our lines, our troops were also engaged in repelling an equally
determined attack. A portion of the Russian columns advanced under
cover of the darkness, and succeeded in approaching the English
lines. The first intimation our men had of the threatened attack
was from the advanced sentinels, who quietly fell back with the
intelligence that a large body of the enemy was approaching our
position. The English troops engaged that night in the trenches
consisted of detachments of the 7th, 34th, 77th, 88th, 90th, and
97th regiments, under the command of Colonel Kelly, of the 34th.
The advanced posts on the right nearest the French lines were
composed of men from the 77th and 97th, led by Captain Vicars,
who, hearing the approach of the enemy, ordered his men to keep
silence. On came the Russians, and when within a few yards of the
English trenches, they rushed forward and leaped into the works.
They were immediately met by the brave defenders of the lines,
who, hitherto motionless, now made an irresistible charge upon the
advancing foe, and after a few moments of desperate hand-to-hand
conflict, literally pitched them from the parapet. Captain Vicars,
who led his men with distinguished courage, met his death in this
vigorous repulse. Major Gordon, of the Engineers, who commanded the
detachment on the right, was severely wounded. While the attention
of the defenders of the trenches was thus drawn to the conflict in
this direction, the enemy made another attempt to penetrate our
lines farther to the left, where two mortars had been established
for the defence of the trenches. Here they succeeded in gaining a
footing, notwithstanding a most brilliant resistance from a few men
of the 90th, who actually drove them from the battery, though they
were unable effectually to oppose their advance. The 7th and 34th,
under the command of Lieut.-Colonel Tylden, were now brought up to
the scene of action, and gallantly met the fierce assault. After
a severe contest, the Russians gave way, and were precipitated
from the works. A general attack was now made upon the retreating
masses, who fled utterly beaten. The French followed them so
far as to be enabled to destroy some of the rifle-pits they had
established on the slope of the Mamelon, which had been the means
of such constant annoyance to our Allies. In this pursuit Colonel
Kelly was killed. The Russian loss must have been very great. On
our side, the casualties were not more than 38 killed and wounded;
the French lost over 300.
On the next day an armistice, for the purpose of burying the dead,
was requested by General Osten-Sacken, the Russian Commander.
This was granted, and for two hours, on the 24th, the guns ceased
firing, and the officers and men of the opposed armies enjoyed
a brief respite from their deadly contest. There was a natural
desire on each side to approach as nearly as possible the lines
of the other; and the soldiers mingled freely in the open space
between the Allies on the one side and entrenched sides of the
Mamelon in front. Burial parties were formed and the dead and
wounded of either army borne away by their comrades. Meanwhile the
officers chatted and exchanged cigars, and the men passed equivocal
compliments--such as their very limited acquaintance with each
other’s language would permit; the Russians making kind inquiries
as to when the Allies would favour them with a visit at Sebastopol;
and our fellows requesting them not to trouble themselves with
special preparations, as they intended to make themselves quite at
home when they did come. The dead and wounded, in every variety
of attitude, were a frightful spectacle, even to those inured to
scenes of strife and bloodshed. At length the armistice expired,
the white flags disappeared from the parapet of the Mamelon, the
stragglers hastily ran to the protection of their works, and in an
instant the boom of hostile cannon again thundered on the ear, and
clouds of white smoke again obscured the scene of the brief truce.”
SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS, THE.--“The grand truth embodied in the
majestic lines--
“Let us be back’d with God, and with the seas,
Which he hath given for fence impregnable,
And with their helps alone defend ourselves;
In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.”
seems to have been a heartfelt conviction in the breasts of all
true Englishmen, long centuries before the poet was born.
King John, whom history has generally branded as a very unworthy
monarch, had some redeeming kingly qualities--not the least of
which was his determined assertion of England’s sovereignty of
the seas. He ordered his sea-captains to compel all foreigners
to salute his flag by “striking” their own national flags, and,
probably, by also lowering their topsails (as was the practice
at a subsequent period), in acknowledgment of England’s maritime
supremacy. If any foreign ship, even though belonging to a friendly
power, refused compliance, it was to be seized, and adjudged a
lawful prize. This and other facts lead to the conclusion that John
only enforced an ancient claim to dominion of the seas, which had
been asserted and enforced occasionally time out of mind.
Edward III, during his wonderfully long reign of fifty-one years,
was a most jealous asserter of his sovereignty of the seas, over
which he claimed a judicial power. Dr. Campbell says that Edward,
“in his commissions to admirals and inferior offices, frequently
styles himself sovereign of the English seas, asserting that he
derived this title from his progenitors, and deducing from them by
the grounds of his instructions, and of the authority committed
to them by these delegations. His parliaments, likewise, in the
preambles of their bills, take notice of this point, and that it
was a thing notorious to foreign nations that the King of England,
in right of his crown, was sovereign of the seas. In old “Hakluyt’s
Voyages” is printed a very curious poem, called “De politia
conservativa maris,” supposed to have been written in the time of
Edward IV. It contains a number of separate chapters, each of which
is full of most valuable and instructive information concerning the
commerce of England with various countries. The unknown author,
who must have been a man of very extensive information in his
day, urges most strongly his countrymen to maintain inviolate
the sovereignty of the seas, as the only means to preserve their
prosperity and safety.
In the reign of Charles I, both the French and Dutch began to
express great jealousy of the British claim to dominion of the
seas, and Hugo Grotius endeavoured very learnedly to prove that
Albion had no better natural right than Holland, or any other
maritime nation, to such a title. Our own equally learned and
eloquent Selden retorted by his celebrated treatise “Mare Clausum.”
We need not quote any of his arguments, which are generally
profound, and, if not always impregnable to impartial criticism,
are at any rate patriotic and singularly striking and ingenious.
Suffice it that the general conclusion to which he arrives is
conveyed in one very impressive sentence: “That they (the English)
have an hereditary, uninterrupted right to the sovereignty of their
seas, conveyed to them from their earliest ancestors, in trust for
their latest posterity.” Mainly with a view to enforce his claim
to the sovereignty of the narrow seas, did Charles I endeavour to
provide a naval force sufficient to overawe both French and Dutch,
and therefore issued his writs for levying “ship-money”--a most
fatal undertaking as concerned himself; for, as every reader knows,
this arbitrary measure (however honourable its original motives
might have been) was the beginning of that deplorable alienation
between the King and his subjects which resulted in the great civil
war, and eventually cost the hapless monarch both his crown and his
life.
In 1635 the King, by his secretary of state, addressed a long and
deeply interesting letter of instructions to his ambassador at the
Hague, in order to enable the latter to explain and justify to
their “High Mightinesses” his naval preparations, and their meaning
and objects. We will extract a few passages illustrative of our
theme: “We hold it,” saith King Charles, “a principle not to be
denied, that the King of Great Britain is a monarch at land and
sea, to the full extent of his dominions; and that it concerneth
him as much to maintain his sovereignty in all the British seas, as
within his three kingdoms; because, without that, these cannot be
kept safe, nor he preserve his honour, and due respect with other
nations. But, commanding the seas, he may cause his neighbours, and
all countries, to stand upon their guard whensoever he thinks fit.
And this cannot be doubted, that whosoever will encroach on him
by sea, will do it by land also, when they see their time.... The
degrees by which his Majesty’s dominion at sea hath of later years
been first impeached, and then questioned, are as considerable as
notorious.... But withal, considering that peace must be maintained
by the arm of power, which only keeps down war by keeping up
dominion; his Majesty, thus provoked, finds it necessary, for
his own defence and safety, _to re-assume and keep his ancient
and undoubted right in the dominion of the seas_, and suffer no
other prince or state to encroach upon him, thereby assuming to
themselves or their admirals any sovereign command, but to force
them to perform due homage to his admirals and ships, and to pay
acknowledgments as in former times they did.”
The Protector of the Commonwealth proved himself quite as jealous
of maintaining the power and privileges of the navy, as any of
his kingly predecessors, and he did what not one of them had ever
effected, namely, made a treaty with the United Provinces (the Low
Countries), by which it was solemnly stipulated “that the ships and
vessels of the United Provinces, as well those fitted for war as
others, meeting any ships of war of the said Commonwealth in the
British seas, shall strike their flag and lower their topsail, in
such manner as had been any time before practised under any former
government.” This was in 1654. After the restoration, Charles II
renewed the treaty in 1662, and in 1667, in almost precisely the
same terms as the above; and at the conclusion of the Dutch war, in
1673, in the fourth article of the treaty of peace it was expressly
stipulated that if any “ships or vessels of war, or others, or
whether single or in fleets, shall meet in any of the seas from
Cape Finisterre to the middle point of the land of Vanstaten in
Norway, with any ships or vessels belonging to his Majesty of Great
Britain, whether those ships be single or in greater numbers,
if they carry his Majesty of Great Britain’s flag or jack, the
aforesaid Dutch vessels or ships shall strike their flag and lower
their topsail, in the same manner, and with as much respect, as
has at any time and in any place been formerly practised,” &c. The
reader will bear in mind that the Dutch were at that time the most
powerful naval power next to Great Britain. The treaty appears
to have confirmed the dominion of the latter beyond what might
properly be called the “narrow,” or “British seas,” including, as
it did, all from the south-west of Portugal to a cape in Norway.
During the reigns of the four Stuart kings, as well as under the
protectorate of Cromwell, the “Mariners of England,”
“Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze,”
did indeed jealously “guard our native seas,” and assert and
maintain their country’s sovereignty thereof. In 1652, two fierce
actions were fought on this very score “On the 14th of May,
Commodore Young fell in with a Dutch convoy, escorted by three
ships of war, from whom he civilly demanded _the usual honours
to be paid to the English flag_. The Dutch commander positively
refused to comply, giving as a reason that he had express orders
from the States-General not to pay those honours which the English
exacted from their ships in the Channel. Commodore Young, on this
refusal, fired into the Dutch, which brought on a smart action;
but at length the Dutch ships struck, and, _after paying the
compliment_, were allowed to proceed on their voyage.” Only four
days later, Blake himself and Van Tromp had a far more serious
encounter on the very same score. Van Tromp and his fleet stood
towards Dover, off which Blake was lying with fifteen men-of-war,
and paid no respect whatever to the English flag. Blake instantly
fired, from his own ship, three unshotted guns at the Dutchman
as a reminder of his want of respect. Van Tromp retorted with a
broadside. “A most furious engagement instantly began. At first
the whole of the Dutch fleet directed their fire at the English
admiral, but he was soon bravely supported by the rest of the
ships, and Commodore Bourne joining at the same time with eight
sail more, obliged the Dutch to bear away, though still superior in
number, and seek shelter at the back of the Goodwin Sands, after
having been most severely mauled. The action lasted from four till
nine at night. One of the Dutch ships was taken, and another sunk.”
In a volume of the “Naval Chronicle,” for 1807, the sovereignty
of the sea is described as being “an actual and peculiar use
and enjoyment of the sea itself, and the performance of all the
functions of a sovereign upon it; such as prescribing rules of
navigation to those who frequent it, punishing delinquents,
protecting others, and receiving from all that homage and advantage
which are due to every lawful sovereign.” The writer proceeds to
state that the dominion of the sea entitles the “lawful possessors”
to six several prerogatives. The first two refer to the right of
fishing, &c., and the residue we will give at length.
“3. To impose tribute and customs on all merchant ships and
fishermen, fishing and trading within the limits of the sea that is
subjected to any particular dominions.
“4. The regular execution of justice for protecting the innocent,
and punishing the guilty for all crimes committed within the extent
of such sea-dominions.
“5. To grant free passage through any such sea to any number of
ships of war belonging to any other prince or republic, or to deny
the same, according to the circumstances and occasion of such
passage, in the same manner as any prince or state may grant or
deny free passage to foreign troops through their territories by
land, even though the prince or state to whom such ships or land
forces belong _be not only at peace, but in alliance_ with the
prince or republic of whom passage is desired.
“6. To demand of all foreign ships whatsoever within those seas
to strike the flag and lower the topsail to any ships of war, or
others bearing the colours of the sovereign of such seas.”
The latest example of an English commander insisting on a salute to
his flag, which we have been able to find, occurred in the month of
June, 1769, when “a French frigate having anchored in the Downs,
without paying the usual compliment to the British flag, Captain
John Holwell, who was the senior officer lying there, in the
‘Apollo’ frigate, sent an officer on board to demand the customary
salute; the French captain refused to comply, upon which Captain
Holwell immediately ordered the ‘Hawk,’ sloop of war, to fire two
shot over her, which being done, the French commander thought
proper instantly to salute.”
Many of the greatest of our poets have eloquently alluded to the
sea-sovereignty of their native island, ramparted with tidal
waters. Who does not remember the truly magnificent lines:--
“This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it as the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house
Against the envy of less happy lands!
* * * * *
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune.”
The popular strain of Thomson’s “Rule Britannia” gives an emphatic
assertion of Britain’s naval greatness. No poet, however, has so
celebrated the floating bulwarks of Britain, and the “Hearts of
Oak” who man them, as Campbell. His marvellously spirit-stirring
lyric, “Ye Mariners of England,”[3] has no rival in its intense
patriotism.
In conclusion, suffice it that for a considerable time the claim of
England’s sovereignty of the seas, so far as it includes special
homage to our flag, or anything resembling a judicial supremacy
over the ships of other nations, within the limits of the narrow
(or any other) seas, has been a dead letter. But we can well afford
to dispense with what was at best a somewhat questionable sort of
shadowy honour, for we know that we yet retain the substantial
maritime supremacy which alone enables us to rank as the foremost
nation of the world--
“Mistress, at least while Providence shall please,
And trident-bearing Queen of the wide seas!”
to quote the noble lines of the patriotic and Christian poet,
Cowper. Well will it be for us to constantly bear in mind the vital
truth that the same great poet proclaimed:--
“They trust in navies, and their navies fail:
God’s curse can cast away ten thousand sail!”
SPURS, BATTLE OF THE.--Henry VIII of England landed in France,
July, 1513, and soon gathered an army of 30,000 men. He was shortly
after joined by the Emperor Maximilian, with a well-appointed
army of horse and foot. They laid siege to Terouenne, which they
invested with an army of 50,000 men; and the Duc de Longueville
advancing to its relief was signally defeated. The French were
everywhere routed in the battle. This battle of Guinnegate was
called the Battle of the Spurs, because the French made more use of
their spurs than their swords. Fought 18th, August, 1513.
STANDARD, BATTLE OF THE.--Fought A.D. 1135. The following graphic
account gives the reason why the engagement was so called:
“King David at once marched into England to strike for the rights
of his niece. Twice he ravaged Northumberland with merciless
barbarity. In a third invasion he penetrated into Yorkshire.
Stephen was in the south, hard pressed by the partisans of Matilda,
and was obliged to leave the northern part of his kingdom to look
to its own defence. There was a man in those parts who knew what to
do. This was the aged Thurstan, Archbishop of York. He assembled
the Barons at York, held a solemn fast, gave them absolution and
his blessing, and delivered into their hands his crozier and the
holy banner of St. Peter of York. He ordered processions of the
priests with crosses, banners, and relics in every parish. He
enjoined all men capable of bearing arms to rise “for the defence
of the Church against the barbarians.” To all who should die in
battle he promised salvation. He sent forth the priests to lead
their parishioners to battle. Sickness alone prevented him, aged as
he was, from putting on his own coat of mail.
The English standard was erected on Cutton Moor, near
Northallerton. The mast of a ship was set up on a high four-wheeled
car. At the top of the mast was a large cross; in the centre of
the cross a silver box containing the consecrated wafer. Below the
cross floated the banners of three Saints, St. Peter of York, St.
John of Beverley, and St. Wilfred of Ripon. The idea of this car
seems to have been taken from the great standard car which was used
by the people of Lombardy.
The Scottish army was 26,000 strong. Men from the Lowlands of
Scotland were there armed with cuirasses and long spears; archers
from the southland “dales,” or valleys of the rivers that run into
Tweed and Solway; troopers from the Border mountains, who rode
small, but strong and active horses; the fierce men of Galloway,
who carried long pikes and wore no defensive armour; clansmen from
the Highlands with the small round target and claymore; men of the
isles, who wielded a long-handled battle-axe. A strong body of
knights and men-at-arms, sheathed in complete mail, rode around the
King.
The English placed their standard in their centre. Their steel-clad
knights dismounted, sent their horses to the rear, and formed in a
compact mass round the standard car. The Scots came on, shouting
their war cry, “Alban! Alban!” Their fierce charge drove in the
English infantry, but they could not break through the dense array
of mailed warriors who surrounded the standard, and received them
on the points of their levelled lances. The long pikes of the
Galloway men were shivered against the strong plate-armour of the
knights. In vain the Highlanders tried to hew their way with the
claymore into the mass of iron-cased chivalry. The archers of
Yorkshire, Nottingham, and Lincolnshire, with their great bows, and
arrows of three feet in length, ranged themselves on both flanks of
the Scots, and kept up from either side a constant flight of their
deadly shafts. On many another bloody day the Scots were destined
to know right cruelly the fatal force of the cloth-yard arrow!
For full two hours the attack was maintained. At length the Scots
began to recoil. An English soldier, cutting off the head of one
of the slain, raised it aloft, and cried, “The head of the King
of Scots.” The report that their King was killed flew through the
Scottish army and filled them with dismay. They broke and fled.
The King, tearing off his helmet to show his face, kept together
a small body of troops around himself, and was able in some degree
to check the pursuit. On that bloody moor he left 12,000 dead.”
STIRLING, BATTLE OF.--Fought, A.D. 1297.
“Wallace was engaged in the siege of Dundee when tidings were
brought him that an army, fifty thousand strong, was on the march
from England to put the Scots down. They were holding their
course towards Stirling. Wallace immediately left Dundee and
advanced to meet them. If he could reach the river Forth before
the English, he meant to make them pay for their passage. He
marched swiftly, talking over and arranging his plans with the
good Sir John the Graham as they rode. When they reached the hill
above Cambuskenneth, two miles east from Stirling, no English
were in sight. It was not long, however, till their banners were
seen approaching. The chief of their host was the Earl of Surrey.
But he was old and in broken health, and the man who really took
the command was Sir Hugh Cressingham, Edward’s Lord Treasurer of
Scotland. Cressingham was a priest, haughty and insolent, who loved
the corslet better than the cassock.
The English, three times more in number than the Scots, advanced
and took up their position on the banks of the Forth. Wallace
occupied the high ground to the north. The river, spanned by a long
and narrow wooden bridge, flowed between the armies. The towers
of Cambuskenneth Abbey threw their shadows slant and long as the
September sun sank behind Ben Lomond. The glow of the watchfires
lighted up the deep and sluggish waters of the Forth, as the two
armies lay under the silent night, waiting for day, and what
fortune God might send.
Morning came, but Surrey was in no haste to begin. The bridge was
so narrow that only two men-at-arms could pass it abreast. The
attempt to cross a deep river in the face of an enemy, by one
narrow passage, was so dangerous that the English general hesitated
to risk it. But the rash and scornful churchman, Cressingham, would
try it. He insisted on instantly attacking the Scots with the
division under his command. Surrey gave way to the taunts of the
headstrong priest, and ordered the attack.
A brave knight, Sir Marmaduke de Twenge, led the advance at the
head of a squadron of cavalry, heavily sheathed in steel, both
horse and man. Cressingham with his division followed. The Scots,
posted on high ground, kept their ranks and allowed the English
to defile over the bridge. Wait! they know what they are about.
Twenge has got his division of heavy cavalry over to the opposite
shore. Cressingham’s division are eagerly crowding along the
bridge. Twenge forms his cavalry and leads them up the hill against
the main body of the Scots. Nearly half the English army has
crossed without interruption. But see that strong force of Scottish
spearmen who, fetching a circuit, and keeping near the river, make
swiftly for the head of the bridge. They dash across the line of
English as it issues from the bridge, and cut it in two. Forming
in a solid mass bristling with spears, they occupy the bridgehead,
and bar the bridge against all passage. Surrey looks on over the
water. In three minutes the old General shall see a sight to make
his white hair stand up!
The moment Wallace has waited for has come. Up then, and at them!
The Scots charge furiously down the hill on Twenge and his cavalry,
and hurl them back in disorder on the squadrons of Cressingham,
great part of which have not had time to form since they passed
the bridge. The English are mingled, horse and foot, in desperate
confusion. Hundreds of them go down before the fierce charge of
the Scots. The long spears plough the thick, disordered mass. Vast
numbers are driven back into the river. The deep, still-flowing
river swallows horse and man with splash and gurgle. Multitudes
madly plunge in, vainly hoping to struggle to the other side,
and the water is lashed into a foam by the drowning struggles of
thousands of men and horses. This is the sight which old Surrey
sees, sitting his warhorse on the safe side of the Forth.