and, throwing
his cloak over him, he was in an instant gagged and bound. Then,
rapidly and silently, the powder was placed against the dam, the
train laid, and the match applied. They waited a moment, to see that
it was not extinguished, and then hastily retreated. A few moments
passed, and the loud explosion was the first intelligence the enemy
had of the intrusion. All eyes were bent anxiously upon the spot, but
our hopes were destined to a sad disappointment. The dam stood firm,
and the inundations still remained. But, although this brave attempt
had failed, it soon became apparent to our general that the crisis
was rapidly approaching. The bastions of the Trinidad and the Santa
Maria had already given way; the breaches were daily enlarging, and
hope grew strong that we should succeed in reducing the place before
Soult should arrive. Nor were the enemy blind to their danger. They
had already built a strong intrenchment behind the walls. Now they
converted the nearest houses and garden-walls into a third line of
defence.
Rumors were continually circulating that the French army was close
at hand; but they were so uncertain that no dependence could be
placed upon them. About this time, however, certain intelligence was
brought that Soult had effected a junction with Drouet and Daricoa,
and was already at Albuera. No time was then to be lost. Wellington
himself examined the breaches, and pronounced them practicable, and
the night of the 6th of April was fixed for the assault. Rapidly the
news circulated among the army, and eighteen thousand daring soldiers
burned for that attack, that was to carry to posterity so dreadful a
tale. I shall never forget the effect on our own regiment, when it
was announced. General Sponsbury himself bore the tidings, and asked
if our regiment--the 28th of foot--was willing to lead the assault
upon the castle. This offer had already been made to the colonels of
the 10th and 17th regiments; but their men were suffering so severely
from a disease in the eyes, called the Jamaica Sands, that they
declined the honor. “My men have their eyes open, at such a time,
general,” answered our brave colonel; “nor is their leader ever blind
to the interests of king and country.” Then, turning to us, he cried,
“What say you, my lads? Are you willing to take the front ranks in
this attack?” A loud shout gave its affirmative to this appeal. Every
heart thrilled at the honor thus conferred, although all knew how
perilous such a distinction, must necessarily be.
The dreaded yet longed-for night drew on, and our officers were
busily engaged in arranging the order of the attack, and in preparing
the men for their duty. Picton’s division was to cross the Rivillas
river, and scale the castle walls, which were from eighteen to
twenty feet in height, furnished with every means of destruction,
and so narrow at the top that their defenders could easily reach and
overturn the ladders.
To Leith was appointed the distant bastion of San Vincente, where the
glacis was mined, the ditch deep, the scarp thirty feet high, and the
defenders of the parapet armed with three loaded muskets each, that
their first fire should be as deadly as possible.
The 4th and light divisions were to march against the breaches, well
furnished with ladders and axes, preceded by storming parties of five
hundred men, with their forlorn hopes. Major Wilson, of the 48th, was
directed to storm San Roque, and to General Power was assigned the
bridge head.
The morning had been very clear, but, as night approached, clouds
covered the horizon, as if to veil the bloody scenes of the night.
Fog rose thick from the rivers over every object, thus rendering
the darkness more complete. Unusual stillness prevailed, although
low murmurs pervaded the trenches, and, on the ramparts, lights
occasionally flitted here and there. Every few moments the deep-toned
voices of the sentinels broke in upon our ears, proclaiming that “all
was well in Badajos.”
The possession of this place had become a point of honor with the
soldiers on both sides. Three times had the French seen their foes
sit down before these almost impregnable walls. Twice had they been
obliged to retire, with heavy losses. The memory of these disasters,
revenge for those who had fallen, hatred of their foes, and a strong
desire for glory, now nerved each British arm for the contest; while
the honor of the French nation, the approval of their idolized
emperor, and, more than all, the danger to which their families would
be exposed in case of failure, combined with an equal thirst for
glory, awakened all the ardent enthusiasm of the French.
At ten o’clock a simultaneous assault was to be made on the castle,
the San Roque, the breaches, the Pardaleras, San Vincente, and the
bridge head, on the other side of the Guadiana.
The enemy were, as yet, all unconscious of the design of our general,
and the dark array of the British moved slowly and silently forward.
Every heart was full; for, although now unusual quiet reigned, every
one knew that it was but the prelude to that hour when death, in its
most terrible and ghastly forms, would be dealt on every side. In one
short half-hour the signal was to be given,--nay, even that little
time was lost. A lighted carcass was thrown up from the castle, and
fell at the very feet of the men in the third division, casting a
lurid and glaring light for yards around. The wild shout of alarm,
the hurried tones of the signal-bells, and the tumultuous rushing of
the soldiers, proclaimed that our array was discovered. Not a moment
was to be lost. “Forward, my men, forward!” passed from rank to rank.
One wild, long, deafening shout, responded, and then the besiegers
dashed onward. In a moment a circle of fire seemed to surround the
doomed city.
[Illustration: MOSCOW]
Our own division, under charge of General Kempt, had crossed the
narrow plank that constituted the bridge over the Rivillas, under
a heavy fire of musketry, and then, re-forming, ran hastily up the
rugged hill, to the foot of the castle. Scarcely had we reached the
walls, when our brave general fell, severely wounded. His faithful
aides-de-camp carried him from the field; and, as they were passing
to the trenches, he met General Picton,--who, hurt by a fall, and
unprepared for the advance of the signal, had been left in the
camp,--hastening onward. A few hurried words passed between them, and
General Picton ran on, to find his brave soldiers already ascending
the heavy ladders they had placed against the castle walls. And
well might those men be called brave, who dared attempt to ascend
those ladders, in spite of the showers of heavy stones, logs of
wood, and bursting shells, that rolled off the parapet,--regardless,
too, of that ceaseless roll of musketry, that was telling with such
fearful precision on their flanks,--forgetting, apparently, that,
even should they live to reach the top, they could scarcely hope to
survive the shock of that formidable front of pikes and bayonets
that rose to meet them. Deafening shouts echoed on every side, as
the besieged endeavored to throw down those heavy ladders; and these
were answered back by the groans of the dying, and the shrieks
of the soldiers that were crushed by their fall. Yet, not for a
moment daunted, those behind sprang on to the remaining ladders, and
strove which first should meet the death that seemed inevitable.
But their courage was fruitless. Every ladder was thrown down, and
loud shouts of victory ran along the walls. But the British, though
foiled, were not subdued. They fell back a few paces, and re-formed.
Colonel Ridge then sprang forward, and, seizing a ladder, placed it
against the lowest part of the castle wall, loudly calling to his men
to follow. Officer Canch succeeded in placing another beside him,
and in an instant they were fighting upon the ramparts. Ridge fell,
pierced with a hundred wounds; but, ere his assailants had time to
strike again, those ladders had poured their living load into the
castle, and, step by step, were its brave defenders forced, fighting,
into the street. Here a reinforcement induced them to pause, and a
hard-fought conflict ensued. But their assistants came too late,--the
castle was ours.
While these events were passing at the castle, more terrific, more
maddening, if possible, was the contest at the breaches. Just as the
firing at the castle commenced, two divisions reached the glacis. The
flash of a single musket from the covered way was the signal that the
French were ready, and yet all was still and dark. Hay packs were
thrown hastily into the ditches, and five hundred men sprang down the
ladders, which were placed there, without any opposition. Why was
this ominous stillness? But the assailants had hardly time to ask,
when a bright light shot up from the darkness, and revealed all the
horrors of the scene. The ramparts were crowded with dark figures and
glittering arms, while, below, the red columns of the British were
rushing on, like streams of burning lava. A crash of thunder followed
that bright light, and hundreds of shells and powder-barrels dashed
the ill-fated stormers into a thousand atoms. One instant the light
division paused, and then, as if maddened by that terrific sight,
they flew down the ladders, or leaped into the gulf below. A blaze
of musketry poured its dazzling light into the ditch, as the fourth
division came up, and descended with equal fury. But the enemy had
made, at the bottom of the ditch, a deep cut, which was filled with
water. Into this snare the head of the division fell, and more than a
hundred men were drowned. Those behind checked not an instant, but,
turning to the left, came to an unfinished intrenchment, which they
mistook for the breaches. It was covered in a moment; but, beyond
it, still lay a deep and wide chasm, between them and the ramparts
they wished to gain. Confusion necessarily ensued, for the assailants
still crowded on, until the ditch was full, and even then the press
continued. Not for one moment ceased the roar of the musketry upon
those crowded troops, and the loud shouts of the enemy, mingled with
the din of bursting grenades and shells. The roaring guns were
answered back by the iron howitzers from the battery, while the
horrid explosions of the powder-barrels, the whizzing flight of the
blazing splinters, and the loud commands of the officers, increased
the confusion. Through all this the great breach was at length
reached, and the British trusted that the worst was over; but, deep
in those ruins, ponderous beams were set, and, firmly fixed on their
top, glittered a terrible array of sword-blades, sharp-pointed and
keen-edged, while ten feet before even that could be reached, the
ascent was covered with loose planks, studded with sharp iron points,
which penetrated the feet of the foremost, and sent them rolling back
on the troops behind.
Behind these sword-points, the shouting Frenchmen stood rejoicing
in their agony, and poured in their fire with ceaseless rapidity;
for every man had a number of muskets, and each one of these, beside
the ordinary charge, was loaded with a cylinder of wood, full of
leaden slugs, which scattered like hail, when discharged. Hundreds
of men had fallen, and hundreds more were dropping; but still the
heroic officers rushed on, and called for new trials. Yet, there
glittered the sword-blades, firm, immovable; and who might penetrate
such a barrier? Yet, so zealous were the men themselves, that those
behind strove to push the forward ranks on to the blades, that they
might thus themselves ascend on a bridge made of their bodies; but
they frustrated this attempt by dropping down, for none could tell
who fell from choice, and who by the effect of that dreadful fire,
and many who fell unhurt never rose again, crushed by the crowd.
For a little while after the commencement of this terrible attack,
military order was preserved; but the tumult and noise was such, that
no command could be distinctly heard; and the constant falling and
struggling of the wounded, who sought to avoid being trampled upon,
broke the formations, and order was impossible. Yet, officers of all
stations would rush out, and, followed by their men, make a desperate
assault on that glittering steel, and only fall back to swell the
pile of dead and dying. Two hours were spent in these vain efforts,
and then the remaining soldiers turned sadly and slowly away; for
they felt that the breach of the Trinidad was, indeed, impregnable.
An opening still remained in the curtain of the Santa Maria bastion,
and to this they directed their steps; but they found the approach
to it impeded by deep holes and cuts, and their fearfully lessening
numbers told how useless the attempt would be. Gathering in dark
groups, they leaned despairingly on their muskets, and looked with
sullen desperation at the ramparts of the Trinidad, where the enemy
were seen, by the light of the fire-balls which they threw up, aiming
their guns with fearful precision, and tauntingly asking, “Why
they did not come into Badajos?” And now, unwilling to be finally
conquered, Captains Nicholas and Shaw, with fifty men, collected from
all regiments, made one more desperate attempt to reach the Santa
Maria breach. Already had they passed the deep cuts, and toiled over
two-thirds of the dangerous ground, when a discharge of musketry
levelled every man, except Shaw, to the earth. Nicholas, and a large
proportion of the rest, were mortally wounded.
After this, no further attempt was made; and yet the soldiers would
not retire, but remained passive and unflinching, under the fire of
the enemy. It was now midnight. Already two thousand brave men had
fallen, when Wellington, who was watching the progress of the attack
from a height close to the quarries, sent orders that the troops
should retire and re-form for a second assault. But so great was the
confusion, that many of the officers did not receive the orders, and
so endeavored to prevent the soldiers from leaving, which occasioned
many deaths.
But the gallant defenders of Badajos, although successful at the
breaches, found that there was no time to look idly on. The whole
city was girdled by fire. The third division still maintained its
ground at the castle; the fifth were engaged at the Pardaleres, and
on the right of the Guadiana, while General Walker’s brigade was
escalading the bastion of San Vincente. This brigade had stolen
silently along the banks of the river, the noise of its ripple having
drowned the sound of their foot-steps until they reached the barrier
gate. Just then the explosion took place at the breaches; and by
its light the French sentinels discovered their assailants. In
an instant, a sharp musketry was opened upon them. The Portuguese
troops, panic-struck, threw down the scaling-ladders which had been
intrusted to them; but the British snatched them up, and reared them
against the walls, which, in this place, were thirty feet high.
Unfortunately, the ladders were too short, and this placed them in
a most perilous and uncomfortable position. A small mine was sprung
beneath their feet, adding its quota to the fearful number of the
dead; beams of wood and shells, fraught with living fire, were
rolled upon their heads, while showers of grape from the flanks
swept the ditch, dealing death-blows thick and fast on every side.
But, fortunately for our troops, the reinforcement to assist in the
defence of the castle was just at this time called for, and a part of
the walls lower than the rest was left unmanned. Three ladders were
hastily placed here, but they were still too short. But British valor
and ingenuity soon overcame this difficulty. A soldier, raised in
the arms of his comrades, sprang to the top; another followed. These
drew their comrades after them, and soon, in spite of the constant
fire which the French kept up, they ascended in such numbers, that
they could not be driven back. Dividing, on their entrance, one-half
entered the town, while the other, following the ramparts, attacked
and won three bastions. Just as the last was yielding, General Walker
fell, covered with wounds. A soldier, who stood near him, cried out,
“A mine! a mine!” At that word, those troops which had crossed the
strong barrier, whom neither the deepness of the ditch nor the height
of the wall could appal, who flinched not a moment at the deadly fire
of the enemy, shrank back at a chimera of their own raising. Their
opponents saw their advantage, and, making a firm and deadly charge,
drove them from the ramparts. But, before the French had time to
rejoice in their victory, a reserve, under Colonel Nugent, made its
appearance, and the fleeing soldiers returned, and soon gained the
field.
The party who had entered the town at the first attack on San
Vincente pursued their way through the streets. They met with no
opposition, however. All was still and silent as the grave, and yet
the streets were flooded with light, and every house illuminated.
Sounding their bugles, they advanced to the great square of the
town, but still met no enemy. All was bright and still, except that
low murmurs were heard from behind the lattices, and occasionally
a shot was fired at them from under the doors. Hence, leaving the
square, they repaired to the breaches, and attempted to surprise the
garrison, by attacking them in their rear. But they found them on
the alert, and were soon obliged to return to the streets. But the
English were now pouring in on every side, and the brave defenders
of the ramparts and the breaches turned to defend their homes. A
short and desultory fight followed. Generals Viellande and Phillipon,
brave and determined to the last, were both wounded; and, gradually
falling back, they retreated, with a few hundred soldiers, to San
Christoval, where they surrendered to Lord Fitzroy Somerset. Then
loud shouts of victory! victory! resounded through the streets, and
found its joyful echo in many hearts.
During this siege, five thousand men and officers had fallen;
thirty-five hundred having lost their lives the night of the
assault,--twenty-four hundred at the breaches alone. If any one would
picture to himself the terrible scenes that occurred at this spot,
let him imagine a lot of less than a hundred square yards, which, in
the short space of little more than two hours, was deluged by the
blood of twenty-four hundred men. Nor did all these fall by sudden
death. Some perished by steel, some by shot, some were drowned,
some crushed and mangled by heavy weights, others trampled down by
the crowd, and hundreds dashed to pieces by the fiery explosions;
and all this occurred where the only light was the intense glare
of the explosions, and the lurid flame of the burning dead, which
came to mingle its horrible stench with the sickening odors of the
gunpowder, and the nauseous smells of the exploding shells. Here,
too, the groans of the wounded were echoed back by the shrieks of
the dying; and, ever and anon, between the roar of the artillery and
the thunder of the bursting shells, were heard the bitter taunts of
the enemy. Let any one imagine all this, I say, and they may have
some faint ideas of the horrors of war. Yet, dreadful as this is,
could the veil but drop here, the soldier’s heart might still throb
with pride, as he recounted the hard-fought battle, where valor stood
preëminent, and none yielded, but to death, until the victory was
won. But there is still another dark and revolting page, which, in
a history like this, designed to paint the horrors as well as the
glories of war, it were not well to omit. I refer to the scenes which
followed the victory, when Badajos lay at the mercy of its conquering
foe. If there is one feature of war more repulsive than another, one
from which every good feeling of the heart shrinks back appalled,
it is from the scene which invariably follows, when permission is
given to sack and plunder a conquered city. All restraint is laid
aside. Men’s passions, wound up almost to frenzy by the exciting
and maddening scenes through which they have passed, will have a
vent; and no sorrow is too holy, no place too sacred, to shield its
occupant from the storm. Our men scattered themselves through the
city, all with liberty to do what they pleased, to take what they
wanted. Houses were broken open, and robbed. If any resistance was
made, death was the certain penalty; and often death in such a form
that a soldier’s fate would have been mercy. All, it is true, were
not alike. In such an army there are always brave men, who, even
in such an hour, would scorn to commit a dishonorable action, and
these seconded the attempts of our officers to preserve at least a
semblance of order; but they were too few to accomplish much. All the
dreadful passions of human nature were excited, and they would have
way. Many lost their lives in vain attempts to check the cruelty and
lust and drunkenness of their own soldiers. For two days and nights
Badajos resounded with the shrieks and piteous lamentations of her
defenceless victims, with groans and shouts and imprecations, varied
by the hissing of fires from houses first plundered, then destroyed,
the crashing of doors and windows, and the almost ceaseless report
of muskets used in violence. It was not until the third day that the
soldiers, exhausted by their own excesses, could be collected in
sufficient numbers to bury the dead of their own regiments, while
many of the wounded perished solely from want of necessary care. I
had imagined that the miseries of intemperance were no unfamiliar
sight to me; yet never before, or since, has it been my lot to meet
the madness which characterized the eager search for liquor, on every
side. An instance that occurred in our own regiment, I will relate.
Several of our men, and among them some that I had known in Ireland,
and should never have suspected of such conduct, broke into a cellar
where was stored a large quantity of wine. There were many casks, and
some of them contained wine that bore the brand of scores of years.
They tore down the doors for tables, and commenced their mad feast.
Bottles half emptied were thrown across the cellar, and what would
have sufficed a regiment for months, was recklessly poured upon the
floor. Unconscious, or not caring what they did, they stopped not to
draw the wine, but, knocking in the head of the casks, proceeded to
try their various qualities. At length, overcome by intoxication,
they sank upon the floor, and paid the penalty of their rashness with
their lives; for, when a diligent search was made for absentees, they
were discovered actually drowned in the wine. Many were burned to
death in houses which they themselves had fired.
For my own part, I had been fortunate enough to pass through all
the horrors of the siege, and the bloody scenes of the assault,
unhurt. Excitement had rendered me reckless of danger, and I hurried
on, scarce knowing where I was or what I did. Now that this had
passed, I felt exhausted and weary, and very thirsty. My comrade
and myself resolved that our first search should be for something
to drink. We hurried on, until we reached a large store, where we
thought we should find some liquor. The fastenings of the outer door
soon yielded to our efforts, but the door to the cellar we found it
impossible to open or break down. Just at this moment, a band of
pioneers happened to be passing, who always carry with them huge
hatchets. We called to them, and, with their assistance, soon made
our way to the cellar. But here a great disappointment awaited us.
We found no liquor, but only two tiers of firkins, used for holding
butter. One of our men, in anger, struck his hatchet into one of
them, when, to our great surprise, out rolled whole handfuls of
doubloons. We then struck the heads of the firkins with the butt-ends
of our muskets, but could not break them. The hatchets, however,
soon completed the work. When the heads were knocked out, the money
was so firmly pressed together that it came out in one solid mass.
Each one of us then took what we pleased. I placed three handsful in
my comrade’s knapsack, and he did the same by me. I then filled my
haversack, and even my stockings, with the precious treasure. Part of
our company remained as guard, while the rest went to report to our
commander the discovery we had made. I soon found that I had stored
more money than I was able to carry, so I threw a part of it in an
old well. Our commander immediately sent a detachment of men to empty
the cellar, and they brought away no less than eight mules’ burden of
gold. I cannot now recall its exact amount, but such was its value
that our officers determined to send it to Brussels, when the army
should leave Badajos.
We take the following description of the scenes to which we have
above referred from an eye-witness. He says: “It has been the
practice of modern historians to describe, in the glowing language of
exaggerated eulogy, every act done by the British and their allies,
while their pens have been equally busy in vilifying and defaming
all who were opposed to them. Perhaps there is no circumstance to
which this applies with more force than the description usually
given of the conduct of the British armies and their allies after
the taking of Badajos. While their gallantry is praised to the
utmost, their evil deeds are left to find the light as they may; but
‘foul deeds will rise, though all the earth overwhelm them.’ Before
six o’clock on the morning of the 7th of April, all organization
among the assaulting columns had ceased, and a scene of plunder
and cruelty that it would be difficult to find a parallel for took
place. The army, so orderly the preceding day,--so effective in its
organizations,--seemed all at once transformed into a vast band of
brigands. The horde of Spaniards, as well as Portuguese women and
men, that now eagerly sought for admission to plunder, augmented the
number of this band to what the army had been before the battle;
and twenty thousand persons, armed with all power to act as they
thought fit, and almost all armed with weapons which could be used at
the pleasure of the bearers, for the purpose of enforcing any wish
they might seek to gratify, were let loose upon this devoted city.
Subject to no power of control from others, intoxication caused them
to lose all restraint on themselves. If the reader can for a moment
fancy a fine city, containing an immense population, among which may
be reckoned a proportion of the finest women Spain, or perhaps the
world, can boast of,--if he could fancy that population and these
women left to the mercy of twenty thousand infuriated and licentious
soldiers, for two days and two nights, he can well imagine the
horrors enacted in Badajos. Wine and spirit stores were first forced
open, and casks of the choicest wines and brandy dragged into the
streets; and, when the men had drank as much as they fancied, the
heads of the vessels were stove in, or the casks broken, so that
the liquor ran about in streams. In the town were large numbers of
animals,--sheep, oxen, and horses,--belonging to the garrison. These
were among the first things taken possession of; and the wealthy
occupier of many a house was glad to be allowed the employment of
conducting them to our camp, as, by so doing, he got away from a
place where his life was not worth a minute’s purchase. Terrible as
was this scene, it was not possible to avoid occasionally laughing;
for the _conducteur_ was generally not only compelled to drive a
herd of cattle, but also obliged to carry the bales of plunder
taken by his employer perhaps from his own house. And the stately
gravity with which the Spaniard went through his work, dressed in
short breeches, frilled shirt, and a hat and plumes, followed by
our ragamuffin soldiers with fixed bayonets, presented a scene that
Cruikshank himself would have been puzzled to delineate justly. The
plunder so captured was deposited under a guard composed principally
of soldiers’ wives. A few hours were sufficient to despoil the shops
of their property. Night then closed in, and then a scene took place
that pen would fail to describe. Insult and infamy, fiendish acts
of violence and open-handed cruelty, everywhere prevailed. Age, as
well as youth, was alike unrespected, and perhaps not one house,
and scarcely a person, in this vast town, escaped injury. War is a
terrible engine, and when once set in motion, it is not possible to
calculate when or where it will stop.
“The 8th of April was a fearful day for the inhabitants. The soldiers
had become so reckless that no person’s life, of whatever sex, rank,
or station, was safe. If they entered a house that had not been
despoiled of its furniture and wines, they were at once destroyed.
If it was empty, they fired at the windows, or at the inmates, or
often at each other. Then they would sally into the streets, and
amuse themselves by firing at the church bells in the steeples, or
at any one who might be passing. Many of the soldiers were killed,
while carrying away their plunder, by the hands of those who, a few
hours before, would have risked their own lives to protect them.
Hundreds of these fellows took possession of the best warehouses,
and acted as merchants; these were ejected by a stronger party, who,
after a fearful strife, would displace them, only themselves to give
place to others, with terrible loss of life. To put a stop to such a
frightful scene, it was necessary to use some forbearance, as well
as severity; for, to have punished all who were guilty would have
been to decimate the army. In the first instance, parties from those
regiments that had least participated in the combat were ordered into
the town to collect the hordes of stragglers, that filled the streets
with crimes too horrible to detail; and, when this measure was found
inadequate, a brigade of troops were marched into the city, and
were directed to stand by their arms, while any marauders remained.
Gibbets and triangles were erected, and many of the men were flogged.
A few hours so employed were sufficient to purge the town of the
robbers that still lurked in the streets, many of whom were Spaniards
and Portuguese, not connected with the army, and infinitely worse
than our troops. Towards evening tranquillity began to return; but it
was a fearful quiet, and might be likened to a ship at sea, which,
after having been plundered and dismasted by pirates, should be left
floating on the ocean, without a morsel of food to supply the wants
of its crew, or a stitch of canvas to cover its naked masts. By
degrees, however, the inhabitants returned, and families left alive
again became reünited; yet there was scarce a family that did not
mourn its dead.”
The same writer says: “Early on the morning of the 9th of April, a
great concourse of Spaniards, from the neighboring villages, thronged
our lines. They came to purchase the booty captured by our men; and
each succeeding hour increased the supply of their wants, numerous
and varied as they were, and our camp had the appearance of a vast
market. Some of the soldiers realized upwards of one thousand dollars
from the sale, and almost all gained handsomely by an enterprise in
which they had displayed so much devotion and bravery; and it is
only to be lamented that they tarnished laurels so nobly won, by
traits of barbarity which, for the sake of human nature, we hope have
not often found a parallel.”
It was not until order was in some measure restored that the wounded
and dead could be attended to; but now graves were dug, and the
mangled remains, so lately full of life and activity, burning with
high hopes and fond anticipations, were laid away, adding their
numbers to the vast pile of victims sacrificed to that Moloch--war.
It is said that when Wellington learned the number of the fallen, and
the extent of his loss in the death of those brave men, a passionate
burst of tears told how much he was affected by it.
For a few days Wellington lingered near Badajos, hoping that Soult,
to whom Phillipon had sent the fatal news even in the confusion of
his surrender, would be tempted from his intrenchments to risk a
battle with the allies, while the troops were flushed with victory.
But this general, although feeling deeply the loss of one of his most
impregnable fortresses, found himself too much occupied with the
other division of the allied army to venture on such a course.
It was Wellington’s intention, in case this battle did not take
place, to proceed immediately to Andalusia; but, learning that the
Spanish general had failed to garrison the fortresses already taken
in a suitable manner, he was obliged to alter his own course of
action, in order to secure former conquests. While he remained here,
his time was busily occupied in repairing the breaches, in levelling
the trenches, and restoring the injured fortifications. This being
done, he placed here, as a garrison, two regiments of Portuguese, and
marched himself, with the main body of his troops, upon Beira.
Before the victorious army of the Allies left Badajos, Wellington
determined to send a convoy to Brussels, with the treasure and spoils
found in that place. The regiments selected to form this convoy
were the 28th, 80th, 87th and 43d. We were to leave Badajos and
pass through the northern part of Spain, by the romantic gorge of
Roncesvalles to St. Jean Pied de Port in France, and from this place
take the most direct course to Brussels. The day before our army was
to leave for Beira was the day selected for our march. Our farewell
words were soon spoken, and we were on our way.
No incident of particular interest occurred in our route, and we
found ourselves on the 3d of June in safety in Brussels, where we
remained in garrison until that great battle which decided the fate
of Europe, and sent the French Emperor to his lonely home on the
barren rock of St. Helena.
CHAPTER VI.
Brief Summary of Events for Four Years preceding the Battle of
Waterloo--Author’s Narrative resumed at that Period--Preparation
of Troops for the Battle--Skirmishing preceding its Commencement
--Reception of the News at Brussels--Departure of the English for
the Field of Battle--Disposition of the Forces--Attack upon
Hougomont--Progress of the Battle--Arrival of the Prussian
Reinforcements--Charge of the Old Guard--Flight of the French.
These four years thus spent to me were days of quiet, unmarked by
aught that would interest my readers; but four years more eventful,
more fraught with heavy consequences of good or ill to Europe, have
seldom--perhaps never--been numbered in her eventful history. The
victorious banners of France were waving on every battle-field on the
continent. Wagram and Jena, Austerlitz and Friedland, echoed back
the glory of the conqueror’s name; and kings and emperors, in whose
veins flowed the blood of the Cæsars, had esteemed it an honor to
claim alliance with the plebeian child of Corsica. But the Russian
bear and the English lion had not yet yielded to his claims; and,
gathering his vast and victorious armies, he led them to face a
sterner enemy and a more subtle foe than they had ever yet contested.
Half a million of men, firm and confident in their own resources,
had crossed the Niemen under Bonaparte’s approving eye. A few months
later, and the remnant of that scattered army, in rags, wan and
ghastly, staggered, like a band of spectres, over that same river.
No human might had struck them down; but the ice of winter and the
deep snows of the north, which the fur-clad Russian glories in, had
been the signal of death to the light-hearted child of vine-clad
France. He who had left France at the head of such glorious armies
had returned to his capital alone with his own brave heart and iron
courage, to find there that the arms and gold of the allies had done
their work.
From Spain, the French had retreated step by step. Ferdinand,
soiled, even in his youth, with flagrant crimes, had returned amid
rejoicings and banquets to his capital, to sink still deeper in
shame and contempt the Bourbon name, and to reward with dungeons
and tears and blood the brave hearts that had struggled so long and
nobly for his kingdom. Joseph had fled before him on foot, scarcely
escaping with his life from that kingdom, which might, indeed, have
taken a glorious place among the nations, had he had the courage or
ability to carry out, in the spirit that dictated them, the great
and far-seeing plans of his brother. On every side the nations
turned their arms against the falling emperor, until, at length, he
who had disposed in his palace of the thrones of Europe had only
left one small island, which must have seemed to him but a child’s
bauble, in view of the past. He _would_ not rest here, and the
events of the hundred days had roused again the world to arms. The
prestige of his name had won back the allegiance of the French, and
thousands had, as in days of yore, collected around his standard. The
battle which should decide the fate of Europe drew on. France stood
alone, on the one side, with her veteran troops, and her memories
of glorious victories, and, more than all, her emperor; and on the
other were the united forces of England and the continent. Napoleon
was confident of victory. On the 14th of June, in his own resistless
eloquence, he thus addressed his army, the last he was ever destined
to command:--“Soldiers, this day is the anniversary of Marengo and
Friedland, which twice decided the destiny of Europe. Then, as after
the battle of Austerlitz, as after the battle of Wagram, we were too
generous. We believed in the oaths and protestations of princes, whom
we left on their thrones. Now, however, leagued together, they aim
at the independence and the most sacred rights of France. They have
committed the most unjust aggressions. Let us, then, march and meet
them. Are not we and they still the same men? Soldiers, at Jena,
against these same Prussians, now so arrogant, you were one to three;
and at Montmirail, one to six. Let those among you who have been
captives to the English describe the nature of their prison-ships,
and the horrible sufferings they endured. The Saxons, the Belgians,
the Hanoverians, the soldiers of the Confederation of the Rhine,
lament that they are obliged to use their arms in the cause of
princes who are the enemies of justice and the rights of all
nations. They know that this coalition is insatiable. After having
devoured twelve millions of Poles, twelve millions of Italians, one
million of Saxons, and six millions of Belgians, it now wishes to
devour the states of the second rank in Germany.
“Madmen! a moment of prosperity has bewildered them! The oppression
and humiliation of the French people are beyond their reach; if they
enter France, they will find their tomb there! Soldiers, we have
forced marches to make, battles to fight, and dangers to encounter;
but, if we are firm, victory will be ours. The rights, the honor, the
happiness of the country, will be recovered. To every Frenchman who
has a heart, the moment is now arrived when he should either conquer
or die.”
The plan which Napoleon had laid down was, by a rapid advance,
to force his way between the armies of Wellington and Blucher
combined,--to attack one with the mass of his forces, while he
detached troops to keep the other in check. Let us now turn our
attention to the allies.
They had combined their whole strength at and near Brussels. The army
of Blucher, at this time, numbered about one hundred thousand men.
These occupied Charleroi, Namur, Givet and Liege. The headquarters
of the Anglo-Belgian army, under Wellington, were at Brussels. This
army numbered seventy-six thousand men; but thirty-five thousand
of these, however, were English, the flower of the Peninsular army
having been sent to America. The remainder were Hanoverians, Dutch
and Belgians. The right of the Prussian army communicated with the
left of the English; their commanders having so arranged their
troops, that wherever the attack of the French should be made, they
might support each other. They could not doubt that Napoleon’s mark
was Brussels, but as yet it had been impossible for them to learn
by which of the four great routes he intended to force his passage.
Several prisoners had been taken, but these either could not or
would not communicate the intelligence our commander was so desirous
to obtain. On the morning of the 15th, however, the movements of
the French unfolded their designs. Their second corps crossed the
Sambre, and drove in Zeither’s out-posts, who fell back on Fleurus
to concentrate with the Prussian corps. They were hastily followed
by the French army. The emperor’s purpose was then to crush Blucher,
before he could concentrate his own forces, much less be assisted by
the troops under Wellington. Immediately Zeither, who had the command
at Charleroi, sent out despatches to all the commanders of Blucher’s
army, summoning them to his aid. Then gallantly marshalling the men
who were under his command, they held their ground bravely, though
with great loss, until, finding it impossible longer to withstand,
they fell back in good order, on a position between Ligny and Armand,
where Blucher now awaited Napoleon’s attack, at the head of his
whole army. Though the emperor’s plan of beating the Prussian army
in detail had failed, he might still prevent the conjunction of his
forces with Wellington’s. He continued his march, therefore, on the
main road to Brussels from Charleroi. At Frasnes, some Nassau troops
had been stationed. These were, however, obliged to retire before the
French, who followed them as far as Quatre Bras, or four arms,--a
farm, so called because the roads from Charleroi to Brussels, and
from Namur to Nivelles, here cross each other. Here the French halted
for the night.
Lord Wellington, as I have said, held his head-quarters at Brussels.
Not a rumor of Napoleon’s onward movement had, as yet, reached him.
That gay city presented many attractions to our gallant officers, and
festivals and parties had followed each other in quick succession.
On that very night the Duchess of Richmond gave a splendid ball, and
it was as gayly attended by the British officers as if the French
had been on the Seine, instead of the Sambre. Wellington himself
was there. Sir Thomas Picton, too, our own brave commander in the
Peninsular campaign, who had but that day arrived from England, also
met his brother officers in this festal scene. The festivities were
at their height, when an officer in splashed and spattered uniform
presented himself at the door, and asking for the duke, communicated
to him the startling intelligence. For some moments the iron duke
remained in deep reflection, his countenance showing a resolution
already taken. Then, in a low and steady voice, he gave a few
directions to a staff-officer, and again mingled in the festivities
of the hour. But, before the ball was ended, the strains of courtly
music were drowned in the louder notes of preparation. The drum had
beat to arms, and the bugle summoned the assembly, while the Highland
bagpipe added its wild and martial call to the field. All were soon
prepared and under arms, and the fifth division filed from the park
with the Brunswick corps, and directed their course to the forest of
Soignes.
Three o’clock pealed from the steeple-bells. All was now quiet; the
brigades, with their artillery and equipage, were gone, the crash of
music was heard no longer, the bustle of preparation had ceased, and
an ominous and heart-sinking silence succeeded the noise and hurry
ever attendant on a departure for the field of battle.
These incidents have been so beautifully described by Byron, that we
cannot resist the temptation to quote the passage:
“There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then,
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o’er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.
But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
“Did you not hear it? No! ’twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o’er the stony street;
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined!
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet,
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet!
But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,--
As if the clouds its echo would repeat,--
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before.
Arm! arm! it is, it is the cannon’s opening roar!
“Ah! then, and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which, but an hour ago,
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness.
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs,
Which ne’er might be repeated;--who could guess
If evermore should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!”
By two o’clock the Duke of Wellington had left Brussels, and
before light he reached Bry, at which place Blucher was stopping,
and there the plan of the day was agreed upon. Napoleon resolved,
with his own troops, to attack the Prussian army, because that had
concentrated all its strength, while forty-five thousand men, under
Ney, were to give battle to the English. At early dawn, on the
16th, hostilities were renewed. The morning, however, was occupied
in slight skirmishes, in which the soldiers in both armies showed
their bravery. The main contest between the English and the French
commenced about three in the afternoon. The French were drawn up
among growing corn, so high as nearly to conceal them from sight. The
seventy-ninth and forty-second regiments were thus taken by surprise,
and nearly destroyed. Out of eight hundred men, but ninety-six
privates and four officers escaped. At night the English general
had possession of Quatre Bras. The number of killed and wounded on
the side of the allies was five thousand. Blucher fought as stern
a battle, but with less success. He had eighty thousand men, while
Napoleon was opposed to him with ninety thousand. The French and
Prussians felt for each other a mortal hatred, and little quarter was
either asked or given. When the night of the 16th closed around them,
thirty-five thousand men were left on the field of battle,--twenty
thousand of the Prussians, and fifteen thousand French. Blucher had
been forced to retire in the direction of Wavre, and so skilfully
were his movements made that it was noon on the 17th before Napoleon
discovered his retreat. As soon as Wellington learned that Blucher
had retreated, he gave orders to fall back from Quatre Bras to the
field of Waterloo. A heavy rain had fallen all day, and made the
roads almost impassable with mud. The English soldiers were wearied
with their day’s labor, and discouraged by the command to retreat;
but their spirits revived when, on reaching their bivouac for the
night, they were informed that the battle should be given on the
next day. We found little comfort, however, in our night’s position;
for, as the darkness closed in, the rain fell in torrents, and was
accompanied by heavy thunder.
The soldiers themselves, although no temptation would have been
strong enough to have induced them to turn away from the morrow’s
battle, still could not but feel the solemnity of the hour.
Thousands of those who had bivouacked with them the preceding night,
in health and spirits, were now cold and lifeless on the field of
battle. The morrow’s action could not be less severe, and in such an
hour it was not in human nature to be entirely unmindful of home and
friends, whom it was more than probable we should never see again.
For my own part, my thoughts reverted to my dear parents, and I could
not but remember that, had I not disregarded their wishes, I should
now have been in safety with them. My disobedience appeared to me in
a very different light from what it had formerly done; but I resolved
to conceal my feelings from every one. I was just endeavoring to
compose myself to sleep, when my comrade spoke to me, saying that
it was deeply impressed on his mind that he should not survive the
morrow; and that he wished to make an arrangement with me, that if he
should die and I should survive, I should inform his friends of the
circumstances of his death, and that he would do the same for me, in
case he should be the survivor. We then exchanged the last letters we
had received from home, so that each should have the address of the
other’s parents. I endeavored to conceal my own feelings, and cheer
his, by reminding him that it was far better to die on the field of
glory than from fear; but he turned away from me, and, with a burst
of tears, that spoke the deep feelings of his heart, he said, “_My
mother!_” The familiar sound of this precious name, and the sight
of his sorrow, completely overcame my attempts at concealment, and
we wept together. Perhaps I may as well mention here, that we had
not been in the action twenty-five minutes when he was shot down
by my side. After my return to England, I visited his parents, and
informed them of the circumstances of his death; and I can assure
my readers that it was a painful task. We were not alone in our sad
feelings. The fierce contest of the elements, the discomforts of our
position, and the deep gloom which covered every object, all served
to deepen in every heart those feelings which, I venture to say, even
the bravest will experience in the stillness and silence of a night
preceding a battle.
With the early dawn of morning all the troops were in motion.
Wellington was to commence the action, while Blucher, with all his
army, with the exception of a single corps left to contend with
Marshal Grouchy, marched to support him.
Our troops were drawn up before the village of Mont St. Jean, about
a mile and a half from the small town of Waterloo, on a rising
ground, which descended, by a gentle declivity, to a plain a mile in
breadth, beyond which rose the opposite heights of La Belle Alliance.
The first line was composed of those troops on whose discipline and
spirit the duke could most rely. These were the British, three corps
of Hanoverians and Belgians, and the men of Brunswick and Nassau. The
second line consisted of those whose courage and bravery were more
doubtful, and those regiments that had suffered most severely the
preceding day. Behind both of these lay the horse. Four roads crossed
each other in this position, affording great facilities for the
movements of the armies. It included, also, the chateau and houses
of Hougomont, and the farm-house and enclosures of La Haye Sainte,
which were very strongly occupied, and formed important outworks of
defence. The whole front of the British army extended, in all, about
a mile.
The army of the French, meanwhile, had been marching all night, and
many of them did not reach the heights of La Belle Alliance until
late on the morning of the 18th. Napoleon had feared that the English
would continue their retreat to Brussels. It was, therefore, with
much pleasure that he saw them drawn up on the opposite heights. “At
last, then,” said he, “at last I have these English in my grasp.”
Eighty thousand French soldiers were seen moving, in close massive
columns, on the crest of the height, as they took up their several
positions for the day. When all was arranged, Bonaparte rode along
the lines, reviewing his troops; and when he had finished, and
turned to ride away, a loud shout of “Vive l’Empereur” rolled after
him, which shook the field on which they stood. He then ascended
an observatory, a little in the rear, where he could overlook both
lines, and from this point directed the battle. It was an eventful
hour in the history of this great man; and he felt, as did also his
troops, how much depended on the issue of the day. Victory alone
would give the courage necessary to send out reinforcements from a
country where scarcely any were left but old men and youth. Defeat
would be decisive of the emperor’s fate. These thoughts nerved the
hearts of the French, and they fought with unexampled impetuosity.
About ten o’clock the action was commenced, by an attack upon the
gardens and wood of Hougomont. They were particularly anxious to gain
this post, as it commanded a large part of the British position.
It was furiously and incessantly assailed by the French, and as
gallantly defended by the English, under General Byng. The French
pushed up to the very walls of the chateau, and thrust their bayonets
through the door; but the Coldstream Guards held the court-yard with
invincible obstinacy, and the enemy were at length compelled to
retire, leaving fourteen hundred men in a little orchard, beside the
walls, where it does not seem so many could be laid. Every tree in
the wood was pierced with balls, their branches broken and destroyed,
and the chateau itself set on fire by the shells. Travellers inform
us that the strokes which proved so fatal to human life have not
affected the trees; for, though the holes still remain, their verdure
is as beautiful as ever. Beneath those trees, and in the forsaken
garden, flowers continue to bloom. The rose-trees and the vines,
crushed and torn in the struggle, have flowered in new beauty, and
offer a strong contrast to the piles of bones, broken swords, and
shattered helmets, that lay scattered among them.
When Napoleon saw that he had failed in taking Hougomont, he
strengthened his attack upon the main lines. Most of the British had
been drawn up in squares, not quite solid, but several files deep,
and arranged like the squares on a chess-board; so that, if any of
the enemy’s cavalry should push between the divisions, they could
be attacked in the rear, as well as in front. When, therefore, the
French artillery opened upon them, and whole ranks were mowed down,
the chasms were instantly filled, and not a foot of ground lost. But
such was the impetuosity of the French onset, that the light troops,
drawn up in front of these squares, were driven in, and the cavalry,
which should have supported them, fled on every side. The Brunswick
infantry now opened their fire upon the French cavalry, with a
coolness and intrepidity that made dreadful gaps in their squadrons,
and strewed the ground with men and horses that were advancing to
the charge. But the courage of the French did not desert them. Their
artillery played, at the distance of one hundred and fifty yards, on
the British squares, with dreadful execution. Their object was to
push back the right wing of the British, and establish themselves
on the Nivelles road. But the courage of their opponents rendered
these efforts unavailing; and the struggle here at length subsided,
to rage with greater fury in other parts of the field. A strong body
of French infantry advanced, without firing a shot, to the position
occupied by Sir Thomas Picton and Kempt. They had gained the heights,
when Sir Thomas, forming his division into a solid square, advanced
to the charge with such effect, that, after firing one volley, the
French retreated. That volley, however, proved fatal to our brave
commander. A musket ball struck him in the temple, and he expired
without a struggle. After his fall, it was ascertained that he had
been wounded on the 16th, but had carefully concealed it from every
one but his servant. His wound, for want of surgical assistance, had
assumed a very serious aspect.
Again the French pressed on, and, attacking the Highland division,
drove them back in great disorder. But the brigade of heavy cavalry
now came to their assistance, and again the assailants fell back. A
column, two thousand strong, bore down upon the 92d regiment, which
immediately formed itself into a line, and, charging on the foe,
broke their centre. The French were now reinforced by their cavalry,
and the British by the brigade of heavy dragoons. A contest then
ensued which has hardly a parallel in modern warfare. The determined
valor of the British, however, conquered, and the French retired
behind their infantry. It was at this time that Sir William Ponsonby
was killed. He led his brigade against the Polish lancers, and took
two hundred prisoners; but, riding on in advance of his troops, he
entered a newly-ploughed field, when his horse stuck in the mire,
and he found it impossible to proceed. At this instant, a body of
lancers rode up. Sir William saw that his fate was inevitable. He
took out his watch and a picture, and desired some one near to send
them to his wife. A moment after, he fell, pierced with seven lance
wounds.
At the farm of La Haye Sainte, the French succeeded in cutting off
the communication of the German troops stationed there, and put them
all to the bayonet. Here they maintained their position, until the
final attack in the evening. The combat now raged with unabated fury.
Every inch of ground was disputed on both sides, and neither gave way
until every means of resistance was exhausted. The field of battle
was heaped with the dead; and yet the attack grew more impetuous, and
the resistance more obstinate. The continued reverberations of more
than six hundred pieces of artillery, the fire of the light troops,
the frequent explosions of caissons blown up by shells, the hissing
of balls, the clash of arms, the roar of the charges, and the shouts
of the soldiery, produced a commingling of sounds whose effect it
would be impossible to describe. Still, the contest raged on. After
the advantage gained at La Haye Sainte, Napoleon threw the masses
of both infantry and cavalry upon the British centre, which was now
exposed. The first battalions gave way under their impetuous attack,
and the French cavalry rushed on to carry the guns on the plains. An
English ambuscade ran to receive them. The slaughter was horrible.
Neither party yielded a step. Three times the French were on the
point of forcing their position, and three times they were driven
back. They cut to pieces the battalions of the English, who were slow
or unskilful in their movements, but could make no impression on the
squares. In vain were their repeated attacks. They were repulsed,
with the most sanguinary fury.
Napoleon now advanced the whole centre of his infantry, to assist
the cavalry. They pressed on with an enthusiasm that overpowered all
resistance, and, for the moment, carried all before them. It was at
this critical period that our noble commander showed himself worthy
of a nation’s honor. Everywhere in the thickest of the fight, he was
seen cheering by his presence those who were almost ready to fail. He
seemed to bear a charmed life. Balls flew thick and fast around him,
and his staff-officers fell on every side; yet he moved on unharmed.
His unwearied exertions were at length successful in arresting the
progress of the French, and in wresting from them the advantages they
had gained. Again the attack on the chateau of Hougomont was renewed.
The cuirassiers poured the strength of their charge upon the 30th
regiment, who received them in a square, and immediately deployed
into a line, that the effect of their fire might be more fatal, while
the instant re-formation of the square protected them, in a degree,
from the next charge of the enemy. Leaving, at length, the 30th
regiment, they rushed on to the 69th, and succeeded in reaching them
before their square was formed which enabled them to commit dreadful
slaughter. Before the British cavalry could rush to their relief,
only a few brave soldiers remained to effect their escape. Then,
retiring to their former position, the fire from three hundred pieces
of artillery was poured upon the whole line of the allies. The effect
of this fire was very destructive. One general officer reported to
Wellington that his brigade was reduced to one-third of its original
numbers, and that a temporary cessation was necessary to the very
existence of his troops. “What you propose,” was the answer of the
duke, “is impossible. You, I, and every Englishman on the field, must
die in the spot we now occupy.” “It is enough,” replied the general;
“I, and every man under my command, are determined to share your
fate.”
Numerous were the instances on each side, among both officers
and men, of self-sacrifice to save their fellow-soldiers. But,
notwithstanding the gallant defence of the British, their situation
now became critical in the extreme. The first line of their troops
had suffered severely, and those brought up to assist them could not
always be relied on. One Belgian regiment, which the duke himself was
leading to the contest, fled from the first fire, and left the duke
to seek for more devoted followers. Another, being ordered to support
a charge, was so long in doing it, that the duke sent word to their
commander, either to advance immediately, or to draw off his men
altogether. He thanked his Grace for the permission, and started for
Brussels, alarming the town with a report that the French were at his
heels.
The Duke of Wellington felt and expressed the greatest anxiety.
He exerted himself to the utmost to cheer his men; but, as he saw
how fatal were the French charges, he said to one of the officers
near him, “O that night, or Blucher, would come!” Napoleon saw, at
last, as he imagined, that the contest was nearly won. Already were
couriers sent off to Paris to announce to its anxious multitudes that
victory had crowned his efforts. Already had the shouts of victory!
victory! passed from rank to rank among the French, as they saw the
lines of the English tremble and fall back. But now a sound was heard
which stilled, for a moment, even the fierce tumult of the battle. It
was the voice of the trumpet, announcing the arrival of fresh troops;
and the most intense anxiety pervaded every heart, to learn to what
army they belonged. Both parties felt that the answer must decide
the fate of the day. Marshal Grouchy had been stationed, with thirty
thousand men, to control the movements of the Prussian army; and, in
case of a severe engagement, he was to advance with his men to assist
Napoleon. At daybreak, an aide-de-camp was sent, commanding him to
be in readiness at a moment’s warning. Soon after, another followed,
requesting him to march immediately to the scene of action. At ten
o’clock, he had not moved from his encampment. Still, Napoleon’s
confidence in him was unshaken. “He has committed a horrible fault,”
said he; “but he will repair it.” Every hour he had expected his
arrival; and now, when the first files of the new army emerged from
the wood, he felt almost certain that his hopes were realized. But
the Prussian standard was unfurled, and the English, with loud cheers
and renewed courage, returned to the charge. Even then, Napoleon
persisted in believing that the Prussian army was only retreating
before the marshal, and that he would soon appear on the field. He
was mistaken.
Grouchy, if report may be believed, corrupted by British gold,
remained in inglorious safety in his camp. He himself always
maintained that he believed the small detachment of the Prussian
army which remained near him was the whole of their force; and that,
though the very ground under him was shaken by the reverberation of
the continued discharges of artillery, he was acting up to his orders
in remaining to check the Prussians. Be this as it may, his conduct
decided the fate of the day.[2] “The destiny of Europe hung on the
feeble intellect of a single man; and his sluggish arm, in its tardy
movements, swept crowns and thrones before it, overturned one of the
mightiest spirits the world ever nurtured, and set back the day of
Europe’s final emancipation half a century. In a moment, Napoleon
saw that he could not sustain the attack of so many fresh troops,
if once allowed to form a junction with the allied forces; and so he
determined to stake his fate on one bold cast, and endeavor to pierce
the allied centre, with a grand charge of the Old Guard, and thus,
throwing himself between the two armies, fight them separately. For
this purpose, the Imperial Guard was called up, which had remained
inactive during the whole day, and divided into two immense columns,
which were to meet at the British centre. That under Reille no
sooner entered the fire than it disappeared like mist. The other
was placed under Ney,--the bravest of the brave,--and the order to
advance given. Napoleon accompanied them part way down the slope,
and, halting for a moment in a hollow, addressed them in his furious,
impetuous manner. He told them that the battle rested with them, and
he relied on their valor. ‘Vive l’Empereur!’ answered him, with a
shout that was heard all over the field of battle.
“The whole continental struggle exhibited no sublimer spectacle than
this last effort of Napoleon to save his sinking empire. Europe had
been put upon the plains of Waterloo to be battled for. The greatest
military energy and skill the world possessed had been tasked to the
utmost during the day. Thrones were tottering on the ensanguined
field, and the shadows of fugitive kings flitted through the smoke of
battle. Bonaparte’s star trembled in the zenith,--now blazing out in
its ancient splendor,--now suddenly paling before his anxious eye.
At length, when the Prussians appeared on the field, he resolved to
stake Europe on one bold throw. He saw his empire rest on a single
charge. The intense anxiety with which he watched the advance of
that column, and the terrible suspense he suffered when the smoke
of battle wrapped it from his sight, and the utter despair of his
great heart when the curtain lifted over a fugitive army, and the
despairing shriek rung on every side, ‘La garde recule,--la garde
recule,’ make us for a single moment forget all the carnage, in
sympathy with his distress.
“Nothing could be more imposing than the movement of that grand
column to the assault. That guard had never yet recoiled before
a human foe, and the allied forces beheld with awe its firm and
terrible advance to the final charge. For a moment the batteries
stopped playing, and the firing ceased along the British lines,
as, without the beating of a drum or the blast of a bugle to cheer
their steady courage, they moved in dead silence over the plain.
The next moment the artillery opened, and the head of that gallant
column seemed to sink into the earth. Rank after rank went down, yet
they neither stopped nor faltered. Dissolving squadrons and whole
battalions disappearing, one after another, in the destructive fire,
affected not their steady courage. The ranks closed up as before,
and each treading over his fallen comrade, pressed firmly on. The
horse which the gallant Ney rode fell under him; and he had scarcely
mounted another, before it also sunk to the earth. Again and again
did that unflinching man feel his steed sink down, until five had
been shot under him. Then, with his uniform riddled with bullets,
and his face singed and blackened with powder, he marched on foot,
with drawn sabre in hand, at the head of his men. In vain did the
artillery hurl its storm of fire and lead into that living mass. Up
to the very muzzles they pressed, and, driving the artillery-men
from their own pieces, pushed on through the English lines. But, at
that moment, a file of soldiers, who had lain flat upon the ground
behind a low ridge of earth, suddenly arose and poured a volley in
their very faces. Another and another followed, till one broad sheet
of flame rolled on their bosoms, and in such a fierce and unexpected
flow that human courage could not withstand it. They reeled, shook,
staggered back, then turned and fled. Ney was borne back in the
refluent tide, and hurried over the field. But for the crowd of
fugitives that forced him on, he would have stood alone, and fallen
on his footsteps. As it was, disdaining to give way, though the whole
army was flying, that noble marshal formed his men into two immense
squares, and endeavored to stem the terrific current; and would have
done so, had it not been for the thirty thousand fresh Prussians that
pressed upon his exhausted ranks. For a long time, those squares,
under the unflinching Ney, stood, and let the artillery plough
through them. But the fate of Napoleon was writ, and though Ney
doubtless did what no other man in the army could have done, the
decree could not be reversed. The star that blazed so brightly over
the world went down with honor and in blood, and the ‘bravest of the
brave’ had fought his last battle. It was worthy of his great name;
and the charge of the Old Guard at Waterloo, with him at their head,
will be pointed to by remotest generations with a shudder.”
Soon after Sir Robert Picton had received his death wound, while
our shattered regiment was charging on the French column, a bullet
pierced my left arm, the first wound I ever received in all my
engagements,--the mark of which is now plainly visible,--which
obliged me to fall back. I bled very freely; and this weakened me so
much, that, finding it impossible to continue my retreat over the
pile of dead and wounded with which the field was covered, I fell
among them. Here I lay for a few moments, endeavoring to recover my
exhausted strength. But here my situation was as dangerous as that of
those advancing to the charge. Balls were flying in every direction
around me, sometimes striking in the earth, soaked with the recent
rains, and throwing it in every direction; but oftener falling on the
wounded, who might yet have had a chance for life, and crushing them
in a yet more terrible death. Many a poor fellow, who had fallen from
wounds, and the weakness induced by exertion, with the loss of blood,
was trampled to death by the advancing cavalry. It was this, combined
with an earnest desire to see the progress of the battle, that
induced me to endeavor to change my location. I rose, and with great
difficulty proceeded but a few steps, when a second ball entered my
thigh, which again brought me to the ground. Scarcely had I fallen
the second time, when a company of Scotch Greys made a charge upon
the French troops, not ten rods from where I lay. I then gave up all
hope of ever leaving that battle-field, and expected never to rise
again. Already, in imagination, I felt “the iron heel of the horse”
trampling out my little remnant of life. The contest raged fearfully
around us. Shots were exchanged thick and fast, and every moment but
heightened the horrors of the scene. The blood flowed rapidly from my
wounds, and my doom seemed inevitable. An old tattered handkerchief
was all that I could procure to stop the rapidly exhausting
hemorrhage. With my remaining hand and teeth I succeeded in tearing
this into strips, and stuffed it into my wounds with my fingers as
best I could. This arrested the crimson tide in some degree. I knew
not how severe my wounds might be; but, even if a chance of life
remained from them, I knew full well that I was exposed every moment
to share the fate of those who lay around me. Friends and enemies
fell on every side, and mingled their groans and blood in one common
stream. Our lines were driven back, and our brave men compelled to
yield the contest. Rivers of blood were poured out, and regiments of
brave men were cut down in rapid succession. Nothing could exceed
the bravery of the combatants on both sides. But the French light
troops had this advantage of the English,--they could load and fire
more rapidly than their enemies. The duke was compelled to see his
plans frustrated, and his lines cut to pieces and driven back by the
emperor’s troops. Victory seemed already decided against us. Our men
were fleeing--the enemy advancing with shouts of victory. The fate
of the day seemed settled, and to us soldiers it was so. It was not
possible to rally the men to another charge. But, at the moment when
all seemed lost, a bugle, with drum and fife, was heard advancing
with rapid step. All supposed it to be Grouchy’s regiment of fresh
troops, ready to follow up the victory, and completely destroy the
remnant of the duke’s forces. Consternation now filled every mind,
and confusion and disorder reigned. But the Prussian colors were seen
hoisted, and it was then announced that Blucher, with thirty thousand
men, was at hand. A halt, or rally, and renewed hopes animated every
breast. This was the lucky moment, and the fate of the day was at
once changed. Report charges Grouchy with being corrupted and bought
by English gold,--that he sold himself to the allied forces, and thus
gave them the victory,--for, had he come at that time, we should
have been completely destroyed. Grouchy never entered the fight, or
rendered Napoleon any assistance whatever. He was made immensely
rich, and spent his life in the English possessions. He has ever
been regarded as the man who sold his country and himself to the
allies. His life was neither peaceful or happy. He died in 1848. That
Wellington never gained the victory at Waterloo by fair and honorable
means, is not and cannot be asserted. But gold accomplished what
neither the iron duke or his numerous allies could accomplish by
military prowess and skill. Napoleon would have gained the victory of
Waterloo, had not treachery and bribery done their work. I must own
the truth, although it be the lasting disgrace of my nation. I fought
hard against Napoleon, and for my king. My hands were both blistered
and burned black by holding my gun, which became so hot, the flesh
was nearly burnt off the palms of both my hands. While I lay upon the
ground covered with blood, unable to move, some one, more able than
the rest, shouted, “The French are retreating. Blucher, with thirty
thousand fresh troops has arrived, and is pursuing.” This glad sound
enabled me to raise my head, and soon, with great joy, I saw that the
French were truly falling back, and that our troops were following.
Again I felt that I had another chance for life; and this thought
gave me strength to reach my knapsack, from which I took a silk
handkerchief, and with my teeth and right hand succeeded in tearing
it, as I did the one before, and binding up tightly my wounds. This
stopped the flow of blood while I remained perfectly still; but the
least movement caused it to gush forth afresh. A little distance
from me was a small hill, and under its shelter I should be in
comparative safety. O, how I longed to reach it! Again and again I
attempted to rise; but every attempt was useless, and I was about
resigning myself to my fate, when I observed, only a short distance
from me, a woman with a child in her arms. This woman belonged to the
company of camp-followers, who were even now engaged in stripping the
dead and wounded, with such eager haste, that they often advanced too
near the contending columns, and paid with their lives their thirst
for gold. In my travels it has often been my lot to witness the birds
of prey hovering over the still living victim, only waiting till its
power of resistance is lost, to bury their beaks in the writhing and
quivering flesh, to satisfy their thirst for blood. I could think of
nothing else, as I saw those wretches, reckless of their own lives,
in their anxiety to be first on the ground, and lost to all feelings
of humanity for others, stripping from the yet warm dead everything
of value upon their persons; not hesitating to punish with death even
the least resistance on the part of the wounded, and making sport
of their groans and sufferings. This woman came quite near to me.
She stooped to take a gold watch from the pocket of an officer. As
she raised herself, a shell struck the child, as it lay sleeping in
her arms, and severed its little body completely in two. The shock
struck the mother to the ground; but, soon recovering herself, she
sat up, gazed a moment upon the disfigured remains of her child,
and, apparently unmoved, continued her fiendish work. Thus does
war destroy all the finer feelings of the heart, and cherish those
passions which quench even the pure flame of a mother’s love for her
helpless and dependent child. To this woman I appealed for help; and,
with her assistance, succeeded in reaching the little hill to which I
have alluded, and remained there in safety until the fate of the day
was fully decided.
Between eight and nine o’clock that night the last of the French
troops had withdrawn from the field, which had been fatal to so many
thousands of human beings. The clouds and rain, which had rendered
the preceding night so uncomfortable, had disappeared, and the full
moon shone in unclouded splendor. The English army, or, at least,
that remnant of them left alive, wearied out by the exhausting scenes
of the day, had returned to their bivouac of the night preceding,
while the Prussians, under Blucher, continued the pursuit of the
flying and panic-stricken French.
History informs us that the horrors of that night exceeded even
the tremendous scenes of the day. The French were in complete
confusion. Carriages and horsemen marched over the fainting and
exhausted infantry. The officers tried in vain to rally their men,
that they might retreat in order. The first flash of a Prussian gun
would scatter them, in the wildest confusion. Thousands fell in
the confusion of the retreat, and thousands more were crushed to
death, or drowned in crossing the rivers. Napoleon himself but just
escaped with his liberty. His carriage was stopped, his postilion and
coachman killed, and the door of his coach torn open just in season
to witness his escape from the other side. While Blucher led on the
Prussians in this murderous pursuit, the Duke of Wellington again
led his army upon the field of battle. The wild tumult and confusion
which had pervaded it through the day was now stilled, but the groans
of the wounded and the shrieks of the dying were heard on every side.
The English re-trod the battle-field, and searched out their wounded
comrades, and hastily dressed their wounds. They then constructed
litters, and on these carriages were the sick and wounded borne to
the hospitals of Brussels and Antwerp.
I have somewhere read a description, written by an eye-witness of
the scenes of the night and following day, which I will beg leave of
my readers to transcribe here. He says: “The mangled and lifeless
bodies were, even then, stripped of every covering--everything of the
smallest value was already carried off. The road between Waterloo
and Brussels, which passes for nine miles through the forest of
Soigny, was choked up with scattered baggage, broken wagons and dead
horses. The heavy rains and the great passage upon it rendered it
almost impassable, so that it was with extreme difficulty that the
carriages containing the wounded could be brought along. The way was
lined with unfortunate men, who had crept from the field; and many
were unable to go further, and laid down and died. Holes dug by the
wayside served as their graves, and the road for weeks afterwards was
strewed with the tattered remains of their clothes and accoutrements.
In every village and hamlet,--in every part of the country for thirty
miles round,--the wounded were found wandering, the Belgian and
Dutch stragglers exerting themselves to the utmost to reach their
own homes. So great was the number of those needing care, that,
notwithstanding the most active exertions, the last were not removed
to Brussels until the Thursday following.
“The desolation which reigned on the scene of action cannot be
described. The fields of corn were trampled down, and so completely
beaten into the mire that they had the appearance of stubble. The
ground was completely ploughed up, in many places, with the charge
of the cavalry; and the horses’ hoofs, deep stamped into the earth,
left the traces where many a dreadful struggle had been. The whole
field was strewed with the melancholy vestiges of devastation:
soldiers’ caps, pierced with many a ball,--eagles that had ornamented
them,--badges of the legion of honor,--cuirasses’ fragments,--broken
arms, belts, and scabbards, shreds of tattered cloth, shoes,
cartridge-boxes, gloves, Highland bonnets, feathers steeped in mud
and gore,--French novels and German testaments,--scattered music
belonging to the bands,--packs of cards, and innumerable papers of
every description, thrown out of the pockets of the dead, by those
who had pillaged them,--love-letters, and letters from mothers
to sons, and from children to parents;--all, all these, and a
thousand-fold more, that cannot be named, were scattered about in
every direction.”
The total loss of the allies, during the four days, was sixty-one
thousand and five hundred, and of the French forty-one thousand.
EUROPE
AND
THE ALLIES OF TO-DAY.
CHAPTER VII.
TURKEY AND RUSSIA.
Origin of the Ottoman Empire--Siege and Capture of Constantinople
by the Turks--Mahomet--The Sultans--_Abdul Medjid_--His popularity
and power--The Koran.
The Russian Empire--Area and population--Social organization
--Religious policy--Nobility--Serfs--Conscription--The Army
--Progress of Russia and extension of her frontiers--_Nicholas_
--Poland.
In the former half of the sixth century, Justinian was Emperor of
the East. His empire nearly corresponded in geographical extent with
the country which we now call Turkey in Europe. During his reign,
Constantinople was visited by a company of warlike strangers, whose
savage aspect filled all the people with amazement and fear. Their
long hair, which hung in tresses down their backs, was gracefully
bound with ribbons, but in the rest of their habit they resembled the
Huns. These were the first Turks ever seen in Europe. They had come
to offer the Emperor their alliance, which was accepted at a given
price. They had travelled from the foot of Mount Caucasus, where they
first heard of the splendor and weakness of the Roman Empire. Their
origin was beyond that celebrated ridge, and in the midst of another
no less celebrated, and which is variously known as the Caf, the
Imaus, the Golden Mountains, and the Girdle of the Earth. Here lived
the people called Geougen, governed by a great Khan. In the hills
they inhabited were many minerals. Iron and other mines were worked
for them by the most despised portion of their slaves, who were known
by the name of Turks. These slaves, under Bertezena, one of their
number, rebelled against the great Khan, and succeeded in possessing
themselves of their native country. From freedom they proceeded to
conquest, and it was in the course of their victories that they found
their way to the Caucasus. Nearly a century elapsed, and Heraclius
was Emperor. He formed an alliance with the Turks, and so honored
their prince as to place the imperial diadem on his head, and salute
him with a tender embrace as his son. In the ninth century the Turks
were introduced into Arabia. The Caliph Motassem employed them as his
own guards in his own capital. He educated them in the exercise of
arms, and in the profession of the Mahometan faith. No less a number
than 50,000 of these hardy foreigners did he thus foolishly establish
in the very heart of his dominions. In due time they became masters
of some portions of the country into which they had been admitted
as mercenaries. For one of their princes, Mahmood or Mahmud, the
title of Sultan was invented, about a thousand years after Christ.
Its meaning is autocrat or lord. His conquests were very extensive,
and stretched from Transoxiana to Ispahan--from the shores of the
Caspian to the mouth of the Indus.
Toward the close of the twelfth century, Zingis (or Genghis) Khan
organized incredible hordes of Moguls and Tartars, and conquered
nearly all Asia west of India. After his death, the Tartar Empire was
broken up into fragments. Most of these resultant little kingdoms
gradually embraced Mahometanism, and amongst them was laid the
foundation of what is now called the Ottoman (or Turkish) Empire.
Incited by the example and success of the terrible Tartar, Shah
Soliman, prince of the town of Nera, on the Caspian Sea, spread the
terror of his arms all through Asia Minor, as far as the Euphrates.
He was drowned in the passage of that river. His son, Orthogrul,
succeeded him. This chief was the father of Thaman, or Athman, whose
Turkish name has been melted into the appellation of the Caliph
Othman. He was an aspiring and clever man, and soon freed himself
from the control of a superior, as the power of the Mogul Khans had
become well nigh extinct. He resolved to propagate the religion of
the Koran by every means in his power; and began his holy war against
the infidels by making a descent into Nicomedia. This he did in
July, 1299. He was entirely victorious; and for twenty-seven years
he repeated similar inroads, and achieved similar conquests in other
directions. Towards the close of his reign, Prusa (Boursa), the
capital of Bithynia, surrendered to his son Orchan, who, after his
father’s death, made it the seat of his government. This was in the
year 1326, and from that time we may date the true era of the Ottoman
Empire,--the name of which is plainly derived from that of the
Caliph Othman. His power rapidly increased. Many cities and districts
fell into his hands,--amongst others, Ephesus, and the other six
places, in which were the seven churches of Asia. Christianity in all
these localities, except Philadelphia, was speedily extinguished, and
supplanted by Islamism. Orchan had two sons, Soliman and Amurath.
The former subdued Thrace, and possessed himself of Gallipoli, and
was at last killed by a fall from his horse. The aged Emir (for
no higher title had Orchan assumed) wept, and expired on the tomb
of his valiant son. Amurath stept into his place, and wielded the
scimitar with all his father’s energy. By the advice of his vizier,
he selected for his own use the fifth part of the Christian youth in
the provinces which he subjugated. His choice fell on the stoutest
and most beautiful. These were named “yengi cheri,” or new soldiers.
In more recent times the haughty troops, originated in this way, have
gone by the name of Janissaries. At first they were courageous and
zealous in the cause of their new master and new religion. For a long
while they were the _élite_ of the Turkish forces, and in critical
outbreaks have often been a source of great anxiety to the sultans
themselves.
Bajazet, his son and successor, surnamed “Ilderim,” or Lightning, was
a man of fiery and energetic temperament. His territory was rapidly
extended over the whole country, from Boursa to Adrianople, from the
Danube to the Euphrates. He turned his arms against Hungary; and at
Nicopolis defeated 100,000 Christians, who had proudly boasted that
if the sky should fall they could uphold it on their lances. Bajazet
boasted that he would advance to Germany and Italy, and feed his
horse with a bushel of oats on the altar of St. Peter’s at Rome. A
fit of the gout prevented his fulfilment of this threat. Meanwhile
there rose up another great Mogul conqueror, Timour, or Tamerlane,
who avenged the defeat of his ancestors upon the Turks. Bajazet (who
had assumed the title of sultan) was conquered and taken captive.
From the Irtysh and Volga to the Persian Gulf, and from the Ganges
to Damascus and the Archipelago, Asia was in the hands of Timour;
his armies were invincible, his ambition was boundless, and his zeal
might have aspired to conquer and convert the Christian kingdoms of
the West, which already trembled at his name. But he was not master
of a single galley, with which to cross the Bosphorus or Dardanelles.
This insuperable obstacle checked his career. At length he died,
and the Ottoman power, like a strong tree recovering itself after a
storm, began again to stand erect and flourish.
The great-grandson of Bajazet was Mahomet II. He emulated the Grecian
Alexander. He laid siege to Constantinople, investing it with an army
of 258,000 Turks. His navy comprised about 320 vessels, of which 18
were galleys of war. He had engaged the services of a Danish, or
Hungarian, founder of cannon, who made him a field-piece capable of
throwing a ball, which weighed 600 pounds, more than a mile. This
could be fired only seven times in one day. Never before had the
recent invention of gunpowder been employed with such terrible effect
as at this siege of Constantinople. The inhabitants of that city
were more than 100,000, but of those not more than 4,970, together
with a body of 2,000 strangers, were capable of bearing arms. How
small a garrison to defend a city of thirteen, or perhaps sixteen,
miles in extent! Yet, under these doleful circumstances, the city was
distracted with religious discord, just as Jerusalem was before and
during its siege by Titus. An immense chain closed the mouth of the
harbor, whilst the mouth of the Bosphorus was defended by a fleet
which was superior to that of the Turks. The city seemed incapable
of being reduced. The Turks despaired: the Christians triumphed. In
this perplexity it occurred to Mahomet to transport his fleet across
the land. By amazing ingenuity and toil, he accomplished this feat.
The distance was ten miles, yet in a single night he thus launched
eighty of his light vessels into the harbor. The success of this
scheme was perfect. He found his way into the city, which was taken
May 29th, 1453. The last Palæologus, Constantine XI., fell by an
unknown hand, and his body was buried under a mountain of the slain.
The siege had lasted fifty-three days. Besides the multitudes that
fell in fight, about 60,000 of the unhappy Greeks were reduced to
the condition of slaves. Most of those were soon dispersed in remote
servitude through the provinces of the Ottoman empire. The church of
St. Sophia was speedily stripped of all its pictures and images, and
before the lapse of many hours, the _muezzin_, or crier, ascended the
most lofty turret and proclaimed the _ezan_, or public invitation, in
the name of God and his prophet; the Imam preached; and Mahomet the
Second performed the _namaz_ of prayer and thanksgiving on the great
altar, where the Christian mysteries had so lately been celebrated
before the last of the Cæsars. From St. Sophia he proceeded to the
august but desolate mansion of a hundred successors of the great
Constantine; but which, in a very short time, had been stripped of
the pomp of royalty. A melancholy reflection on the vicissitudes of
human greatness forced itself on his mind, and he repeated an elegant
distich of Persian poetry--“The spider has wove his web in the
imperial palace; and the owl has sung her watch-song on the towers of
Afrasiab.”
[Illustration: ABDUL MEDJID, SULTAN OF TURKEY.]
Mahomet removed the seat of his government to Constantinople; a
city so obviously marked out by nature for the metropolis of a
vast empire. The population was speedily renewed. Before the end
of September, five thousand families of Anatolia and Romania had
obeyed the royal mandate, which enjoined them, under pain of death,
to occupy their new habitations in the capital. The Sultan’s throne
was guarded by the numbers and fidelity of his Moslem subjects; but
he strove by a rational policy to collect the scattered remnant of
the Greeks. These returned in crowds as soon as they were assured
of their lives, their liberties, and the free exercise of their
religion. The churches were shared between the two religions; their
limits were marked; and, till it was infringed by Selim, the grandson
of Mahomet, the Greeks enjoyed above sixty years the benefit of this
equal partition. After effecting many other triumphs of his arms,
Mahomet died in 1480, in the midst of great projects he was devising
against Rome and Persia. His grandson soon dethroned and murdered
his own father, and commenced a vigorous reign under the title of
Selim I. He defeated the Mamelukes, and in 1517 conquered Egypt,
Syria, and Palestine. During fifty years the arms of the Ottomans,
both by sea and land, were the terror of Europe and Asia. Especially
was this the case during the government of Selim’s son, Soliman
I., surnamed the Magnificent. His term of power extended from 1519
to 1566. This energetic tyrant took Belgrade, the island of Rhodes
(from the knights of St. John), and Buda. He also subdued half of
Hungary. He exacted a tribute from Moldavia, and so far mastered the
Persians as to make Bagdad, Mesopotamia, and Georgia subject to him.
Under this monarch the Ottoman empire reached its climax of renown
and power. Before his death, symptoms of decline began to manifest
themselves. Though extending his authority over an immense tract
of country, he had failed to develop the internal strength, and
consolidate the internal union, of his kingdom. The conquered nations
were not properly incorporated, so as to constitute an integral part
of Turkey. Hence, the frequency of the revolts, which, with varying
success, for a long time after the death of Soliman, alike disturbed
the peace and exhausted the strength of the Byzantine government.
Ever since 1566, the Ottoman sovereigns have, in most instances,
ascended the throne from a prison, and then surrendered themselves to
the effeminate luxuries of the seraglio, until their despicable reign
terminated either by assassination, or by deposition and another
imprisonment. Several grand viziers, or prime ministers, have at
different periods supplied their masters’ deficiencies and screened
their vices. Through the zeal and talents of these active servants
of the State, it has been retarded in its declension and preserved
from utter disintegration. The people continued for many years to
sink deeper and deeper into ignorance, poverty, and helplessness,
whilst in the provinces rapacious Pashas exceeded the cupidity and
emulated the voluptuousness of the Sultan in the capital. The Sublime
Porte, as the Ottoman government is often called, became an object of
contempt and ridicule to all European nations. It remained inactive
and unprogressive, whilst each of these was rapidly striving on
towards the goal of intelligence and freedom, which still waits to be
fully attained. Blindly attached to their fatalistic doctrines, and
elated by their past military glory, the Turks looked upon foreigners
with proud scorn, and despised them as dogs and infidels. Without any
settled place, but incited by hatred of the Christians and a thirst
for conquest, they carried on wars with Persia, Venice, Hungary,
and Poland. The mutinies of the janissaries and the rebellions of
subordinate governors often became dangerous in the extreme: but the
ruling despot contrived from time to time to exterminate the enemies
he feared, by the dagger or the bowstring; and the ablest men were
not unfrequently sacrificed to the hatred of the soldiery or of the
sacred college. The successor to the throne commonly put all his
brothers to death, whilst the people regarded with apathy either the
murder of a cruel Sultan whom they hated, or of a weak one, whom they
could not fear.
The present Sultan Abdul Medjid Khan, born the 6th of May, 1822,
thirty-first sovereign of the family of Osman, and twenty-eighth
since the taking of Constantinople, succeeded his father, Sultan
Mahmoud Khan, on the 1st of July, 1839. He was commencing his
seventeenth year when he ascended the throne. He looked a little
older than he really was, although his appearance was far from
announcing a robust constitution. Some months previously an
inflammation of the lungs had endangered his life. He had been
saved by the care of an Armenian Roman Catholic, who was renowned
for his cures. Slender and tall, he had the same long, pale face as
his father; his black eyebrows, less arched than those of Mahmoud,
announced a mind of less haughtiness and of less energy. His lips
are rather thick, and he is slightly marked with the small-pox. At
this epoch of his life, his features did not present a very marked
expression, as if no strong passion had yet agitated the young
breast. But his eyes, large and very beautiful, sometimes became
animated with a most lively expression, and glistened with the fire
of intelligence. Although Abdul Medjid had not been subjected to
the captivity usually reserved for the heirs to the throne, his
education, which had been directed according to the custom of the
seraglio, had been very superficial, and had not prepared him for the
heavy responsibility which was hanging over him.
Abdul Medjid was much indebted to nature: he afterwards perfected
his education, and has become a most accomplished prince, remarkable
above all for his passionate love of literature and the arts.
The first time the young Sultan presented himself to the eyes of
his subjects he was dressed in an European trousers and coat, over
which was thrown the imperial cloak, fastened by a diamond aigrette.
On his breast he wore the decoration of the Nicham Iflichar; his
head was covered with the fez, surmounted by a diamond aigrette.
The new king, while thus continuing the costume of his father,
nevertheless presented only a pale resemblance to him. Simple
without affectation, he cast around him glances full of softness
and benevolence. Everything announced in him the _debonnaire_
successor of an inflexible ruler; nothing hitherto had indicated
what great and precious qualities were concealed beneath the modest
and tranquil exterior. He was received favorably by his people, but
without any demonstration of enthusiasm. It was feared that this
delicate youth could scarcely be equal to the importance of his
duties. People pitied him, and, at the same time, trembled for the
future prospects of the country. The women alone, touched by his
youth and his appearance of kindness, manifested their sympathy
for him openly. When he went through Constantinople to the Mosque
of Baiezid, they ran towards him from all parts: “Is not our son
handsome?” they cried, adopting him with affection. When he was only
seventeen years of age, the official cry was heard in the streets
of Constantinople, “His Highness, our most magnificent lord, Abdul
Medjid, has risen to the throne! God will that his reign make the
happiness of his people!” The new monarch soon began to play the part
of a reformer. He assured to all his subjects, without exception,
perfect security for their lives and fortunes, a regular mode of
taxation, as also of recruiting the army; he abolished the monopoly
and venality of the public offices; insured the public administration
of justice and the free transmission of property; and founded all the
public institutions and administrations upon the systems of Europe,
particularly of France, yet with every attention to the peculiar
customs and prejudices of his own people. Abdul Medjid speedily
became the idol with all classes. Their esteem was increased by his
extreme amiability of temper, and heightened almost to infatuation
by the taste for literature which he displayed, and for his ardent
endeavors to raise the educational character of his subjects. The
reign of Abdul has been sullied by no execution, by no act of
cruelty. None of his ministers have ever lost their lives along with
their office and power. He has been very kind to his brother, Abdul
Aziz Effendi, allowing him both life and liberty, and making him a
frequent companion. In the troubles which agitated Western Europe
in 1848 and 1849, the Sultan acted a noble part in refusing to
deliver up, at the dictation of Russia, certain Hungarian and other
refugees, who had fled to him for shelter. In this firm course he was
supported, both by his own people, and also by France and England.
In Turkey, the Sultan is the supreme and absolute ruler; there exists
no one but himself who can be said to possess any power. He issues
his edicts, which have the force of laws. He commands the whole naval
and military power of the country. He sometimes, though in violation
of the Koran, which is the very ground-work of his authority, imposes
taxes on the people, and levies them as he likes, either generally,
or locally, or partially, making one place, or one set of persons,
or one individual, pay, and not the rest of his subjects. And, with
few exceptions, the whole nation is subject to his absolute will
and caprices, and there is no one who does not derive from him all
the authority and weight he possesses in any employment, or in any
station.
As, however, the Sultan cannot do all the business of the country,
but, on the contrary, from the indolent habits of the East, and the
worse and more effeminate habits contracted by the bad education of
despotic princes, passes his time inactive and averse to employment
of any kind, he is obliged to delegate his power to ministers and
officers of different kinds,--yet all of these are named and removed
by him, and are absolutely dependent on his pleasure or caprice. His
prime minister is called the Grand Vizier; the minister of foreign
affairs is the Reis Effendi; the governors of provinces are called
bashaws or pashas; the admiral is called the capitan (captain) pasha,
and so forth; the judges are called cadis; and all these act in
the Sultan’s name, and obey, absolutely, whatever orders he gives
them; so that, if he pleases to order that a cause be decided in a
particular way, the judges must obey; and applications to the Sultan,
or the bashaw, or governor of a province, to interfere for this
purpose, are very frequent. Thus there is no possibility of resisting
his superior authority, or controlling his universally prevailing
influence, unless it be that some kind of limits are fixed by the
Koran, and by the bodies of priests and lawyers who interpret it, and
administer the laws founded upon it, and whom it is not the practice
of the Sultan to interfere with, although he appoints all their
chiefs, either directly, or through his governors. The chief priest,
or primate, or archbishop, is called the Grand Mufti, and owes his
promotion to office to the Sultan entirely, at whose pleasure he
continues to hold it till he is removed.
The Eastern tyrant orders any individual to be seized and put to
death for a look, much more for a mutinous word. He walks through
his capital, perhaps in disguise, and settles some dispute between
his subjects by ordering one to give up his property to another,
because he thinks, upon a moment’s inquiry, that the latter has a
right to it, or merely because his caprice makes him lean to one
rather than the other. He hears a charge against a man, and at once
strangles him on the spot; or he takes a dislike, and, without any
pretext at all, kills him, and sells his family for slaves. He covets
some one’s house, or garden, or jewel, or wife, and instantly seizes
it, or kills the owner that he may take it. Even this is not the
worst that the people suffer; for, were this all, men might be safe
by keeping at a distance, and the despot cannot be everywhere. But
where he himself is not, his deputies, his bashaws, or, as in some
countries they are called, his beglerbegs, are, and their subaltern
oppressors. Each has all the sovereign’s prerogatives in his own
person; and though they are all liable to be summarily punished, not
only by removal, but by being strangled with the bowstring sent to
be inflicted upon them, and although the prince does now and then
so punish wicked governors, yet he has a direct interest in their
exactions; for one of his largest revenues is the succeeding as heir
to all persons in his service; and in case they should conceal, or
secretly make over to their family the gains they have made in the
public service, the Sultan, during their life, squeezes the money
from them, and puts them to the tortures by the bastinado--severe
strokes on the soles of the feet--and by other torments, in order
to discover their property. The bowstring is used in a way quite
characteristic of the Turkish despotism. The Sultan, or his vizier,
if he be the person ordering the punishment, sends an officer,
generally one of very inferior rank, to the bashaw who has been
complained of, and whose conduct has, behind his back, been examined
by the government at Constantinople. He carries a bowstring with him,
and the order of the Sultan in writing, sealed with the imperial
signet, dipped into black ink, and signed with the Sultan’s cipher of
toghra. The bashaw, if he has a power in his hands which enables him
to set the sovereign at defiance, and to rebel against his authority,
avoids seeing the messenger, and puts him to death on some pretext,
as having him waylaid, and representing him as killed by banditti.
But if not, he at once, on receiving the messenger’s communication,
kisses the sealed paper and the bowstring, bares his neck, and allows
the man to strangle him, when his body is either buried privately,
or thrown to be devoured by dogs, according as the people, or the
troops, at the seat of his government, are well or ill disposed
towards his person.
The foundation of the whole Turkish law is laid in the Koran, or
Mohammedan scriptures; and here the absolute power of the sovereign
is distinctly pronounced, and the duty of passive submission to his
will inculcated upon all, as a duty to God immediately rendered.
THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE.
The aspect of affairs in Europe gives the public a strong interest
in measuring the forces and the energy of the great antagonist whose
aggression has called forth the fleets and armies of England and
France to battle after an unbroken peace of forty years. It has
seldom happened to any nation to engage in hostilities with a foreign
power whose real strength and resources are so imperfectly known. No
other empire but that of Russia ever succeeded in keeping so vast a
portion of the globe a secret and a mystery from the rest of mankind.
We know that she possesses territories wider than the realms of
Tamerlane; and that the troops under her banners are as countless as
the hosts that followed Napoleon when he was the master of Europe.
Russia, taking its whole extent, is by much the largest empire of
which there is any record in the annals of the world; and vast as
it is, it may be said to be compact and continuous, without the
intervention of land belonging to any other power. In this great
empire every variety of climate is to be found, and every vegetable
production, from those of the climate of southern Europe to the icy
regions of the north, where vegetation fails, and nature is for ever
bound in unproductive fetters--may, in one district or another, be
brought to maturity. Nor are the mineral riches less copious; for
there is scarcely a valued product of the mine which may not be
obtained in some part of Russia, and several of the most useful ones,
in great abundance, and of excellent quality. We insert a correct
table[3] of the population and extent of the empire.
More than a hundred peoples, speaking a hundred different idioms,
inhabit the surface of the empire. But almost all these peoples are
scattered along its frontiers. The whole interior is inhabited by
one sole race, that of the Russians proper. The Russian race alone
consists of about 50,000,000 souls, whilst all the other tribes of
the empire put together do not exceed 15,000,000.
AREA AND POPULATION OF THE RUSSIAN EMPIRE.
---------------------+-----------+-----------------------+------------
| Area in | Population in | Mean
| English | | Population
Natural Divisions | Square +-----------+-----------+in 1852, per
| Miles. | 1846. | 1852. | Sq. Mile.
---------------------+-----------+-----------+-----------+------------
Great Russia, | 328,781 | 19,220,900| 20,403,371| 62·
Little Russia, | 150,141 | 11,093,400| 11,775,865| 78·4
New Russia, | 96,636 | 3,070,700| 3,259,612| 33·7
White Russia, | 70,399 | 2,767,200| 2,937,436| 41·7
Western Provinces, | 47,076 | 2,704,300| 2,870,667| 60·9
Baltic Provinces, | 36,616 | 1,659,800| 1,761,907| 48·1
Northern Provinces, | 536,226 | 1,338,300| 1,420,629| 2·6
Ural Provinces, | 447,788 | 10,146,000| 10,770,181| 24·
Cossack Districts, | 123,776 | 1,089,700| 1,156,736| 9·3
Poland, | 49,230 | 4,857,700| 5,156,543| 104·7
Finland, | 135,808 | 1,412,315| 1,499,199| 11·
+-----------+-----------+-----------+------------
Total in Europe, | 2,022,477 | 59,360,315| 63,012,146| 31·1
=====================+===========+===========+===========+============
Caucasian Provinces, | 86,578 | 2,850,000| 2,850,000| 32·8
West Siberia, | 2,681,147 | 3,500,000| 3,500,000| 1·3
East Siberia, | 2,122,000 | 237,000| 237,000 | ·11
American Possessions,| 371,350 | 61,000| 61,000 | ·16
+-----------+-----------+-----------+------------
Total Extra European,| 5,261,075 | 6,648,000| 6,648,000| 1·26
+-----------+-----------+-----------+------------
Totals, | 7,283,552 | 66,208,315| 69,660,146| 9·5
---------------------+-----------+-----------+-----------+------------
In respect to Race, the population of the Russian Empire may be
classed approximately, as follows;--
{Lithuanic {Lithuanians
{ Branch { and Letts, 2,000,000
{ {
Sarmatian Race.{ {Russians 49,000,000 }
{ {Bulgarians and }
{Slavonic { Illyrians, 5,000,000 } 56,000,000
{ Branch {Poles, 6,500,000 }
----------
58,000,000
Germans, 650,000
Dacian Romans, 750,000
Tshúds, 3,400,000
Tartars, 2,150,000
Mongols, 250,000
Munshús, 100,000
Hyperborean Races, 200,000
Caucasian Tribes, 2,750,000
Greeks, 70,000
Jews, 1,600,000
Gipsies, 30,800
Miscellaneous, 50,000
---------
12,000,000
----------
Total, 70,000,000
In respect to religion, there are probably in the Russian
Empire 50,000,000 belonging to the so-called _Greek_ Church (i.
e. _Byzantine_ Catholics); about 7,000,000 _Roman_ Catholics
(chiefly Poles); and upwards of 3,000,000 Protestants (Germans
and Tshúds).
Relative proportion of the dominant race to the other races in
the Russian dominions:--Slávs to non Slávs, as 29 to 6, or 4·8 to
1: Russians to non-Russians, as 7 to 3, or 2·3 to 1.
No other state in Europe possesses so numerous a population belonging
to one nation. Even France contains but 32,000,000 of Frenchmen
out of 35,000,000 or 36,000,000 of inhabitants; and Great Britain
about 19,000,000 of Englishmen out of 30,000,000 of inhabitants. The
36,000,000 inhabitants of Great Russia speak identically the same
language, from the highest classes to the lowest, from the Emperor
to the peasant. The dialects of the White Russians and of 7,000,000
of Little Russians are slightly different, but still comprehensible.
To this complete unity of language must be added, among the Great
Russians, the most surprising uniformity of manners and customs.
Another still more important element of political strength is the
unity of the Russian Church. This unity is complete amongst the
Little Russians and Ruthenians, a few of the latter only being in
communion with the Church of Rome. The Great Russians are divided
by a schism, but the Staroverzi (or members of the old faith) have
seceded from the Established Church, not on the grounds of doctrine,
but of ceremonial usages.
Although the first Russian empire, which was governed by Rurik, was
founded by Normans (the Varangians), who must have introduced into
Russia the fundamental Germanic institutions and the principles of
the feudal system, this system never took root amongst the Sclavonian
population. On the contrary, all the popular institutions of Russia
assumed the patriarchal character, which is peculiarly adapted to
the Sclavonian race, and especially to the Russian people, which in
this respect _closely resembles the ancient nations of the East_.
The social organization of Russia forms in all its relations and
degrees an uninterrupted scale of hierarchy, every step of which
rests on some patriarchal power. The father is the absolute sovereign
of the family, which cannot exist without him. If the father dies,
the eldest son takes his place and exercises the full paternal
authority. The property of the family is common to all the males
belonging to it, but the father or his representative can alone
dispose of it. Next comes the village or township, which is like
an enlarged family, governed by an elected father or starost. This
starost is elected for three years. His power is absolute, and he is
obeyed without restriction. All the inhabited and cultivated lands
of the village are held in common as undivided property. No portion
is ceded as private property. The starost divides the fruits or
profits of the whole amongst them. So, again, all these villages or
townships form the nation; a nation of men equal among themselves,
and equally subject to the chief of the empire and the race--the
Czar. The authority of the Czar is absolute, like the obedience of
his subjects. Any restriction on the authority of the Czar appears
to a true Russian as a monstrous contradiction. “Who can limit the
power or the rights of a father?” says the Russian; “he holds them,
not from us, who are his children, nor from any man, but from God,
to whom he will one day answer for them.” The mere form of words,
“It is ordered,” has a magical effect on the Russians. They pay the
same respect to the agents of the government, whom they regard as the
servants of the Czar, and to all their superiors. A Russian calls
_batiouschka_--_little papa_--not only his father or an old man, but
the starost, or any of his superiors. The Emperor himself is never
addressed by the people by any other name. An old serf will call his
master “little papa,” even though he should be a child of ten years
old.
In Russia there is no national or domestic association which has not
its centre, its unity, its chief, its father, its master. A chief is
absolutely indispensable to the existence of Russians. They choose
another father when they lose their own. The starost is elected to
be unconditionally obeyed. This must be well understood in order to
comprehend the true position of the Czar. The Russian nation is like
a hive of bees, which absolutely require a queen-bee. In Russia the
Czar is not the delegate of the people, nor the first servant of the
state, nor the legal owner of the soil, nor even a sovereign by the
grace of God. He is at once the unity, the chief, and the father of
his people. He does not govern by right of office, but, as it were,
by the ties of blood, recognised by the whole nation. This feeling is
as natural to the whole population as that of their own existence,
insomuch that the Czar can never do wrong. Whatever happens, the
people always think him right. Any restriction on his power, even
to the extent of one of the German Diets, would be considered in
Russia an absurd chimera. The Czar Ivan IV. committed the most cruel
actions, but the people remained faithful to him, and loved him all
the more. To this day he is the hero of the popular ballads and
legends of the country. When the Czar Ivan the Terrible, weary of
governing, sought to abdicate, the Russians flung themselves at his
feet to entreat him to remain on the throne.
The feeling of the Russians is not so much one of deep attachment to
their country as of ardent patriotism. Their country, the country of
their ancestors, the Holy Russia, the people fraternally united under
the sceptre of the Czar, the communion of faith, the ancient and
sacred monuments of the realm, the tombs of their forefathers--all
form a whole which excites and enraptures the mind of the Russians.
They consider their country as a sort of kinsmanship to which they
address the terms of familiar endearment. God, the Czar, and the
priest, are all called “Father,”--the Church is their “Mother,” and
the empire is always called “Holy Mother Russia.” The capital of the
empire is “Holy Mother Moscow,” and the Volga “Mother Volga.” Even
the high road from Moscow to Vladimir is called “our dear mother the
high road to Vladimir.” But above all, Moscow, the holy mother of the
land, is the centre of Russian history and tradition, to which all
the inhabitants of the empire devote their love and veneration. Every
Russian entertains all his life long the desire to visit one day the
great city, to see the towers of its holy churches, and to pray on
the tombs of the patron saints of Russia. “Mother Moscow” has already
suffered and given her blood for Russia, as all the Russian people
are ready to do for her.
There is not in Europe any nobility which possesses such large
fortunes, (?) such vast personal privileges, such _liberties_, (??)
such political rights in the internal administration of the empire,
(???) or so much physical power as the Russian aristocracy. The
nobles possess in absolute property more than one-half of the lands
under tillage. More than half the population of Russia Proper, that
is, more than 12,000,000 of souls, which means more than 24,000,000
of heads, are not only their subjects, but their serfs.
It must be understood that in Russian rent-rolls the term “souls”
means exclusively the males on an estate. In every valuation of the
agricultural population, however, the unity taken is the Tiéglo of
two souls, or, more exactly, five persons; the women and younger
children being included.
The class of Russian serfs, or _mougiks_, represents, according to
M. Leouzon le Duc, no less than one-twentieth part of mankind. It
exceeds the whole population of France or Austria, and is computed
to amount to no less than forty millions of human beings. The
condition of these serfs differs in no material respect from that
of the negro slaves of the United States, for the law holds them
to be absolutely disqualified from possessing property; all they
may earn or hold is really the property of their lord, and at his
mercy. The Russian landlord is armed with a power which even the
American planter does not possess. He is bound to feed the terrible
conscription of the army, year by year, with an aliquot part of his
own peasants. The rule of the Russian army is twenty-five years’
duty. The power of drafting off particular men into the army amounts
to an absolute control over their existence. The body of the serf is
equally subject to every caprice of the master, and the use of the
whip is universal. The virtue of the female serf is in his power,
and it is considered an honor among the Russian peasantry to reckon
the adulterous offspring of their master amongst their own. The law
itself precludes all redress, for the _Swod_ expressly enacts that,
“if any serf, forgetting the obedience he owes to his lord, presents
a denunciation against him, and especially if he presents such a
denunciation to the Emperor, he shall be handed over to justice, and
treated with all the rigor of the laws--he, and the scribe who may
have drawn up his memorial.” We cannot conceive in any country or any
age a more complete annihilation of human independence, or a more
total degradation of human society.
The pay of the Russian army in all ranks is wretchedly small. The
common soldier receives about $7 50 a year; a lieutenant-general
about $850; a colonel, $500; a captain from $250 to $300.
THE PROGRESS OF RUSSIA.
There is something really grand and imposing in the steady march of
Russian dominion, since Peter the Great first consolidated his empire
into a substantive state.
On his accession, in 1689, its western boundary was in longitude 30
degrees, and its southern in latitude 42 degrees; these have now been
pushed to longitude 18 degrees and latitude 39 degrees respectively.
Russia had then no access to any European sea; her only ports were
Archangel in the Frozen Ocean, and Astrakhan on the Caspian: she has
now access both to the Baltic and the Euxine. Her population, mainly
arising from increase of territory, has augmented thus:--
At the accession of Peter the Great, in 1689, it was 15,000,000; at
the accession of Catharine the Second, in 1752, it was 25,000,000; at
the accession of Paul, in 1796, it was 36,000,000; at the accession
of Nicholas, in 1825, it was 58,000,000.
By the treaty of Neustadt in 1721, and by a subsequent treaty in
1809, she acquired more than the kingdom of Sweden, and the command
of the Gulf of Finland, from which before she was excluded.
By the three partitions of Poland in 1772, 1793, and 1795, and by the
arrangements of 1815, she acquired territory nearly equal in extent
to the whole Austrian Empire. By various wars and treaties with
Turkey, in 1794, 1783, and 1812, she robbed her of territories equal
in extent to all that remains of her European dominions, and acquired
the command of the Black Sea.
Between 1800 and 1814, she acquired from Persia districts at least as
large as the whole of England; from Tartary, a territory which ranges
over thirty degrees of longitude. During this period of 150 years,
she has advanced her frontier 500 miles towards Constantinople,
630 miles towards Stockholm, 700 miles towards Berlin and Vienna,
and 1000 miles towards Teheran, Cabool, and Calcutta. One only
acquisition she has not yet made, though steadily pushing towards
it, earnestly desiring it, and feeling it to be essential to the
completion of her vast designs and the satisfaction of her natural
and consistent ambition, namely,--the possession of Constantinople
and Roumelia,--which would give her the most admirable harbors and
the command of the Levant, and would enable her to overlap, surround,
menace, and embarrass all the rest of Europe.
NICHOLAS, THE REIGNING CZAR.
Nicholas Paulovitch, the son of Paul the First and Maria Feodorowna,
is the fifteenth sovereign of the Romanoff dynasty. He is of a great
height, and is very proud of it. His air is serious, his glance
wild, even a little savage; his entire physiognomy has something
hard and stern in it. The Emperor never shows himself but in the
military costume, the stiffness of which is in perfect keeping with
his tastes, and which makes his great height still more conspicuous.
His face and whole deportment are noble and commanding. He speaks
with vivacity, with simplicity, and the most perfect propriety; all
he says is full of point and meaning,--no idle pleasantry, not a
word out of its place. There is nothing in the tone of his voice
or the arrangement of his phrases that indicates haughtiness or
dissimulation, and yet every one feels that his heart is closed, and
its deep secrets studiously concealed.
Nicholas has a boundless delight in seeing his soldiers, and in
reviewing them. He is unsurpassed for the skill and despatch with
which he passes numerous regiments in review, in the Place of Arms,
at St. Petersburg. Woe to the poor soldier who shall be convicted of
a button badly fastened, or a buckle out of its place! The eagle eye
of the Emperor will search in the very thickest part of the ranks for
infractions of this description, and his inflexibility is known. He
is, nevertheless, a timid rider, and travels by drosky or sledge, in
preference to horseback.
The Emperor leads a life of restless and incessant activity. Morning,
noon, and night, he is engaged in the public business brought beneath
his notice from the different sections of the various departments. In
private life he is free from immoralities, and sets a worthy example
of conjugal fidelity to all his subjects.
The Emperor has a Grecian profile, the forehead high, but receding;
the nose straight, and perfectly formed; the mouth very finely cut;
the face, which in shape is rather a long oval, is noble: the whole
air military, and rather German than Sclavonic. His carriage and his
attitude are naturally imposing. He expects always to be gazed at,
and never for a moment forgets that he is so.
In Poland, as well as Siberia, incredible cruelties have been
committed in the name of Nicholas and his command. The way in which
he is striving to Russianize that once free country, will appear from
the following extract from the “Russian Catechism of Poland,” taught
to Polish children.
“Question 1.--How is the authority of the Emperor to be considered,
in reference to the spirit of Christianity?
“Answer.--As proceeding immediately from God.
“Question 17.--What are the supernaturally revealed motives for this
worship (_i. e._ of the Emperor)?
“Answer.--The supernaturally revealed motives are, that the Emperor
is the vice-regent and minister of God to execute the divine
commands, and, consequently, disobedience to the Emperor is
identical with disobedience to God himself; that God will reward us
in the world to come, for the worship and obedience we render the
Emperor, and punish us severely to all eternity should we disobey
or neglect to worship him. Moreover, God commands us to love and
obey from the inmost recesses of the heart every authority, and
particularly the Emperor, not from worldly considerations, but from
apprehensions of the final judgment.”
The Empress of Russia, Alexandra, is the daughter of Louisa, the
queen of Prussia, and sister to the now reigning King of Prussia.
She was born July 13th, 1798. Ever since the accession of Nicholas
she has been suffering from an ill state of health, necessitating
frequent travelling and change of air. She is said to have always
exercised a beneficial influence over her husband, by tempering his
passion and his excesses. Though she does not possess any superior
qualities, the atmosphere in which she lives has not been able to
efface the good principles which she imbibed in the Court of Prussia.
The countenance of the Empress is represented to be mild, radiant,
and benignant, resembling in its sweetness of expression that of a
ministering angel. The late Marquis of Londonderry, in his “Tour in
the North of Europe,” says--“The indescribable majesty of deportment
and fascinating grace that mark this illustrious personage are
very peculiar. Celebrated as are all the females connected with
the lamented and beautiful Queen of Prussia, there is none of them
more bewitching in manner than the Empress of Russia; nor is there
existing, according to all reports, so excellent and perfect a
being.”
CHAPTER VIII.
HISTORY OF THE WAR.
Arrival of Menschikoff at Constantinople--Demands of the Czar
--The Sultan--Occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia--Conference
of Vienna--Protest of the Porte--Turkish forces--Commencement
of hostilities.
On the 28th of February, 1853, the Russian ambassador Prince
Menschikoff arrived at Constantinople, an event celebrated with more
than eastern pomp, for he was escorted from the quay to his hotel by
upwards of 7000 Greeks, whose services had been previously retained.
Bearing the highest dignities that the Czar can confer, imperious in
his demeanor, impetuous and overbearing in his language, he was well
qualified, notwithstanding his advanced age, to deal with Orientals,
and to execute the commission entrusted to him, though he perhaps
scarcely anticipated the amount of energy latent in the Sultan’s
apparently languid character.
On the 2d March the Russian Prince, attired in the plainest
manner without a decoration of any kind, had an interview with
the Grand Vizier, and was by him referred to Fuad Effendi, the
Minister of Foreign Affairs. Fuad Effendi had, however, uniformly
distinguished himself by his determined opposition to the advances
of Russia: Prince Menschikoff, therefore, haughtily declined to
hold communication with him. As was expected, Fuad sent in his
resignation, and great was the consequent delight experienced at the
Russian embassy. Nor was that satisfaction altogether unfounded, for
Fuad Effendi was undoubtedly one of the ablest men in Turkey.
He was succeeded by Rifaat Pacha, a man of considerable talent, but
by no means competent to cope with the daring policy of the Czar.
Prince Menschikoff, indeed, now regarded the game as in his own
hands, for he was provided with an autograph letter from the Czar,
authorizing him to treat as a personal insult to Nicholas himself,
any hesitation on the part of the Sultan or his advisers to accept
the propositions submitted by him.
It is evident enough that Russia was at this time ill-informed as to
the feeling both of England and France on the subject of the “Eastern
question,” or she would hardly have ventured to commit herself so
far as she did in the demands addressed to Rifaat Pacha by Prince
Menschikoff, on the 19th April, 1853, of which the following is an
abstract:
“1. A definite firman securing to the Greek Church the custody of
the key of the Church of Bethlehem; of the silver star pertaining
to the altar of the Nativity; of the grotto of Gethsemane (with the
admission of the Latin priests thereto for the celebration of their
rites); the joint possession by the Greeks and the Latins of the
gardens of Bethlehem.
“2. An immediate order on the part of the government for the thorough
repair of the cupola of the temple of the Holy Sepulchre to the
satisfaction of the Greek Patriarch.
“3. A guarantee for the maintenance of the privileges of the Greek
Church in the East, and of those sanctuaries already in the exclusive
possession of that Church, or shared by it with others.”
The note containing these demands, and some others of minor
importance, was couched in rather menacing if not insolent language,
while the reply of the Porte was firm, temperate and dignified;
expressive of its readiness to do all that could be fairly demanded
of it, and concluding with a declaration of its inability to accede
to such violation of its independence and national rights as was
implied in the Russian note; appealing at the same time to the
emperor’s own sense of justice and honor.
It would be quite superfluous to introduce here all the voluminous
correspondence that ensued between the two Powers. Suffice it to
observe, that whatever might have been the concessions on the side of
the Porte, they would evidently have been met by further and still
more exorbitant demands on the part of Russia, as the intention of
that Power, from the first, was evidently to bring matters to an
open rupture. Surely for no other purpose could the ruler of a vast
territory have been suddenly called upon, as he had been not long
before at five days’ notice, to divest himself of all authority over
many millions of his subjects, and to admit, in fact, of a partition
of his empire. What the precise designs of Russia were, are clearly
shown in the following extract of a letter from Prince Lieven to
Count Nesselrode:
“Our policy,” said he, “must be to maintain a reserved and prudent
attitude, until the moment arrives for Russia to vindicate her
rights, and for the rapid action which she will be obliged to adopt.
_The war ought to take Europe by surprise (!)_ Our movements must
be prompt, so that the other powers should find it impossible to be
prepared for THE BLOW THAT WE ARE ABOUT TO STRIKE.”
The Cabinets of London and Paris having received early intimation
of what was going on, and being well satisfied that the Greek
inhabitants of Turkey needed no additional protection, speedily
concerted measures for the defence of the Ottoman empire and of their
own interests. The political correspondence now became still more
involved and prolix; but as more than mere verbal assurances were
required to satisfy the Porte of the material support of the two
great Western Powers, the combined fleets were directed to anchor in
Besika Bay.
On the 4th June, the Sultan, still desirous of avoiding the
responsibility of plunging his people into war, addressed to all
the governments of Europe a notification of the necessity he felt
himself under, of assuming a defensive attitude. This is known as
the memorable Hatti-sheriff of Gulhany, a document drawn up with
much ability, evincing considerable firmness and moderation of
tone, and reflecting great credit on Abdul-Medjid and his advisers.
For several years past, indeed, the Sultan has been quietly but
steadily introducing a series of reforms into every department of his
government, for which he has received little credit from Europe. The
strong instinct of his predecessor, Mahmoud, had already marked out
the career to be followed. It was only necessary for Abdul-Medjid to
wait till he felt himself sufficiently strong to advance. As soon
as he did, he established a sound system of national education,
took measures for guaranteeing the security of property, organized
an uniform dispensation of justice to all classes, not only at
Constantinople, but in the remotest districts, reserving exclusively
in his own hands the power of life and death. The taxes, moreover,
were assessed and levied far more equitably than before, and the
abuses which had for a long time been accumulating in numerous
offices may be now considered to be in process of abolition.
Abdul-Medjid being alive to the importance of his mission as the
regenerator of a vast empire, the moment his independence as a
sovereign potentate was menaced, he appealed to England and France,
assuring them of his readiness for immediate war in the defence of a
principle.
The occupation of Moldavia and Wallachia, which took place in the
course of the summer, was preceded by a specious proclamation
announcing that it was “but a provisional measure, and that the
sole object of the Russian government was efficacious protection in
consequence of the unforeseen conduct of the Porte, unmindful of the
earnest desire for a sincere alliance manifested by the Imperial
Court since the treaty of Adrianople, and of its most strenuous
efforts to maintain, on the present occasion, the peace of Europe.”
This proclamation promptly called forth energetic explanations, both
from M. Drouyn de Lhuys and from Lord Clarendon (15th and 16th July,
1853). They both clearly set out the true history of the Czar’s
aggression, and make no concealment of their resolution to resist it.
The invasion of the Sultan’s dominions they maintained to be a just
cause for the declaration of war; but as the great Powers of the West
had already shown the necessity of avoiding bloodshed, unless as a
last resource, the Sultan felt bound to transmit to St. Petersburg
a simple protest against the insult passed upon him. Russia perhaps
mistook this moderation for feebleness.
Late in 1853 came the tedious conference of Vienna, with its notes,
its projects of notes, its despatches, its _ultimatums_ and its
_ultimatissimums_. The result was, the consumption of a vast amount
of time, foolscap, post-horses, and government messengers, the
concession to Austria of much more importance and consideration than
she was in any way entitled to, and the retention at Besika, till the
end of November, of the allied fleets, which ought to have passed
through the Bosphorus more than four months before,--on the day,
indeed, that the Russians crossed the Pruth. The “occupation” which
ensued amounted, in fact, to the tyrannical assumption by Russia of
the government of two of the finest provinces in Europe, accompanied
by such atrocious acts of tyranny, that the English and French
consuls found it incumbent upon them at once to withdraw.
Some time after the conclusion of the treaty of Adrianople, in
1828, Count Nesselrode, writing to the Grand Duke Constantine, thus
gave expression to the feelings of the government of Russia on this
subject:--
“The Turkish monarchy,” said he, “is reduced to such a state as to
exist only under the protection of Russia, and must comply in future
with her wishes.” Then, adverting to the Principalities, he says,
“The possession of these Principalities is of the less importance
to us, as without maintaining troops there, which would be attended
with considerable expense, we shall dispose of them at our pleasure,
as well during peace as in time of war. _We shall hold the keys of a
position from which it will be easy to keep the Turkish government in
check_, and the Sultan will feel that any attempt to brave us again
must end in his certain ruin.”
The protest of the Porte against the invasion of these provinces
bears date the 14th July: from that day till the end of September,
the conference at Vienna, urged chiefly by Austria, had been making
strenuous efforts to induce the Turkish government to yield to the
arrogant pretensions of Russia. No enviable position, indeed, was
that of the Sultan: beset on one side by the _friendly_ persuasions
of Francis Joseph, and on the other by the imperious summons of
Nicholas, who was actively intriguing in every direction, through
numberless astute emissaries, to give rise to a belief that the
presence of his troops in the Principalities was in conformity to the
wishes of the population themselves. On the 8th October, the Grand
Vizier (Mustapha Pacha) issued a proclamation to the inhabitants of
Constantinople, highly characteristic of the spirit of tolerance
which now animates the people of the Sultan, and indicative of a
degree of watchfulness and preparation on the part of the government
which could scarcely have been anticipated. This proclamation was
hailed with enthusiasm, and the whole nation, animated by one will,
were only too eager to be led against their aggressors, or to aid in
suppressing all attempts, on the part of the Greek population, to
adopt the inflammatory counsels of the paid emissaries of Russia.
Equal praise is due to the priests of the Greek Church, and to
the Ulemas, who turned a deaf ear to every attempt made to appeal
to the fanaticism of their several congregations. Had they acted
differently, the internecine war that would have ensued, must have
inundated every threshold with blood.
On the eve of the commencement of hostilities, the effective Turkish
forces on the Danube may be computed as follows:
Infantry 103,000
Egyptian contingent 13,000
Regular cavalry 12 regiments
Albanians and other irregulars 20,000
Artillery (guns of different calibre), 40 batteries.
Omar Pacha, the commander-in-chief, established his head-quarters
at Shumla with 50,000 troops. Alim Pacha, at Baba-Dagh, in the
Dobruscha, headed 25,000. Mustapha Pacha, with 30,000, guarded the
line of country between Sistow and Rustuck; and Ismail Pacha, with
a like number, the district between Sistow and Widdin. Thirty-five
thousand men, besides, were distributed among the garrisons of Varna,
Tirnova, Pravardin, and different small fortresses along the grim
range of the Balkan.
A reserve of 50,000 was assigned to Rifaat Pacha, who was stationed
at Sophia, an important town in Bulgaria, on the road from Belgrade
to Constantinople.
The whole of Europe--and no country more than Russia--had strangely
erred in its estimate of the Turkish army. Any man who could have
been found rash enough to have hinted at the possibility of the
Sultan’s troops standing before the “stalwart warriors” from the Don,
would have been laughed to scorn: yet almost every engagement has
shown them uniformly triumphant.
The Turkish army is divided into sections, commanded by generals
of division, each of whom has under his orders three generals of
brigade. The division consists of eleven regiments, six of infantry,
four of cavalry, and one of artillery. The available force of a
division comprises 20,980 men; _i. e._, 16,800 infantry, 2,880
cavalry, and 1,300 artillery-men. The infantry regiments are divided
into battalions, and the battalions into companies. The cavalry
regiments are divided into squadrons. The artillery regiments each
comprise three horse and nine foot batteries, numbering altogether
seventy-two heavy and four “grasshopper guns,” about of the same
calibre as those used at the battle of Buena Vista by General Taylor.
The Russian army has, for a long time past, been adopting from other
powers every improvement that could advantageously be introduced into
those docile but stolid ranks, and it was universally supposed to be
in the highest state of efficiency. Numerically, it was about equal
to the Turkish army immediately opposed to it. At the time to which
we allude, Nicholas had, in Georgia and Circassia, at least 148,000
men, commanded by the venerable Prince Woronzow, who does not enjoy a
brilliant military reputation, but still is considered an experienced
soldier, and one of the few trustworthy men in the Czar’s service.
Had this large army not been engaged in holding in check the hardy
and active hordes of Schamyl, it might possibly have been available
to threaten Constantinople; but danger from the quarter we allude
to was never very imminent, for the Turks had stationed 148,000
men, in two separate armies, on the Asiatic shore of the Black Sea,
to coöperate with Schamyl, and to observe, at the same time, the
movements of the enemy. The Turks and the Russians had, consequently,
about an equal number of troops, both upon the Danube and in Asia.
The first cartridge burnt in anger, was at the affair of Issatcha,
scarcely more than a skirmish between a handful of Egyptians and
Russians, and leading to no important results. The Russian general
would fain have confined operations--for a time at least--to such
skirmishes, from his unwillingness to risk the prestige with which
the Russians had continued hitherto to surround their arms; but this
policy accorded not with the views of Omar Pacha, who was anxious to
elevate the _morale_ of his men, and to prove to them, by the most
conclusive of all arguments, their capability to contend with those
whom they had been led to regard with so much respect.
CHAPTER IX.
OMER PACHA.
Anecdote--His Birth--Reforms--Sultan Mahmud--Enlistment in the
Turkish army--His application--Expeditions among the wild tribes
--Appointed Generalissimo--Present high position--Domestic life
--Marriage--Personal habits--Kossuth and Hungarian refugees--War
on the Danube--Battle of Oltenitza.
The life of Omer Pacha is connected with perhaps the most important
period in the history of Turkey--an epoch of transition from the old
state of things to the new.
About twenty-five years ago a young man arrived at Widdin, and asked
to see Hussein Pasha, the commander of the place. His personal
appearance was unusually prepossessing, being at once handsome and
majestic. His complexion was fair and clear, his eyes soft and
penetrating, and his limbs pliant and athletic. The Turks, who have
a superstitious veneration for a fine physiognomy, and to whom,
therefore, good looks are pre-eminently, as Queen Elizabeth said,
an excellent letter of recommendation, received him with great
cordiality and respect. Hussein was at this time encamped before
Widdin, and living in a superb tent, to which the young stranger was
directed. He happened unfortunately to get there just as Hussein was
waking up in no very good humor.
[Illustration: OMER PACHA.]
“What do you want?” said he, impatiently, to the intruder.
“To enter your excellency’s service,” was the reply.
“I have too many attendants already. Go away.”
In Turkey it is allowable for people in the humblest condition to
offer presents to a distinguished personage without any offence.
Accordingly, the young man pulled a small parcel, carefully done up,
out of his pocket, and presented it to the pasha, begging him to
accept it.
“What is this?” said the pasha, when he had opened the parcel.
“Gloves, your excellency.”
“And what use are they?”
“When you go out in the sun, they will preserve the color of your
hands (the pasha’s were very white), and when you are riding, they
will prevent them from being blistered by the bridle.”
“But how do you put them on?”
The young man answered by putting one on the pasha’s hand.
“Now the other.”
This also was put on. Hussein then clapped his hands three times,
and raised them above his head, just as the officers of his suite
were entering the tent. Thanks to this pair of gloves, which were the
admiration of the pasha and his staff the stranger was admitted into
Hussein’s service. Now this stranger was no other than Latkes, now
Omer Pasha.
Of his early life but little is known. His origin is Croatian; his
native place Vlaski, a village in the district of Ogulini, thirteen
leagues from Fiume, on the Adriatic Sea. He was born in 1801; the
religion of his forefathers, and of his youthful years, was the
Greek united faith, namely, that branch of the Greek worship subject
to the Roman Pontiff. He received a liberal education. His father
enjoyed the important charge of Lieutenant-Administrator of the
district, and his uncle was invested with ecclesiastical functions.
His instruction in mathematics and military engineering he received
at the military school of Thurm, near Carlstadt, in Transylvania; and
in 1822, when 21 years of age, after having distinguished himself
in his studies, he entered the corps of _Ponts et Chaussées_ in the
Austrian service, with the rank of lieutenant, that body having just
been organized by the government.
At twenty-nine he left the Austrian service; but the true cause of
his taking this step has always remained a mystery. Many attributed
it to a family misfortune; some to a quarrel he had with his
superiors, followed by acts that would have subjected him to a
court-martial.
Having made his escape, he passed into Bosnia in 1830, where he
arrived wholly unknown, and it was only with difficulty he was able
to engage himself as a servant in Kosrew Pacha’s house, who was then
at Bosna-Serai.
The _second reforming Sultan_ had of late organized his troops on
a principle of reform, not only as to discipline, but also as to
the mode of equipment. Only a year, the wide and overflowing dress,
the majestic turbans, the silken shawls and rich furs had given
way to the more simple _fez_ and to the European _pantaloon_. He
began himself to assume that costume. The Khatti Sherif ordering
this change was only promulgated on the 3d of March, 1829, and the
sensation which the new dress occasioned among the people did not
fail, according to eye-witnesses, to draw forth tears and public
mourning.
All the regular troops of the army he had formed abandoned, whether
they liked it or not, the picturesque and rich costume, adopted
the new uniform, and accepted the command of foreign officers. An
indispensable condition to the advancement of a foreigner in the
Turkish service was conversion to Islamism, and Latkes became a
Mussulman, under the cognomen of Omer.
Meanwhile Old Turkey was clamorous in its protests against the
progress of reform; nor was it long before its indignation broke out
into acts of violence and bloodshed. Popular fury was often directed
against Europeans, who were regarded as abetters of reform; and in
August, 1831, ten thousand houses belonging to Europeans were a prey
to the flames.
It was full time that these seditious demonstrations, and the
sanguinary scenes enacted under former Sultans, should teach prudence
to the fortunate, but daring and impetuous Mahmud. He felt the
necessity of surrounding himself with faithful and vigorous-minded
friends. He chose men qualified both as intelligent advisers and
men of action. He invited to a great banquet in his palace his
great state functionaries, the teachers of the law, the professors,
the officers, the seven generals of the empire, the magnates of
the nation, and the warmest partisans of his reforms. With glowing
confidence and enthusiasm he spoke in the name of the national
interest and the public cause, and called upon all to sacrifice
personal feelings, party spirit, and internal divisions, to the
fortune and the destinies of the empire. Mahmud’s unusual familiarity
astonished the greater number of the bystanders. It was an innovation
at variance with the dignity of the “_Shade of Allah on earth_,” but
all felt themselves individually flattered by it. When the _salams_
that Oriental courtesy prescribes had been multiplied to a countless
number, at a hint given to the Great Master of the Ceremonies, a
large piece of tapestry was raised, a gate was thrown open, and
the Sultan invited all to enter. It was a vast hall, magnificently
lighted. A large number of splendid ensigns covered a table inlaid
with amber, and upon it lay the Prophet’s mantle. All prostrated
themselves before the holy ensign; and by order of Mahmud, the Grand
Seraskier pronounced a formula, and the sovereign, with his own
hands, put on his minister’s breast the great decoration of the civil
and military order. The ceremony was a kind of Masonic inauguration;
the ribbons of the several degrees were distributed to all present,
who were invited to pledge themselves to the Sultan and to each
other. The mystery attending the meeting had given it a more solemn
character. All repeated the Grand Seraskier’s formula; and the work
of the regeneration of the empire had commenced.
This happened in October, 1831.
That Grand Seraskier was Kosrew Pacha, in whose service the Croat
fugitive Latkes, now Mussulman Omer, had lived for the last year.
Eight years afterwards, on the 3d of November, 1839, the same
hall was opened in broad day, and there, with all the solemnity
of a national ceremony, the warmest supporters of Old Turkey,
Sheik-ul-Islam, (the chief of the faith,) and the members of the body
of Ulemas, who before the same holy shrine were sworn on the hands of
the Mufti (ecclesiastical president) to observe the Tanzimat, were
assembled. The ashes of Mahmud were still warm: it was the first
act of the reign of Abdul Medjid. The victory had been rapid: Young
Turkey had, on that day, triumphed over Old Turkey.
In the gardens called Gul-hane, near the kiosks of the palace,
Reschid Pacha proclaimed the new organization of the empire, granting
concessions “to all subjects, of whatever sect or religion.” That act
so celebrated, virtually abolished capital punishment, by reserving
the right of pronouncing it to the Sultan alone, who has never had
recourse to it. The political, civil, and moral character of the
Turks was raised by this memorable charter to a high standard.
Well aware of obstacles which they would have to encounter, Mahmud’s
friends determined to select the proper moment for action. Kosrew
Pacha, who was more earnest than any other in the cause, did not miss
the opportunity of availing himself of Omer-Aga, whose ardent and
restless character appeared to have no ambition but to have a field
open to his energetic activity. In Turkey, nobility is not the result
of birth, but mostly the gift of favor, sometimes of riches, seldom
of merit. One of the most remarkable examples of ennobled Turks was
Kosrew Pacha himself, who had been bought in the slave-bazaar. The
manners of the highest personages do not differ from those of the
lowest, and their family life is distinguished by great simplicity
and benevolence, even towards the slaves. Moreover, the curiosity
which a foreigner awakens everywhere, and more than anywhere else in
Turkey, made the Pacha desirous of having frequent interviews with
the Frank convert, who by his wit, the originality of his manners,
and the singularity of his position, had become the subject of daily
talk. The interviews with the Pacha succeeded each other; Omer’s
military knowledge made itself manifest; his independent character,
his talent, his boldness of conception, and power of carrying out his
plans, forcibly attracted the attention of the Pacha. Omer made his
former position and misfortune known; he interested, he pleased; the
Pacha’s protection was insured to him, and he enlisted in the army of
Turkish Regeneration.
Favored by the protection of Sultan Mahmud, to whom Kosrew Pacha
had introduced him, after having been aide-de-camp to the Pacha,
then aide-de-camp and interpreter to General Chzarnowsky, lastly
an officer of the Imperial Guard; dissatisfied with the slow
progress of his party, which was continually thwarted by provincial
insurrections, he asked to be permitted to try his fortune in some
of the expeditions which were continually being made, and began
his military career in 1836. Bosnia, Servia, and Bulgaria were
successively the theatres of his exploits.
From that day he applied himself to improving the efficiency of his
army, paying attention not only to the discipline, but also to the
education, of the soldier. The Mussulman, good and meek-hearted by
nature, never ferocious but in individual cases, was raised by him to
the self-consciousness of human dignity, by regulations, ordinances,
and laws, calculated to make him cognisant of the rights, and
conversant with the duties that belong to every one, in every state
of life. Self-esteem--a feeling that, being once awakened from a long
lethargy, soon endears itself to every man--discipline, and Omer’s
benevolent disposition even towards the lowest of his soldiers,
caused him to be loved by them more as a father than as a general.
After Mahmud’s decease, his expeditions continued under the
new Sultan. In Albania, in Bosnia once more, in Syria, in the
Kurdistan, among the wild tribes of the Ravendus, Romelia, in
the Moldo-Wallachian Principalities, and in Montenegro, he was
distinguished in both a military and civil capacity. Having adopted
Turkey as a second country, he loved and loves her, not as a warrior
merely, but as the member of a family which powerful enemies are
attempting to disorganize and destroy. Before fighting, he always
tried to conciliate; compelled to employ force, he never abused
victory, to assuage either the resentment or the cupidity of his
troops.
In a work so difficult as the regeneration of an entire nation, he
had many fellow-laborers. Amongst them the first undoubtedly was an
eminent man, whose talents as a diplomatist London and Paris have had
occasion to notice, and whom they have since been able to appreciate
as a statesman: we mean Reschid Pacha. We call him a companion, and
not the chief of the enterprise; for Reschid Pacha, indeed, tried to
transplant European civilization to the empire, though by measures
which would have had no immediate utility without the activity of
Omer Pacha.
In the midst of many labors, he ran through all the degrees of
the army, till he obtained the rank of the highest in the Ottoman
service. Invested with the great decoration of the Nichani-Iftikhar
by Sultan Mahmud; with that of the Mejidiè[4] by Sultan Abdul
Medjid; and, lastly, presented at Shumla with a sword of honor, he
could not avoid making bitter enemies. Old Turkey was continually
watching him with envious rancor; but he shrewdly flattered its
apostles when he thought it proper for his purpose; overpowered them
with generosity, when an exchange of hostilities would have injured
his cause; and openly set them at defiance when dissembling would
have been weakness, and silence an act of cowardice.
At this hour he is the first general of the Ottoman army, and
millions of eyes are anxiously turned towards him. If the past may
afford a clue to judge of the future, the fortune of Omer Pacha has
been constant for so many years as to leave no doubt of his ability.
So brilliant, so important and high a position is not reached from
the lowest condition, without one’s being possessed of merit, and
that in an eminent degree.
His domestic life is very far from being tainted with the debauchery
that is generally attributed, and often falsely, to the private
conduct of the Moslems. He has had no more than two wives; and
although he was allowed to have them contemporaneously, he did not
marry the second until after his divorce from the former. This was
a Turkish woman, daughter of an Aga of the Janissaries, who died in
1828, and was a pupil of his protector, Kosrew Pacha. Emancipated
from the severe restraint of the harem to the liberty of European
customs, she abused it, and forced her husband to a separation.
The second is a European, and was a very young maid, of a mild
and virtuous character, when he saw her first, and married her at
Bucharest, where she was exercising, at fourteen years of age, the
profession of a teacher of the pianoforte. She is from Cronstadt in
Transylvania, and her name is Anna Simonich. He has no offspring but
a natural daughter, born of an Arabian slave in Syria. A male child,
the fruit of his new marriage, died at four months of age, crushed
under a carriage upset in the passage from Travnich to Saraievo. He
has, therefore, as yet, no probability of being remembered in his
adopted country but by his deeds.
In Omer Pacha may be traced many of the essentials of a great
general. He takes a warm interest in the welfare of his men, and
knows how to earn their goodwill; at the same time that he treats
them with a degree of severity bordering upon harshness. Like
Bonaparte, he is fond of those short, quick, terse addresses, which,
in a moment, electrify an entire army, and is consequently regarded
with veneration by his troops, who yield him the most implicit
obedience.
His habits are simple and frugal; he is active and indefatigable
in business; of an upright, benevolent, and gentle character, with
a somewhat nervous and excitable temperament; often generous,
sometimes prodigal, always absolute, and little accustomed to being
contradicted in his opinions. He is fifty-three years of age; he
is tall and thin, has a martial bearing, an expressive and marked
physiognomy, a quick and penetrating eye, a nose a little compressed,
a thick and grey beard, a large head--a perfectly Croatian type.
Engaged in all the struggles of the two parties during the most
important period of their existence, the principal instrument of
progress and of Young Turkey, he always regretted the necessity of
drawing the sword against his fellow-subjects. It was farthest from
his wish to tinge it with blood, even to impose what was, if not
the common desire, the common advantage, namely, the improvement of
society in all its developments. But of these ill-omened seditions,
Turkish subjects were the arms, while the head was invisible, and
kept itself in security from his blows, beyond the frontiers.
Often, even far from the noise of arms, he baffled the plots of the
insidious enemies of Turkey. The most enviable of his bloodless
victories was the cause of Kossuth and the Hungarian refugees, whom
he met at Shumla, whither he had purposely repaired. He espoused
their cause before the Sultan and the ministers of the Porte. The
Sultan’s sentiments regarding them were not less noble than his
own; but his protection had for its object to neutralize the effect
of foreign threats, lest, by the Sultan’s yielding to them, the
cause of progress should be deprived of the most valuable accession
of material and intellectual forces which the new-comers might
confer on it. His wishes, owing especially to the intervention of
the English fleet, were crowned with success, and he succeeded in
taking many of them under his command. The immigration, indeed, of
Italians, Hungarians, and Poles, has been no inconsiderable help to
the progress of Turkey in late years. The popular sentiment hailed
them, because they were the enemies of its enemies; and the accession
of elements so free, so ardent, and enthusiastic for the cause
that drew them to exile, added an immense and rapid impetus to the
reform party. They caused no little uneasiness to Russia and Austria,
who, in every negotiation with Turkey, even in the last question,
always insisted on the banishment of the political refugees to Asia.
Russia fears only civilized men, and therefore she must be met by
civilization dressed up in its full armor. Turkish civilization would
give her the greatest annoyance: not to thwart it by every possible
means would be an eternal remorse; and not to succeed in crushing it
in the bud would be followed by the bitterest regrets.
The internal contest has now disappeared before the external, and
Omer Pacha beholds united under his banner both old and young Turkey.
Long and difficult was the line of country he had to defend along the
Danube, but his preparations were well taken, and the Russians could
scarcely have crossed at any point without encountering a well-served
battery, and, had they even succeeded in penetrating to the Balkan,
they would have found every height bristling with fortifications,
every defile in the possession of an intrepid foe. The successes of
the Russians in 1828-29 depended mainly upon causes which no longer
exist. They had then the undisputed mastery of the Black Sea; the
Turkish navy had just been annihilated; and the Mussulman army was
wholly without organization. The reverse of this was now the case,
and the battle of Oltenitza was an earnest of many reverses they were
doomed subsequently to sustain.
The Ottoman general, alive to the impolicy of allowing Russian and
Austrian intrigue free scope for action during the winter, and aware
that his own men could not but become, to a great extent, demoralized
by remaining for five months in sight of an arrogant foe, boldly
determined to take the initiative, and to attempt, by force of arms,
that which diplomacy had been unable to achieve.
Observing at a glance the immense importance of assuming a strong
position before Kalafat (in Lesser Wallachia, opposite Widdin),
whence he could effectually exclude the Russians from Servia, he
adopted a plan for dividing simultaneously the attention and the
forces of his adversary. While, therefore, a hostile division
advanced, in Lesser Wallachia, upon Crajowa and Slatina, Omer Pacha
prepared to land a large body of troops at Giurgevo, and a still
larger detachment at Oltenitza. The attempt on Giurgevo, possibly
intended only as a feint, was unsuccessful, but at Oltenitza the
manœuvre was brilliantly accomplished.
Early on the morning of the 2d November, 1853, the Turks, to the
number of 9000, crossed the Danube, between Turtukai and Oltenitza,
a small village occupied by the Russians, who, as soon as they
perceived the design of the Mussulmans, made a vigorous but futile
resistance. Omer Pacha’s troops, eager for the fray, leaped from the
boats, long before they touched the bank, fought hand to hand with
their antagonists in the water, soon carried the quarantine building,
and fortified it with fascines.
The precision with which these various movements were effected,
sufficiently attested the presence of the Turkish commander-in-chief.
The Russian General Danenberg, having been informed of this movement
by the Turks, arrived, to direct in person measures for driving them
back into the Danube. Eleven thousand Russians, under the command of
Pauloff, were accordingly hastily collected, and, early on the 4th
November, they commenced their attack. A brisk cannonade took place
for some time on both sides. The Turks, quitting their entrenchments,
threw out swarms of sharpshooters, and compelled a hussar regiment
to take shelter in the rear of the infantry. The sharpshooters then
formed into battalions, made several smart bayonet charges, and
reëntered their entrenchments.
General Danenberg, astonished to find that an enemy he had held in
such utter contempt should display so much courage and such knowledge
of tactics, was desirous of bringing matters to a crisis; but, by an
unlucky manœuvre, he got entangled in difficult ground between two
fires, which occasioned considerable slaughter among his ranks. After
four hours’ hard fighting he was compelled to retreat, with the loss
of a colonel, lieutenant-colonel, and twenty-four other officers,
besides 370 rank and file killed, and 857 wounded.
Omer Pacha held the position thus acquired till the 11th of November,
when, without any further molestation from the enemy, he voluntarily
retired to the right bank of the Danube; the Turks having meanwhile
strengthened and fortified their camp at Kalafat.
The affair at Oltenitza produced a surprising effect at
Constantinople, and indeed throughout the whole Turkish empire. After
a century of reverses, the Turks had achieved a victory over a nation
which had long treated them with disdain, and had always ridiculed
their achievements in the field. The printing-office of the official
Gazette, and all the streets leading to it, were crowded with eager
thousands, anxious to obtain copies of the supplement containing the
details of the fight.
By a curious coincidence, on the same day and at the very hour
that the battle of Oltenitza was being fought, the Sultan, who had
announced his intention of heading the army in the spring, was
being invested, at the mosque of the Sultan Mohamed, according to
the Turkish ritual, with the title of Ghazi, or warrior, a dignity
conferred on those Sultans who go forth for the first time to battle.
At Petersburg the dismay occasioned by the action of Oltenitza was so
great, that the Czar gave immediate orders for those measures which
resulted in the foul massacre of Sinope, as though he were desirous,
by a deeper stain, to efface the dishonor his arms had already
incurred.
Some days before the period fixed upon for the commencement of
hostilities between Turkey and Russia, the Circassians had already
matured their plans, and were prepared to take up arms vigorously
against the troops of the Czar. But in Asia the enemies of Russia
have scarcely been as successful as might have been anticipated, when
their natural prowess, continued exercise in arms, and indomitable
character, is taken into account. No deficiency of military ardor
can, however, be imputed to men, who for upwards of fifty years have
successfully resisted all attempts at subjugation, and have baffled
the strategy of Russia’s ablest generals. The chief reason why, in
the present instance, they have not achieved any very signal success,
has been the difficulty they have encountered in communicating with
the sea-board, and in obtaining an adequate supply of ammunition and
arms.
CHAPTER X.
SCHAMYL, THE PROPHET-WARRIOR OF THE CAUCASUS.
Caucasus--Character of the Tribes--Circassian Slave Trade--Birth
of Schamyl--Personal Appearance--Form of Government--His Army
and Body-Guard--Financial Rule--Struggles with Russia--Personal
Habits--Legend--Circassian Women in Battle--Escape from the
Russians.
The valleys of the Caucasus afford abundance of detached rocks and
overhanging cliffs, bathed by the foaming mountain torrents. On these
or other almost inaccessible spots, are perched, like eagles’ nests,
the aouls or villages of the natives. Each consists of a number of
saklias--houses built of loose fragments of rocks without mortar, and
arranged in an amphitheatrical form. Those of the chiefs are larger,
and are distinguished by the addition of high towers; the last refuge
of the inhabitants in case of attack.
The hardy and frugal mountaineers support themselves by pasturage,
and by the cultivation of barley, wheat, and maize, making the best
of the scanty soil by carefully terracing and irrigating it. In the
more favored districts, the vine is grown with success; and cherry,
apple, and pear orchards form no inconsiderable part of the wealth of
the inhabitants. Some villages are celebrated for the manufacture of
weapons and mail-shirts; and throughout the mountains the greatest
attention is paid to the breed of the horses, hardy, sure-footed
animals, as much valued by their active enemies, the Cossacks, as by
the Caucasians themselves.
The Caucasian character has all the good and all the evil features
common among semi-savage mountaineers. Possessed of the most daring
courage, and capable of self-devotion to their chiefs altogether
without parallel; chivalrous in open warfare, and true to the last
to any engagement by which they consider themselves fairly pledged;
frugal and temperate in their ordinary habits; honorable and
affectionate in their domestic relations; they are, nevertheless,
to an enemy, or, indeed, to an outsider of any kind, both ruthless
and bloodthirsty, seeming to be actuated by but two motives--love
of bloodshed and love of gain. A story of Wagner’s well illustrates
this. A Tcherkess made his appearance before the commandant of one
of the forts on the Black Sea, and stated that, for a consideration,
he was willing to give some important information. This turned out
to be, that an attack on the fort had been arranged by a large body
of his countrymen to take place on an appointed day; and as it was
totally unexpected by the Russians, it would probably have resulted
in their destruction. The commandant agreed to pay the reward, but
detained the Tcherkess until his statements were verified. Sure
enough, on the very day a large body of mountaineers attacked the
fort, but found their enemies on the alert, and were repulsed with
loss. The Tcherkess received his reward the day after, and was
dismissed with thanks. Not many yards from the fort, a Russian
soldier, unarmed, was busied in some occupation. The Tcherkess could
not resist the opportunity, but shot him, and bounded away into the
hills!
In mind as in feature, there are considerable differences between the
Eastern and Western Caucasians. The Western is distinguished by the
beauty of his form and features, the fairness of his complexion, the
open, dashing, careless, European cast of his character. The Asiatic
element, on the other hand, predominates in the Eastern tribes.
Darker in skin, the eagle eye is deeper set, and its uncertain
glitter suggests the suspicion that the passions of a fierce fanatic
lie beneath the imagination of a mystic.
The well-known Circassian slave-traffic is carried on by the western
tribes only; but it is very different from the slave dealing with
which England and America have been polluted. Among the Circassians
themselves, matrimony is an affair of traffic, and the lover _buys_
his wife of her respectable parents. With the Circassian girls,
therefore, it is a question whether they are bought to work hard
and live miserably at home, or whether they are bought to have an
“establishment” at the expense of some Turkish Pasha. They are
not sold to slave or to be ill-treated; and it is said that they
almost invariably look forward to their Turkish prospects with great
delight, and for that end brave the miseries of the Black Sea passage
with pleasure.
Schamyl, the devoted Murid, became Imam and Sultan of the Eastern
Caucasus, “the second prophet of Allah,” in the year 1834, and, from
that time till the present, has baffled the whole forces of Russia.
Born in 1797, Schamyl grew up amidst all those influences which
would best fit him to be the future leader of his people. From his
earliest childhood, his silent earnest ways, intense determination
and love of knowledge, distinguished him among his fellows, and
Spartan habits and a strong will compensated the natural defects
of a delicate physical organization. He is of middle stature, has
fair hair, gray eyes overshadowed by thick, well-marked eyebrows, a
regular, well-formed nose, and a small mouth. A peculiar fairness
and delicacy of skin distinguishes his countenance from that of his
fellow-countrymen, and his feet and hands are singularly well shaped.
The apparent immovability of his arms in walking indicates the
determination of his character. His manner is noble and dignified.
Perfectly master of himself, he exercises a silent influence over
all who come into contact with him. A stem impassivity, which
is undisturbed even in moments of the greatest danger, is his
characteristic expression. A condemnation to death falls from
his lips with the same calmness as he shows in conferring on a
brave Murid the sabre of honor won in some sanguinary fight. With
traitors or other offenders, whose death he has once determined
upon, he converses without manifesting a shade of angry or vengeful
feeling. He regards himself as simply the instrument in the hands
of a higher power, and holds that all his thoughts and decisions
are the immediate inspiration of God. His eloquence is as fiery and
persuasive as his ordinary manner is calm and commanding.
Of a mob of scattered tribes, divided by innumerable feuds, he has
made a nation capable of the most complete unity of action, and
animated by one faith; and his genius as a lawgiver is as preëminent
as his religious enthusiasm. With a strong hand he has swept away
all the old boundaries of race and tribe, however consecrated by
tradition, and has completely reörganized the country over which he
rules. It is divided into twenty districts, each of which is governed
by an officer termed a Naib, whose business it is to preserve order;
to superintend the proper raising of taxes and recruits; to limit
and control disputes and blood-feuds; and to see that the Scharyat
is strictly fulfilled. Every five of these districts, again, are
under the superintendence of a Governor, uniting within himself the
spiritual and temporal power, and answerable to Schamyl alone, who
allows to certain of his favorites only, absolute power over life and
death; while the others must refer to himself in such cases. Each
Naib has a deputy or coädjutor. In every village there is a Cadi
or Elder, whose duty it is to make regular reports to his Naib of
all important occurrences, and to carry out the orders which he may
receive from him, while the local Mollah has the spiritual care of
the village. Every man capable of bearing arms has right of access to
his Cadi or Naib at a fixed time of the day, when audiences are held
and business transacted. Rapid communication through all parts of the
country is insured by a sort of flying post. In each village several
swift horses are kept saddled and bridled, and when a state messenger
arrives, hearing a passport sealed by the Naib of the district, it
is the business of the Cadi to furnish him instantly with a fresh
horse and a guide to the next post. In this way Schamyl’s messages
and orders are transmitted with incredible swiftness.
The standing army of five or six thousand men is thus kept up; every
ten houses of a village must maintain a warrior, one house providing
the man, and the other nine his horse, accoutrements, and support.
The family to which he belongs is, so long as he is alive, free of
all taxes, but he must never be without his arms, and must be ready,
day and night, to march at a moment’s notice. Furthermore, every male
from fifteen to fifty is liable to be called out for the defence of
his village, or, in extraordinary cases, to the general army; and
in the latter case, each horseman of ten houses commands the men of
those houses.
Schamyl’s body-guard is composed of a selection from the Murids, and
its members are called Murtosigators. Only the hottest enthusiasts
among the Murids, men of whose entire devotion Schamyl is well
assured, are chosen for this post, which is considered among the
Caucasians to be in the highest degree honorable. The prophet puts
the most implicit confidence in those whom he has once selected, and
they on the other hand renounce every tie, and place their lives in
his hand. If unmarried, they must remain so; and if married, they
must strictly avoid their families during their period of service.
Like Schamyl himself, they must live frugally, and carry out the
Scharyat to the very letter. They wear peculiar insignia, and receive
regular pay, with a share of all spoils; there are usually about one
thousand of them, five hundred of whom always surround Schamyl’s
person, access to which is very difficult. In time of peace, the
Murtosigators are Schamyl’s apostles, and considerable sums are
placed at their disposal for the carrying out of their propaganda.
At the same time, they form a most efficient body of police, whose
accusations might at once destroy the most powerful Naib. In war,
they constitute the heart of Schamyl’s troops and the terror of the
Russians, who have never yet succeeded in taking one alive.
At first, Schamyl had no revenue but what was derived from his
razzias; but, at present, all the tribes pay a yearly tithe, and if
any slain warrior leaves no direct heir, his property goes to the
state.
Schamyl’s financial rule is ordinarily distinguished by extreme
economy, and he is said to possess large concealed treasures: but if
a valorous action is to be rewarded, or a hostile tribe won over,
he will expend great sums. He has instituted a regular system of
decorations, consisting of medals, epaulettes, and stars; while,
on the other hand, his criminal code contains a no less exactly
proportioned series of punishments, from the rag tied round the right
arm, which is the stigma affixed to the coward--to decapitation,
shooting, and stabbing to death. A stern and even-handed justice
characterizes all Schamyl’s judgments, and he would long since have
fallen a victim to the blood-feuds thus created against himself,
were it not for the watchful devotion of his body-guard, the
Murtosigators, who constantly surround him in public. The Imam gave
once in his own person a frightful earnest of his determination to
know no distinction of persons among the violators of his laws.
Early in his career, he made a solemn vow that he would put to death
whoever, under any circumstances, proposed to him submission to the
Giaour. The people of Tchetchenia were well acquainted with the
Imam’s oath; but in 1843, finding themselves threatened on all sides
by the Russians, and at the same time left without aid by Schamyl,
who was otherwise occupied, they in despair sent messengers to the
latter, begging him either to help them, or to allow them to submit.
The office of the envoys was regarded as so hazardous, that their
selection was made by the lot. It fell upon four men of the village
Gunoi, who accordingly set out upon their mission. Before reaching
Dargo, Schamyl’s residence, however, the prospect of success appeared
so slight, and the consequences of failure so appalling, that they
determined to “eke the lion’s with the fox’s skin,” and without
making any direct proposition to Schamyl himself, to endeavour to
influence him through his aged mother, the Khaness, who was known
to possess great influence over her son, and at the same time to
be, like all the mountaineers, by no means insensible to money. A
large bribe engaged the Khaness to undertake the dangerous task;
and in a private interview she opened the matter to the Imam. What
occurred between mother and son is unknown, but when the men of Gunoi
anxiously inquired the result of the negotiation, the Khaness, pale
and trembling, could only tell them that her son had determined to
inquire of Allah concerning their request--and even as they spoke,
it was proclaimed that the Imam had shut himself in the mosque, and
had commanded that all the people should gather about it and remain
fasting and praying till he reäppeared. Three days and nights, it is
said, did Schamyl remain invisible, the prostrate multitude without
rising higher and higher in fanatical exaltation, as their bodily
frames became exhausted. On the fourth morning, Schamyl appeared on
the flat roof of the mosque, surrounded by his Murids. All viewed
with dismay his usually impassive countenance, distorted and
changed by the traces of some past inward agony. After an interval
of profound silence, he directed the nearest Murids to bring his
mother into his presence, and when she had arrived, he thus addressed
the people: “The will of the Prophet of Allah be done! People of
Dargo, the Tchetchenes have dared to think of yielding to the Giaour,
and have even ventured to send messengers, hoping for my consent.
The messengers, conscious of their sin, dared not appear before my
face, but have tempted the weakness of my unhappy mother to be their
mediator. For her sake, I have ventured, aided by your prayers, to
ask the will of Mohammed the Prophet of Allah; and that will is, that
the first who spoke to me of this matter shall be punished with a
hundred blows of the heavy whip. It was my mother!”
With these words, Schamyl signed to his Murids, who seized the
venerable old Khaness, and bound her to one of the pillars of the
mosque. At the fifth blow, she sank dead. Schamyl, with a wild
outburst of grief, threw himself at her feet; but suddenly rising
again, cried solemnly--“God is great, and Mohammed is his prophet! he
hath heard my prayer, and I may take upon myself the remainder of my
mother’s expiation!” With that, stripping off his upper garments, he
commanded the Murids to inflict the remaining ninety-five blows upon
his own back. The punishment fulfilled, Schamyl gave orders that the
envoys of the Tchetchenes, terror-stricken witnesses of the preceding
scene, should be brought into his presence. The ready Murids half
drew their schaskas; but Schamyl, raising the men of Gunoi from the
ground on which they had cast themselves in an agony of fear, said
only, in his calm, impassive way, “Go back to your people; and for
my answer, tell them what you have seen to-day.”
Schamyl is simple and abstemious in the extreme in his personal
habits. Contenting himself with a few hours’ sleep, he sometimes
spends night after night in prayer and watching without showing the
least symptoms of weariness. Not yet sixty, he is full of life and
vigor; though at present he takes an active share in the war only
rarely, and on great occasions. He lives in Dargo, where he has
caused the enemy’s deserters to build him a two-storied house in the
Russian fashion, and is said to have three wives, the chief of whom
is an Armenian of great beauty.
Once, or at most twice, in the year, the Imam retires to some
remote cave, or shuts himself up in his most private apartments,
and a strong cordon of watchful Murtosigators prevents any person
whatever from having access to him. In this solitude he spends three
weeks--fasting, praying, and reading the Koran. On the evening of
the last day of his seclusion, the principal Mollahs and Murids,
accompanied by a host of pilgrims, gathered in high expectation about
the holy place, are summoned to meet him. He tells them that Mohammed
has appeared to him in the form of a dove, revealing the mysteries of
the faith, laying upon him such and such commands, and encouraging
him to persevere in the holy war. Then showing himself to the throng
without, he addresses them with the eloquence for which he is famed,
rousing to the highest pitch their religious devotion and their
hatred against the Muscovites. The whole assembly now joins in a
solemn hymn. The men draw their schaskas, renew their oath to defend
the faith and to destroy the Russians, and then disperse, shouting,
“God is great! Mohammed is his first prophet, and Schamyl his second!”
The total population of the Caucasus does not exceed a million and a
half, and Schamyl’s rule does not extend over more than six hundred
thousand souls. The force under his command at any time, even taking
the Russian accounts, has never surpassed twenty thousand men.
In the last ten years the Russian army of the Caucasus has consisted
of more than one hundred and fifty thousand men, provided with every
appliance of modern warfare, flanked right and left by sea-coasts
commanded by their own cruisers, and directed by a government utterly
regardless of human life. Fevers and Caucasian bullets are said to
cost the Russians twenty thousand men yearly; and when the Czar
sends a political offender into the ranks of the recruits for the
Caucasus, he does not expect to see him again. The Russian ordnance
accounts for the year 1840, show an expenditure of 11,344 artillery
cartridges, and 1,206,575 musket cartridges!
The people of the Caucasus are said to have a legend that some day a
powerful Sultan will arise in the West, and finally deliver them from
the hands of the Muscovite padischah.
In 1839, the severest conflicts which had yet occurred between the
Caucasians and their enemies the Russians took place. General Grabbe,
an active officer, had succeeded to the command of the left flank of
the army of the Caucasus, and determining to strike a decisive blow,
concentrated a force of nine battalions, with seventeen pieces of
artillery, and marched to attack Akhulgo. The assault took place
on the 17th of August, when the Russians succeeded in obtaining
possession of the outworks of the fortress. For the ensuing four
days, Akhulgo was a scene of horror. In a succession of attacks,
the Russian soldiers displayed that ferocious bravery which they
evince whenever sufficient blood has been shed to wash the serf out
of their hearts--while the mountaineers, mad with rage and despair,
and hopeless of life, made their last aim the destruction of as many
as possible of the accursed Muscovites--the very women fighting like
tigresses. A Russian eye-witness says:
Shortly before the end of the fight, following Captain (now Colonel)
Schultz, the boldest among the brave, at the head of the remains of
my battalion, I climbed a steep ascent. The firing from above had
ceased; the wind dispersed the dense clouds of smoke which, like a
curtain, hung between us and the fortress, and over my head I saw
a number of Circassian women standing on a little flat platform in
the face of the rock. The closer and closer approach of our troops
showed them too surely their fate, but, determined not to fall
alive into our hands, they spent their last strength in destroying
their enemies. Surrounded by the smoke, which grew clearer as we
approached, they looked like avenging spirits born of the clouds, and
scattering fear and destruction from the mountain side. In the heat
of the fight, they had thrown off their upper garments, and their
long thick hair streamed in wild disorder over their half-bared necks
and bosoms. With superhuman exertion, four of these women contrived
to roll down a vast stone, which came thundering towards us, passing
within a few feet of me, and crushing several of my soldiers. I
saw a young woman who till then had been, with fixed eyes, a quiet
spectator of the bloody tragedy, suddenly grasp the little child that
clung to her garments; I saw her dash its head to pieces against a
projecting rock, and hurling it, with a wild shriek, down the abyss,
leap after it. Many of the other women followed her example.
Akhulgo was taken, but Schamyl was not to be found in it, dead or
alive. The Russian officers, however, had seen him, surrounded by
his Murids, in the thickest of the fight, and knew he must be there.
After awhile, intelligence was received that he and two or three of
his Murids were concealed in a cave excavated in a face of the cliff
overlooking the Koissu, permitting of access only by a ladder, which
they had drawn after them. A considerable body of men, horse and
foot, was immediately set to watch the mouth of the cave, whence,
on the first dark night, the guard observed a small raft of planks
being very carefully lowered by a rope into the Koissu; a Murid
followed, who, after appearing to look carefully in all directions,
made a signal; then followed another; and at last came a third in the
white garb of Schamyl. The raft was cut adrift, and the whole party
dashed down the stream of the Koissu. In an instant, the Russians,
who had carefully watched the whole proceedings, rushed upon them.
The infantry fired from the bank, and the Cossack cavalry waded and
swam their horses into the Koissu. The little crew of the raft, after
defending itself with tenacity, was soon cut and shot down; but when
the Russians examined their corpses, Schamyl was not there. While
every one’s attention had been drawn from the cave, he had lowered
himself by the rope, and swimming the Koissu, had plunged into the
forests of the opposite bank. The devotion of his Murids had saved
the life and the cause of the prophet. Fifteen hundred dead lay in
the ruins of Akhulgo, and six hundred prisoners, mostly wounded, were
taken by the Russians.
The taking of Akhulgo was the crisis of Schamyl’s fate. But an event
which seemed utterly to annihilate his party, in reality served
only to consolidate his power, and to render its foundation secure.
The fifteen hundred slain in Akhulgo were the seeds of so many
blood-feuds between the Russians and every tribe in the Caucasus--the
pledges of an unquenchable personal hatred on the part of the
mountaineers to the Muscovites, for ever. The wanton brutality of
the soldiers to the inhabitants, in their line of march, disgusted
even those tribes who would have been willing to remain friendly; and
all learned unmistakably what they had to expect from Russian rule.
On the other hand, the skill and courage shown by Schamyl and his
followers in the defence, and the severe losses which they inflicted
upon the invaders, appealed to the inmost sympathies of the gallant
Caucasians; while the escape of the Imam, the details of which he
carefully kept secret, appeared, for the third time, to be due to
nothing but the miraculous interference of Allah. Schamyl himself,
finding that no courage could resist the “Czar’s pistols,” as his
people called the field-pieces, learned to change his tactics, and
henceforward to confine himself to the guerilla warfare for which the
country seems made. His wonderful energy soon revived the spirit of
his people, and early in 1840, all Tchetchenia was in revolt again.
The storming of Akhulgo, is the last real advantage of which the
Russians have to boast. Schamyl, henceforward avoiding fortifications
in the European style, set up his head-quarters at Dargo. Here he
organized a scheme of government, which converted the whole of
Lesghistan and the greater part of Tchetchenia into a vast military
colony, and gave him the power of concentrating his forces upon
a given point with the utmost ease. His system has been to avoid
as much as possible coming into contact with the Russians in open
ground. If the Russians make an expedition against him, he never
opposes their entrance into the passes--no sign of life is, for the
first day or two, to be seen in the mountains; but as the gorges
narrow and the ground becomes more difficult, dropping shots from
invisible enemies pick off the Russian officers. By degrees the
dropping shots increase into a hot fire, and clouds of wild Lesghians
and Tschetchenians, agile and surefooted as goats, hover behind trees
and stones.
CHAPTER XI.
SINOPE.
Town of Sinope--Osman Pacha--The Mussulmans--The Black Sea
Squadron--Exploit of Captain Drummond--Sebastopol Harbor--Achmet
Pacha--Citate--The Battle--Turkey, as a Military Power--Christian
Population--War in Asia--England and France--Declaration of War
--Embarkation of Troops.
We have alluded to the affair of Sinope, but not in terms
sufficiently strong to stigmatize its atrocity. The fleet under the
command of Osman Pasha was not cruizing in the Black Sea with any
intention of provoking hostilities on the part of the Russians: its
sole mission was to keep up communication between Constantinople
and the army of Anatolia, the Turks, while thus engaged, relying
upon the good faith of the Czar, who had undertaken to act only upon
the defensive so long as the negotiations with the Western Powers
were pending. Nor had Osman Pacha any reason for suspecting that so
flagrant a breach of faith would be committed, although three Russian
men of war had been observed on the 27th November reconnoitring off
the post. Fatal, however, was this reliance on the honor of Nicholas;
for, on the 30th November, about mid-day, and under cover of a
dense fog, a Russian squadron, consisting of three three-deckers,
three two-deckers, two frigates, and three steamers, entered the
bay of Sinope, while several frigates and corvettes cruised at
some distance, for the purpose of cutting off all assistance from
Constantinople.
Sinope is a town of some little importance, about one hundred miles
from the Bosphorus, and nearly facing Sebastopol; its dockyards and
arsenal, covering a considerable extent of ground, were ill protected
by a few insignificant batteries.
Resistance on the part of the Turks was almost hopeless, as their
entire squadron mounted altogether only 406 guns, while the Russian
ships carried no less than 760, and those mostly of very heavy
calibre. As soon as he had entered the bay, the Russian admiral
brought his ships deliberately to an anchor, sending at the same
time an officer to demand the unconditional surrender of Osman
Pacha’s fleet. He scarcely awaited the delivery of this message,
but immediately opened fire on the enemy, whose force, if duly
estimated, was at least three times greater than his own. So unequal
was the contest, that it can only be regarded as a massacre: in three
hours and a half the Turkish squadron was annihilated. The courage
displayed by the Mussulmans in this affair cannot be too highly
lauded. Most of the captains were killed, or blown up with their
ships: out of 4,575 men composing their crews, 4,155 were killed
in the engagement, 120 were taken prisoners, and 300 were wantonly
slaughtered in the conflagration of the defenceless town,--a worthy
consummation to this disgraceful act of piracy, the details of which
aroused the universal execration of the world.
The Emperor, on the other hand, was unable to dissemble his delight,
and readily accepted this massacre as a glorious set-off against
the rout of his troops at Oltenitza. An officer, despatched with the
welcome intelligence by Prince Menschikoff to the Czar, appeared
in the august presence covered with mud, and so exhausted with
fatigue that he actually fell asleep while the Emperor was reading
the despatches. The Czar roused him with the announcement that “his
horses were ready to convey him to the south,” and that, from the
rank of captain, he had risen to that of lieutenant-colonel.
The news of the disaster occasioned great consternation at
Constantinople. The crews of the allied squadron began naturally
enough to inquire among themselves whether they had been summoned
to the Bosphorus to be passive spectators of deeds such as we have
detailed.
At six o’clock on the morning of the 3d January, 1854, the
Anglo-Gallic squadron entered the Black Sea.
The English squadron was composed of nineteen ships, carrying 1,030
guns. The French, fifteen ships and 962 guns. They were accompanied
by a few Turkish steamers, each carrying about 1000 troops, and a
large supply of ammunition and provisions for the army in Asia.
At this time the Russian force in the Black Sea was composed of six
ships each of 120 guns, eight of 80 guns, and eight each of 50 or
60 guns, also three steamers, fifteen corvettes, and a few smaller
vessels.
At this conjuncture the representatives of the great Western Powers
addressed a letter to the Governor of Sebastopol, announcing that
the Anglo-Gallic fleet had been ordered to the Black Sea to protect
the shores that fringe the Ottoman territory against any act of
aggression: they, moreover, expressed a diplomatic hope that his
Excellency would give such instructions to the Russian admirals as
would prevent a hostile collision.
This letter was deficient in one main essential, since it studiously
avoided announcing that the combined fleet was engaged in convoying
a Turkish squadron, laden with munitions of war, having, moreover,
undertaken to defend it against any attack.
There is something in this omission which might be characterized by
a stronger designation than excessive caution.
One copy of the epistle, however--such as it was--signed by General
Baraguay d’Hilliers, was intrusted to a French officer, commissioned
to deliver it to Prince Menschikoff in person. That officer embarked
on board H. M. S. _Retribution_, whose captain (Drummond), with
the copy bearing Lord Redcliffe’s signature, taking advantage of
a dense fog, and without any pilot, boldly steamed into the very
harbor of Sebastopol. Two shots were fired as a signal to bring
to, but they were disregarded; whereupon a Russian officer, in a
state of considerable excitement, hailed the frigate from a boat,
emphatically announcing that no vessel of war could be permitted
to enter the harbor, and that consequently the _Retribution_ must
forthwith retire. This requisition Captain Drummond refused to
comply with until the object of his mission had been accomplished.
He was then informed that the Governor was not in Sebastopol. The
commander of the _Retribution_ inquired for the deputy-governor,
to whom he delivered his despatches; and it is said that this
unfortunate officer was degraded to the ranks for permitting an
English man-of-war to make her way without opposition into a port so
jealously guarded.
While the parley between the English commander and the
deputy-governor was going on, the officers of the _Retribution_, by
the aid of cameras and pencils, took a series of sketches of the
works of Sebastopol, and thus made themselves masters of all the
information which the Russians had any interest in concealing.
On the 6th January, just as the allied fleets had taken possession of
the Black Sea in order to retain a “material guarantee” equivalent
to that of the Wallachian provinces, so unwarrantably seized by the
Czar, the army of Abdul Medjid on the Danube was preparing to prove
itself worthy of the important alliance he had just concluded.
His soldiers had shown well enough at Sinope that they knew how to
die: at Citate they satisfied Europe that they knew how to fight.
Though, for the most part, inexperienced levies, they were more than
a match for the veterans of the Czar, many of whom had for years past
been inured to hard fighting in the Caucasus, while many more had
seen something of warfare in the Hungarian campaign.
The Russians having determined to attack Kalafat, where Achmet Pacha
had resolved to establish himself in force, began to manœuvre so as
to reduce within the narrowest limits the Ottoman position: they
threw up also a considerable number of field-works, so as to command
almost every approach. Achmet Pacha felt that the moment had arrived
when it was incumbent upon him to act with vigor, if he did not wish
to break the spirit or lower the _morale_ of his men. Till the last
moment, however, he divulged his plans to no one; nor did he, till
the hour had arrived, intimate his intention of giving battle at
Citate, the nearest point to the enemy’s lines.
Citate is little more than a village, situate upon a gradual slope
commanding the surrounding plain, which is bounded by two ravines.
That on the eastern extremity is steep, abutting upon a lake, to the
rear of which is a long level tract, extending to the Danube. The
western gully is less abrupt, and inclines gradually towards a hill
behind the village. The main road to Kalafat lies in a north-westerly
direction between these ravines.
On a height above Citate, and to the left of the road, the Russians
had thrown up a redoubt, which subsequently had the effect of
preserving them from absolute destruction.
Achmet Pacha selected for this enterprise three regiments of cavalry,
thirteen battalions of infantry (altogether 11,000 men), and twenty
guns.
At sunset on the evening of the 5th January, the chosen band silently
quitted Kalafat, reaching the village of Maglovit at eight o’clock.
Some few found shelter in the deserted houses, but the greater part
bivouacked without fire and without shelter. The ground was covered
with half melted snow: the men were consequently compelled to keep on
foot till daybreak, when the bugle summoned them to proceed to the
scene of the impending action.
Two Turkish battalions were posted, with two guns, on the road, one
in the village of Maglovit, the other in that of Orenja, to keep
up the communication with Kalafat. A reserve of seven battalions
was stationed at the foot of the hill already alluded to, while the
other four battalions, with six guns (under the command of Ismail
Pacha, who led the attack), were posted somewhat in advance. The
day dawned fair, the air was clear and calm, and the sky cloudless.
Not a Russian sentry was visible, from the Turkish position, along
the whole valley of the Danube: from the unbroken silence it might
have been imagined that they had evacuated Citate. Six companies of
light infantry, headed by Teyfik Bey (the nephew of Omer Pacha), were
pushed forward _en tirailleurs_. They were on the point of occupying
the hill, when a heavy discharge of grape and canister plainly enough
revealed the presence of the enemy, as well as their intention of
disputing the position. A well-directed fire of musketry ensued, but
the Turkish sharpshooters, supported by four battalions of infantry
and a field battery, opened a murderous fire on the Russians, whose
artillery was miserably served in comparison with that of their
antagonists. They fought, however, with desperation; and as the
Turks advanced, carrying house after house at the bayonet’s point,
the Russians disputed every inch with all the frenzy of despair.
Quarter was neither asked nor given. Many of the Russian officers,
seeing their men give way, actually threw themselves on the swords of
the Mussulmans. The desperate struggle lasted more than four hours,
occasioning a heavy loss on both sides.
At noon every dwelling in the village had been captured, and the
Russians were retreating in tolerable order along the road; but they
there found themselves confronted by two fresh regiments of Turkish
cavalry, which had advanced unperceived along the ravine to the right
of the village. Thus situated, the Russians had no alternative but
to take shelter with their guns behind their redoubt. They thus
obtained a partial shelter from the Turkish cavalry. At this moment
Ismail Pacha, who had had two horses killed under him, and had been
badly wounded, yielded the command to Mustapha, and he, with two
battalions that had not yet been engaged, and with four field-pieces,
hastened to attack the redoubt, in conjunction with four additional
battalions, each flanked by five guns. In half an hour more the
destruction of the Russians would have been complete; but at this
moment the attention of the combatants was arrested by an occurrence
in another part of the plain.
As might have been expected, the intelligence of this engagement
had already reached the Russians quartered in the surrounding
villages, and reinforcements to the extent of 10,000 men and sixteen
guns, might be seen rapidly advancing in various directions upon
the Turkish reserve, which was well prepared to receive them. The
Russians were marching in the direction of Kalafat, so as to place
the Turks between two fires. The Mussulman generals, however, though
in a critical position, concerted measures well, and at the proper
moment, after having again displayed the superiority of their
artillery, led their gallant battalions against the enemy, who
speedily took to flight, strewing the ground with an immense quantity
of arms, accoutrements, and ammunition.
The Turks had now been eight hours under arms, besides having
bivouacked, in the depth of winter, without fire, on the muddy
ground; but they were still eager to attack the redoubt, where the
Russians remained literally penned in like sheep. Achmet Pacha,
however, sounded a retreat, which was executed in perfect order. The
Turks left 338 killed on this hard fought field, and carried away
700 wounded; while the Russian loss could not have been less than
1500 killed and 2000 wounded. At nightfall the redoubt was abandoned;
and the Russians, after burying their dead, completely evacuated
Citate, and all the other villages which had served them as advanced
posts.
We have been thus particular in the details of this action, because
it was, in fact, one of the most important of the campaign. The
Ottoman troops, elated with so decisive a victory over a detested
foe, were now only anxious to be led again to battle. On the
7th, Omer Pacha, who had hastened to the spot on hearing of the
achievement of this division of his army, gratified their wishes, and
on that and the three following days engagements took place, each
terminating in results favorable to the cause of the Sultan.
Turkey thus at once resumed her position as a military power, and
gave earnest, that when the ten or twelve millions, constituting her
Christian population, shall have accepted the offer of the Sultan
to bear arms like their Mahometan fellow-subjects, she will be in a
position to protect herself against any aggression. Time of course
must elapse before this takes place; but enough has been done to
prove that the protection of England and France need not be always
indispensable to the existence of the Turkish empire.
It is unnecessary for our present purpose to follow the hostile
armies on the Danube through all their operations. It will be
sufficient to observe, that after the various engagements in the
neighborhood of Kalafat, Omer Pacha resumed the plan on which he
had previously proceeded at Giurgevo and Oltenitza, the object of
which was to constrain the Russians to detach a portion of their army
in order to cover Bucharest. He had no desire to attempt any rash
enterprise, but prudently kept watch, so as to avail himself of any
favorable contingency; his character presenting a happy combination
of daring and prudence.
While the events we have related were proceeding, the war was
being carried on with vigor on the frontier of Asia: numerous
conflicts took place, attended with much slaughter, but not with any
very commensurate results. The most important battle was that of
Akhaltzik, claimed by the Russian General, Prince Andronikoff, as a
great victory. Like that of Sinope, it was celebrated at Petersburg
by a solemn _Te Deum_; “The most pious Czar,” in the words of the
Government organ, “thanking the Lord of lords for the success of the
Russian arms in the sacred combat for the orthodox faith.” (!)
The allied squadron in the Black Sea, after having escorted a
Turkish squadron freighted with supplies to Batoum, Trebizonde,
and Checkvetil, reconnoitred the Russian fleet in Sebastopol, and
returned to the Bosphorus.
England and France having announced to the world their intention
of affording to Turkey both moral and material support, but their
_moral_ aid having failed to avert the invasion of the Danubian
provinces, the massacre of Sinope, or the treachery of Austria,
masked as it was under the guise of friendship, it became incumbent
on the two Western Powers to abandon at once all further discussion,
and to appeal to the stern but inevitable arbitrament of the sword.
The Queen’s declaration of war appeared in the Gazette of the 28th
of March: on the preceding day, at Paris, the Minister of State read
to the Legislative corps a message from the Emperor, announcing
“that the last resolution of the Cabinet of St. Petersburg had
placed Russia in a state of war with respect to France--a war, the
responsibility of which belonged entirely to the Russian Government.”
Great now was the activity displayed at the naval port, and arsenals
of England and France. From Portsmouth and Southampton regiment after
regiment were embarked--ships were commissioned faster almost than
they could be got ready for sea--and additional reinforcements were
despatched in all haste to Sir Charles Napier’s magnificent Baltic
fleet, which sailed from Spithead on the 11th of March.
CHAPTER XII.
TREATY OF ALLIANCE.
The Five Articles of the Treaty--War on the Danube--General
Luders--The Pestilence--Decree of the Czar--Governor of Moscow
--Loss of the Frigate Tiger--Captain Gifford--Black Sea Fleet
--Duke of Cambridge--Arrival at Varna--Captain Hall--Admiral
Plumridge--General Bodisco--Silistria--The Siege--Mussa Pacha
--Evacuation of the Principalities by the Russians.
On the 12th of March, 1854, the treaty of alliance between England,
France, and the Porte, was signed by the representatives of those
powers.
The treaty consists of five articles. By the first, France and
England engage to support Turkey by force of arms until the
conclusion of a peace which shall secure independence of the Ottoman
empire, and the integrity of the rights of the Sultan. The two
protecting Powers undertake not to derive from the actual crisis,
or from the negotiations which may terminate it, any exclusive
advantage. By the second article the Porte, on its side, pledges
itself not to make peace under any circumstances without having
previously obtained the consent, and solicited the participation of
the two Powers, and also to employ all its resources to carry on
the war with vigor. In the third article the two Powers promise to
evacuate, immediately after the conclusion of the war, and on the
demand of the Porte, all the points of the empire which their troops
shall have occupied during the war. By the fourth article the treaty
remains open for the signature of the other Powers of Europe who
may wish to become parties to it; and the fifth and last article
guarantees to all the subjects of the Porte, without distinction of
religion, equality in the eye of the law, and admissibility into all
employments. To this treaty are attached, as integral parts of it,
several protocols. One relates to the institution of mixed tribunals
throughout the whole empire; a second is relative to an advance of
20,000,000fr. jointly by France and England; and a third relates to
the collection of the taxes and the suppression of the _haratch_ or
poll-tax, which, having been considered for a long time past by the
Turkish Government as only the purchase of exemption from military
service, leads, by its abolition, to the entrance of Christians into
the army.
The Russians continued to prosecute the war eagerly on the banks of
the Danube, but any temporary success was more than counterbalanced
by subsequent and more brilliant Turkish victories.
General Luders, at the head of 50,000 men, succeeded in crossing the
Danube, and in occupying the Dobrudscha in force. A fatal step! for
a frightful pestilence, arising from the marshes of this unhealthy
district, in a few weeks decimated his troops, and the survivors were
so debilitated by sickness and scanty fare, that they might have been
driven into the river almost without the power of resistance.
On the 5th of May the _Invalide Russe_ published the following
_veracious_ decree of the Emperor of Russia, addressed to General
Osten-Sacken:--
“On the day when the inhabitants of Odessa, united in their
orthodox temples, were celebrating the death of the Son of God,
crucified for the redemption of mankind, the allies of the
enemies of His holy name attempted a crime against that city of
peace and commerce, against that city where all Europe, in her
years of dearth, has always found open granaries. The fleets
of France and England bombarded for twelve hours our batteries
and the habitations of our peaceful citizens, as well as the
merchant shipping in the harbor. But our brave troops, led by
you in person, and penetrated by a profound faith in the supreme
Protector of justice, gloriously repelled the attack of the enemy
against the soil which, in apostolic times, relieved the saintly
precursor of the Christian religion in our holy country.
The heroic firmness and devotion of our troops, inspired by
your example, have been crowned with complete success, the city
has been saved from destruction, and the enemies’ fleets have
disappeared. As a worthy recompense for so brilliant an action,
we send you the order of St. Andrew.”
NICHOLAS.
_St. Petersburg, April 21 (May 3)._
The governor of Moscow had caused a _Te Deum_ to be sung in honor
of the victory (?) gained by the Russians at Odessa; the fact
being, that in consequence of the atrocious conduct of the military
authorities of Odessa, in firing upon an English flag of truce,
a division of English and French steam frigates appeared before
Odessa. On their arrival the greatest terror pervaded the city. The
wealthy hired all the post-horses to remove to the interior, and
the inhabitants sought refuge in the neighboring country; but the
English and French steamers having withdrawn, after taking a survey
of the roads, the alarm subsided, the population returned, and the
shops were reöpened. On the 21st of April, however, the appearance
of thirty-three sail on the horizon created still greater terror,
for it was evident that they were coming to avenge the insult above
alluded to, and which, even at Odessa, was the subject of universal
reprobation. The next day nothing could exceed the consternation,
everybody being in constant apprehension of a catastrophe. The fears
redoubled when, after a bombardment of eight hours, the gunpowder
magazine blew up, and the military stores were seen on fire. The
sight of wounded soldiers brought in from the batteries, and the
brutality of the governor and his forces towards the inhabitants,
were not calculated to allay their terror. This affair produced great
discouragement among the troops, and an excellent effect on the
population, who perceived that the Russian army was unable to protect
them; and that, if the city were not reduced to ashes, it was solely
owing to the generosity of the allied Powers.
The satisfaction derived from the severe punishment thus administered
to the Russians was more than counterbalanced by the total loss of
an English frigate (the _Tiger_) of 1275 tons, and carrying sixteen
guns. This sad disaster occurred near Odessa, on the 12th of May,
in consequence of her taking the ground while in chase of two small
Russian vessels. The wreck was attended with the death of her gallant
captain (Giffard) and a midshipman, and the loss of her crew of
226 men; for, being attacked while lying in an utterly defenceless
condition, they had no choice but to surrender.
A division of the Black Sea fleet, consisting of seventeen vessels,
continued to watch the harbor of Sebastopol; while the British
cruisers speedily captured every vessel that carried the Russian
flag. Another division, composed of nine steamers, was despatched to
the Circassian coast, to aid in the destruction of the Russian forts,
and to open a communication with Schamyl. Partly in consequence
of this movement, the Russians were compelled to evacuate all
their positions, from Batoum to Anapa, a distance of 200 leagues,
and burning most of their forts, they retired into Kutais. The
Circassians thereupon made a descent, and surprised and captured
15,000 prisoners in Sukkum-Kaleh.
On the 18th May, the _Charlemagne_, _Agamemnon_, _Mogador_,
_Highflyer_, and _Sampson_, bombarded Redout-Kaleh, sparing only the
Custom-house and Quarantine establishment. They then returned to
Chouroucksu, and landed 800 troops at Redout-Kaleh. These, supported
by 300 English and French, pursued the Russians, in number about
2000, who fell back on Kutais, which was speedily captured.
On the 1st June, Admirals Dundas and Hamelin declared all the mouths
of the Danube to be strictly blockaded, in order to cut off all
supplies from the Russian army in the Dobrudscha. Shortly after, the
English steam-frigates bombarded the forts at Sulina, and captured
the commander, with all his men and guns. A sad loss was experienced
by the British fleet, on this occasion, in the death of Captain Hyde
Parker, of the _Firebrand_, who, while proceeding on an exploring
expedition up the Danube, was fired upon from a stockade fort,
thought to have been abandoned. The gallant officer, landing with
his men to storm it, fell--shot through the heart by a rifle-ball.
While prize after prize continued to arrive, in rapid succession, at
Portsmouth and in the Thames, English troops, of all denominations,
were “mustering in hot haste” at Gallipoli, Scutari, and Varna; Lord
Raglan, as commander-in-chief, occupying in the first instance,
the palace so recently tenanted by the Russian Ambassador at
Constantinople.
On the 14th June, the Duke of Cambridge with his staff, the brigade
of Guards, and the Highland brigade (42nd, 79th, and 93d regiments),
arrived at Varna, where a numerous Anglo-French army was already
encamped. It is probable that the unexpected and retrograde movement
of the Russians upon the Pruth--intelligence of which reached the
allied generals about this time--occasioned a deviation from the plan
of operations originally contemplated, as it obviated the necessity
of any active co-operation with Omer Pacha’s army on the Danube.
An expedition upon a gigantic scale was, however, planned, its
destination being the Crimea and Sebastopol. It had been well, for
many reasons, that so long a period had not been passed in inactivity
at Varna, for sickness was making sad havoc among the officers and
in the ranks; and the regiments which left England only a few weeks
before in full health and vigor, now presented a pitiable contrast
to their former condition. The French had suffered still more; for,
besides the loss of _seven thousand_ men, during their brief but
ill-advised encampment in the Dobrudscha, they were burying, for many
weeks, more than 100 daily; and the effect of this visitation was
telling fearfully upon the spirits of the survivors.
Nor had the Baltic fleet, though in a much more temperate climate,
escaped the scourge of cholera. We may mention, as a curious fact,
that the sailing vessels experienced a happy immunity from the
pestilence.
The result of the Baltic operations may be given in a few words. The
fleet of the Czar, outnumbered by that of the allied powers, was
detained in captivity at Helsingfors and Kronstadt, declining alike
every offer of battle, and unable to stay the devastation that was
effected along the Finnish shore of the Bothnian Gulf. Scarcely a
Russian merchant vessel escaped the vigilance of the cruisers; and
the whole line of her coasts, up to the shoals of Kettle Island, were
shown to be at the mercy of the allies. In a national point of view,
there was not much to boast of in the achievements of so stupendous
a fleet. But there were individual acts of valor as bright as any
that adorn the pages of naval history. Prominent among these was the
exploit of the _Arrogant_ and _Hecla_.
While the _Arrogant_ was reconnoitring Hango Bay, she was joined
by the _Hecla_, six guns, commanded by Captain Hall, so well known
for his services in the Chinese war. Early on the morning of the
20th May, they came within range of a battery, against which the
_Hecla_ opened fire, which was quickly returned. The _Arrogant_
aided the _Hecla_, and dispersed the defenders of the fort, blowing
gun-carriages to fragments and dismounting the guns. The town of
Eckness was descried, and the ships having been joined by the
_Dauntless_, the _Arrogant_ ran up alongside of a bark, took her
in tow, and steamed away with her. The ships were studded with
Minié balls. The _Arrogant_ had one man shot through the heart, and
another, badly wounded, lived only till next day. The _Hecla_ lost
one man. Captain Hall landed with his marines, and hoisted an iron
gun into his boat, which he placed on board the _Hecla_. They joined
the fleet on the 21st. The commander-in-chief telegraphed, “Well
done, _Arrogant_ and _Hecla_.”
But these successes were followed by a reverse sufficient to cast a
shade upon their career of triumph.
Admiral Plumridge’s flying squadron of paddle steamers, consisting
of the _Leopard_, the _Vulture_, the _Odin_, and the _Valorous_, had
been up the Gulf of Finland, and had destroyed forty-five vessels,
of from 1200 tons to 100 tons, and £300,000 worth of tar, timber,
saltpetre, and tallow. On the 7th of June, the _Vulture_ and _Odin_
were sent to Gamla-Karleby (64.50 north), where they had to anchor
five miles from the town. Their boats were sent in under the command
of the first lieutenant (Mr. Charles Wise) of the _Vulture_, who was
surprised by a large force of regular troops, armed with rifles and
field guns, wholly concealed and protected by strong wood stores, so
that not a man was seen. The consequence was, a murderous onslaught.
The loss from the _Vulture_ was one man killed and one wounded, and
a paddle-box boat, with one master (Mr. Murphy), twenty-seven men,
and the boat’s 34-pounder carronade, “missing, captured, or sunk.”
The loss from the _Odin_ was three officers killed and three men. The
first-lieutenant, one midshipman, and fifteen men were wounded.
But the most important operation in this quarter was the attack, on
the 15th August, upon Bomarsund.
The disembarkation of the troops took place on the morning of the
8th August. The landing-place chosen was a bay about three miles
broad, to the south-west of the forts, and at a distance of 2500
yards from the western fort (called Fort Tzee). A Russian earthwork,
carrying six guns, had been placed on the eastern promontory of this
bay; but this battery was dismounted by the fire of the _Amphion_
and _Phlegethon_. Meantime, 11,000 men were landed in the space of
three hours and a half. The Russians made no attempt to oppose the
operation. The British and French marines, 600 of each flag, were
conveyed to the north of the forts, and landed behind them. The next
four days were employed in preparing for the attack. The positions
of the batteries were selected, sand-bags and gabions were prepared,
and the sailors brought up with great labor some long 32-pounders,
which were placed 800 yards from the round fort. On the 13th, the
fire of the French battery opened on Fort Tzee, and the bombardment
was sustained in the most brilliant manner for twenty-six hours. A
remarkable fact is, that this French battery consisted of only four
16-pounders and four mortars--a force quite inadequate to breach a
granite tower: three of the enemy’s guns were dismounted through the
embrasures, and the fire of the French rifles on these apertures was
so severe, that the Russians had difficulty in loading their guns,
and suffered most severely. Eventually this part of the work was
taken by the French chasseurs, on the morning of the 14th, by a _coup
de main_.
In the fort taken by the French, the Russian loss consisted of fifty
killed, twenty wounded, and thirty-five prisoners; on the side of
the French, Lieutenant Noulfe and two chasseurs were killed; 115
Russians were made prisoners. Hon. George Wrottesley, Lieutenant of
the Royal Engineers, was killed. Captain Ramsay, of Her Majesty’s
ship _Hogue_, was slightly wounded. One of the English marines was
also killed. Two screw guard-ships, the _Hogue_ and the _Edinburgh_,
and steamers, bombarded the forts for five hours, throwing their shot
with great effect from a distance of 3000 yards.
The large fortress did not surrender till the 16th. General Bodisco
and the Vice-Governor Turuhielm, with the whole garrison of 2000 men
(the _matériel_ and provisions), became prisoners of war, and were
sent on board the fleet.
The two forts taken were blown up. The main fortress was much
injured. The loss of the allies is put at 120 killed and wounded.
The Russian officials are reported to have taken to flight, pursued
by the peasantry. A proclamation was read in eleven parishes, by
order of General Baraguay d’Hilliers, freeing the Aland Islands
from Russian dominion, and placing them under the protection of the
Western Powers.
Our present sketch would be imperfect, did we refrain from alluding
to the memorable defence of Silistria, a most brilliant incident of
the war.
The town of Silistria is situate on low ground, and is surrounded
by a wall, and crowned with forts. In 1828 there was a height
which commanded the town, and which rendered its capture much less
difficult. The Turks, however, have taken the precaution to construct
on it a considerable fortress. As the Russians did not carry on the
siege in a regular manner, they required from 60,000 to 70,000 men
to invest it. The attack commenced on the 11th of May. As they held
a few small islands in the Danube, and, besides, as the side of the
town which looks to the river is the weakest, they succeeded in
establishing a bridge, by which they were enabled to throw on the
right bank of the river 24,000 men. All their efforts were directed
towards the fort Arab-tabia, which they unsuccessfully bombarded for
nineteen days. Mussa Pacha, commander-in-chief, made a _sortie_,
which completely succeeded, and in which the Russians had a great
number of men killed and wounded. The assault was attempted three
times, but the Russians were always repulsed with loss. The amount of
the killed is not accurately known.
During the attack made on Silistria, on the 29th, the Russians had
180 men killed and 380 wounded. Both parties displayed indescribable
animosity. Lieutenant-General Sylvan fell at the head of his troops.
Colonel Fostanda and Count Orloff, the son of the Adjutant-General of
the Emperor, were wounded. The latter was shot through the eye, and
subsequently died.
The Russian General of Infantry, Soltikoff, also died of his wounds;
and his aide-de-camp, who was wounded by his side, underwent the
amputation of his right arm.
On the evening of the 29th May, at six o’clock, a Russian division
made a still more vigorous assault upon the entrenchments.
Three storming parties of 10,000 men each were formed, with a
battalion of engineer-sappers, with fascines and scaling ladders,
at their head. Before the men set to work they were addressed by
Prince Paskiewitch, who urged them to exertion, “as, if they did
not succeed in taking the fortress, he should be obliged to keep
back their rations.” After this encouragement, two corps proceeded
towards the forts of Arab-tabia and Yelanli: the third corps was to
act as a reserve. After a terrific cannonade the storming parties
advanced, but were received by the Turks with such a well-directed
fire, that for a time they made but little progress. The Russians,
however, fought bravely, and having managed to scale the breastwork
of one of the batteries, a regular hand-to-hand fight took place. At
last the Turks were victorious, and the unfortunate besiegers were
knocked into the ditch with the butt-ends of the Turkish muskets.
The Russians had evidently lost courage, and, when they returned to
the attack, it was only because they were forced to do so by their
officers. When there was literally no more fight in the men, a
retreat was sounded, and the Russians carried off as many of their
dead and wounded as they could. The Turks, after their enemies had
retired, picked up 1500 dead bodies, a great number of guns, swords,
drums, musical instruments, and the colors of a battalion. Hussein
Bey, the commander of the two forts, displayed the most daring
courage, as did a Prussian and two English officers.
Three mines were sprung before Silistria, without doing any damage
to the walls. The Russian storming columns were prepared to mount
the expected breach, but were attacked on three sides by the Turks.
A fearful slaughter took place, and the Russians fled in terrible
disorder. Three Russian Generals, one of whom was General Schilders,
were severely wounded, and all the Russian siege works totally
destroyed.
The continued bombardment, besides demolishing every house in
Silistria, had reduced the fort of Arab-tabia to such a mere heap
of ruins, that it could not have held out for four-and-twenty hours
longer. Yet so discomfited were the enemy by their last repulse, that
on the following day they raised the siege and beat a precipitate
retreat. Mussa Pacha, the gallant defender, was unfortunately killed
by the fragment of a shell, almost the last that was fired against
the devoted town.
This reverse at Silistria, coupled with the adverse issue of
negotiations with Vienna, led to the evacuation of the Principalities
by the Russian forces, who shortly after hastily abandoned Bucharest,
and retreated, exhausted, dispirited, and demoralized, upon the
line of the Pruth, retaining, however, the strongholds of Matchin,
Isaktchi, and Tultcha.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE SEAT OF WAR IN THE CRIMEA.]
CHAPTER XIII.
CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.
The Crimea--The Fleet--Appearance in the Bay of Baltjik--Sail from
Varna--Land at Eupatoria--March Inland--Battle of the Alma--Lord
Raglan--Appearance of the Troops--Distance from Sebastopol--The
Morning of Battle--Advance to the River Alma--Russian Position
--The Zouaves--Storming the Heights--March to Sebastopol--Death
of Marshal St. Arnaud--General Canrobert.
Until the last twelvemonth opened a new page in history, it could
not have been anticipated that the battle-field of Europe would be
a little arid peninsula in the remotest corner of the Black Sea,
and that the armies of Britain, France, Turkey and Russia would be
concentrated in direct strife around a fortress, whose very name was
hardly known in this country before the present war broke out.
Connected with the barren steppes of the mainland of Southern
Russia only by the narrow strip of flat and sandy land, not five
miles across, which constitutes the Isthmus of Perekop, the Crimea
stretches out in a nearly northerly direction, in the form of a
diamond-shaped peninsula, about one-third the size of Ireland. At its
western point is Cape Tarkham; at its eastern, Kirtch and Kaffa, and
in the south, the bay, town, and fortress of Sebastopol.
At least one-third of the Crimea consists of vast waterless plains of
sandy soil, rising only a few feet above the level of the sea, and
in many places impregnated with salt; but all along the south-eastern
side of the peninsula, from Sebastopol to Kertch and Kaffa, there
extends a chain of limestone mountains. Beginning at Balaklava, nine
miles east of Sebastopol, precipices fringe all this north-eastern
coast; but at foot of these limestone precipices extends a narrow
strip of ground, seldom half a league in width, intervening between
the hills and the shore. It is in this picturesque and delightful
region that the Allied army established its base of operations. A
luxuriant vegetation descends to the water’s edge. Chesnut trees,
mulberries, almonds, laurels, olives, and cypresses grow along its
whole extent. Numbers of rivulets of the clearest water pour down
from the cliffs, which effectually keep off cold and stormy winds.
Thickly studded with villages, and adorned with the villas and
palaces of the richest Russian nobles, this tract offers a most
striking contrast to the remainder of the peninsula, or indeed to any
part of Russia.
The possession of the Crimea, and the construction of a maritime
fortress of the first order in the magnificent harbour of Akhtiar
(for such was the former name of Sebastopol) were prominent parts of
that vast scheme of policy, by which the genius of the Czar Peter,
and his successors, transformed Muscovy into the Russian Empire.
The ever-memorable expedition of the Allies, designed to wrench this
fortress and fleet from the possession of the Czar, set sail from
Varna in the first week of September, 1854. No naval expedition ever
before equalled it.
In the Bay of Baltjik, where the expedition first rendezvoused, the
sea was literally covered for a space of eight miles long with
splendid shipping. Thirty-seven sail of the line--ten English,
sixteen French, and eleven Turkish, about a hundred frigates and
lesser vessels of war, and nearly two hundred of the finest steam
and sailing transports in the world, lay at anchor, in one immense
semicircle, nine or ten deep. The great line of battle-ships, with
lights gleaming from every port, looked like illuminated towns
afloat; while the other vessels, with position-lights hoisted at
the main and fore, shed a light upon the sea, twinkling away until
lost in the distance. Each division of the army carried lights,
corresponding to the number of their division, and at night, when
every ship was lighted up, the scene was of the most extraordinary
and interesting description. Constantinople, during the feast of
Bairam, or the Feast of Lamps, described in Moore’s poems, would have
been a worthy illustration.
On the 4th September, 1854, six hundred vessels sailed from Varna,
bearing the combined army of 60,000 in the direction of Sebastopol:
at the same time intelligence was received by the commanders of a
signal victory obtained by Schamyl at Tiflis, over the Russians under
Prince Bebutoff. They lost on this occasion many men and horses,
seven guns, 3000 tents, all their ammunition, baggage, provisions,
and retreated in some disorder from Kutais and Kars to Tiflis.
On the 14th September, 58,000 men were landed at Eupatoria, about
forty-five miles N.W. of Sebastopol. They subsequently advanced some
distance inland without meeting with any opposition.
The place of debarkation had many advantages. It is a small town,
containing only 4,000 inhabitants, weakly defended by a garrison of
about 12,000 men, and in no condition to resist an invasion such as
this. The commanders had intended, in the first place, to have thrown
up entrenchments sufficiently strong to secure the place; but having
experienced no resistance, the troops marched at once towards their
destination. In this march they proceeded for about eleven miles,
along a slip of land, having on the left the salt lake Sasik, and the
sea on their right.
The country traversed is fertile, and well supplied with water by
three rivers, the Alma, the Katcha, and the Balbek. On the left, or
southern bank of the latter stream, the first obstacles encountered
were the outworks recently thrown up by the Russians, and an old
star fort. Having surmounted these, the Allies found themselves in
possession of the high ground commanding the rear of the defences on
the northern shore of the inlet, and they were scarcely adapted to
resist a strong attack.
As the Black Sea expedition was departing from Varna for the Crimea,
the Baltic fleet, or the greater part of it, received orders to “bear
up” for England.
THE BATTLE OF THE ALMA.
On the night of the 18th September, 1854, orders were given by Lord
Raglan that the troops should strike tents at daybreak. An advance
had been determined upon, and it was understood that the Russian
light cavalry had been sweeping the country of all supplies up to a
short distance of the outlying pickets.
At three o’clock next morning, the camp was roused by the reveille,
and all the 30,000 sleepers woke into active life. Of Turkish
infantry, 7,000, under Suleiman Pacha moved along by the sea side;
next came the divisions of Generals Bosquet, Canrobert, Forey, and
Prince Napoleon. The order of march of the English army was about
four miles to the right of their left wing, and as many behind them.
The right of the Allied forces was covered by the fleet, which
moved along with it in magnificent order, darkening the air with
innumerable columns of smoke, ready to shell the enemy should they
attack the right, and commanding the land for nearly two miles from
the shore.
The troops presented a splendid appearance. The effect of these grand
masses of soldiery descending the ridges of the hills, rank after
rank, with the sun playing over forests of glittering steel, can
never be forgotten by those who witnessed it. Onward the torrent of
war swept, wave after wave, huge stately billows of armed men; while
the rumbling of the artillery, and tramp of cavalry, accompanied
their progress. A halt took place about three o’clock, at a muddy
stream, of which the men drank with avidity. At this stage they
passed the Imperial post-house, twenty miles from Sebastopol.
Orders were given to halt and bivouac for the night, which was cold
and damp, but the men were in excellent spirits, looking forward
to the probability of an engagement with the enemy with perfect
confidence as to the result.
THE MORNING OF BATTLE.
On the morning of the 20th, ere daybreak, the whole force was under
arms. They were marshalled silently; no bugles or drums broke the
stillness; but the hum of thousands of voices rose loudly from
the ranks, and the watchfires lighted up the lines of the camp as
though it were a great town. When dawn broke it was discovered that
the Russians had retired from the heights. It was known that the
Russians had been busy fortifying the heights over the valley through
which runs the little river Alma, and that they had resolved to
try their strength with the allied army in a position giving them
vast advantages of ground, which they had used every means in their
power to improve to the utmost. The advance of the armies this great
day was a sight which must ever stand out like the landmark of the
spectator’s life. Early in the morning, the troops were ordered to
get in readiness, and at half-past six o’clock they were in motion.
It was a lovely day; the heat of the sun was tempered by a sea
breeze. The fleet was visible at a distance of four miles, covering
the ocean as it was seen between the hills, and steamers could be
seen as close to the shore as possible. The Generals, St. Arnaud,
Bosquet, and Forey, attended by their staff, rode along the lines,
with Lord Raglan and his Generals at second halt, and were received
with tremendous cheering.
The order in which the army advanced was in columns of brigades in
deploying distance; the left protected by a line of skirmishers of
cavalry and of horse artillery. The advantage of the formation was,
that the army, in case of a strong attack from cavalry and infantry
on the left or rear, could assume the form of a hollow square, with
the baggage in the centre. The great object was to gain the right of
the position, so that the attacking parties could be sheltered by the
vertical fire of the fleets. As soon as the position of the allies
could be accurately ascertained, the whole line, extending itself
across the champaign country for some five or six miles, advanced. At
the distance of two miles the English army halted to obtain a little
time to gather up the rear; and then the troops steadily advanced in
grand lines, like the waves of the ocean.
The French occupied the high road, nearest the beach, with the Turks;
and the English marched to the left. At about one o’clock in the
afternoon, the Light Division of the French army came in sight of the
village of Almatamak, and the British Light Division descried that of
Burliuk, both situated on the right bank of the river Alma.
At the place where the bulk of the British army crossed, the banks
of the Alma are generally at the right side, and vary from two and
three to six and eight feet in depth to the water; where the French
attacked, the banks are generally formed by the unvaried curve of
the river on the left hand side. A village is approached from the
north by a road winding through a plain nearly level till it comes
near to the village, where the ground dips, so that at the distance
of three hundred yards a man on horseback can hardly see the tops
of the nearer and more elevated houses, and can only ascertain the
position of the stream by the willows and verdure along its banks.
At the left or south side of the Alma the ground assumes a very
different character--smooth where the bank is deep, and greatly
elevated where the shelve of the bank occurs, it recedes for a few
yards at a moderate height above the stream, pierced here and there
by the course of the winter’s torrents, so as to form small ravines,
commanded, however, by the heights above. It was on these upper
heights, and to the sea, that the Russian army, forty-five thousand
strong, besides six or eight thousand cavalry, and at least a hundred
pieces of artillery, were posted. A remarkable ridge of mountain,
varying in height from 500 to 700 feet, runs along the course of the
Alma on the left or south side with the course of the stream, and
assuming the form of cliffs when close to the sea. At the top of
the ridges, between the gullies, the Russians had erected earthwork
batteries, mounted with 32lb. and 24lb. brass guns, supported by
numerous field pieces and howitzers. These guns enfiladed the tops of
the ravines parallel to them, or swept them to the base, while the
whole of the sides up which an enemy, unable to stand the direct fire
of the batteries, would be forced to ascend, were filled with masses
of skirmishers, armed with an excellent two-groove rifle, throwing
a large solid conical ball with force at 700 and 800 yards, as the
French learnt to their cost. The principal battery consisted of an
earthwork of the form of the two sides of a triangle, with the apex
pointed towards the bridge, and the sides covering both sides of the
stream, corresponding with the bend of the river below it, at the
distance of 1000 yards; while, with a fair elevation, the 32-pounders
threw, very often, beyond the houses of the village to the distance
of 1400 and 1500 yards. This was constructed on the brow of a hill
about 600 feet above the river, but the hill rose behind it for
another 50 feet before it dipped away towards the road. The ascent of
this hill was enfiladed by the fire of three batteries of earthwork
on the right, and by another on the left, and these batteries were
equally capable of covering the village, the stream, and the slopes
which led up the hill to their position. In the first battery were
thirteen 32-pounder brass guns of exquisite workmanship, which only
told too well. In the other batteries were some twenty-five guns in
all.
The force of the British was about 26,000, that of the French about
23,000.
It had not escaped the observation of the Allied Commanders that the
Russian General had relied so confidently on the natural strength
of his position towards the sea where the cliff rose steep and high
above the gardens of an adjacent village, that he had neglected to
defend this part of his works by masses of troops or by heavy guns.
These military defences were, on the contrary, accumulated on his
right and centre. The plan of the battle was therefore formed so as
to enable the French, and a Turkish division, in the first instance,
to turn the Russian left, and gain the plateau; and, as soon as this
operation was accomplished, so as to occupy a portion of the Russian
army, the British troops and the French Third Division were to attack
the key of the position on the right of the enemy, while the French
completed his defeat on the upper ground.
[Illustration: ZOUAVE.]
General Bosquet’s division crossed the river Alma near the mouth
about 11 30; the Turkish battalions crossing at the same time close
to the bar, and within musket-range of the beach. This movement
was unopposed; and, although a crowd of French skirmishers and
light-infantry crossed the gardens and brushwood below the hill,
which might easily have been defended, not a shot was fired on them,
and not a gun seemed to bear on the line of march they followed. It
was afterwards ascertained from the Russian prisoners, that Prince
Menschikoff had left this line unguarded, because he regarded it as
absolutely impassable even for goats. He did not know the Zouaves.
With inconceivable rapidity and agility they swarmed up the cliff,
and it was not till they formed on the height, and deployed from
behind a mound there, that the Russian batteries opened upon them.
The fire was returned with great spirit, and a smart action ensued,
during which General Bosquet’s division was engaged for some time
almost alone, until General Canrobert came to his support. The
Turkish division, which presented a very martial appearance, and was
eager to fight, formed part of the army under the command of Marshal
St. Arnaud; and some regret was felt by these brave troops that they
had no active part assigned to them in the struggle.
While the French troops were scaling the heights, the French steamers
ran in as close as they could to the bluff of the shore at the south
side of the Alma, and commenced shelling the Russians in splendid
style; the shells bursting over the enemy’s squares and batteries,
and finally driving them from their position on the right, within
3000 yards of the sea. The Russians answered the ships from the
heights, but without effect.
At 1 50 our line of skirmishers got within range of the battery on
the hill, and immediately the Russians opened fire at 1200 yards,
with effect, the shot ploughing through open lines of the Riflemen,
and falling into the advancing columns behind. Shortly ere this time,
dense volumes of smoke rose from the river, and drifted along to
the eastward, interfering with the view of the enemy on the left.
The Russians had set the village on fire. It was a fair exercise of
military skill--was well executed--took place at the right time, and
succeeded in occasioning a good deal of annoyance. It is said the
Russians had taken the range of all the principal points in their
front, and placed twigs and sticks to mark them. In this they were
assisted by the post sign-boards on the road. The Russians opened
a furious fire on the whole English line. The round shot whizzed
in every direction, dashing up the dirt and sand into the faces
of the staff of Lord Raglan. Still he waited patiently for the
development of the French attack. At length, an Aide-de-Camp came
to him and reported the French had crossed the Alma, but they had
not established themselves sufficiently to justify an attack. The
infantry were, therefore, ordered to lie down, and the army for a
short time was quite passive, only that the artillery poured forth
an unceasing fire of shell, rockets, and round shot, which ploughed
through the Russians, and caused them great loss. They did not waver,
however, and replied to the artillery manfully, their shot falling
among the men as they lay, and carrying off legs and arms at every
round.
CROSSING THE ALMA.
Lord Raglan at last became weary of this inactivity, and gave
orders for the whole line to advance. Up rose these serried
masses, and--passing through a fearful shower of round, case-shot
and shell--they dashed into the Alma and “floundered” through its
waters, which were literally torn into foam by the deadly hail. At
the other side of the river were a number of vineyards, occupied by
Russian riflemen. Three of the staff were here shot down; but, led
by Lord Raglan in person, they advanced, cheering on the men. And
now came the turning point of the battle, in which Lord Raglan, by
his sagacity, probably secured the victory at a smaller sacrifice
than would have been otherwise the case. He dashed over the bridge,
followed by his staff. From the road over it, under the Russian
guns, he saw the state of the action. The British line, which he
had ordered to advance, was struggling through the river and up the
heights in masses, firm indeed, but mowed down by the murderous
fire of the batteries; and by grape, round shot, shell, canister,
case-shot, and musketry, from some of the guns in the central
battery, and from an immense and compact mass of Russian infantry.
Then commenced one of the most bloody and determined struggles in
the annals of war. The 2nd Division, led by Sir de Lacy Evans in
the most dashing manner, crossed the stream on the right. Brigadier
Pennefather (who was in the thickest of the fight, cheering on his
men), again and again was checked, but never drew back in his onward
progress, which was marked by a fierce roll of Minié musketry; and
Brigadier Adams bravely charged up the hill, and aided him in the
battle. Sir George Brown, conspicuous on a grey horse, rode in front
of his Light Division, urging them with voice and gesture. Gallant
fellows! they were worthy of such a gallant chief. Down went Sir
George in a cloud of dust in front of the battery. He was soon up,
and led them on again; but in the shock produced by the fall of their
chief, the gallant regiment suffered terribly while paralysed for
a moment. Meantime, the Guards on the right of the Light Division,
and the brigade of Highlanders, were storming the heights on the
left. Suddenly a tornado of round and grape rushed through from the
terrible battery, and a roar of musketry from behind it thinned their
front ranks by dozens. It was evident that the troops were just able
to contend against the Russians, favored as they were by a great
position. At this very time an immense mass of Russian infantry
were seen moving down towards the battery. They halted. It was the
crisis of the day. Sharp, angular, and solid, they looked as if they
were cut out of the solid rock. Lord Raglan saw the difficulties of
the situation. He asked if it would be possible to get a couple of
guns to bear on these masses. The reply was “Yes;” and an artillery
officer brought up two guns to fire on the Russian squares. The first
shot missed, but the next, and the next, and the next, cut through
the ranks so cleanly, and so keenly, that a clear lane could be seen
for a moment through the square. After a few rounds the columns of
the square became broken, wavered to and fro, broke, and fled over
the brow of the hill, leaving behind them six or seven distinct
lines of dead, lying as close as possible to each other, marking the
passage of the fatal messengers. This act relieved the infantry of
a deadly incubus, and they continued their magnificent and fearful
progress up the hill. “Highlanders,” said Sir C. Campbell, ere
they came to the charge, “don’t pull a trigger till you’re within
a yard of the Russians!” They charged, and well they obeyed their
chieftain’s wish; Sir Colin had his horse shot under him; but he was
up immediately, and at the head of his men. But the Guards pressed on
abreast, and claimed, with the 33rd, the honor of capturing a cannon.
The Second and Light Division crowned the heights. The French turned
the guns on the hill against the flying masses, which the cavalry
in vain tried to cover. A few faint struggles from the scattered
infantry, a few rounds of cannon and musketry, and the enemy fled to
the South-east, leaving three Generals, three guns, 700 prisoners,
and 4000 killed and wounded, behind them.
The loss on the part of the British was 2000 killed, wounded, and
missing; that of the French, about 1400.
On the night after the battle the allied army bivouacked on the
summit of the heights which they had so gloriously won; the French
Marshal pitching his tent on the very spot occupied by that of Prince
Menschikoff the morning before.
THE MARCH TO SEBASTOPOL.
On the 23d the Allied armies left the Alma and proceeded to cross
the Katcha; on the 24th they crossed the Belbec, where it had been
intended to effect the landing of the siege _matériel_ with a
view to an attack on the north side of Sebastopol. It was found,
however, that the enemy had placed a fortified work so as to prevent
the vessels and transports from approaching this river; and it was
determined to advance at once by a flank march round the east of
Sebastopol, to cross the valley of the Tchernaya, and seize Balaklava
as the future basis of operations against the south side of the
harbor at Sebastopol.
On leaving the high road from the Belbec to Sebastopol, the army had
to traverse a dense wood, in which there was but one road that led
in the direction necessary to take. The march was toilsome, and the
troops suffered much from want of water. At length, about mid-day,
Lord Raglan and his staff, preceding the light division, arrived at
the outskirts of the wood, in the neighbourhood of a place known as
Mackenzie’s Farm, and, no doubt to the surprise of both parties,
found himself on the flank of a Russian division retreating from
Sebastopol to Bakshi-serai. The Russians only thought of making
good their retreat, and before any of the British cavalry and horse
artillery could be brought up, they had passed by the critical spot.
A few men fell on the side of the Russians, and some were taken
prisoners. A vast quantity of ammunition and much valuable baggage,
fell into the hands of the British.
After resting for awhile at Mackenzie’s Farm, where two wells
afforded a scanty supply of water to the thirsty troops, the march
was resumed down a steep and difficult defile, leading to the valley
of the Tchernaya river, which they succeeded in reaching the same
night.
Next morning (the 26th) the army was again on the march, and a few
miles more sufficed to bring them to the end of their journey.
The enemy did not hold Balaklava in any strength. After a few shots
the little garrison surrendered, and as Sir E. Lyon’s ship, the
Agamemnon, reached the mouth of the harbour at the very time that the
troops appeared on the heights, the British army was once more in
full communication with the fleet.
The march of the French army, which followed in the track of the
British, was still more prolonged and fatiguing. They did not reach
the Tchernaya river until the 26th, having passed the previous night
at Mackenzie’s Farm. It was on this day that the French marshal, at
length succumbing to his fatal malady, issued his last order of the
day, in which he took leave formally of his troops, and resigned the
command into the hands of General Canrobert. “Soldiers!” said this
memorable and touching address, “Providence refuses to your chief the
satisfaction of continuing to lead you in the glorious path which
is open before you. Overcome by a cruel disease, with which he has
vainly struggled, he regards with profound grief, the imperious duty
which is imposed upon him by circumstances--that of resigning the
command, the weight of which a health for ever destroyed will no
longer permit him to bear.
“Soldiers! you will pity me, for the misfortune which falls on me is
immense, irreparable, and perhaps unexampled.”
Next day (the 27th) the marshal was seen entering Balaklava,
indulging, like every one around him, in eating some of the delicious
grapes which abound in the vineyards of this country.
It is the last note we have of him; his task was done; he could no
more lead his army, and he sank at once. He embarked on board ship on
the morning of the 29th, and in a few hours afterwards expired, in
the midst of the officers who accompanied him.
Thus closed the first part of the expedition.
GENERAL CANROBERT,
On assuming the command-in-chief of the French troops, addressed them
thus:--
“Soldiers of the Army of the East, my comrades.--The melancholy
circumstances under which has fallen upon me the high honor of being
your commander-in-chief, would increase the weight of that task, if
the co-operation of all were not assured to me in the name of the
country and of the Emperor. Penetrated as I am with the grandeur of
the historical mission which we accomplish on this distant land, you
will each of you bring to it, each within your sphere, and with the
most absolute devotedness, that active part which is indispensable to
enable me to bring it to a successful termination.
“A few days more of sufferings and of trials, and you will have
caused to fall at your feet the threatening bulwark of the vast
empire which only a little time ago braved Europe. The successes
which you have already gained are the guarantees for those which
await you; but do not forget that the intrepid Marshal who was our
General-in-Chief, prepared them by his perseverance in organizing the
great operation which we execute, and by the brilliant victory of the
Alma.”
[Illustration: GENERAL CANROBERT.]
There is often an epoch in the life of a man when every incident in
his career is invested with a novel and extensive interest, when
the present reflects a lustre on the past, and recollection gives
confidence to hope. So is it with the commander of the French army in
the Crimea.
Francis Canrobert was born in 1809, in the department of Lot, some
leagues from the village where Murat first saw the light. He entered
the school of St. Cyr in the month of November, 1826, and obtained
the highest honors in that establishment, after passing two years in
laborious study. On the first of October, 1828, he was appointed to
the sub-lieutenancy of the 47th regiment of the line, and was made
lieutenant on the 20th of June, 1832. In 1835 he embarked for Africa,
and arrived in the province of Oran, where the Emir, Abd-el-Kader,
had held the French troops for some time in check. Soon after his
arrival, he accompanied the expedition to Murcara, when he first
distinguished himself. He followed with his regiment the movements
of the generals Clausel, D’Arlanges, and Letang, in the province of
Oran. The capture of Tlemcen, the expeditions to Chelif and Mina, the
battles of Sidi, Yacoub, Tafua, and Sikkah, revealed his brilliant
military qualities, and gained him the rank of captain on the 26th
April, 1837. Captain Canrobert returned to France in 1839, with the
decoration of the Legion of Honor. In 1840 he was on duty at the
camp of St. Omer, when he composed, in obedience to the commands of
the Duke of Orleans, several chapters of a Manual for the use of
the light troops. In the month of October he was incorporated into
the sixth battalion of _Chasseurs-à-Pied_, and returned to Africa in
1841. In this new campaign he signalised himself on all occasions.
He had been an officer of the Legion of Honor for ten years, when
Colonel St. Arnaud, who in the year 1845 succeeded Colonel Cavaignac
in the government of Orleansville, made use of his services against
Bon Maga. He succeeded with two hundred and fifty bayonets in holding
his own against more than three thousand men, who could make no
impression on him; consequent upon these transactions followed his
appointment to a lieutenant-colonelcy on the 26th of October.
It was in 1848, however, that Colonel Canrobert displayed energies
beyond all praise. Cholera was raging in the garrison of Aumale,
but the events which were passing at Zaatcha summoned them before
the walls of this oasis. What courage and coolness did it require
in the commander of the Zouaves to lead his soldiers in this manner
through all the perils of an adventurous march; soldiers constantly
accompanied by the afflicting spectacle of misery. He, as it were,
multiplied himself. He exhorted the sick, devoted himself to them;
threw a reinforcement into the town of Bon Sada, the garrison of
which was blockaded; deceived the enemy, who opposed his passage, by
announcing that he brought pestilence with him, and that he should
communicate it to his assailants. On the 26th he led, with wondrous
intrepidity, one of the attacking columns--but of four officers
and sixteen soldiers who followed him to the breach, sixteen were
killed or wounded at his side. In recompense for his conduct he was
nominated Commander of the Legion of Honor on the 11th of December,
1849.
Having distinguished himself at the battle of Narah, he was elevated
to the rank of general of brigade on the 13th of January, 1852.
He came then to Paris, and took the command of a brigade of infantry,
and was attached as aide-de-camp to the Prince President of the
Republic.
On the 14th of January, 1853, he was appointed general of division,
still preserving his functions as aide-de-camp to the Emperor.
Three months afterwards he was called to the command of a division of
infantry at the camp of Helfaut; lastly, being placed at the head of
the first division of the army of the East, he has played one of the
most active parts since the commencement of the war, both in making
preparations for the difficult operation of the debarcation, and in
contributing greatly to the success at Alma, where he received a
wound.
It is well known that Marshal St. Arnaud, who had learned his value,
had absolute confidence in his talents and bravery, and it is certain
that the young general had neglected nothing to make him worthy of
this confidence. Before his departure he was known to be occupied at
the military depôt in profound studies, having for their object the
knowledge of the theatre of war, as if he had a presentiment of his
future destiny.
CHAPTER XIV.
SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL.
Bay of Balaklava--Landing of the Siege Guns--Russian Guns
--Sebastopol--Its Appearance--Military Harbor--Fortifications
--Vessels of War--The Country around Sebastopol--Allies opening
Trenches--Message of the Governor to Lord Raglan--Bombardment
--Lancaster Guns--Explosion in the French Batteries--Russian
Powder Magazine Explodes--The Allied Fleet--The Cannonade
--Riflemen--Battle of Balaklava--British and French Position
--The Combat--The Turks--The Highlanders--The Russian Cavalry
--Captain Nolan--Lord Cardigan.
Having swept the enemy from their path by the bloody triumph of Alma,
the next step of the Allies was to lay siege to Sebastopol.
The bay of Balaklava, which now became the principal base of their
operations, is a place admirably suited for the landing of stores
and _matériel_. As a port it is the most perfect of its size in the
world. The entrance is between perpendicular cliffs, rising eight
hundred feet high on either hand, and is only wide enough to allow
the passage of one ship at a time; but once in you find yourself in a
land-locked tideless haven, still as a mountain-tarn, three quarters
of a mile in length, by two hundred and fifty yards wide, and nowhere
less than six fathoms deep, so that every square foot of its surface
is available for ships of the greatest burden.
The bay of Balaklava was instantly adopted as the new base of
operations of the British army, and never before did its waters
mirror so many tall ships on their bosom. From fifty to a hundred
war-ships and transports were constantly at anchor, landing the
siege-guns, stores, and provisions of all kinds. The only access
to Balaklava from the land side is at the inner end of the bay,
through a breach in the surrounding hills, which gradually opens
out into an extensive valley, about three miles long by about two
broad; it was in this valley that the serious part of the combat of
the 25th October took place. Through this valley runs the road to
the Tchernaya and Mackenzie’s Farm, by which the Allies advanced to
Balaklava, and which on the other side of the Tchernaya enters deep
gorges in the mountains. On the side next the sea this valley is
bounded by a line of hills stretching from Balaklava to Inkerman, and
along the summit of which runs the road to Sebastopol. Another road
in the opposite direction conducts to the valley of Baider, the most
fertile district of the Crimea.
The port of Balaklava having been found barely large enough for
the landing of the British stores and guns, the French selected as
their base of operations the three deep bays lying between Cape
Chersonesus and Sebastopol bay. The country between Balaklava and
Sebastopol, upon which the Allied army encamped, is a barren hilly
steppe, destitute of water, and covered with no better herbage than
thistles. The French took up their position next the sea; the British
inland, next the Tchernaya. The front of the besieging force extended
in a continuous line from the mouth of the Tchernaya to the sea at
Strelitska bay, forming nearly a semicircle around Sebastopol, at a
distance of about two miles from the enemy’s works. This position was
found to be close enough, as the Russian guns were found to throw
shells to the distance of four thousand yards. A most unfortunate
delay took place in landing and bringing up the siege guns and stores
of the Allies; a delay which was improved to the utmost by the
Russians, who kept large bands of citizens, and even women, as well
as the garrison, at work in relays both night and day, in throwing up
a vast exterior line of earthen redoubts and entrenchments, and in
covering the front of their stone-works with earth.
The force disposable for the defence of Sebastopol was nearly equal
in number to the besieging army; and as, from the nature of its
position, the place could only be invested upon one side, supplies of
all kinds could be conveyed into the town, and the Russian generals
could either man the works with their whole forces, or direct
incessant attacks against the flank and rear of the allies.
Never did any army ever undertake so vast and perilous an enterprise
as that in which the allied commanders found themselves engaged.
For three weeks after leaving Old Fort, the British troops were
without tents, but on the 7th October the besieging army once more
got under canvas.
SEBASTOPOL.
Sebastopol is situated at the southern point of the Crimea, which
puts out into the Black Sea, and is distant
from Odessa 192 miles.
“ Varna 295 “
“ Constantinople 343 “
It is one of the most modern creations of the Czar, and stands, like
an advanced post, near to Cape Chersonese--its site, until 1786,
having been occupied by a few straggling huts. Catherine II., on her
accession, perceived its natural advantages as a naval port, the
first stone was laid in 1780, and from that period it has rapidly
increased in strength and importance. On doubling the Cape, bordered
with a vast chain of rocks and breakers, Sebastopol appears about six
and a half miles to the east--a remarkable picture, on account of its
white cliffs, and the amphitheatrical appearance of the town.
The port of Sebastopol consists of a bay running in a south-easterly
direction, about four miles long, and a mile wide at the entrance,
diminishing to 400 yards at the end, where the Tchernaya or Black
River empties itself. On the southern coast of this bay are the
commercial, military, and careening harbors, the quarantine harbor
being outside the entrance--all these taking a southerly direction,
and having deep water.
The military harbor is the largest, being about a mile and a half
long by 400 yards wide, and is completely land-locked on every side.
Here it is that the Black Sea fleet is moored in the winter--the
largest ships being able to lie with all their stores on board close
to the quays. The small harbor, which contains the naval arsenal
and docks, is on the eastern side of the military harbor, near the
entrance.
The port is defended to the south by six principal batteries and
fortresses, each mounting from 50 to 190 guns; and the north by four,
having from 18 to 120 pieces each; and besides these, there are many
smaller batteries.
The fortresses are built on the casemate principle, three of them
having three tiers of guns, and a fourth two tiers. Fort St.
Nicholas is the largest, and mounts about 190 guns. It is built of
white limestone; a fine, sound stone, which becomes hard, and is
very durable, the same material being used for all the other forts.
Between every two casemates are furnaces for heating shot red hot.
The calibre of the guns is eight inches, capable of throwing shells
or 68-pound solid shot.
Whether all the guns in the fortress are of the same size, it is
impossible to say; but the belief is, that most of the fortifications
of Sebastopol are heavily armed.
Sebastopol is admirably adapted by nature for a strong position
towards the sea, and has been fully taken advantage of to render it
one of the most formidably fortified places in that direction which
could be imagined.
In speaking of the means of defence at Sebastopol, we have left
the Russian fleet out of the question. This, however, is not to be
treated either with indifference or contempt.
There were in the military harbor of Sebastopol twelve line-of-battle
ships, eight frigates, and seven corvettes, comprising the Black Sea
fleet, independent of steamers.
The town of Sebastopol is situated on the point of land between
the commercial and military harbors, which rises gradually from
the water’s edge to an elevation of 200 feet, and contains 31,500
inhabitants. Including the military and marines, the residents
numbered 40,000.
It is more than a mile in length, and its greatest width is about
three-quarters of a mile--the streets entering the open steppe on the
south.
The streets are built in parallel lines from north to south, are
intersected by others from east and west, and the houses, being of
limestone, have a substantial appearance. The public buildings are
fine. The library erected by the Emperor, for the use of naval and
military officers, is of Grecian architecture, and is elegantly
fitted up internally. The books are principally confined to naval and
military subjects and the sciences connected with them, history, and
some light reading.
The club-house is handsome externally, and comfortable within; it
contains a large ball-room, which is its most striking feature, and
billiard-rooms, which appear to be the great centre of attraction;
but one looks in vain for reading-rooms, filled with newspapers and
journals.
There are many good churches, and a fine landing-place of stone from
the military harbor, approached on the side of the town, beneath
an architrave supported by high columns. It also boasts an Italian
opera-house.
The eastern side of the town is so steep that the mast-heads of the
ships cannot be seen until one gets close to them. Very beautiful
views are obtained from some parts of the place, and it is
altogether agreeably situated. A military band plays every Thursday
evening in the public gardens, at which time the fashionables
assemble in great numbers.
As Sebastopol is held exclusively as a military and naval position,
commerce does not exist; the only articles imported by sea being
those required for material of war, or as provisions for the
inhabitants and garrison.
On the eastern side of the military harbor, opposite to the town, is
a line of buildings consisting of barracks, some store-houses, and a
large naval hospital.
The country around Sebastopol sinks gradually down, in a succession
of ridges from the position occupied by the Allied army to the town;
but for nearly a third of a mile, immediately in front of the town,
the ground is quite flat, the ridges there having been long ago
levelled by the Russians in order to give no cover to an attacking
force. We have said that there is a circuit of five or six hundred
yards of level ground immediately around the town, and it was beyond
this radius that the Russians threw up their new works, erecting
strong redoubts on several elevated positions; the Allies had to
open their trenches at the distance of a mile from the body of the
place, although within one hundred and twenty yards of the Russian
batteries. The French were the first to break ground. At nine at
night, on the 9th, the trenches were opened by one thousand six
hundred workmen, divided into relief parties, and supported to defend
the works. A land wind, and an almost entire absence of moonlight,
favored the operations, and by break of day 1,014 yards in length
were completed, without interruption from the enemy, of sufficient
depth to cover the men.
Next night the British broke ground; but this time the garrison were
on the alert, and kept up a very heavy but ineffectual fire.
The British, who occupied much higher ground than the French, placed
their batteries with great skill. The raised mounds or beds of earth,
upon which the guns were placed, were erected precisely along the
crest of the various ridges on which the batteries were planted, and,
when finished, showed only the muzzle of the guns over the brow of
the ridge, so as to present little to the direct fire of the enemy.
The besiegers’ batteries were now drawing near completion; and the
governor of Sebastopol had sent a request to Lord Raglan, that he
would spare the inhabitants by not firing upon the civilian part of
the city, to which he replied, that he would grant a safe-conduct
to such of the inhabitants as were desirous of leaving, but would
promise nothing as to his mode of attack, save that the buildings
marked by the yellow flag should be respected as hospitals.
Every means was adopted to keep up the spirits of the garrison, and
balls even were given every other night.
THE BOMBARDMENT.
On the 17th of October the dreadful work began, and no one then
present will ever forget that memorable scene. The morning dawned
slowly; a thick fog hung over the town, and spread far up the
heights. Towards six o’clock the mist began to disperse, and the rich
clear October sun every instant made objects more and more visible.
In the Allied lines, all the artillerymen were at their pieces, and
as the iron muzzles of the guns became visible through the fog in
the now unmasked embrasures, a scattering and fast-increasing fire
was opened upon them from the Russian lines. Soon the Russian works,
crowded with grey figures, could be seen below, with, in rear, the
large handsome white houses and dockyards of Sebastopol itself.
Slowly, like the drawing back of a huge curtain, the mist moved off
seaward, a cool morning breeze sprang up, and the atmosphere became
clear and bright.
Around were the wide-extending lines of the besiegers, sloping down
from the elevated ridges held by the British to the low grounds
on the coast occupied by the French. Facing them below was the
continuous line of Russian intrenchments of earthwork, interspersed
with redoubts and stone towers, and loop-holed walls, with the
line-of-battle ships showing their heavy broadsides in the harbor;
and beyond all, the open sea, bearing on its bosom, like a dark belt,
the immense armada of the Allied fleet.
At half-past six, the preconcerted signal of three shells went up,
one after another, from a French battery, and the next instant the
whole Allied batteries opened simultaneously. On the side of the
British, seventy-three, and of the French, fifty-three, in all one
hundred and twenty-six guns, one-half of which were of the very
heaviest calibre, launched their thunders on the side of the Allies;
while upwards of two hundred replied in one deafening roar from the
Russian lines. Two long lines of belching flame and smoke appeared,
and through the space between hurtled a shower of shot and shell,
while the earth shook with the thunders of the deadly volleys.
Distinctly amidst the din could be heard the immense Lancaster guns,
which here, for the first time, gave evidence of their tremendous
powers. Their sharp report, heard among the other heavy guns, was
like the crack of a rifle among muskets. But the most singular thing
was the sound of their ball, which rushed through the air with the
noise and regular beat precisely like the passage of a rapid railway
train at close distance--a peculiarity which, at first, excited
shouts of laughter from the men, who nicknamed it the express-train.
The effect of the shot was terrific; from its deafening and peculiar
noise, the ball could be distinctly traced by the ear to the spot
where it struck, when stone or earth were seen to go down before it.
The first few minutes’ firing sufficed to show to each side, what
neither had as yet accurately known, the actual strength of its
opponents; and it now appeared, that even in the extent of the
earthwork batteries thrown up since the siege began, the Russians
immensely surpassed their besiegers. Besides their stone forts, and
a long line of intrenchments, guns of heavy calibre had been planted
on every ridge and height; and as fresh batteries were unmasked
one after another, often in places totally unexpected, the Allied
generals were completely taken by surprise at the magnitude of the
defences.
Opposite to the French lines, the main strength of the Russians
lay in the Flag-staff batteries, erected upon a hill commanding the
French works. They consisted of two tiers of intrenchments, each
mounting about twenty-five guns, the upper of which tier of cannon
was unknown to the besiegers until it opened fire; with several large
mortars placed on the summit of the hill. And on the extreme right of
the Russian lines was a ten-gun battery, most commandingly placed, so
as to enfilade the French lines.
In this quarter the Russians had not only a great advantage in
point of position, but also their guns outnumbered those of the
French, and it soon became evident that the French were fighting at
a disadvantage, and were dreadfully galled in flank by the ten-gun
battery.
Suddenly, a little after nine o’clock, there came a loud
explosion,--a dense cloud of smoke was seen hanging over one of the
French batteries, and the Russians were observed on the parapets
of their works cheering vigorously. The flank fire of the ten-gun
battery had blown up one of the French magazines, killing or wounding
about fifty men, and blowing the earthwork to atoms.
The British batteries were more successful. The principal works
opposed to them were on their right front, the Round fort, a Martello
tower, which had been faced up with earth. A battery of twenty heavy
guns was planted on the top of this tower, and exterior earthwork
intrenchments had been thrown up around it, mounted with artillery of
heavy calibre.
Next, nearly opposite the British centre, was the three-decker, the
Twelve Apostles, placed across the harbor creek; and facing their
left was the Redan redoubt, carrying about forty cannon, likewise
surrounded by intrenchments armed with numerous guns. On the British
side, the principal redoubts were, the Crown battery, of 27 guns,
in the centre, fronting the Twelve Apostles, and the Green-Mound
battery, opposite the Redan redoubt.
At half-past three, a red-hot shot from the Russian three-decker,
the Twelve Apostles, struck a powder wagon in the Crown battery,
which exploded, killing one or two men, but leaving the works of the
battery uninjured. The Russians cheered as before, imagining the same
injury had been done, as previously to the French.
But while they were still cheering, a shell from the Green Mound
battery lodged in the powder magazine of the Redan redoubt, and blew
it up with a tremendous explosion. A white livid flame suddenly
shot high into the air, followed by a report that made the very
earth tremble in the Allied lines, and the next minute its garrison
of hundreds, blown to atoms, were discovered strewing the ground
to a distance around. “In the midst of a dense volume of smoke
and sparks,” says an eye-witness, “which resembled a water-spout
ascending to the clouds, were visible to the naked eye, arms, legs,
trunks, and heads, of the Russian warriors, mingled with cannons,
wheels, and every object of military warfare, and, indeed, every
living thing it contained.” So powerful was the effect which this
explosion produced on the _morale_ of the besiegers, which had been
somewhat depressed by the misfortunes of the day, that the enthusiasm
displayed was almost of a frantic nature. Both the English and French
troops, as well as officers, doffed their caps, and threw them high
into the air, at the same time giving a shout which might have been
heard at Balaklava, a league off. The Russians, however, were nowise
daunted, and resumed their fire with undiminished energy.
* * * * *
While this terrific cannonade was going on by land, the Allied
fleets were seen bearing down upon the strong forts which defend the
mouth of the harbor. It had been arranged between the Admirals and
Generals, that as soon as the attention of the Russians had been
attracted to the landward attack, the fleets should move forward and
take part in a general assault. The French took the Quarantine fort,
and other works on the south side of the entrance to Sebastopol bay,
and the British took Fort Constantine and the works on the north side.
By half-past one o’clock, the action was fairly commenced, and
the conjoined roar from the guns of the fleet and in the forts,
echoed by the thunders of the rival batteries on shore, baffled the
imagination. Never before in the world’s history was such a cannonade
witnessed--even the tremendous cannonade of Leipsic and Trafalgar
fades into insignificance before so gigantic a strife. The fleets
advanced to the attack in two lines--the British from the north, the
French from the south.
Directly the vessels came within 2,000 yards, the forts opened fire,
which the Allies never attempted to reply to until they took up their
positions. The cannonade of the French was terrific and continuous;
enveloped in smoke, they kept up whole salvoes, which was terrific,
the smoke being lit up by the volleys of flashes, and the roar of
cannon continuous. The Turks followed the French in this, sometimes
in whole broadsides, again their fire running continuously along the
line. There was less of this with the English ships, whose style
of firing appeared less awful, but more business-like. The Russians
used red-hot shot, rockets, combustible shell, and bar-shot; and the
terrible effects of these soon made themselves apparent. The bar-shot
cut the masts, spars, and rigging to pieces, and the rockets and
red-hot shot raised conflagrations in many of the attacking vessels.
The allied vessels met with but little success, and towards night
stood out to sea, the Russians cheering vociferously, and redoubling
their fire.
Such were the incidents of this memorable opening day of the
bombardment.
On the 18th, the fleet did not renew the attack; and as the French
batteries were wholly silenced for the time, the enemy were enabled
to concentrate a terrific fire upon the British trenches. During the
previous day’s firing, the Russians had discovered the weak points
of their opponents, as well as their own, and before morning, had
erected, with sand-bags, batteries on new and commanding positions.
During the night of the 18th, the French worked incessantly, repaired
all their batteries, and again opened fire on the morning of the
19th. Still they were unfortunate. About eleven o’clock a shell from
the Russian ten-gun battery once more blew up one of their magazines,
killing most of the men in the battery, and dismounting most of the
guns; thus most of the French works were again silenced before two
o’clock.
The British lines kept up a hot fire throughout the whole day;
but though at times nearly one hundred shot and shell were thrown
per minute, little or no effect was produced upon the Russian
intrenchments. The enemy were provided with a perfectly inexhaustible
supply of all the material requisite for a desperate defence. The
instant a shot or shell struck their works the hole was filled
up with sand-bags; so that the besieged built up as fast as the
besiegers knocked down.
The French had repaired their injuries during the night, and resumed
their fire; but they were still terribly overmatched; and, for the
third time, one of their magazines was blown up, doing much damage.
During the following night the French not only repaired their works,
but in order to fire with more destructive effect, advanced one
strong battery about two hundred yards nearer the enemy. This new
advanced battery not only enabled them to maintain their ground, but
even to destroy and silence their inveterate assailant, the Russian
ten-gun battery.
During the 22d the cannonade from the French lines was incessant, and
told with great effect; but early in the day the British batteries
received orders to fire only once in eight minutes--occasioned by a
deficiency of ammunition. The Russians worked their guns with great
energy and precision, even under the hottest fire, standing to their
pieces as boldly as on the first day of the siege; and they continued
to repair each night the injury done to their works in the previous
day. The loss of the Allies up to this point of the siege was about
twelve hundred men.
One feature in the memorable siege was the great use made of riflemen
by the besieging force, and the extreme gallantry displayed by these
men when at work.
Every day parties of skirmishers went out from the Allied lines, and
lay under cover among the loose large stones about one thousand yards
in advance of the batteries, and within two hundred yards of the
Russian defences.
This compelled the enemy to send out parties to dislodge them, and
these, as they advanced for that purpose across the open ground,
became exposed to the fire both of the skirmishers and of the
trenches, and usually suffered severely.
On one occasion a private in the British lines who had fired his
last cartridge, was crouching along the ground to join the nearest
covering-party, when two Russians suddenly sprang from behind a rock,
and seizing him by the collar, dragged him off towards Sebastopol.
The Russian who escorted him on the left side held in his right
hand his own firelock, and in his left the captured Minié; with a
sudden spring the British soldier seized the Russian’s firelock,
shot its owner, clubbed his companion, and then, picking up his
own Minié, made off in safety to his own lines. Another of these
fellows resolved to do more work on his own account, got away from
his company, and crawled up close to a battery under shelter of a
bridge. There he lay on his back, and loaded, turning over to fire;
until, after killing eleven men, a party of Russians rushed out and
he took to his heels; but a volley fired after him levelled him with
the earth, and his body was subsequently picked up by his comrades
riddled with balls.
Probably 100,000 shot and shell a-day, exclusive of night-firing, was
the average amount of projectiles discharged by both parties in the
extraordinary siege.
The darkness of night was constantly interrupted by the bursting of
shell or rockets.
The passage of the shells through the air, thrown to an amazing
height from the mortars, appeared like that of meteors. To the eye,
the shell seems to rise and fall almost perpendicularly; sometimes
burning, as it turns on its axis, and the fuse disappears in the
rotation, with an interrupted pale light; sometimes with a steady
light, not unlike the calm luminosity of a planet. As it travels it
can be heard, amid the general stillness, uttering in the distance
its peculiar sound, like the cry of the curlew. The blue light in a
battery announces the starting of a rocket, which pursues its more
horizontal course, followed by a fiery train, and rushes through the
air with a loud whizzing noise that gives an idea of irresistible
energy. So went on, day and night, ceaselessly, this unparalleled
bombardment--a cataract of war, a Niagara of all dread sounds, whose
ceaseless booming was heard for long miles around. Ship after ship,
nearing the Crimean shores, heard from afar that dull, heavy sound,
and all eyes were strained to catch sight of the dread scene, of that
valley where the battle of Europe was being fought, where the cannon
were ever sounding, and “the fire was not quenched.”
BATTLE OF BALAKLAVA.
While the operations were being carried on around the walls of
Sebastopol, events of, if possible, still greater importance were
taking place a few miles off, upon the flanks and rear of the
investing force. In truth, the Allies were as much besieged as
besiegers. For about a fortnight after the affair at Mackenzie’s
Farm, on the 25th of September, nothing had been seen of the enemy,
who had retired towards Bakshi-serai to await reinforcements. It was
towards the end of the first week of October that the Russians began
to assume the offensive. The Allies at first seem to have regarded
their position as unassailable; but the enemy, thoroughly acquainted
with every foot of the country, and consequently able to advance in
the dark, soon showed them their mistake.
At daybreak on the 6th, the Russians made an advance in force, for
the purpose of reconnoitring, from the Tchernaya into the valley
or plain in rear of the heights occupied by the Allies; and, after
surprising, in the grey of the morning, a picket of the Fourth
Dragoons, drew off again, having accomplished their object. During
the following night, a most daring reconnoissance was made, by a
French officer and ten men, who, on their return to camp, reported
that they had gone as far as the river Belbec, and had only seen the
bivouac of the Russian troops who had made the reconnoissance the
preceding day. In order to check further surprises from this quarter,
parties of Zouaves and Foot Chasseurs were placed in ambuscade
as outposts; every evening at six o’clock four companies of them
concealing themselves in a ravine through which the Russians would
advance, and remaining there until daybreak next morning.
The enemy, however, forsaking the line of attack by the road from
Mackenzie’s Farm, now began to appear among the mountains directly
in rear of the Allied lines, and also close to Balaklava, advancing
by a road from Kansara, through the hills, which was at first
deemed by the Allied generals impracticable for artillery, and,
consequently, along which no serious attack was anticipated. One day,
however, a force of 2000 Russian cavalry, and 8000 infantry, with
nine or ten guns, made its appearance in this quarter, but withdrew
without showing fight.
As soon as it became evident that the principal attacks of the
Russian relieving army would be directed against Balaklava, means
were taken to put that place in a state of defence. One of the first,
was to turn out the Greek and Russian inhabitants. The little bay,
so narrow at its entrance that only one ship could get out at a
time, was crowded with upwards of a hundred transports, in which,
besides other stores, as well as in the buildings on shore, were
large magazines of gunpowder; and as it was reported that the Greek
population, besides acting as spies, had actually concerted to aid
the Russian attack by simultaneously setting fire to the town, Lord
Raglan ordered every one of them to be ejected from the place. At
the same time, a redoubt, armed with heavy guns and manned with 1200
marines from the fleet, was constructed upon the summit of a conical
hill, on the further side of the bay, about 1000 feet high, and
commanding the coast road approaching Balaklava from the east. Other
redoubts were so placed as to command the road from the Tchernaya,
and also from Kamara, through the mountains.
Balaklava does not fall within the natural line of defence for
besieging Sebastopol. It is held as a separate post, three miles in
advance of Sebastopol heights, which form the main position of the
besieging force.
The British occupied a convex line of heights, stretching from the
Tchernaya, near its mouth, to the sea-coast, midway between Cape
Chersonese and Balaklava. On the north-east is a valley or plain, not
level, but broken by little eminences, about three miles long by two
in width.
Towards the Tchernaya this valley is swallowed up in a mountain
gorge and deep ravines, above which rise tier after tier of desolate
whitish rocks. At its other extremity the valley in a similar manner
contracts into a gorge, through which the high road passes, leading
down to Balaklava.
On the crest of the Allied line of heights, overlooking this plain,
the French had constructed very formidable intrenchments, mounted
with a few guns and lined by Zouaves and artillerymen.
Intersecting the plains, about two miles and a half from Balaklava,
is a series of conical heights, the highest and farthest off of which
joins the mountain range on the opposite side of the valley, while
the nearest one was commanded by the French intrenchments. On these
eminences earth-work redoubts had been constructed, each mounted with
two or three pieces of heavy ship guns, and manned by 250 Turks.
At the end of the plain next Balaklava, and stationed at the mouth of
the gorge leading down to it, were the 93d Highlanders.
In the plain, about ten miles from Balaklava, were picketed the
cavalry, commanded in chief by the Earl of Lucan, consisting of the
Light Brigade, 607 strong, and the Heavy Brigade, mustering 1000
sabres.
Such was the position of the rearward forces of the Allies on the
morning of the 25th October, 1854, when the Russians, under General
Liprandi, starting from Kamara about five o’clock, advanced to
attack them. The cavalry pickets, riding in haste, soon brought
intelligence of the attack to the Allied head-quarters, and measures
were instantly taken to forward all the troops that could be spared
from before Sebastopol to the menaced point.
The Duke of Cambridge and Sir George Cathcart were ordered to advance
with the 1st and 4th divisions with all speed, while Bosquet’s French
division received similar orders from General Canrobert.
Soon after eight o’clock, Lord Raglan and his staff turned out, and
cantered towards the rear. The booming of artillery, the spattering
roll of musketry, were heard rising from the valley, drowning the
roar of the siege guns in front before Sebastopol. General Bosquet, a
stout, soldier-like looking man, followed with his staff and a small
escort of hussars at a gallop.
From their position on the summit of the heights, forming the rear
of the British position, and overlooking the plain of Balaklava,
the Allied generals beheld the aspect of the combat. Immediately
below, in the plain, the British cavalry, under Lord Lucan, were seen
rapidly forming into glittering masses, while the 93d Highlanders,
under Sir Colin Campbell, drew up in line in front of the gorge
leading to Balaklava.
The main body of the Russians was by this time visible about two
and a half miles off, advancing up the narrow valley leading from
the Yaeta pass. A mile in front of them were two batteries of light
artillery, playing vigorously on the Turkish redoubts, and escorted
by a cloud of mounted skirmishers, “wheeling and whirling like autumn
leaves before the wind;” following those were large, compact squares
of cavalry; and in rear of all came solid masses of infantry, with
twenty pieces of artillery in row before them. The enemy rapidly
advanced his cavalry and horse-artillery, so as to overpower the
detached corps of Turks before any troops could be moved forward
from the main body to support them. In this he perfectly succeeded,
and the second redoubt was abandoned, as the first had been--its
defenders being severely cut up in their flight by the Cossack horse.
They ran in scattered groups across towards the next redoubt, and
towards Balaklava, but the horse-hoof of the Cossack was too quick
for them, and sword and lance were busily plied among the retreating
herd. The yells of the pursuers and pursued were plainly audible.
As the lancers and light cavalry of the Russians advanced, they
gathered up their skirmishers with great speed, and in excellent
order; the shifting trails of men, which played all over the valley,
like moonlight on the water, contracted, gathered up, and the little
pelotons in a few moments became a solid column. Then up came their
guns, in rushed their gunners to the abandoned redoubts, and the
guns of the second redoubt soon played with deadly effect upon the
dispirited defenders of the third. Two or three shots in return
from the earthworks, and all is silent. The Turks swarm over the
earthworks, and run in confusion towards the town, firing their
muskets at the enemy as they run.
Again the solid column of cavalry opens like a fan, and resolves
itself into a long spray of skirmishers. It overlaps the flying
Turks, steel flashes in the air, and down goes the poor Moslem,
quivering on the plain, split through fez and musket-guard to the
chin and breast-belt. There is no support for them. The remnant of
the Turks, flying towards Balaklava, took refuge behind the ranks
of the 93d Highlanders, and were formed into line on the wings of
the regiment. The Russians by this time had turned the guns of the
captured redoubt against the Allied front, but with little effect,
as Sir Colin withdrew his Highlanders out of range, and the British
Cavalry were hid from view by an undulating swell of the plain.
Encouraged by this retiring movement, the whole mass of Russian
cavalry, about 4,000 strong, now came sweeping into the plain, with
the obvious intention of breaking through the Allied line before
reinforcements could arrive from before Sebastopol. This was the
crisis of the day, as the slightest reverse to the Allies in this
quarter would have been attended with serious consequences.
On came the foe in brilliant masses, pouring down at a canter into
the plain and on to the high road. Here one body of horse, 1,500
strong, rapidly wheeling to their left, charged down the road towards
Balaklava, against the single Highland regiment which there barred
the way, and which awaited their approach in a line two deep. At 800
yards the Turks, drawn up on the wings of the regiment, discharged
their muskets, and fled.
“Highlanders!” exclaimed Sir Colin Campbell, as he saw his men
wavering on being thus deserted, “if you don’t stand firm, not a man
of you will be left alive.” At 600 yards the regiment fired, but
with little effect, upon the Russian squadrons now advancing at a
gallop. The anxiety of the onlookers grew intense as they beheld that
immense body of charging cavalry within 150 yards of their Highland
line, when down again went the level line of Minié rifles, a steady
volley rang out, and the next instant the attacking squadrons were
seen wheeling off to the right and left in retreat.
Meanwhile the main body of the Russian cavalry swept on straight
across the plain, apparently with the design of carrying the
thinly-defended heights at a gallop. But a foe intervened of which
they did not make sufficient account. The instant they topped the
little eminence in front of the British cavalry, the trumpets of
the Heavy Brigade sounded the charge, and away went the brigade in
two lines, the Scots Greys and Enniskillens in front, led on by
Brigadier-General Scarlett. The Russians were likewise in two lines,
and more than twice as deep. The shock was terrific, but lasted only
for a moment. The handful of red-coats broke through the enemy,
scattering the first line right and left, and then charged the
second line, which came spurring up to the rescue. It was a fight of
heroes. The position of the Greys and Enniskilleners quickly became
one of imminent danger; for while cutting their way in splendid
style through their foes, the Russian first line rallied again,
and bore down upon their rear. God help them, they are lost! burst
from the Allied generals and on-lookers: when, like a thunder-bolt,
the 1st Royals and 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, forming the British
second line, broke with one terrible assault upon the foe, cutting
through the line of rallying Russians as if it were pasteboard, and
then, falling upon the flank of the Russian line, disordered by the
terrible assault, put it to utter rout. A cheer burst from every
lip, and, in the enthusiasm, officers and men on the heights took
off their caps and shouted with delight. The loss to the British in
this splendid charge was very trifling. All danger to the Allied
position was now past. The enemy had made their rush, and failed. The
British and French divisions, arriving from before Sebastopol, began
to take up a position in the plain, and the Russians drawing back and
concentrating their forces, relinquished all the captured redoubts
save one. The fight seemed over; when an unlucky mistake, the precise
origin of which is still shrouded in mystery, gave rise to a most
brilliant but disastrous feat of arms.
The British cavalry had been advanced to the edge of the plain next
the enemy, who were now slowly retiring up the narrow valley leading
to the Yaeta Pass, from which they had debouched in the morning. In
a gorge of this narrow valley, at about a mile and a half distant
from the British horse, a battery of nine heavy Russian guns was
posted, with infantry and a body of 2,000 cavalry in rear. Captain
Nolan, of the Light Brigade, one of the best swordsmen and cavalry
tacticians in the army, now came galloping up with an order from the
Commander-in-Chief to Lord Lucan to advance with the light cavalry,
and, if possible, prevent the enemy from carrying off the guns which
they had captured in the redoubts. The moment the Russians beheld
the squadrons advancing, they covered the slopes of the valley with
Minié riflemen, and quickly planted two batteries on the heights,
one on either side of the gorge. Formed in two lines, the British
light cavalry advanced rapidly into the valley of death--not a man
flinching, and Lord Cardigan leading on with a coolness and contempt
of danger that was magnificent. When they arrived at about 1,200
yards from the enemy, thirty Russian cannons simultaneously opened
fire upon them, knocking over men and horses in numbers, and wounded
or riderless steeds were seen flying over the field. Galloping on,
they advanced up the valley, through this terrific cross-fire,
towards the battery directly in front. The first line is broken, it
is joined by the second, they never halt or check their speed an
instant; with diminished ranks, thinned by those thirty guns, which
the Russians had laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of
flashing steel above their heads and with a cheer which was many a
noble fellow’s death-cry, they flew into the smoke of the batteries,
but ere they were lost from view the plain was strewed with their
bodies, and with the carcases of horses. Lord Cardigan was almost
unhorsed by a 32-pounder exploding within a foot of his charger, and
a shell bursting at his side, struck Captain Nolan in the breast, and
with an involuntary shriek, the gallant officer fell dead from his
saddle. The Russian gunners stood to their pieces till the dragoons
were within ten yards of them, and were sabred to a man. Without
drawing bridle, the British horse next charged the mass of cavalry
in front of them, routed it, and pursued it pell-mell. Whilst the
pursuit was at its height, suddenly the order was shouted “Wheel
about!” The enemy, instead of being broken by their own men flying,
formed up four deep in front of the charging horse, while a mass of
lancers descended into their rear. But, nothing daunted, the heroic
light horse, facing about, charged again through the gathering forces
of the enemy, repassed the guns, and closed in desperate contest with
the Russian lancers.
At this moment the Russian artillerymen, returning to the guns
behind, sent a deadly shower of grape into the fighting mass of
horsemen, indiscriminately at friend and foe. The charge lasted
barely half-an-hour, and but 198 out of 800 returned to the British
lines.
Whilst the batteries were firing upon the retiring cavalry, a body of
French chasseurs d’Afrique charged at the guns erected on the left
of the valley, and forced them to retire. After sabering amongst the
Russian skirmishers, the chasseurs retired.
This closed the operations of the day. The Russians withdrew their
forces from the heights, and did not carry out their menaced attack
on Balaklava.
The bombardment of the forts before Sebastopol continued without
cessation all day.
Elated by their success against the Turks, and the capture of the
guns of the redoubts, the Russians attempted a sortie from Sebastopol
on the following day, the 26th October, whose strength exceeded 9000
infantry, with a numerous artillery; but no sooner had they entered
within range of the Allies’ guns, which, eighteen in number, had
taken up their position, than the word, “fire,” was given, and a
volley of shell tore open the ranks of the Russians, and checked
their advance. The guns being reloaded, a second discharge, no less
severe in its execution, caused the enemy to wheel round and retire.
A few rockets, dexterously discharged, transferred this retreat into
a rout. Upwards of 200 Russians were killed, and a large quantity of
muskets and sabres taken.
After this unsuccessful _sortie_ of the Russians, the siege continued
without any incident of particular interest to November 5th.
CHAPTER XV.
SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL.
Lord Raglan--His Life--Battle of Inkerman--Morning of Battle
--Sons of Emperor Nicholas--The Attack--Troops Engaged--Fierce
Encounters--Sir George Cathcart--His Death--Russian Cruelty
--French Infantry--The Zouaves--Chasseurs--Russians Retire
--Renewed Attack--Repulsed by the French--Defeat--Sorties--Night
after Battle--Treaty with Austria of 2d Dec.--Negotiations for
Peace--The Four Points--Landing of Omer Pacha at Eupatoria--Death
of the Emperor Nicholas--Alexander II.--Fall of Sebastopol.
FIELD-MARSHAL LORD RAGLAN.
Lord Raglan, Commander-in-Chief of the English army, is a descendent
of the Somersets, the youngest son of the fifth Duke of Beaufort. He
was born in Sept. 1788, and christened Fitzroy James Henry Somerset.
He was a cornet in the 4th light dragoons at sixteen, and rose in
military rank, as the boyish sons of Dukes do rise, over the heads of
their seniors. He was a captain at twenty. He went with the troops
to Portugal, and fought in the first great battle--that of Talavera,
in which the French and English armies fairly and singly tried their
strength against each other.
Lord Fitzroy Somerset was then under one-and-twenty, and it was
not the first battle he had seen since he landed in the Peninsula.
He learned much of his military science within the lines of Torres
Vedras, and was severely wounded at the battle of Busaco.
[Illustration: LORD RAGLAN]
By this time, the young soldier had won the notice and strong
regard of Wellington, who had made him, first, his aide-de-camp,
and then his military secretary, a singular honor for a man under
two-and-twenty. The duties of his various functions kept him
diligently occupied during the whole of the Peninsular War. He was
present and active in every one of the great Peninsular battles,
and was, in the intervals, the medium of the Duke’s commands and
arrangements. The Duke’s avowed opinion was, that the successes of
that seven years’ war were due, next to himself, to his military
secretary. He became Major in 1811, and Lieutenant-Colonel the year
after. He returned to England after Bonaparte’s abdication, in 1814.
Lord Fitzroy Somerset married in the August of that year the second
daughter of Lord Mornington, and thus became the nephew, by marriage,
of the Duke of Wellington. None then dreamed what misfortune
awaited the young bridegroom within the first year of his marriage.
On Napoleon’s return from Elba, the Secretary went out with the
Commander-in-Chief, and as his aide, he was on the field during the
three days of June, which ended the war.
The Duke was wont to offer to bear the responsibility of an omission
in the Battle of Waterloo--the neglecting to break an entrance in the
back wall of the farmstead of La Haye Sainte, whereby the British
occupants might have been reinforced and supplied with ammunition. It
was the want of ammunition which gave the French temporary possession
of the place, and that temporary possession cost many lives, and Lord
Fitzroy Somerset his right arm.
He came home to his bride thus maimed before he was twenty-seven, but
with whatever compensation an abundance of honor could afford. For
nearly forty years afterwards it was supposed by himself and the
world, that his wars were ended, and he devoted himself to official
service at home.
He entered Parliament in 1818. He was always in request for
secretaryships at the Ordnance and to the Commander-in-Chief. He rose
in military rank at intervals, and became a Lieutenant-General in the
year 1838.
When the Duke of Wellington died, and Lord Hardinge was made
Commander-in-Chief, Lord Fitzroy Somerset became Master-General of
the Ordnance, and was raised to the peerage by the title of Baron
Raglan.
It presently appeared that his wars were not over. During the long
interval he had sent out his eldest son in the service of his
country, and lost him in the field at Ferozeshah in 1845. Nine years
after this bereavement, the father went out himself once more, and
this time in full command.
When war with Russia was determined on, with Lord Raglan dwelt the
traditions of the Iron Duke, and no one was so thoroughly versed in
the wisdom which had for seven long and hard years won the successes
of the Peninsular war. No one seemed so well to know the army and its
administration, and no one else so effectually combined the military
and practical official characters, a combination which, if always
necessary to make a good general, is most emphatically so in the
country which is the scene of the present war. To Turkey, therefore,
he went, and after the battles of Alma, Balaklava, and Inkerman, was
raised to the rank of Field-Marshal.
Public opinion is divided in this country as to his merits as a
general; but the sequel will show, should the war be continued,
whether he is capable of occupying the place inherited from
Wellington.
BATTLE OF INKERMAN.
On Sunday, the 5th of November, 1854, one of the most sanguinary
battles ever fought within the memory of man, took place on the
heights of Inkerman, under the walls of Sebastopol.
It is a difficult task, in a few lines of prose, to render justice to
a bravery which excels that sung by the blind and immortal bard of
Greece. We might devote page after page to individual feats of heroic
daring in this fearful struggle, when 8,000 British troops and 6,000
Frenchmen defeated an army of 60,000 Russians, who left more killed
and wounded upon the battle-field than the whole force the Allies
brought against them.
* * * * *
From the preceding pages, the position of the besieging forces is
already familiar to our readers. On referring to the map of the
Crimea, may be seen a road connecting Balaklava and Sebastopol. From
this road to the heights which crown the valley of the Tchernaya,
extended the British lines. These heights form a right angle nearly
opposite the ruins of Inkerman, and there run parallel with the river
from which the valley has derived its name. On the other side of the
Tchernaya rise a succession of hills above the ruins of Inkerman,
where the Russians had established themselves.
The night between the 4th and 5th November was passed without
apprehension by the allied troops. It had rained almost incessantly,
and the early morning gave no promise of any cessation of the heavy
showers which had fallen for the previous four-and-twenty hours.
Towards dawn a heavy fog settled down on the heights, and on the
valley of the Inkerman. The fog, and vapors of drifting rain were so
thick as morning broke, that one could scarcely see ten yards before
him.
At four o’clock the bells of the churches in Sebastopol were heard
ringing drearily through the cold night air; but the occurrence had
been so usual that it excited no particular attention.
No one suspected for a moment that enormous masses of Russians were
creeping up the rugged sides of the heights over the valley of
Inkerman, on the undefended flank of the Second Division. There all
was security and repose. Little did the slumbering troops in camp
imagine that a subtle and indefatigable enemy were bringing into
position an overwhelming artillery, ready to play upon their tents at
the first glimpse of daylight.
Yet such was the case. The arrival of the Grand Dukes Michael and
Nicholas, sons of the Emperor, with large reinforcements, determined
Prince Menschikoff to make the attempt to annihilate the besieging
forces, and raise the siege.
At daybreak (that is, at six o’clock), the alarm was given in the
British camp that the Russians had surprised the advanced picquets,
and were already in possession of all the heights commanding their
position. The whole army stood to arms without delay. Presently a
Russian battery appeared upon the crest of the height known as
Shell-hill, near Careening Bay, whilst columns of infantry were
descried already descending the hills, or marching up the ravines,
which faced the front of the British position. The most serious
attack of the Russians was, however, directed against the flank of
the British army, along the heights running parallel to the valley of
the Tchernaya.
The entire force which the British mustered to defend their vast
front and flank lines, was confined to the following. The remainder
of the army were in the trenches, prepared to oppose any attack upon
the siege batteries:
Guards, about 1,000
Second Division 2,500
Light Division 1,000
Fourth Division 2,200
Third Division 1,000
-----
7,700
The odds were therefore, frightful, and it was only three hours later
that General Bosquet opportunely arrived with his splendid division,
six thousand strong, the same which had fought at the Alma.
* * * * *
The Russians in the front had now advanced to within five hundred
yards of the encampment, and the action commenced. The musketry fire
was awful, and the enemy, who had now guns upon every favorable
position, hurled shell and round shot at the advancing lines.
The enemy’s columns continued to push forward, trying to overwhelm
the British regiments with their superior numbers. “And now (to quote
the words of an eye-witness of the battle) commenced the bloodiest
struggle ever witnessed since war cursed the earth. It has been
doubted by military historians if any enemy have ever stood a charge
with the bayonet, but here the bayonet was often the only weapon
employed in conflicts of the most obstinate and deadly character.
Not only did the English charge in vain, not only were desperate
encounters between masses of men maintained with the bayonet alone,
but they were obliged to resist bayonet to bayonet, with the Russian
infantry again and again, as they charged the British with incredible
fury and determination.”
The battle of Inkerman admits of no description. It was a series
of dreadful deeds of daring, of sanguinary hand-to-hand fights, of
despairing rallies, of desperate assaults, in glens and valleys, in
brushwood glades and remote dells, hidden from all human eyes, and
from which the conquerors, Russian or British, issued, only to engage
fresh foes.
It was essentially a struggle between pluck and confidence, against
fearful odds and obstinate courage.
No one, however placed, could have witnessed even a small portion of
the doings of this eventful day, for the vapors, fog, and drizzling
mist, obscured the ground where the struggle took place to such an
extent, as to render it impossible to see what was going on at the
distance of fifty yards. Besides this, the irregular nature of the
ground, the rapid fall of the hill towards Inkerman, where the
deadliest fight took place, would have prevented one, under the most
favorable circumstances, seeing more than a very insignificant and
detailed piece of the terrible work below.
* * * * *
It was six o’clock when all the Head-quarter camp was roused by roll
after roll of musketry on the right, and by the sharp report of
field-guns.
Lord Raglan was informed that the enemy were advancing in force,
and soon after seven o’clock he rode towards the scene of action,
followed by his staff, and accompanied by Sir John Burgoyne,
Brigadier General Strangways, and several aides-de-camp.
As they approached the volume of sound, the steady unceasing thunder
of gun, and rifle, and musket, told that the engagement was at its
height. The shell of the Russians, thrown with great precision, burst
so thickly among the troops that the noise resembled continuous
discharges of cannon, and the massive fragments inflicted death on
every side.
Colonel Gambier was at once ordered to get up two heavy guns
(eighteen pounders) on the rising ground, and to reply to a fire
which the light guns were utterly inadequate to meet. As he was
engaged in this duty he was severely wounded, and obliged to retire.
His place was taken by Lieutenant-Colonel Dickson, who, in directing
the fire of these two pieces, which had the most marked effect in
deciding the fate of the day, elicited the admiration of the army.
But long ere these guns had been brought up, there had been a great
slaughter of the enemy, and a heavy loss of the British. The
generals could not see where to go. They could not tell where the
enemy were--from what side they were coming, or where going. In
darkness, gloom, and rain, they led the lines through thick scrubby
bushes and thorny brakes, which broke the ranks, and irritated the
men, while every place was marked by a corpse or man wounded from an
enemy whose position was only indicated by the rattle of musketry,
and the rush of ball and shell.
Sir George Cathcart, seeing his men disordered by the fire of a
large column of Russian infantry, which was outflanking them, while
portions of the various regiments composing his division were
maintaining an unequal struggle with an overwhelming force, went down
into a ravine in which they were engaged to rally them. He rode at
their head encouraging them, and when a cry arose that the ammunition
was failing, he said coolly, “Have you not got your bayonets?” As he
led on his men, it was observed that another body of men had gained
the top of the hill behind them on the right, but it was impossible
to tell whether they were friends or foes. A deadly volley was poured
into the scattered British regiments. Sir George cheered them, and
led them back up the hill, but a flight of bullets passed where he
rode, and he fell from his horse close to the Russian columns. His
body was recovered mutilated with bayonet wounds.
When he fell, Colonel Seymour, who was with him, instantly
dismounted, and was endeavoring to raise the body, when he himself
received a ball which fractured his leg. He fell to the ground beside
his general, and a Russian officer and five or six men running
in, bayoneted him, and cut him to pieces as he lay helpless. The
Russians bayoneted the wounded in every part of the field, giving
no quarter, and apparently determined to exterminate the Allies, or
drive them into the sea.
The conflict on the right was equally uncertain and equally bloody.
To the extreme right a contest, the like of which, perhaps, never
took place before, was going on between the Guards and dense columns
of Russian infantry of five times their number. The Guards had
charged them and driven them back, when they perceived that the
Russians had outflanked them. They were out of ammunition, too, and
were uncertain whether there were friends or foes in the rear. They
had no support, no reserve, were fighting with the bayonet against
an enemy who stoutly contested every inch of ground, when the corps
of another Russian column appeared on their right far to their rear.
Then a fearful _mitraille_ was poured into them, and volleys of rifle
and musketry.
The Guards were broken; they had lost twelve officers dead on the
field; they had left one-half of their number dead on the ground; and
they retired along the lower road of the valley; but they were soon
reinforced, and speedily avenged their loss.
The French advance, about ten o’clock, turned the flank of the enemy.
[Illustration: ZOUAVE CHIEF.]
When the body of French infantry appeared on the right of the British
position, it was a joyful sight to the struggling regiments. The 3d
regiment of Zouaves, under the chiefs of battalion, supported in
the most striking manner the ancient reputation of that force. The
French artillery had already begun to play with deadly effect on
the right wing of the Russians, when three battalions of chasseurs
d’Orleans rushed by, the light of battle on their faces. They were
accompanied by a battalion of chasseurs Indigènes--the Arab Sepoys
of Algiers. Their trumpets sounded above the din of battle. Assailed
in front, broken in several places by the impetuosity of the charge,
renewed again and again, attacked by the French infantry on the
right, and by artillery all along the line, the Russians began to
retire, and at twelve o’clock they were driven pell-mell down the
hill towards the valley, where pursuit would have been madness, as
the roads were covered by their artillery. They left mounds of dead
behind them. At twelve o’clock the battle of Inkerman seemed to have
been won; but the day, which had cleared up for an hour previously,
again became obscured. Rain and fog set in; and as the Allies could
not pursue the Russians, who were retiring under the shelter of
their artillery, they had formed in front of the lines, and were
holding the battle-field so stoutly contested, when the enemy, taking
advantage of the Allies’ quietude, again advanced, while their guns
pushed forward and opened a tremendous fire.
General Canrobert, who never quitted Lord Raglan for much of the
early part of the day, at once directed the French to advance and
outflank the enemy. In his efforts he was most nobly seconded by
General Bosquet. General Canrobert was slightly wounded, and his
immediate attendants suffered severely.
The renewed assault was so admirably managed that the Russians
sullenly retired, still protected by their crushing artillery.
The loss sustained by the English army was 2,400 killed or wounded:
of the French, 1,726. The Russians, in killed, wounded, and
prisoners, 15,000.
THE NIGHT AFTER THE BATTLE.
An eye-witness thus describes the night after the battle:
“On the evening of the battle I went over the field. All the wounded
had been removed. There is nothing so awful as the spectacle of the
bodies of those who have been struck down by round shot or shell.
Some had their heads taken off by the neck, as with an axe; others,
their legs gone from their hips; others their arms; and others again,
who were hit in the chest or stomach, were literally as mashed as
if they had been crushed in a machine. Passing up to Sebastopol,
over heaps of Russian dead, I came to the spot where the Guards had
been compelled to retire from the defence of the wall above Inkerman
valley. Here the dead of the Allies were nearly as numerous as the
enemy’s. Beyond this the Russian Guardsmen and line regiments lay
as thick as leaves; intermixed with dead and wounded horses. The
path lay through thick brushwood, but it was slippery with blood,
and the brushwood was broken down and encumbered with the dead. The
scene from the battery was awful beyond description. I stood upon its
parapet at about nine at night, and felt my heart sink as I gazed
upon the scene of carnage around.
“The moon was at its full, and showed every object as if by the light
of day. Facing me was the valley of Inkerman, with the Tchernaya,
like a band of silver, flowing gracefully between the hills, which,
for varied and picturesque beauty, might vie with any part of the
world.
“Yet I shall never recall the memory of Inkerman valley with any but
feelings of horror; for round the spot from which I surveyed the
scene lay upwards of five thousand bodies.
“Some lay as if prepared for burial, and as though the hands of
relatives had arranged their mangled limbs; while others again were
in almost startling positions, half standing or kneeling, clutching
their weapons or drawing a cartridge.
“Many lay with both their hands extended towards the sky, as if to
avert a blow or utter a prayer; while others had a malignant scowl
of fear and hatred. The moonlight imparted an aspect of unnatural
paleness to their forms, and as the cold, damp wind swept round the
hills and waved the boughs above their upturned faces, the shadows
gave a horrible appearance of vitality; and it seemed as if the dead
were laughing, and about to rise. This was not the case on one spot,
but all over the bloody field.”
The whole of the 6th (the day after the battle) was devoted to the
sorry task of burying the dead. A council of war was held, presided
over by Lord Raglan, at which it was determined to winter in the
Crimea, and orders were issued accordingly.
Large reinforcements were demanded both by Lord Raglan and General
Canrobert, which, with considerable promptitude, have been despatched
by their respective governments, and many of them are already on the
spot.
In the period which has elapsed since the battle of Inkerman no
battle has been fought. The usual routine of siege operations has
gone on; sorties have taken place from the besieged city, both upon
the French and English lines, which have, in every instance, been
victoriously repulsed. But a more formidable enemy than the Czar of
all the Russias has taken the field against the Allies. Winter, with
his chilling aspect and freezing breath, accompanied by his suite of
sleet and storm, and hurricane and snow, has made his appearance more
terrible than for many a year past. At times all operations have been
suspended; the trenches filled with water, and many a shivering form
has laid itself down without even the comfort of a plank between it
and the dripping earth to dream of home and to die. The sufferings of
such are known only to Him who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.
On the 14th November, one of the fiercest storms known within the
memory of man burst over the Black Sea. Off Balaklava, where the
cliffs are steep and abrupt, eight transports became total wrecks,
and every soul on board but 30 perished.
A magnificent new steamer, the “Prince,” of 3,000 tons burden, having
arrived but a few days previously from England, and landed in safety
the 46th regiment, was obliged to anchor outside in consequence of
the crowded state of the harbor. The hurricane took her unawares,
and was so severe that her cables parted; the roaring surf tossed her
like an egg-shell upon the rocks, and the next instant nothing but a
wreathing mist could be seen hanging over the spot where her noble
timbers lay buried. Out of 150 souls on board, but six were saved.
Her cargo was invaluable at that particular time, and consisted of
a great portion of the winter clothing for the troops, including
40,000 suits of clothes, and large quantities of shot, shell, and
medical stores. Altogether, 18 British and 12 French ships were lost
at Balaklava.
Off the Katcha, five English and eight French ships were cast ashore.
At Eupatoria, the Henri IV., a French ship of the line, the French
war-steamer, Pluton, seven French and five English transports, and a
Turkish line-of-battle ship, were driven on shore.
During the confusion of the storm, an attack was made on the town of
Eupatoria by 4,000 Russian cavalry, with 14 pieces of artillery, but
was gallantly repulsed by the cannon and rockets of the garrison.
The continuance of unfavorable weather has rendered the camps almost
untenable, and the roads impassable. The British government, to
obviate the difficulty, have sent out all the materials necessary for
the construction of a railroad from Balaklava to Sebastopol heights,
with a sufficient number of navvies (or laborers) to complete the
same at an early day.
On the 2nd of December, a change took place in the views of the
Austrian cabinet, which was interpreted as favorable to the Western
Powers.
A treaty was signed at Vienna by the Earl of Westmoreland, the
Baron de Bourgueney, and Count Buol, as representatives of their
respective governments, of which the following are the principal
conditions:--The high contracting parties engage not to enter into
any engagement with Russia without deliberating in common. The
Emperor of Austria engages to defend the Principalities against any
attack by the Russians, and that nothing shall be done by his troops
to interfere with the free action of the Allies against the Russian
frontier. A commission, to consist of a plenipotentiary from each
government, with the addition of a Turkish commissioner, is to sit
at Vienna, to decide all questions arising out of the occupation. In
case of hostilities arising between Austria and Russia, an offensive
and defensive alliance is to be _de facto_ established between the
former and the Western Powers, and no suspension of hostilities will
be concluded without the agreement of all the three Powers.
The ratifications of this treaty were exchanged on the 14th.
The King of Prussia had played so vacillating a part that the
influence of that cabinet had ceased to be felt, and she was neither
consulted nor regarded.
Negotiations for peace have been set on foot, with some hope of
success, but as a basis for negotiation, Great Britain, France, and
Austria, unanimously determined to insist upon, and abide by, the
following four points:
_1st. The abolition of the Protectorate over the Danubian
Principalities, and the privileges of those provinces placed under
the collective guarantee of the contracting powers._
_2d. The free navigation of the mouths of the Danube secured
according to the principles established by the Congress of Vienna._
_3d. The revision of the Treaty of 13th July, 1841, in the interest
of the balance of power in Europe._
_4th. The abandonment, by Russia, of her claim to exercise an
official protectorate over the Christian subjects of the Porte
(to whatever rite they might belong) in consideration of the
Powers giving their mutual assistance to obtain from the Sultan
a confirmation and observance of the religious privileges of all
Christian communities._
A period of fourteen days was given Prince Gortschakoff in which to
communicate with his Imperial master.
In less than eight days, instead of the fourteen allowed him, the
Plenipotentiary of the Czar was instructed to negotiate a peace on
the minimum proposed.
No cessation of hostilities has taken place; no armistice will be
listened to, and the siege goes on. Enormous preparations have been
made both by the French and English, for continuing their operations
with increased vigor as soon as the weather will permit. Omer Pacha
has been ordered, with his army of forty thousand men, to proceed to
Eupatoria, where he has landed, and will be able to operate on the
rear of the Russians, while the British and French attack in front,
and if kept well supplied both with men and means, we may expect
something brilliant from his well-earned prowess and reputation.
Whether we are approaching the close of the war, or the beginning
of it, is a question which no human foresight can, at the present
moment, determine.
The question is one of deep importance to the world generally, for
war brings so many evils in its train, is so exhausting in blood
and treasure, interrupts the commercial transactions of nations so
painfully, and retards civilization so seriously, that we cannot but
hope that the year which thus commences with slaughter may close in
peace.
A winter campaign under the most favorable circumstances is rife with
suffering and death; but much can be done to mitigate these evils by
a system of thorough discipline on the part of those in command.
Every arrival, however, from the Crimea, brings tales of woe
and misery coupled with additional confirmation of the gross
mismanagement which has characterized the conduct of the British army
since its first arrival in the East. In battle, British officers
and soldiers have proved themselves heroes, yet in the organization
of the different departments, in everything which contributes to
the comfort and health both of officers and men, as well as in the
commissariat, they have proved themselves lamentably deficient.
In contrast with the admirable organization of the French army under
similar circumstances, it would seem difficult to account for the
comparative comfort in the one case, and the miserable lack of it in
the other; but upon a careful analysis of the two systems, the cause
becomes at once apparent. The French army is essentially a democratic
institution, in which promotion depends entirely upon individual
merit. Vigilance, activity, and energy is the price of position, and
with a possibility of attaining a higher rank, the common soldier
as well as the officer, has an incentive for extra exertion, and
something to hope for in the future.
But with the British it is quite the reverse. Once in the ranks the
soldier hopes for no higher position, because it is unattainable.
Their officers are selected, not on the ground of merit, but because
by chance born a “Somerset” or in the shadow of a title. By education
well fitted to shine at court, or amid the butterflies of fashion,
practical knowledge and business capacity are things of which they
have never dreamed, and which so savors of the plebeian that they are
led to believe themselves degraded by giving attention to details, or
in the exhibition of that energy which is the secret of success in
every calling.
While the execution of these minor details renders the French
comparatively comfortable on the heights of Sebastopol, the British,
for lack of them, are undergoing the horrors of the campaign of
Moscow.
With a superabundance of everything on board ship; with cargoes of
furs and warm clothing at Balaklava, the soldiers on half rations
are suffering famine, and in summer garments are shivering and dying
in the cold blasts of a Crimean winter. By the humanity of their
allies, some have been protected from freezing by donations of the
well known Algerine caban (heavy cloaks with hoods), from the French;
and the British army presents the strange and humiliating spectacle
of appearing in French habiliments and sacrificing its identity. If
the present disasters in the Crimea shall have the effect to cause a
breaking down of that Feudal system in England, which recognises one
man as entitled to all privileges, and his neighbor to none; which,
regardless of capacity, places _names_ rather than men in command
of armies, and in cabinets: if this change shall be effected, then
will more good have been accomplished than would result from the
subjugation of Russia and downfall of Sebastopol.
[Illustration: NICHOLAS, LATE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA.]
CHAPTER XVI.
SIEGE OF SEBASTOPOL.
Siege of Sebastopol continues--Sardinia joins the Western Alliance
--Battle of Eupatoria--Sudden death of Emperor Nicholas--His
love and pride for his Army--His last Words--Alexander II.
ascends the Throne--His Manifesto to his Subjects--A Sketch of
him--Recall of Prince Menschikoff from command in the Crimea
--His abilities and failings--His Successors--Gortschakoff’s
Military Career.
The conference at Vienna not having arrived at any definite terms of
adjustment for Peace, the siege of Sebastopol was continued, although
the severity of the weather would not admit of active operations from
the besiegers or the besieged; the Allies were busied in drawing
their lines closer to the walls, which provoked occasional sorties
from the Russians, of small detachments of troops, which were quickly
repulsed.
The King of Sardinia notified France and England of his decision to
join the Allied Powers, and placed at their disposal 10,000 troops,
with transports and munitions of war. On the 17th of February, 1855,
25,000 Russians, with 80 pieces of artillery, under orders from
Gen. Osten Sacken, commanded by Gen. Korff, attacked the town of
Eupatoria, on the east side. The combat lasted from half-past five
o’clock until ten o’clock in the morning; under cover of a heavy fire
from their artillery, the Russians made two or three attempts to
carry the town by storm, but they were vigorously repulsed, and after
a loss of 500 killed and 1300 wounded, retired towards Simpheropol.
The steamers at anchor in the roadstead contributed energetically
to the defence of the town, throwing shot and shells into the ranks
of the enemy. The Turks had 88 killed and 250 wounded. Selim Pasha,
General of the Egyptian Division, and Colonel Rustem Bey, were
killed. Eighteen French were killed or wounded on shipboard.
On the 2d of March, 1855, an event transpired which convulsed the
public mind throughout Europe and the world, causing the reflection
that all are in the immediate power of that Supreme Being who is King
of Kings and Emperors, and that he it is who holds the destinies
of nations in his hands. Emperor Nicholas of Russia, who had been
indisposed for some time from an attack of influenza, but had
neglected to take proper care, or to spare himself from his customary
fatiguing duties in the inspection of his troops, grew alarmingly
ill, and pulmonary apoplexy supervening, mortal aid was unavailing,
and at one o’clock on the morning of the 2d he breathed his last.
His last words were truly significant of the “ruling passion strong
in death,” _his love and devotedness to his army_--with whose
unwavering support, his towering ambition led him to believe, the
world might be conquered:--“I thank the glorious loyal Guards who,
in 1825, saved Russia; and I also thank the brave army and fleet;
I pray God to maintain, however, the courage and spirit by which
they have distinguished themselves under me. So long as this spirit
remains upheld, Russia’s tranquillity is secured both within and
without. Then woe to her enemies! I loved them as my own children,
and strove as much as I could to improve their condition. If I was
not entirely successful in that respect, it was from no want of
will, but because I was unable to devise anything better, or to do
more.” Nicholas was born on the 7th of July, 1796, having succeeded
his brother Alexander on the 1st Dec., 1825, was sixty years of age
at the time of his death, having spent one half of his life on the
throne.
[Illustration: ALEXANDER II., EMPEROR OF ALL THE RUSSIAS.]
A few hours after the death of the Czar Nicholas, his son, heir,
and successor, Alexander II., ascended the throne and the officers
of the imperial house took the oaths of allegiance. The new Emperor
in his manifesto to his subjects says--as his father devoted
himself incessantly for the welfare of his Empire, “so do we also
on ascending the throne of Russia, and of Poland and Finland,
inseparable from it, take a solemn oath before God to regard the
welfare of our Empire as our only object. May Providence, which has
selected us for so high a calling, be our guide and protector, that
we may maintain Russia on the highest standard of power and glory,
and in our person accomplish the incessant wishes and views of
Peter, of Catharine, of Alexander, and of our father. May the zeal
of our subjects assist us therein. We invoke and command the oath of
allegiance to us, and to the heir to the throne, our son Nicholas
Alexandrowitsch.” The new Sovereign of Russia is thirty-seven years
of age, his figure tall and commanding, his features fine, with
a Grecian profile, an expression of kindness, a step light and
gracefully noble. Previous to his accession, he held the posts of
Commander-in-Chief of the Corps de la Garde, and of the Grenadiers;
presided over the Military School, and was Curator-in-Chief of the
Military Hospital of Tchesmé, and holds the command of the Lancers,
the Carabiniers of Erivan, &c.
He was initiated, at an early age, into the affairs of the Empire
by the Emperor his father; he was present at all the councils; he
was invested with situations which gave him frequent opportunities
of rendering himself useful to the army, and pleasing to the youth
of the schools. Whenever the Emperor Nicholas quitted the capital,
he left the supreme direction of the Government to his son; in
short, he had taken the utmost pains to prepare him to become his
successor. The new Emperor is very popular in Russia--he is beloved
and esteemed by the people. He will not exercise the great authority
of his father, for he does not inherit either his hauteur or his
inflexibility. He will rather please, as the Emperor Alexander I.
did, by his mildness and his affability; and between the uncle and
the nephew there is a very great similarity of character in numerous
ways. The new Empress is also highly spoken of, and her elevated
judgment and her conciliating manners are much extolled. It is
thought she will exercise a salutary influence over the Emperor.
One of the last acts of the late Emperor of Russia was the
recalling of Prince Menschikoff from the command he has held in
the Crimea since the commencement of hostilities. He was chosen
by the late Emperor as one of the principal members of the old
Muscovite party in the state to proceed on the mission to the
Porte, which gave the signal of the contest. He performed the
mission with arrogance--unconciliating, and even uncouth in his
manners--unacquainted with the forms of diplomatic intercourse or the
political dangers he called into life--Prince Menschikoff succeeded
in nothing but in rousing the spirit of the Divan to all the ardor
of resistance, and in enlisting the sympathy of Europe on the side
of his victim. In his capacity of Admiral, Head of the Fleet, and
Minister of Marine, he continued with great energy to face the storm
he had drawn down upon his country; and it must be acknowledged that
he showed great energy and inexhaustible resource in the defence of
Sebastopol. There is no example in history of defences and works of
so extensive a character thrown up by a besieged garrison in presence
of a powerful enemy; and the highest compliment which can be offered
to Prince Menschikoff is the simple statement of fact, that on the
26th of September the place was almost open, and only defended by the
vessels in the harbor; but that five months later, and in spite of
continued attacks, the town was supposed by many persons impregnable
to any direct assault.
Prince Gortschakoff, who was in command of the Russian forces in the
Principalities, was appointed to take command in the Crimea, and Gen.
Osten Sacken was appointed second in command.
Prince Gortschakoff is one of those who has attained his present
eminent position by ascending, spoke by spoke, the “ladder of fame.”
The first that was known of him as a military man was his serving
in a subordinate rank in the Artillery of the Imperial Guards. This
was in the year 1828, he being then about thirty years of age.
In 1829 he formed one of the staff of the Kratsowski Corps, and
served with them in Silistria and at Shumla--he took part, together
with Gen. Krassoffsky, in artillery operations connected with the
beleaguerment of Silistria. After a siege of six weeks the garrison
surrendered as prisoners of war. In 1831 Gortschakoff was required to
take part in the war in Poland; and for his services in the campaign
he was advanced to the rank of Lieutenant-General.
At Grochow, the Russians, under the command of Count Pahlen, had been
compelled to retreat before the Poles, when, by the concentration of
the artillery force under the command of Gortschakoff, the battle
was turned in favor of the Russians. At Ostrolenka, also, he greatly
distinguished himself. The Poles, after an obstinate resistance, were
compelled to abandon the place. In September, 1831, the capital,
Warsaw, capitulated. In 1843 he was promoted to the rank of General
of Artillery. In 1846 he was appointed Military Governor of Warsaw.
He took an important part in the Hungarian war of 1849. As soon as
the occupation of the Danubian provinces was determined upon, the
Prince was appointed to the chief command of the Imperial forces.
When he entered Wallachia, he published a proclamation, to the effect
that the Czar, his master, had no design of conquest, and that the
independence of the inhabitants would, in every way, be protected.
This promise was not fulfilled. Shortly after this, he issued the
celebrated appeal to the fanaticism of the Russians, ending with the
words--“Mort aux Pagans” (death to the infidels). As has been stated,
the Prince has gradually attained his present high rank.
He is now Aide-de-Camp General, General of Artillery, and Chef
d’Etat Major of the active army, and privileged to take part in
the deliberations of the Councils of the Empire. He is also
Military Governor of Warsaw, and the chief member of the Council of
Administration of the Kingdom of Poland.
The diplomatic achievements of the Prince are numerous, but they are
more characteristic than great. He is said to be more of a bully than
a diplomatist, doubles his fists too often to wear the “white glove”
well--he being one of the most petulant and factious of mankind, and
at the same time one of the most obstinate and overbearing.
THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL.
It is nearly a year since we were first startled by the announcement
that Sebastopol had fallen. But that news proved false, and ever
since the public ear has been opened to catch the announcement of the
news of the great feat which two of the mightiest nations of the Old
World had combined their utmost power to accomplish. It has come at
last; superior power and skill have carried the day, as we have never
doubted they would, and Sebastopol has fallen.
The contest on which the eyes of Europe have been turned so long
is nearly decided--the event on which the hopes of so many mighty
empires depended is all but determined. And one more great act of
carnage has been added to the tremendous, but glorious tragedy, of
which the whole world, from the most civilized nations down to the
most barbarous hordes of the East, has been the anxious and excited
audience.
At dawn on the morning of the 5th of September, 1855, the expected
bombardment commenced on a scale of unprecedented magnitude. The last
and decisive cannonade was begun on Wednesday by the French, who
exploded three fougasses to blow in the counterscarp, and to serve
as a signal to their men. Instantly from the sea to the Dockyard
creek there was seen to run a stream of fire, and fleecy, curling,
rich white smoke, as though the earth had suddenly been rent in the
throes of an earthquake, and was vomiting forth the material of her
volcanoes. The lines of the French trenches were at once covered as
though the very clouds of heaven had settled down upon them and were
whirled about in spiral jets, in festoons, in clustering bunches,
in columns and in sheets, all commingled, involved together by the
vehement flames beneath.
After two hours and a half of furious fire, the artillery-men
suddenly ceased, in order to let their guns cool and to rest
themselves. The Russians crept out to repair the damages to their
works, and shook sandbags full of earth from the parquette over the
outside of their parapets.
At 10 o’clock, however, the French reöpened a fire, if possible,
more rapid and tremendous than their first, and continued to keep
it up with the utmost vigor till 12 o’clock at noon, by which time
the Russians had only a few guns in the Flagstaff road and Garden
Batteries in a position to reply. From 12 to 5 o’clock P. M., the
firing was slack; the French then resumed their cannonade with the
same astounding vigor as at dawn and at 10 o’clock, and never ceased
their volleys of shot and shell against the place till 7 1/2, when
darkness set in, and all the mortars and heavy guns, English as well
as French, opened with shell against the whole line of defences.
A description of this scene is impossible. There was not one instant
in which the shells did not whistle through the air--not a moment in
which the sky was not seamed by their fiery curves or illuminated by
their explosion.
THE SECOND DAY’S BOMBARDMENT.
_Sept. 6_--A steady fire was kept up along the front, to prevent
the Russians repairing damages. At 5 1/2 o’clock the whole of the
batteries from Quarantine to Inkermann opened with a grand crash. The
Russians were silent as before. The cannonade was maintained as it
was the day before. There were three breaks or lulls in the tempest;
from 8 1/2 till 10 o’clock, from 12 till 5, and from 6 1/2 till 7
o’clock the fire was comparatively slack.
THIRD DAY’S BOMBARDMENT.
_Sept. 7_--The cannonade was resumed at daybreak, the Inkermann
batteries firing briskly. A counsel of generals was held at
headquarters. The firing was tremendous all day, but clouds of dust
which a high wind from the north drifted, rendered a view of the
place impossible.
At 12 o’clock on Saturday the 8th, within a few days of the
anniversary of the landing of the allied forces in the Crimea,
and 316 days after the opening of the besieging batteries against
Sebastopol, on the 17th of October, 1854, a final and victorious
assault was made. The morning was bitterly cold.
THE ASSAULT.
_Sept. 8_--A biting wind from the north side of Sebastopol blew
intolerable clouds of harsh dust. The sun was obscured; the sky was
of a leaden, wintry grey.
Early in the morning a strong force of cavalry, under the command
of Colonel Hodge, was moved up to the front, and formed a chain of
sentries in front of Cathcart’s hill and all along the lines.
General Pelissier during the night collected about 30,000 men in
and about the Mamelon to form the storming columns for Malakoff and
Little Redan, and to provide the necessary reserves. The French were
reinforced by 5,000 Sardinians, who marched up from the Tchernaya the
night previous. It was arranged that the French were to attack the
Malakoff at noon, and as soon as their attack began that the English
were to assault the Redan.
A few minutes before 12 o’clock, the French, like a swarm of bees,
issued forth from their trenches close to the doomed Malakoff,
swarmed up its face, and were through its embrasures in the twinkling
of an eye. They crossed the ground which separated them from the
enemy at a few bounds--they drifted as lightly and quickly as
autumn leaves before the wind, battalion after battalion, into the
embrasures, and in a minute or two after the head of their column
issued from the ditch, the tricolor was floating over the Korniloff
bastion. The musketry was very feeble at first--indeed they took the
Russians quite by surprise, and very few of the latter were in the
Malakoff; but they soon recovered themselves, and from 12 o’clock
till past 7 in the evening, the French had to meet and defeat the
repeated attempts of the enemy to begin the work, and the little
Redan, when weary of the fearful slaughter of his men who lay in
thousands over the exterior of the works, the Muscovite general,
despairing of success, withdrew his exhausted legions, and prepared,
with admirable skill, to evacuate the place.
The English attacked the Redan with two divisions. The struggle that
took place was desperate and bloody. The soldiers, taken at every
disadvantage, met the enemy with the bayonet, and isolated combats
took place, in which the brave fellows who stood their ground had
to defend themselves against three or four adversaries at once. In
this _mêlée_ the officers, armed only with their swords, had little
chance: nor had those who carried pistols much opportunity of using
them in such a rapid contest. They fell like heroes, and many a
gallant soldier with them. The bodies of English and Russians inside
the Redan, locked in an embrace which death could not relax, but had
rather cemented all the closer, lay next day inside the Redan as
evidences of the terrible animosity of the struggle. But the solid
weight of the advancing mass, urged on and fed each moment from
the rear, by company after company, and battalion after battalion,
prevailed at last against the isolated and disjointed band, who had
abandoned the protection of unanimity of courage and had lost the
advantage of discipline and obedience. As though some giant rock had
advanced into the sea and forced back the waters that had buffeted
it, so did the Russian columns press down against the spray of
soldiery which fretted their edge with fire and steel, and contended
in vain against their weight. The struggling band was forced back by
the enemy, who moved on, crushing friend and foe beneath their solid
tramp, and, bleeding, panting and exhausted, the Englishmen lay in
heaps in the ditch beneath the parapet, sheltered themselves behind
stones and in bomb-craters in the slope of the work, or tried to pass
back to the advanced parallel and sap, and had to run the gauntlet of
a tremendous fire. Many of them lost their lives, or were seriously
wounded in the attempt.
Upon the final establishment of General Bosquet’s division of the
French army in the Malakoff, Prince Gortschakoff instantly proceeded
to execute a preärranged plan for the destruction and evacuation of
the town. All that night the harbor was illuminated by the lurid
glare of burning ships, and from time to time the explosion of
vast magazines rent asunder enormous piles of masonry, while an
all-devouring conflagration swept like the scourge of Heaven over the
devastated city. Sebastopol perished, like Moscow, by the hands of
her defenders, while her successful assailants witnessed the awful
spectacle unscathed. Means of retreat had been secured by a long
bridge of rafts across the great harbor, and for many hours large
masses of troops were removed by this passage to the northern side
of the town; but at eight o’clock in the morning of the 9th, this
communication was stopped--the whole of the works and town had been
evacuated.
The loss of life was fearful, upwards of 30,000 men being killed or
wounded.
Four thousand cannon, fifty thousand balls, and immense stores of
gunpowder were taken possession of by the allies.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Headley.
[2] Headley.
[3] See Table on the following page.
[4] This is a decoration instituted by Abdul-Medjid after his
father’s example. It is of simple enamelled gold, divided into
five classes, and bearing an inscription, engraved in Turkish
words--Ghairet, Sadakat, Hamiet (Courage, Fidelity, Zeal).
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources.
Except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the text,
and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained: for example,
artillery-men, artillerymen; head-quarters, headquarters; foot-steps,
footsteps; exhaustless; pacificated; undiscouraged; stept; impolicy.
Table of Contents:-
In Chapter I summary section the page number ‘1’ has been added at
the end of that section.
In some Chapter summaries in the Table of Contents, and in the main
text as well, there was a period before each dash. Most did not, and
this period has been removed so that ‘Badajos.--Its Capture’ for
example has been changed to ‘Badajos--Its Capture’. This occurred in
Chapters II through VI.
In Chapter VI the page number ‘217’ has been changed to ‘199’.
In Chapter VII the page number ‘221’ has been changed to ‘231’.
In Chapter XIII ‘Battle of Alma’ replaced by ‘Battle of the Alma’.
In Chapter XIII ‘Sebastapol’ replaced by ‘Sebastopol’.
In Chapter XV ‘Alaxander II.’ replaced by ‘Alexander II.’.
In Chapter XVI the page number ‘175’ has been changed to ‘393’.
Main text:-
Pg 2: ‘choked the developement’ replaced by ‘choked the development’.
Pg 9: ‘tide off oreign’ replaced by ‘tide of foreign’.
Pg 12: ‘that any other’ replaced by ‘than any other’.
Pg 32: ‘General Gortchakoff’ replaced by ‘General Gortschakoff’.
Pg 33: ‘St. Petersburgh, and’ replaced by ‘St. Petersburg, and’.
Pg 42: ‘dashed to picees’ replaced by ‘dashed to pieces’.
Pg 60: ‘pestiferous miasm’ replaced by ‘pestiferous miasma’.
Pg 68: ‘battle of Rolico.’ replaced by ‘battle of Rolica.’.
Pg 77: ‘way of Almieda,’ replaced by ‘way of Almeida,’.
Pg 131: ‘an aid-de-camp to’ replaced by ‘an aide-de-camp to’.
Pg 144: ‘made our ness’ replaced by ‘made our mess’.
Pg 154: ‘people, whereever’ replaced by ‘people, wherever’.
Pg 178: ‘faithful aids-de-camp’ replaced by ‘faithful aides-de-camp’.
Pg 188: ‘scenes that occured’ replaced by ‘scenes that occurred’.
Pg 204: ‘of the Sumbre.’ replaced by ‘of the Sambre.’.
Pg 207: ‘a morta. hatred’ replaced by ‘a mortal hatred’.
Pg 217: ‘an aid-de-camp was’ replaced by ‘an aide-de-camp was’.
Pg 256: ‘is the vice-gerent’ replaced by ‘is the vice-regent’.
Pg 258: missing header ‘CHAPTER VIII.’ inserted.
Pg 264: ‘persuasives of Francis’ replaced by ‘persuasions of Francis’.
Pg 277: ‘Like Buonaparte,’ replaced by ‘Like Bonaparte,’.
Pg 282: ‘curious concidence,’ replaced by ‘curious coincidence,’.
Pg 323: missing header ‘CHAPTER XIII.’ inserted.
Pg 337: ‘cross the Katscha;’ replaced by ‘cross the Katcha;’.
Pg 357: ‘al their batteries,’ replaced by ‘all their batteries,’.
Pg 372: missing header ‘CHAPTER XV.’ inserted.
Pg 373: ‘thns maimed’ replaced by ‘thus maimed’.
Pg 387: ‘Off the Katscha,’ replaced by ‘Off the Katcha,’.
Pg 397: ‘to extensive a’ replaced by ‘so extensive a’.
Pg 401: several occurrences of 1-2 meaning half-past the hour
have been replaced by 1/2, for example ‘7 1/2’ is seven thirty.
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