[Illustration: “The Duke gives the magic word, ‘The Whole
Line Will Advance’” (_p._ 70).]
BATTLES
OF THE
NINETEENTH CENTURY
DESCRIBED BY
ARCHIBALD FORBES, G. A. HENTY,
MAJOR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS,
_And other Well-known Writers_
VOL. I.
SPECIAL EDITION
_WITH COLOURED PLATES AND NUMEROUS OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS_
CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED
_LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION. By Major Arthur Griffiths 1
SAARBRÜCK: THE BAPTISM OF FIRE. AUG. 2, 1870. By
Archibald Forbes 22
THE STORMING OF THE TAKU FORTS. JUNE 25, 1859–AUG. 21, 1860.
BY A. Hilliard Atteridge 27
PALERMO: THE COMING OF GARIBALDI. MAY-JUNE, 1860. By
Stoddard Dewey 35
THE RED MAN’S LAST VICTORY: THE FIGHT OF THE LITTLE BIG
HORN. JUNE 10–27, 1876. By Angus Evan Abbott 43
WATERLOO. JUNE 18, 1815. By D. H. Parry 51
KÖNIGGRÄTZ (OR SADOWA). JULY 3, 1866. By Charles Lowe 74
AYACUCHO. DEC. 9, 1824. By W. B. Robertson 85
THE FIRST BATTLE OF BULL RUN. JULY 21, 1861. By Angus
Evan Abbott 92
THE JULY BATTLES BEFORE PLEVNA. JULY 20–JULY 30, 1877.
By Archibald Forbes 101
THE SHANGANI PATROL. DEC. 3–4, 1893. By E. F. Knight 110
THE SIEGE AND STORMING OF DELHI. MAY-SEPT., 1857. By
Charles Lowe 120
GISLIKON. NOV. 23, 1847. By A. J. Butler 137
INSANDHLWANA. JAN. 22, 1879. By C. Stein 147
LISSA. JULY 20, 1866. By A. Hilliard Atteridge 156
MACMAHON AT MAGENTA. JUNE 4, 1859. By Stoddard Dewey 164
THE BATTLE OF THE ALMA. SEPT. 20, 1854. By Major Arthur
Griffiths 174
AUSTERLITZ. DEC. 2, 1805. By C. Stein 183
KASSASSIN AND TEL-EL-KEBIR. SEPT. 9 AND SEPT. 13, 1882.
By Charles Lowe 195
SHILOH. APRIL 6–7, 1862. By Angus Evan Abbott 205
AMOAFUL. JAN. 31, 1874. By G. A. Henty 215
THE REDOUBTS OF DÜPPEL. APRIL 18, 1864. By Charles Lowe 224
ROBERTS’ BATTLES ABOUT CABUL. SEPT.-DEC., 1879. By
Archibald Forbes 234
CUSTOZZA. JUNE 24, 1866. By A. Hilliard Atteridge 247
THE TAKING OF BADAJOZ. APRIL 6, 1812. By D. H. Parry 256
THE BLOCKADE OF CALLAO. NOV., 1820. By W. B. Robertson 267
THE TAKING OF THE GATE PAH. APRIL 27, 1864. By A. Hilliard
Atteridge 276
WARSAW. SEPT. 6–7, 1831. By A. S. Krausse 284
THE STORMING OF THE NILT FORTS. DEC., 1891. By E. F. Knight 290
ASPROMONTE. AUG. 29, 1862. By Charles Lowe 299
NAPOLEON’S MOSCOW CAMPAIGN. JUNE-DEC., 1812. By D. H. Parry 307
RORKE’S DRIFT. JAN. 22, 1879. By C. Stein 330
MARS-LA-TOUR (VIONVILLE OR REZONVILLE). AUG. 16, 1870.
By Charles Lowe 341
THE RETREAT OF CORUNNA. NOV., 1808–JAN., 1809. By D. H. Parry 354
NAVARINO. OCT. 20, 1827. By Herbert Russell 363
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
Sir John Moore 3
“He fell furiously on his nearest enemies” 4
Marshal Ney 5
Marshal Soult 5
Sir Charles Napier 7
Lord Gough 8
Charge of cavalry through the breaches at Sobraon 9
Sir Colin Campbell 10
Sir James Outram 11
Sir Henry Havelock 11
“‘This gun belongs to my regiment--2nd Goorkha, Prince of
Wales’s!’” 12
The Maori War: Attack upon the Orakao Pah 13
Frederick, Crown Prince of Prussia (afterwards German Emperor) 15
Sir Garnet (afterwards Viscount) Wolseley 16
The “Black Watch” (42nd Royal Highlanders) at bay at Quatre
Bras 17
General Grant 19
“They came right in among our men” 20
Lord William Beresford and the Trooper 21
Plan of the Battle of Saarbrück 23
Saarbrück 24
Lulu’s Début 25
Plans of the Taku Forts operations 28
“‘What have you been doing, you rascals?’” 29
“Rogers got in, helped up by Lieutenant Lenon” 33
“The Picciotti picked off their men” 36
Palermo Harbour 37
“‘General, it smiles on you!’” 40
The coast of Palermo, looking towards Termini 41
The erection of the barricades 42
“Until one day a grizzly trapper peered out of the bushes” 44
“And the Sioux saw in amazement the long train of
white-topped waggons” 44
“The warriors danced the war-dance” 45
Plan of the Battle of Little Big Horn 46
“They plunged into the seething mass of painted and
befeathered red men” 49
The farm of Quatre Bras 52
Picton’s Division off to the front 53
The field of Waterloo on the morning of the battle 56
“A shout of ‘Vive l’Empereur’ rolled along the field” 57
Sir Thomas Picton 59
The farm of Hougoumont 60
“Some got as far as the loopholes and seized the bayonets” 61
Defence of La Haye Sainte by the German Legion 64
“A gallant artillery driver rushed his horses to the wall” 65
La Haye Sainte 68
The Union Brigade capturing the French guns at Waterloo 69
La Belle Alliance 72
Mont St. Jean 72
Marshal Blücher 73
“Major von Ungar came spurring in with a great piece of news” 76
Königgrätz 77
Plan of the Battle of Königgrätz 78
General Benedek 79
“The Prussians pushed battery after battery into action” 80
“Boldly the Prussians advanced upon this village and its wood” 81
Gravestones erected on the battle-field in memory of the
fallen 83
“The Crown Prince rode up and met his father” 84
Plan of the Battle of Ayacucho 86
“‘There lies my last horse!’” 88
“The routed Spaniards clambered up the rugged sides” 89
Lima 91
“They would not keep in rank, order as much as you pleased” 93
Plan of the Battle of Bull Run 94
General Sherman 96
“Time after time the attempt to scale the height was made” 97
General “Stonewall” Jackson 99
“The army of the North broke and fled, panic-stricken” 100
Plan of the second Battle of Plevna 102
Grand Duke Nicholas 103
“The General had risen and was standing against a tree” 104
“Then there followed a headlong rush” 105
“They gathered to the sound” 108
Environs of Plevna 109
Mr. Riley, Umjan, and Mr. Dawson 112
“They fought on grimly” 113
The Shangani Patrol: Plan 114
Zimbabwe temple and kraal 116
“He sold his life dearly” 117
Lobengula 118
“The cool-headed signaller died at his post” 121
Jumma Musjid, Delhi 124
“The officers then, having helped the women to follow,
carried them up the opposite side” 125
Major Tombs 127
“It was bayonet to bayonet” 128
Plan of Delhi and environments 129
The Palace, and the Chandnee Chouk, Delhi 132
“Our devoted men worked on with a will” 133
The Victoria Cross 136
At Bern 138
Lucerne and surrounding district 139
At Fribourg 140
“Major Scherrer seized the colours” 141
The neighbourhood of Gislikon 143
“Rust’s battery galloped through Honau” 145
Lake Zug 146
King Cetewayo 148
“The camp was a picturesque sight” 149
Vicinity of Insandhlwana: Plan 151
“They raised the ominous Zulu war shout, and dashed forward” 153
Lord Chelmsford 155
“From this point Tegethoff kept on the bridge” 157
Shores and ports of the Adriatic 158
The Battle of Lissa, 10 a.m. The fleets closing 159
Trieste Harbour 160
“The ram crushed in her iron side” 161
“General Lebœuf dashed up” 165
“On the track lay a body covered with a blue cloak” 168
“In their frenzy his Zouaves broke through the defences” 169
Plan of the Battle of Magenta 170
“He dictated the telegraphic despatch” 172
“The doctors began their all night’s work” 173
Prince Mentschikoff 175
The Heights of Alma 176
“Then young Anstruther raced forward” 177
Marshal St. Arnaud 178
Plan of the Battle of Alma 179
The Highlanders at Alma 180
“Turner himself hurried up two of his guns” 181
Lord Raglan 182
“The saying passed, ‘Our Emperor does not make use of
our arms in this war so much as of our legs’” 184
Napoleon Bonaparte 185
Marshal Prince Murat (afterwards King of Naples) 188
“Thousands of lights flared upwards” 189
Charge of the Chevalier Guards 192
Plan of the Battle of Austerlitz 193
The Sweet-Water Canal at Ismailia 196
“The Egyptian battalions had been trampled and sabred into
positive annihilation” 197
Plan of the Battles of Tel-el-Kebir and Kassassin 198
The Valley of the Saba Bier 200
“Carrying them with the bayonet” 201
Arabi Pasha 202
Arabi surrendering to General Drury Lowe 204
Shiloh battle-field 208
The march to Shiloh 209
Plan of the Battle of Shiloh 211
Shiloh battle-field: scene where General Johnston fell 212
“Up the bank they struggled and scrambled” 213
President Lincoln 214
Cape Coast Castle 216
“The Bonny men led the advance” 217
Map of Ashanti 219
“Each little rise was held obstinately by the enemy” 221
Coomassie 223
Field-Marshal von Wrangel 225
Map showing the position of Düppel 227
Prince Frederick Charles 228
The German soldiers making sentries out of clay 229
The Prussians attacking the Danish breastworks 232
Lieutenant Anker taken prisoner 233
The British Residency after the attack 236
“He held a durbar” 237
Cabul 240
“Colonel Cleland led his lancers” 241
Plan of Roberts’ battles about Cabul 242
North end of Sherpur entrenchments, Cabul 244
“The roar surged forward” 245
Sir Frederick Roberts in 1880 246
Sketch map of the war in Italy in 1866 248
Verona 249
Archduke Albert 252
The charge of the Austrian lancers 253
Plan of the Battle of Custozza 254
Badajoz 257
Map of Spain and Portugal to illustrate the Peninsular War 260
“The next, they were leaping, sliding, climbing” 261
Plan of Badajoz in 1812 264
“‘Will you drink, old boy?’” 265
Lord Cochrane 268
Valparaiso 269
Plan of Callao in 1819 271
“The Chilian cutlasses swept the deck” 273
The attack on the Gate Pah 277
Plan of the Gate Pah and surroundings 279
“The brave fellow brought him out at considerable risk” 280
The Gate Pah after occupation 281
A Maori dwelling 283
Old town, Warsaw 285
Plan of the Russian operations against Warsaw 286
Emperor Nicholas 287
“The Russians closed up in their strength and charged
with their bayonets” 288
The Jews’ market, Warsaw 289
Sketch map to illustrate the Hunza Nagar campaign 292
“Captain Aylmer ignited the fuse” 293
“He actually succeeded in climbing quite alone” 296
Nilt forts, from the south 297
Gilgit Residency 298
General Garibaldi 300
“Everywhere this free-lance evoked enthusiasm” 301
Garibaldi’s movements of 1862: Plan 302
Catania 304
“Raising his cap in the air he cried, ‘Viva l’Italia’” 305
King Victor Emmanuel 306
Alexander I., Czar of Russia 308
General view of the city of Moscow 309
Napoleon’s march from the Niemen to Moscow: Plan 310
Gardens of the Kremlin 312
Napoleon’s entry into Moscow 313
Plan of the Battle of Borodino 314
General Junot 316
The retreat from Moscow 317
“A mutilated spectre crawled towards the startled soldiers” 320
Smolensk from the banks of the Dnieper in 1812 321
Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow: Plan 324
“The Engineer set fire to their sole means of escape” 325
“In a towering passion the Marshal drew his sword” 328
Lieutenant Chard 332
Lieutenant Bromhead 332
Rorke’s Drift at the present time 333
Plan showing the lines of communication in the Zulu
campaign 335
Defence of Rorke’s Drift: Plan 336
“There was a hand-to-hand struggle” 337
“The British flag still waved over the storehouse” 340
Count Von Moltke 344
“The Prussians pushed into the woods, driving the French
skirmishers from them” 345
Plan of the Battle of Mars-la-Tour 346
Map showing scope of operations of the Franco-German War
of 1870–71 348
Mitrailleuse 349
Marshal Bazaine 351
Charge of the 16th Uhlans 352
French uniforms in 1870 353
Map showing neighbourhood of Corunna 356
“A hussar dashed in with the news that the enemy were
upon us” 357
Corunna 360
Death of Sir John Moore 361
The burial of Sir John Moore 362
Zante 365
Plan of the Battle of Navarino 368
“The battle was maintained with unabated fury for above
four hours” 369
Navarino 370
LIST OF PLATES.
THE DUKE GIVES THE MAGIC WORD, “THE WHOLE LINE WILL
ADVANCE!” (Coloured) _Frontispiece_
SERGEANT EWART CAPTURING THE EAGLE AT WATERLOO
(Coloured) _To face p. 62_
THE STORMERS DASHED OVER THE _DÉBRIS_ OF THE
BREACH _To face p. 132_
SIMULTANEOUSLY FOLLOWED THE LEVELLED BAYONETS OF
SUCHET’S DIVISION (Coloured) _To face p. 190_
THE FIFTH DIVISION STORMING BY ESCALADE THE
RAMPARTS OF SAN VINCENTE _To face p. 262_
WHEN THE REMNANT OF THE GUARD WAS SEEN CLEARING
A WAY FOR THE EMPEROR THERE WAS A RUSH _To face p. 326_
[Illustration:
BATTLES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY
_INTRODUCTION_]
BY MAJOR ARTHUR GRIFFITHS
[Illustration]
“BATTLES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY”--the words are like a trumpet-call,
summoning up in array before us a hundred familiar forms of great
soldiers--Napoleon and Wellington, Grant and Moltke, MacMahon and
Garibaldi--great soldiers of all nations--great soldiers long dead,
and great soldiers still living. Let us glance for an instant or two,
in this introduction, at the individual careers of some of the most
famous of them ere we pass on to the pages which shall deal with their
exploits, battle by battle, and shall tell in detail of their skill and
prowess, and their fortunes of war, their victories and their defeats.
* * * * *
The earliest wars of the present century were the nursery of military
reputations, and in them several great soldiers grew on to imperishable
fame. Two figures stand out prominently, a head and shoulders above
all the rest--Napoleon and Wellington. It is needless to compare or
contrast them--Napoleon, the Emperor-General, sole arbiter of the fate
of millions; Wellington, the loyal servant of his country, who put duty
before mere glory, and whose first thought in his triumphs was the
vindication of the national honour and the re-establishment of peace.
Napoleon was all for self; but this very selfishness re-acted on his
surroundings, and elicited an unbounded, unquestioning devotion to
his person, which was the parent of many heroic deeds. Men suffered
themselves to be cut to pieces to win a word of his approval; the
wounded raised themselves in their agony to cheer on their comrades;
the dying with their last gasp cried “_Vive l’Empereur!_”
Over and above the glamour of his personal ascendancy, and his
long-sustained prestige, Napoleon had a still stronger hold upon his
followers, in that he held the supreme power in his own hands, the sole
and exclusive right to reward or blame. Small wonder, therefore, if
the soldiers of the First Empire were among the finest types of their
class. No military _régime_ has ever brought better men to the
front or secured them more rapid advancement. Promotion to the very
highest grades was to be had for the earning of it. How fast men rose
from the lowest rungs to the top of the ladder will be understood from
a few prominent cases. Marshal Ney was the son of an old soldier, and
threw up a small appointment to enlist as a private hussar; Massena,
the Prince of Essling’s father, kept a wine-shop in Nice, and the
marshal had begun life as a cabin-boy; Lannes’ father was a livery
stable-keeper, and Augereau the son of a mason. Junot was a sergeant
of artillery at the siege of Toulon, who first attracted Napoleon’s
attention by his coolness under fire: a round shot kicked up the dust
close to where Junot was receiving an order in writing, and the young
sergeant, unmoved, merely said, “That will do to dry the ink.”
Wellington could not have made use of such incentives to valour as
Napoleon did, even if he had had them at his command. But he did
not need them. It was with the British rank and file as with their
generals: they did their best because it was their duty, and it was
there to do. They fought because they were expected to fight, and
fought well, because they liked it. So it was that throughout the
long campaign in Spain the British were almost invariably successful.
Wherever they met the enemy, they beat them. Even at Corunna, after a
long and disastrous retreat, overmatched by numbers, led for a time by
Napoleon himself, Sir John Moore turned on his pursuers, and snatched
a difficult victory at the expense of his own life. He was struck down
just as the French were repulsed, but his troops, undismayed, continued
the action, which ended entirely in our favour, and permitted us to
re-embark without loss. Moore’s death on the battle-field has been
honoured in song; it was a hero’s death, and to the last moment he
would not surrender his sword, although the hilt had entered the wound.
His body had to be buried on the battle-field; and it is greatly to
the credit of a chivalrous foe that the French, recognising his merit,
raised a monument over his remains.
Wellington’s career was one of almost unequalled success. If he was
compelled to retreat more than once, it was only to make a newer and
a bolder advance. In all his battles he was victorious: thanks to
his own great genius and the matchless bravery of his troops. The
Peninsular records are full of great deeds done on great battle-fields,
in combats, charges, and on the deadly breach; and in this book of
ours we shall have pictured to us fully and completely the scenes
of these deeds of valour and heroism: but here let us just glance
at two or three of Wellington’s victories to see what stuff he and
his troops were made of. That passage of the Douro, for instance, in
1809, when he crossed in the face of Soult and a veteran army--one
of his most brilliant exploits. Do you remember how Colonel Waters,
one of his staff-officers, got over alone in a skiff and brought back
three barges, and how, when the first boat was ready with its petty
complement of twenty-five, he said simply, “Let the men cross”; and
how this handful gained a foothold which they never relaxed till their
comrades followed in thousands, and the surprised French were driven
out of the town?
Talavera was both a general’s and a soldiers’ battle: the first because
Wellington (then only Sir Arthur Wellesley) showed that imperturbable
coolness and self-reliance, mixed prescience of danger and promptitude
in meeting it, which are the highest qualities of leadership; the
second, because it was won mainly by a single regiment, which acted
with marvellous precision and courage at the decisive point just in
the nick of time. The French in this battle were the assailants: the
genius of their soldiers is for onslaught, and their greatest deeds
have been in attack. But they were met and repulsed. It was of Talavera
that Jomini, the well-known military writer, said it proved that the
British infantry could dispute the palm with the best in Europe.
Another instance of its prowess of another kind was shown at Talavera,
when Crawfurd’s famous Light Brigade of the 43rd, 52nd, and 95th
Regiments came up, determined at all costs to take part in the action.
They met crowds of Spanish fugitives, who declared the English army was
defeated, its general a prisoner, the French only a few miles off. But
still they pressed on undaunted, and “leaving only seventeen stragglers
behind,” says Napier, “in twenty-six hours crossed the field of battle,
a compact body, having during the time marched sixty-two English miles
in the hottest season of the year, each man carrying from fifty to
sixty pounds weight.”
At Busaco, again, the French were the assailants: veteran troops led
by some of the bravest of French generals; and their numbers gave
them the advantage. But the British were strongly posted on a craggy
ridge of hills, so strongly that it was thought the French leader,
Massena, would not attack. “But if he does, I shall beat him,” replied
Wellington quietly; and he did. The French fought with signal bravery,
but the ascent was toilsome, and they were met by men as brave.
In the retreat before the battle, two affecting incidents occurred
which showed the quality of the soldiers Wellington commanded. There
was a man in the famous 43rd, named Stewart, only nineteen years of
age, but of gigantic strength and stature, whose comrades called him
“The Boy.” He was deeply chagrined, and at a bridge which he was the
last to cross, he turned, and facing the French advancing columns, he
was heard to say: “So, this is the end of our boasting! This is our
first battle (Talavera), and we retreat. The boy Stewart will not live
to hear that said.” “Then,” says Napier, “striding forward in his giant
might, he fell furiously on his nearest enemies with the bayonet,
refused the quarter they seemed desirous of granting, and died fighting
in the midst of them.”
The other story tells of a still finer instance of the noble spirit of
the British soldier. It was at the passage of the Coa, a month before
Busaco, when the 52nd would have been cut off from the bridge but for
the gallantry with which McLeod of the 52nd came back rushing at full
speed with a couple of companies, which charged “as if a whole army had
been at their backs,” and repulsed the enemy. One of McLeod’s officers
was the afterwards famous Sir George Brown, at this time only sixteen,
who was leading his men gallantly up a slope, at the top of which
were a couple of Frenchmen with muskets levelled at him. A sergeant
interposed--M’Quade, himself only twenty-four--and, pulling his officer
back, with the words, “You are too young, sir, to be killed,” offered
himself as a target, and fell dead, pierced by both bullets.
[Illustration: SIR JOHN MOORE.
(_After the Engraving by C. Turner._)]
Three great sieges, ending in the storming and capture of three strong,
almost impregnable, fortresses, were among the laurels gained in
Spain--laurels tarnished, unhappily, by the shameful excesses of the
victorious troops. When the breaches at Ciudad Rodrigo were declared
practicable, Wellington’s order was simply, “The place must be stormed
this evening”; his soldiers’ still simpler comment, “We will do it.”
The forlorn hope raced up to their death, followed by the no less eager
body of stormers, and the main breach was carried with a furious shout.
At Badajoz, Phillipon, the brave Frenchman, stood at bay to the last,
and the “possession of Badajoz had become a point of personal honour
with the soldiers of each nation.... Ridge had himself placed a ladder
where the wall was low, and climbed it; a second ladder alongside gave
access to another officer, Canch; and as soon as these two were on the
ramparts the stormers followed, and gained possession.” Yet the fight
elsewhere continued for hours, and Wellington had to organise a second
assault, and the captors of the castle were in some danger, although
inside the town. Badajoz was taken, but at tremendous cost. No age, no
nation, ever sent forth braver troops to battle than those who stormed
Badajoz.
In the course of this book we shall hear much more of these triumphs
of Wellington: how at Salamanca he caught Marmont in an egregious
tactical error, fell upon him in flank, and defeated 40,000 men in
forty minutes; how at Vittoria he routed King Joseph, beating him at
every point, and capturing everything the French possessed: “all their
equipages, all their guns, all their treasure, all their stores, all
their papers”; how, in the Pyrenees, pitted against Soult, Napoleon’s
ablest lieutenant, he won battle after battle: at Sauroren, at the
Bidassoa, at the Nivelle, and finally, invading France, at Orthez and
Toulouse. The passage of the Adour was a combined military and naval
operation, carried out in the teeth of a fierce February storm. The
bridge of boats which the British staff corps formed across the river
was a “stupendous undertaking” which ranks amongst the prodigies of
war; for the tide rose and fell fourteen feet, and large boats could
only be employed. It was at Orthez that Soult, thinking victory secure,
put forward all his reserves too rashly. Then Wellington, as he watched
him, smote his thigh, and cried exultingly, “At last I have him!” On
the spur of the moment he changed his plan of battle, and by a turning
movement cut off Soult’s line of retreat.
The greatest of all the great achievements of the great duke was,
of course, his victory at Waterloo--a battle which will always rank
among the most important and decisive that have been fought, because
so much depended upon the issue. The only hope of securing peace
to Europe was in beating Napoleon, and it was not easy to do it.
There were moments in the brief campaign, both before and during the
great battle which finished it, when victory hung in the balance and
inclined to the French. At the outset, Napoleon stole a march upon the
Allies; he placed his whole force at a point between them, whence he
might separate and roll up each in turn. He beat the Prussians badly
at Ligny, but Ney was checked by our tenacious resistance at Quatre
Bras. Still, the British and the Prussians retired divergently, as it
is called; and had Napoleon followed up quickly, he might have fought
them one by one. But Wellington drew off, retreating--not without
danger--upon Waterloo; and Blucher, recovering his communications with
us, was able to come up at the close of the great fight, and make
victory the more complete.
[Illustration: “HE FELL FURIOUSLY ON HIS NEAREST ENEMIES”
(_p. 2_).]
* * * * *
By degrees new men, imbued with much the same high qualities, replaced
the veterans of Spain and Waterloo; but till more than half the
century was ended it was the generals who had been trained to war
under Wellington who chiefly led the troops to victory and maintained
British prestige. Charles Napier in Scinde, Hugh Gough in the Punjaub,
Fitzroy-Somerset (Lord Raglan) in the Crimea, Colin Campbell,
afterwards Lord Clyde, in China, the Crimea, and India, had all learnt
and practised their profession in the early wars. They were all,
however, men advanced in years before they came to a supreme command in
the field. The long peace after Waterloo, lasting some thirty years,
denied soldiers all chance of active service, and it was not till Sir
Charles Napier was sixty years of age that he found himself winning
battles on his own account. Sir Hugh Gough was older by five years when
he led an army against the Sikhs, and began the difficult conquest of
the Punjaub. Lord Raglan was also an aged man when he was selected to
command our armies in the Russian war of 1854–5.
Both Napier and Gough had won early laurels in Spain, and both as
majors, temporarily in command of their regiments, had helped to win
great battles, and paid in their persons for their valour. Napier
was with Sir John Moore at Corunna, and at the head of the 50th (the
gallant “Half-hundred”) had repulsed the French attack at one important
point. Then when--to quote another Napier, his brother, and the famous
historian of the war--“he was encompassed by enemies and denied
quarter, he received five wounds. But he still fought and struggled
for life till a French drummer, with a generous heart and indignation
forcibly rescued him from his barbarous assailants.” The wounds he
received were terrible: he had his leg broken by a bullet, a sabre-cut
laid open his head, and he had had a bayonet stab in his back. It was
at this battle of Corunna, when the young major (he was only twenty-six
at the time) took command, that he found his men of the line wavering
under the fierce fire. In order to steady them, he put them through
several movements of the manual exercise, ordering them to “Slope
arms!” “Carry arms!” and so on, until they recognised his voice and
hardened under his hand.
Hugh Gough like Charles Napier, owed to the chance absence of his
colonel the opportunity of winning early distinction. As a major, of
barely thirty, he was in command of his regiment--the gallant 87th,
long famous as the Irish Fusiliers--at the battle of Talavera, where
he was severely wounded, but so distinguished himself as to earn
promotion; he was at the head of the 87th when they made their famous
charge at Barrosa, which decided the fate of that hard-fought day; and
he was so foremost in the repulse of the French from Tarifa that he
received the sword of the French leader when he failed in his assault
upon the town.
[Illustration: MARSHAL SOULT.
(_From the Portrait by Rouillard._)]
Lord Raglan had never commanded troops in the field, but he had been
the secretary and close confidant of the Iron Duke, his companion in
every campaign; as Fitzroy-Somerset, he rode by Wellington’s side
through the day at Waterloo, and was one of the few survivors of his
staff. But he lost his arm by a shot--one of the last fired--just after
his chief had run imminent danger, and had been warned to withdraw, but
held his ground, saying, “Never mind; let them fire away. The battle’s
won; my life is of no consequence now.” The duke turned to ride off the
field, when a stray bullet shattered Lord Fitzroy’s arm at the elbow.
It was the right arm unfortunately, and it had to be amputated at once;
but Wellington retained his services as secretary, and Lord Raglan
soon learnt to write with his left hand, so as to become a neat, rapid
penman.
[Illustration: MARSHAL NEY.
(_From the Painting by F. Gérard._)]
Colin Campbell was junior in years and rank to the three great soldiers
just mentioned, but he graduated in the stirring school of war when
he was but sixteen, and learnt hardihood as a stripling. It was the
custom in those days to send boys into the army at an age when many
nowadays are still at school. They were brave boys, as their successors
of to-day will admit. Let me tell you how young Campbell behaved in
his first encounter with the enemy. To be shot at for the first time
is a startling experience. Young Campbell, at Vimiera, suffered like
many more, but his captain, an old and war-hardened campaigner, seeing
his trouble, took him quickly by the hand, and led him out into the
front of the regiment, upon which the enemy’s guns had just begun to
play, and for several anxious minutes walked him up and down under
fire. The treatment calmed him completely, and he never knew the want
of confidence again. On the contrary, Colin Campbell, just five years
later, performed prodigies of valour in leading the forlorn hope at the
storming of San Sebastian. He had just forced his way to the summit
of the breach, when he fell back, desperately wounded in the hip; but
finding he could still move forward, he re-climbed the breach, to be
fully disabled by another shot in the thigh. Three months later he
lay in hospital, with his wounds but half healed, when he heard that
Wellington’s army was on the point of invading France, and he resolved
to be one of the party. Escaping from hospital, with an equally ardent
comrade, “by dint of crawling and an occasional lift from vehicles
proceeding along the road, they made their way to the 5th division in
which the 9th were brigaded, and were in action (on the Bidassoa) on
the following day.”[1] His desertion from hospital was a breach of
discipline, and Campbell would have been sharply dealt with; but in the
fight he led his company so gallantly, and was again so badly wounded,
that it was impossible to do otherwise than praise his bravery and
ignore his bad conduct.
They were giants, these soldiers of the Peninsula, setting an example
of courage and endurance to their successors for all time: an example
which you may be sure has always, and will always, be followed by
British troops of all ranks, from leader to fighting-man. Wellington’s
veterans never fell away from the traditions in which they had been
raised, and which they bequeathed. Sir Charles Napier, at sixty, began
his Scinde campaign with a daring operation which ranks with the
boldest in war. His march upon the desert fortress of Emaun Ghur, with
a few hundred English soldiers carried on camels--a lonely journey of
eight days--was a feat, both in its performance and its consequences,
which is not outdone by Wolfe’s scaling of the Heights of Abraham, the
great American General Sherman’s march from Atlanta to the sea, Drury
Lowe’s and Herbert Stewart’s raid upon Cairo after Tel-el-Kebir, when
1,500 horsemen galloped into the old capital of the Caliphs and seized
it for the Queen. At that moment Cairo was held by a garrison of 10,000
of Arabi’s men.
Again, Napier’s victory at Meanee was a triumph over the most
tremendous odds, when 2,400 British troops, 500 of whom alone were
white, the rest native sepoys, encountered, attacked, and defeated
36,000 Beloochees in the open field. Napier would not stand on the
defensive--that might have seemed to imply fear of the result, and
injuriously affect the spirit of his native troops--so he resolved to
attack, instead of waiting to be attacked. They met in mid-shock--for
the Beloochees made a counter-attack; and for three hours the unequal
contest went on with a foe as brave and undaunted as ourselves. It was
long a hand-to-hand fight, bayonet against sword and spear; but at
the critical moment Napier sent all his cavalry against the enemy’s
right, and broke it. Then the 22nd charged home with tremendous force,
and the battle was won. Not the least brilliant feat in this glorious
victory was the self-sacrificing devotion of a captain of the 22nd--Tew
by name--who gave his life for his duty. Before the fight, Napier had
discovered that some 6,000 of the enemy occupied a building surrounded
by a high stone wall, through which there was but one egress--a narrow
doorway, which could, he thought, be completely blocked by a few
determined men. Captain Tew was posted there with his company, and
told he must die, if need be, but that he must never give way. He died
where he was posted; but with his handful of men he closed the opening
throughout the fight, and thus paralysed the action of a large portion
of the enemy.
Sir Hugh Gough--afterwards Lord Gough--had long to wait for promotion
to the higher ranks, and he was more than sixty when he commenced
the campaigning in China which led to the cession of Hong-Kong.
Soon afterwards he won the hard-fought battle of Mahrajpoor, in
Gwalior, against that warlike and turbulent race the Mahrattas, whose
subjugation had cost so much in the earlier days of the century. Gough
won Mahrajpoor by a direct attack, marching right up to the enemy’s
position, and trusting to the British bayonet for success. “Nothing,”
as he himself wrote in his dispatch, “could withstand the rush of the
British soldiers. They drove the enemy from their guns, bayoneting the
gunners at their posts.” Two officers--Stopford and Codrington--were
found lying wounded just under the muzzles of the Mahratta artillery.
The same tactics--for Gough was essentially a forward fighter--served
him well at Moodkee, the first of the battles in the Sikh war.
The campaign was forced upon us suddenly. Gough was called up to
support Lord Hardinge, the Governor-General, who, when making a
progress through the Punjaub, found the Sikhs on the point of declaring
war. The force which Gough collected numbered only 14,000 men, and
it had to traverse 150 miles to reach the scene of action. It was a
toilsome march, under an Indian sun; water was scarce; the troops
reached Moodkee worn-out with privations and fatigue; but when they
heard their enemy was in front of them, they went, without resting,
straight into the fight. The Sikhs--splendid soldiers, trained by
European officers--were more than double our numbers, with a fine
cavalry and many guns; but the British infantry, “trusting to that
never-failing weapon the bayonet,” drove the Sikhs out of their
positions.
A second battle--a greater trial of strength, demanding higher
qualities of fortitude and endurance--was near at hand. Gough moved
forward at once, and attacked the Sikh entrenchments at Ferozeshah, Sir
Henry Hardinge, who was with him, waiving his rank of Governor-General,
and serving under Gough, in command of the left wing. The struggle
was terrific: the Sikhs fought with splendid courage, and when night
fell the battle was not ended. It was a drawn game so far, and some
despondent spirits in the camp suggested retreat--the rash and
inglorious course of cutting a road through to Ferozepore. Gough would
not agree. “I tell you, my mind is made up. If we must perish, our
bones must bleach honourably where we are.” Hardinge was no less firm.
When an officer told him that Sir Hugh Gough feared it would be a fatal
risk to renew the battle, Sir Henry scouted the idea. “Gough knows,” he
cried, “that a British army must not be foiled; and foiled this army
shall not be.” The contest, when it recommenced, was most unequal.
Fresh reinforcements reached the enemy, but our troops met them
undaunted, and went forward nobly to the attack. In the end, a turning
movement of cavalry on both flanks, followed by a fresh infantry
charge, decided the day in our favour, and the Sikhs were routed with
tremendous loss.
These victories did not end the war or complete the conquest of the
Punjaub. The Sikhs fell back upon the Sutlej, and established an
entrenched camp in front of the village of Sobraon: they did not care
to meet us again in the open field, but they stood a gallant siege at
Sobraon, which had to be stormed like a fortress. A curious feature in
this battle was the great charge of cavalry made through the breaches,
in which the horsemen cut down the defenders at their guns. Another
interesting fight was that at Aliwal, won by Sir Harry Smith as a
detached operation, in which the 16th Lancers greatly distinguished
themselves. These various victories broke the courage of the Sikhs, but
only for a time; and the peace that followed was of short duration.
[Illustration: SIR CHARLES NAPIER.]
It was abruptly ended by a deed of treachery such as has not been
uncommon in our Eastern Empire: the British resident and another
officer were murdered in Mooltan, and it was necessary to resume active
operations. But the occasion furnished an opportunity of distinction
to a gallant young officer, Lieutenant Herbert Edwardes, who, without
waiting for orders, united his small detachment, posted on the Indus,
to that of Colonel Courtrand, and fell upon the Sikhs, forcing them to
retreat into Mooltan. Then followed the gathering of forces anew on
both sides, and fresh battles, achieving at first but incomplete and
unsatisfactory results. The name of Chillianwallah and the misfortune
of that day will not be readily forgotten. It was a day of carnage,
disaster, and disgrace; for an English cavalry regiment, weakened
by previous losses and fearing an ambuscade, gave way to panic and
galloped off the field. It may, however, be said, in extenuation of
this happily unusual military crime, that an injudicious order given
by the brigadier originated the stampede. The consequences in any case
were disastrous, and it followed upon the nearly complete massacre of a
line regiment--H.M.’s 24th, that which suffered afterwards so terribly
at Insandlwana--which, emerging from a swampy jungle, was all but cut
to pieces, because it paused to spike guns it had captured from the
Sikhs.
A storm of indignation arose in England, and the public discontent
was poured out on the Commander-in-chief. Lord Gough was immediately
superseded by Sir Charles Napier, his previous brilliant services
being entirely ignored; but before the conqueror of Scinde could reach
India, Gough had completely vindicated our arms and his own reputation.
Mooltan was carried by storm, and the final decisive victory at
Goojerat--at first an artillery duel, in which our guns showed their
marvellous superiority--completed the discomfiture of the Sikhs. From
that time forth the Punjaub was incorporated in our British Indian
Empire. The Queen has no more loyal subjects, no more devoted soldiers
in her ranks, than the descendants of our former sturdy foes.
[Illustration: LORD GOUGH.
(_After the Painting by Sir Francis Grant, P.R.A._)]
The time was approaching when England was to be once more engaged in
European war. Just when the nations hoped they had reached an era of
universal peace, the clouds collected quickly, and two traditional
foes joined hands to attack Russia. The expeditionary force which left
these shores for Turkey in 1854, and which ere long won new victories,
but at a terrible outlay of men and material, was one of the finest,
as regards physique and fighting power, that England has collected.
It was well armed, as the time went, and well commanded. Lord Raglan
was at its head, and his lieutenants were mostly Peninsular veterans:
Sir George Brown, already mentioned for his gallantry at the Coa; Sir
De Lacy Evans, who had fought in Spain and America, and at Waterloo;
Sir George Cathcart, who had been on Wellington’s staff; Sir Colin
Campbell, of whom more directly; and Sir John Burgoyne, a famous
engineer officer, who had helped to construct the lines of Torres
Vedras, and had served in the great sieges of Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz,
Burgos, and San Sebastian. But the army was unprovided with the trains,
transport services, and means of supply which are of little less
importance than valour in the field; and for the want of them, bravery
was as nought, victories were wasted, and men’s lives poured out like
water.
The three principal battles fought in the Crimea by the English were
essentially triumphs for the rank and file. At the Alma it was sheer
hard slogging, headlong rushes against a strong position, which was
carried, in spite of all resistance. The fighting fell mostly to the
share of the 1st and 2nd Light Divisions, the Guards, the Highlanders,
and the Fusilier and Rifle battalions; and it was done in the famous
old formation--the thin red line. At one time the Guards were hard
pressed, and they came to Colin Campbell, who commanded the 2nd
Brigade, saying the Guards would be destroyed if they did not fall
back. “Better that every man of Her Majesty’s Guards should be dead
on the field than that they should turn their backs upon the enemy,”
replied Campbell, as he hastened with his Highlanders to their support.
At Balaclava, when “some one had blundered,” and the gallant Six
Hundred went into the jaws of death, the English light cavalry were all
but destroyed, but it won imperishable renown. “Magnificent, but not
war,” was the French general’s comment on the mad charge: an attack by
cavalry on guns in position; but the whole of these reckless horsemen
went forward with the same spirit that animated their leader, Lord
Cardigan, who, rising in his stirrups, cried, “Here goes the last of
the Brudenells!” It was a hopeless enterprise, but it was performed;
and all the world wondered.
Inkerman, again, was pre-eminently the soldiers’ battle--a hard
personal hand-to-hand fight, where the Russians numbered thousands
to our hundreds, and it was no less the almost impudent courage of
the British than the impossibility to believe that so few could
resist so many, except backed up by strong reserves, that prevented
the Russians from carrying all before them. The attack was made at
daylight, when the mists still lay thick on the ground, and concealed
the meagreness of our forces; the Russian hosts came on in dense
columns along a narrow front which prevented their opening out, and our
men in the proverbial “thin line” could hit the head of the advance
with tremendous effect. The onslaught fell first on Pennefather, who
had won early fame at Meanee against overwhelming odds; now, with a
bare 3,000 men all told, he hurried down, and came to immediate blows
against the Russians, nearly 20,000 strong, with powerful artillery.
It was so throughout the battle. Attack was met by counter-attack; our
handfuls constantly met the shock of great masses, checked them, drove
them back, and followed, fighting lustily. The Light Division, under
Codrington--1,400 men, no more--was as daring and tenacious. Until
half-past seven, for nearly a couple of hours, these two kept the whole
of the attackers at bay. Fresh troops then began to come up on both
sides; another Russian general’s corps, that of Dannenberg--19,000
men--renewed the assault; the Guards and 4th Division came up to
stiffen Pennefather. It was at this period that the gallant general
made a famous reply to General Cathcart, who had asked where he could
give best assistance. “Get in anywhere,” cried Pennefather; “there’s
lots of fighting going on all round.”
[Illustration: CHARGE OF CAVALRY THROUGH THE BREACHES AT
SOBRAON (_p._ 7).]
The final Russian attack was made about 10 a.m., the sharpest and best
intentioned of any in the day, but by this time the opponents were
more equal in numbers. Bosquet’s Frenchmen had come up to support, and
we had gained the help of the two celebrated 18-pounder guns under
Collingwood Dickson, which 150 artillerymen themselves dragged from
the 1st Division camp to the field. This, with two batteries of French
Horse Artillery, pushed gallantly forward to the “bare slopes fronting
the enemy,” had readjusted the balance of artillery fire; and at last
the Russians fell back, sullenly, overmastered, but they were followed
by no final charge. “When hopeless of success,” the enemy “seemed to
melt from the lost field; the English were too few and too exhausted;
the French too little confident in the advantage gained to convert the
repulse into a rout.” The victory at Inkerman was but the prelude to
terrible sufferings during the long-protracted siege, but these could
be borne with patience, because Inkerman had proved that we were more
than a match for the Russians in the open field. Had we not won the
battle, the whole of the allied armies, taken in reverse, would have
been swept off the plateau in front of Sebastopol right into the sea.
The fortress itself proved a very hard nut to crack, and although
frequently assaulted, was never actually taken by force of arms. The
winter troubles, the inclement weather, the difficulties of supply
which starved the troops and reduced the siege into a mere blockade,
forbade attack. On the contrary, the besieged displayed such activity
under the intrepid Todleben, that the initiative often passed to them,
and by bold sorties they gained ground rather than lost it. Even our
incessant bombardments, causing terrific carnage, did not dismay the
defenders, and fresh reinforcements constantly arrived. It was not till
June that the first real assault was delivered, and then only through
the indomitable determination of the allied generals. The French were
especially hampered by the interference of the Emperor Napoleon, who,
with no military knowledge, claimed to control and advise from Paris.
It was the first occasion on which the telegraph line began to be
largely used in campaigning, a practice greatly calculated to paralyse
the action of generals in the field. Napoleon was all in favour of
leaving the siege to linger on, while field armies cut off the supplies
to the fortress; but Pelissier, the French general, was a strong man
who held to his own views, and he persisted in attacking Sebastopol.
[Illustration: SIR COLIN CAMPBELL (AFTERWARDS LORD CLYDE).]
Early in June the French took the Mamelon, the English “the Quarries,”
important outworks, and it seemed as if the end was near. But a second
assault, delivered within a week or two upon the Malakoff and the
Redan, was repulsed with terrible loss; only a detached attack, under
the English General Eyre, upon the Cemetery succeeded, and for a time
we were actually within the walls. But we could not stay there. Two
months more elapsed, chequered by the death of Lord Raglan, who had
won the love and respect of all, and by another fierce effort, made
upon our communications. The battle of the Tchernaya was fought nearly
on the same ground as Balaclava, and was won by the French and the
newly-arrived Sardinian troops. Then, finally, on the 8th September,
the French stormed the Malakoff again, and this time took it. The
English had the more difficult task, because the Redan, which they
attacked, was constantly reinforced by the masses driven out of the
Malakoff. But our assault had not been planned on a big enough scale;
it was not properly supported, although the trenches behind were
crammed with reserves, and it failed. That night the Russians, feeling
that in the Malakoff they had lost the key of their defence, evacuated
the town, but not before they had blown up the forts, and set the whole
place on fire. The sight will never be forgotten by those who saw it,
as did the writer. The town in flames, great forts crumbling to pieces
as though by magic, heavy columns of Russians crossing the bridge under
an incessant fire from the allied batteries.