Late events have proved that, notwithstanding the dreams of visionary
philosophers and the hopes of philanthropists, the Millennium is not
yet arrived; the lamb cannot yet lie down in peace with the lion.
Science has performed miracles to procure comforts and luxuries for
man; literature and art have exerted their genial influence over his
life and manners; and commerce has brought nations, geographically
remote from each other, into the most intimate relations. And yet the
roots of all evils--interests, passions, and ambitions--are as actively
alive in promoting discord, as at the darkest periods of the world’s
history.
Encouraged by the evident advantages arising from the absence of war,
a kindly but enthusiastic body of enlightened men came forth to preach
a new description of crusade, a crusade for universal peace; and yet,
years after the promulgation of this holy mission, a nation, by far the
largest in geographical extent, thinks its time arrived, throws off the
mask, and boldly avows that, while other peoples have been fostering
plans of universal amity and brotherhood, it has been ever insidiously
working out its schemes for the subjugation of all the rest to its
arbitrary power.
The way in which Great Britain has met this, has been attended by a
lesson which I trust she will never forget. It has proved to her, that
if she is anxious to maintain the proud station which her patriots,
sages, warriors, and merchants have raised her to, she must not only
be a producer, a manufacturer, and a carrier; she must not only be
intelligent and wealthy; she must be physically as well as morally
strong, able to assert her own rights and support those of the weak and
oppressed. Most lamentably has she suffered from not attending to this.
Like another Quixote, she has rushed upon the enemy of humanity with
the nobleness of her nature, unprovided with everything but wealth,
courage, and faith in a good cause.
In his eloquent history of the Peninsular war, Sir William Napier had
pronounced an emphatic opinion upon the state in which England was
ever found at the commencement of a new contest; that her parsimony
always left her bare of _matériel_, men, and leaders. To the neglect
of this warning from a practical soldier, may we attribute most of our
disasters in the Crimea. We have gone headlong into a game of which we
seem to have known neither the moves nor the chances. Our generation
had little more real knowledge of war, than schoolboys who fight with
wooden swords under the standard of a pocket-handkerchief tied to a
stick. It is not necessary for England to be essentially a warlike
nation; it is not her part in the world’s progress; she is far more a
creator than a destroyer; but she must ever preserve a consciousness of
strength about her, that she knows will secure her from aggression and
insult. And let no one imagine that this sense of strength will make
her quarrelsome or unduly sensitive; every observer must know that the
brave and powerful man is always the most peaceful: he fears nobody,
and therefore he is slow to take offence.
I by no means wish to convert Britain into a Lacedæmon; I would
not have war to be the main business of our lives; but all should
cheerfully contribute to the keeping up of such a military force as
should make our country respected, even by those who are regardless of
all but physical power. Then how commanding would be her march among
nations! No people in the world is so morally strong; how divine then
would be her influence, if others were made completely aware that she
had the power to enforce right as well as to perceive it, to protect
the injured as well as to pity them! Witness the advent of a good and
strong man into a company of quarrelsome brawlers! it is like the
appearance of Neptune above the waves when the storm was scattering and
destroying the Trojan fleet.
But if it be necessary that we should always have a powerful armed
force ready for action, it is equally important that that force should
be acquainted with its trade. Lapped in peace, and surrounded by
visions of wealth, Englishmen have said, “We fear not war, we know we
are always in possession of the sinews of it.” But they have found
themselves mistaken: a soldier can no more be made in a day by the
influence of money, than a lawyer can; half a century of official
duties will not make a general, nor will all the experiences of the
hunting-field teach a dashing nobleman to lead on a charge of cavalry,
with a due regard to human life or a judgment that may insure success.
In all the disasters we have encountered in the Crimea, the courage
and physical strength of our soldiers have signalized themselves,
even beyond our hopes; but the readers of history--particularly that
part of it which relates to war--perceive at once that our leaders
have been wanting in that genius or knowledge which has distinguished
great captains. With all our respect for the fine and gentlemanly
qualities of the lamented Lord Raglan, we cannot subdue a conviction
that if a Hannibal, an Alexander, a Cæsar, a Belisarius, a Turenne,
a Condé, a Marlborough, or even a Suwarrow,[1] had been at the head
of such a gallant band, Sebastopol would have been subdued long ago.
I do not think that either Buonaparte or his conqueror was eminently
distinguished in this branch of the art of war. It is not often that
a man can, like Clive, go from the desk to the battle-field, and at
once become a great general; or that so young a man as Wolfe can take a
Quebec. In guerilla or partisan warfare, unprepared but enthusiastic
men sometimes make successful leaders; but to handle great masses of
troops, or to besiege strongly-fortified cities, whatever a general’s
genius may be, he must have a training in the active practice of his
profession.
It is not my place to write a dissertation upon the military art; I
have only to draw attention to the knowledge of sieges, which form so
prominent a part of it. Neither does it come within my plan, or the
limits allowed me, to treat of the science of fortification; mine is
but to employ “the philosophy which teaches by example,” and exhibit
the “Great Sieges of History.” And valuable is the lesson to all,--to
the student of the art of war, to the soldier at the cannon’s mouth,
to the minister who plans expeditions, and to the people who furnish
the means for them. There is scarcely a siege in this volume barren of
instruction; the principal of all being, that little can be achieved in
these mortal conflicts by either besieged or besiegers, without energy
constantly strained to the highest pitch, sleepless watchfulness,
keen and anxious observation, consummate prudence, undaunted courage,
firmness that is proof against attack or accident, great physical
powers of endurance, and MILITARY GENIUS. When armies are opposed upon
the wide field of a country, the game of chess may be played out by
tacticians, or by great chance, success may be obtained by a dashing
_coup de main_; but in important sieges, man is like the stag brought
to bay, every faculty is forced into intense action, and the slightest
error, the faintest relaxation, may produce irretrievable ruin, with
such consequences as no other event presents. In great battles, armies
may be annihilated; but in captured cities peoples are immolated and
humanity is degraded by the wild indulgence of its most brutal passions.
It is more than curious, it is wonderful, to observe how many sieges
will be found in this volume, whose fate has been decided by means
with which the art of war, as taught in the schools, had nothing to
do; and it is always the captain of the greatest genius who seizes
upon every unforeseen discovery, any extraordinary accident, any
suddenly-perceived natural advantage, to defeat the best-concerted and
most scientific plans of his adversary: in one instance the fortune of
an assault is changed by suspending a pig over the walls by a string
fastened to his leg.
To induce students of the military art to read this work, I shall
satisfy myself with relating one fact. When Prince Eugene was before
Belgrade, he was surprised by the appearance of an immense Turkish
host in his rear, which commenced their intrenchments, and prepared to
sit down comfortably to watch, annoy, and, with good opportunity, to
attack him. But Eugene had been an abbé before he was a soldier, and
had read “Cæsar’s Commentaries.” He recollected that Cæsar had once
been circumstanced exactly as he then was, and he determined to act as
Cæsar had done. He allowed his enemies all to come up, but before they
had quite established themselves in their new abode, he led his whole
force to a night assault, and though superior numbers and unforeseen
accidents increased the difficulties, he defeated and dispersed the
Turkish army, and the city in consequence surrendered. Had Prince
Eugene not read Cæsar, it is more than probable he would never have
taken Belgrade.
For my humble part in this eventful story, I have much indulgence to
request. To give such an account of the Great Sieges of History as the
subject deserved, in one volume, was a thing impossible; and yet that
was my task. The details of most of the sieges I have been obliged to
curtail, and to entirely omit some which, I fear, may be looked for by
those who are locally interested in them. Nevertheless, I have spared
neither labour nor research; and if earnestness of purpose and honesty
of intention merit approbation, I may, I trust, hope for as much as
such a work deserves.
In the arrangement of the sieges, after taking the first one to which
each place had been subjected in chronological order, I judged it
best to carry on the account so as to give a continuous sketch of the
sieges, or, in other words, of the history of the country or city
in question. After the first perusal, such a book as this will be
considered a work of reference, and, in that view, this plan must be
the best. For the same reason I have admitted many sieges that cannot
be classed as “great,” because they formed connecting links between
the large ones. Without them, the unlearned reader would be surprised,
when next his attention was drawn to a city which had cost one power
immense sacrifices to obtain, to find it in the possession of another.
As no two historians or chronologers agree about ancient dates, I have
had much trouble in settling the periods at which sieges out of the
regular pale of history took place. In such cases my best plan was to
adopt the opinion of the highest authority, and, wherever there was a
doubt, and his name was available, I have followed Archbishop Ussher.
In accordance with my plan, I have in no instance considered myself a
scientific instructor. I have said that the perusal of this book might
be beneficial to military students, but I have not contemplated that
all young men of that class were to become only engineers. It is the
part of the engineer to carry on his operations in accordance with the
rules he has been taught; but it is the higher duty of the CAPTAIN
to be alive to the CHANCES of the siege, as well as observant of its
scientific progress. It has been my business to relate the events, and,
to a commander of genius, these are as rich in instruction as the mere
school-rules of his awful art.