EMBARKS FOR DENMARK—NARROW ESCAPE FROM DROWNING—LANDING OF THE
FORCES—FORMIDABLE DEFENCE OF THE DANES—THEIR DEFEAT—BOMBARDMENT OF
COPENHAGEN—PATRIOTISM OF THE DANES—DESCRIPTION OF THE CITY—RUINOUS
EFFECTS OF THE SIEGE—SURRENDER OF THE FLEET—SUSPENSION OF
HOSTILITIES—DANGEROUS PASSAGE HOME—LANDS AT YARMOUTH.
The fleet destined for the north bore away from the Downs with a fine
leading breeze. It consisted of forty-two ships of war, twenty-two of
which were of the line, several frigates, and a forest of transports, on
board of which the forces destined to act on shore were embarked: these
amounted to twenty thousand effective men, and were under the command of
Lord Cathcart, while Admiral Gambier directed the naval operations.
After a rough passage, we came in sight of the Danish coast about the
middle of August; and early on the morning of the 16th of that month,
the debarkation of the troops, under cover of several gun-brigs,
commenced. We landed at Wisbeck, a small place in the island of Zealand,
about eight miles from Copenhagen.
Just before leaving the vessel in which I had sailed, I had a narrow
escape. The weather being warm and fine, several of the soldiers and
sailors took the advantage of bathing, and I made one of the number. One
morning, after having enjoyed this luxury, and just as I was
half-dressed, a cry of distress was heard, and on looking over the
ship’s side, a sailor, evidently unable to swim, was observed,
endeavouring to float on the surface of the water by grasping an oar
that happened to be within his reach: unfortunately he was unable to
retain his hold, and immediately disappeared. The sea was calm, and so
remarkably clear, that the spot in which he sank was easily recognised.
Not a moment was to be lost; and, being an expert swimmer, I divested
myself of the clothing I had put on, and dived after him. On looking
about, I saw the poor fellow faintly struggling near the bottom, among
some long sedgy weeds: his head being still uppermost, I seized him with
one hand by the hair, and with the other was so far able to swim, as to
raise both the man and myself to the surface, when on a sudden he
fastened on me with a grasp so deadly, that I was incapable of moving
hand or foot; and had I not been able to disengage myself, I must
inevitably have perished. The struggle between us was terrific, being
myself at that time scarcely seventeen years of age, and he a powerful,
full-grown man. At length, by a desperate effort, I escaped from his
grasp. Deprived of my buoyancy, he sank like a stone. On account of the
length of time I had been under water, my preservation was little less
than miraculous; indeed, one of the officers, and several of the crew,
who witnessed the transaction, had given me up for lost; when to their
surprise I again emerged, and was safely taken on board. Thus was I
given back to light and life; but was the deliverance wrought by the
prowess of my own arm? So I once thought; but the film is taken from my
eyes. It was the Lord Who preserved my life, by the agency of His
overruling providence. The sea confessed His mighty power, and my days
declining like a shadow were graciously renewed. Diligent search was
made for the body of the poor man, but without effect: it had, no doubt,
drifted with the current far from the place in which the accident
occurred, to be found probably no more till the sea shall give up her
dead.
After the army had made good its landing, which was effected without
opposition, one of the first acts of our commander was to issue a
proclamation, in which he announced the object of the expedition,
lamented the necessity of the cause of it, and expressed a hope that the
Danish fleet, then at anchor in the roads, would be surrendered without
bloodshed; at the same time declaring, that if it were not given up,
force would be used to secure it; in which event, he argued, the
innocent blood unavoidably shed would be chargeable on those who advised
resistance to a measure dictated by imperious necessity. To this
specimen of military logic, rendered so conclusive by the force of arms,
the Danes deigned no reply. The government resolved to defend the
capital, and thus convince the world that the country intended to
maintain its honour and property against the assailants, whether they
came from the Thames or the Seine, and show the fallacy of the reasoning
upon which the British ministry founded the expediency of their present
extraordinary measure. Paper contentions and the rivalry of manifestoes
were therefore relinquished; and as neither party chose to recede,
negotiation was succeeded by the rude appeal to arms.
On the side of the invaders, the best understanding subsisted between
the army and navy, and suitable arrangements were promptly made by the
respective commanders for mutual co-operation. Several frigates and
gunboats took advantage of a favourable wind to place themselves in
front of the harbour, taking care to secure a position which enabled
them to throw shells into the city, while the troops advanced by land:
the operations on both elements were conducted with equal vigour and
success. The plan of defence adopted by the Danes was similar to that
projected some years previously, in the memorable engagement with
Nelson. Strong lines of gunboats and praams were securely moored for the
defence of the harbour, flanked at each extremity by the crown battery
and a blockhouse, in which upwards of a hundred pieces of cannon were
mounted; this force, which was judiciously planned, offered formidable
resistance to the British squadron. The Danes fired red-hot balls, and
soon after the commencement of the action several of our ships in
advanced positions were compelled to haul off: they, however, shortly
resumed their places, and poured an incessant fire on the rafts and
armed craft. As it was deemed imperatively needful to put an end to all
resistance on the harbour side of the city, batteries were erected on
shore by the English forces, who opened a well-directed fire on every
vessel in which Danish colours were visible. Congreve rockets flared
through the lurid sky without intermission. One of the Danish vessels
blew up with tremendous explosion, the fire of the others gradually
abated, and in a few hours all opposition from the flotilla ceased.
Meantime the main body of the besieging army pushed on its advanced
posts with great vigour: they carried their approaches to within four
hundred yards of the ramparts, and forced one of the strongest redoubts,
which was turned against the enemy. Having heard that a considerable
body of troops had assembled in order to surprise us, a detachment,
consisting of four regiments of British infantry, with a squadron of
hussars, under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, was ordered to march
against it. We found the Danes, fourteen thousand strong, advantageously
posted in front of the small town of Kioge. The attack began on our part
with the usual spirit. Some little impression having been made on the
enemy’s line, the 92nd were ordered to charge. The movement was executed
with astonishing celerity; the shock was irresistible, and the Danes,
unused perhaps to such personality, fled in all directions: numbers,
however, remained lifeless on the battlefield, and many more were taken
prisoners, and consigned to the British fleet.
As this was the first action of any importance in which I had been
closely engaged, it put my firmness to the test. The regiment in which I
served was placed on the right of the British line. The first thing that
startled me was the forceful rebound of a cannon-ball that struck the
ground within a few paces of the place where I stood; it scattered the
earth with violence, but fortunately did no injury, and the impression
of danger was soon erased by the heavy and rapid trampling of a cavalry
charge made in our favour, and which laid many a brave fellow low. Of
those who escaped from the destructive sweep, several sought refuge in a
churchyard, where a large body were overtaken and captured. I recollect
meeting with an exhausted Dane, concealed in the side of a ditch: the
interview seemed particularly disagreeable to him, and was quite
unexpected by myself. I soon put an end to all explanations by
conducting him to headquarters. But after the battle had ceased, and my
spirits became composed, I was subdued beyond all I ever felt before.
This emotion was produced by leisurely traversing the scene of action on
the following day. There lay the dead, just as they had fallen. They
were said to be enemies, but I felt that they and myself were partakers
of one common nature. I saw several Danish women moving with terror
among the slain, anxious to discover and yet afraid to ascertain who
pressed the field. The day before I was among the foremost of those
fearless spirits who dealt out wounds and carnage, careless of danger
and destitute of fear. But when the soul is allowed quietly to look
within; when the hurricane of wrath has spent its fierceness, and
nothing remains, save the desolation it has produced,—views and
sensations are strangely transposed. My compassionate musings were,
however, exceedingly brief. A soldier’s moral meditations seldom take
place; and if nature will occasionally assert her right, the hasty tear
is brushed away for sterner thoughts and deeds.
There is to be perceived among the Danes an amiable simplicity of
manners, coupled with remarkable firmness and bravery in action: this
was conspicuous in every conflict. Private emolument or the protection
of property was never suffered to compete with the measures necessary
for public defence. Life itself seemed of value only so far as it could
contribute to national honour. Gardens, smiling with the choicest
fruits, all but ripe, were cheerfully resigned as the site for erecting
batteries. Masses of soldiery were quartered in the cornfields. The
furniture of several mansions belonging to the nobility was hastily
removed, and the buildings offered to the service of government, as the
exigency of affairs required. The palace of the crown prince resembled a
barrack more than the residence of royalty. The entire people, of
whatever age or rank, emulous only to be distinguished in the defence of
home, came simultaneously forward, with the suffrage of their best
services. This unflinching devotedness, estimable whether in friend or
foe, was met by corresponding energy on the part of the besiegers, who
were persons not to be trifled with.
[Illustration: COPENHAGEN.]
Before I report further progress, a few brief notices of the city of
Copenhagen may not be uninteresting. It is universally acknowledged to
be the best-built capital in the north. Petersburg excels it in superb
edifices, but is disfigured by multitudinous wooden houses, and exhibits
therefore a striking contrast of pomp and penury. Copenhagen presents a
more equable and uniform appearance. The town is surrounded toward the
land with regular ramparts and bastions, a broad ditch full of water,
and several outworks. Its circumference is about five miles. The streets
are well paved, with a foot-way on each side, but are inconveniently
narrow. The greater part of the buildings are of brick, and a few of
freestone brought from Germany. The houses of the nobility are in
general splendid, and constructed in the Italian style of architecture:
the palace, which was erected by Christian VI., is a large pile of
building, the front of which is stone, and the wings of brick stuccoed.
Maritime affairs and the facilities of trade have also received proper
attention. The haven is commonly crowded with merchant ships, and the
streets are intersected with broad canals, by which merchandise is
brought close to the warehouses that line the quays. The city owes its
principal beauty and healthiness to a cause similar to that to which the
renovation and improvement of London are to be ascribed. A dreadful fire
broke out in Copenhagen, in 1728. Five churches and sixty-seven streets
were destroyed; the whole of which, and many others, have since been
rebuilt in modern style. The new part of the town, raised by king
Frederick V., (1746–1766) is extremely beautiful, scarcely inferior to
Bath. It consists of an octagon, containing four uniform and elegant
buildings of hewn stone, and of four broad streets leading to it in
opposite directions. Part of Copenhagen, which is called
Christianshafen, is built upon the isle of Amak.
The British commander, unwilling to injure the city, had hitherto
confined his offensive operations to the adjacent suburbs. It was,
however, notified to the Danes in occupation as a garrison, that unless
the terms proposed for the surrender of the fleet were immediately
accepted, an attack might be expected. On the 31st of August the
platform was raised, and the mortar batteries were ready for action.
General Pieman, the governor, having refused to listen to the proposals
forwarded, a vigorous fire was opened from the batteries and
bomb-vessels, and in a few hours it was observed that the city was on
fire in several places: the bombardment continued with little
intermission till the evening of the 7th of September. By that time
extensive injury had ensued, and it became evident that if the
bombardment continued much longer, the city would be reduced to ashes. A
flag of truce was in this extremity despatched, requesting a suspension
of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to afford time for proposing terms
of capitulation. The reply of Lord Cathcart was that nothing of the kind
could be entertained, unless grounded on the entire and unconditional
surrender of the Danish fleet. This was a bitter pill; but necessity,
which has often laid the mighty in the dust, compelled the besieged to
take it; and in the night of the 7th of September the articles of
capitulation were settled, to be ratified the following morning.
According to these, the British were put into possession of the citadel
and dockyards, all the ships of war and naval stores were to be
delivered up, a mutual restoration of prisoners was to take place,
private property to be respected, and in the space of six weeks the
citadel to be restored to the King of Denmark, and the whole island of
Zealand to be evacuated by the British army. In consequence of this
capitulation, we were put into possession of sixteen sail of the line,
fifteen frigates, six brigs, and twenty-five gunboats, all of which were
nearly ready for sea. A vast abundance of stores of all kinds necessary
to equip or build a fleet were found in the arsenals. It was therefore
necessary to load all the ships of the line and frigates which were
delivered up with masts, spars, and timber; so that ninety-two
transports were employed to bring the property to England.
Whatever may be the opinion respecting the justice or policy of the
expedition to Copenhagen, there can be but one relative to the mode in
which Lord Cathcart conducted it. While he did all that his duty as an
officer required, he was throughout the whole of the operations
attentive to the suffering Danes: he levied no contributions; not the
slightest military excess was committed; and had it not been that the
British army was engaged in bombarding their capital, the Danes might
have taken them for friends and allies, instead of hostile troops. Even
after the surrender of Copenhagen, we were not quartered in it for some
days, the Danish troops remaining in possession of all the gates but
that which was connected with the citadel. No interference took place
with respect to the police or any other internal regulation of the city,
and everything was done to tranquillise the public mind; but all was in
vain to reconcile the Danish government or people to the bombardment of
the capital and the seizure of their fleet in time of peace. As might
have been foreseen, the outrage was deemed intolerable: it is true they
were plundered with comparative politeness,—nobody hurt them when their
treasures were given up; still that did not alter the character of the
transaction: it conferred honour upon the agencies employed, who might,
without any special departure from the laws of war, have added
fierceness to bravery, and wasted what they did not want. But the
national spirit of the Danes was roused to unquenchable indignation;
they considered themselves the victims of lawless freebooters, superior
to themselves only in brute force, and infinitely inferior in everything
else. Under feelings excited by these galling considerations war was
proclaimed between Denmark and Great Britain.
Every one will readily believe, that, notwithstanding the good behaviour
of their visitors, the Danes were by no means enamoured with our
company, and not a little pleased when preparations were made for
departure. We had caused great injury to several of the finest erections
in the city, had thrown down the steeple of one of the best churches,
had created an entire suspension of commerce for a wearisome season, and
having collected as much naval property as we could grasp, and more than
we could carry, were getting it on board the captured vessels with as
much deliberation and order as if nothing more were in hand than a
regular shipment of purchased merchandise. The design of the expedition
having been fully executed, the troops were re-embarked towards the end
of October. On observing the signal for sailing, the whole of the fleet
prepared to weigh and stand out to sea; and when under sail, the almost
interminable line of shipping presented an extensive and magnificent
spectacle. The first part of the homeward voyage was performed under
favourable circumstances; but on nearing the English coast, the weather,
which had been fine, became rough and boisterous. Soon after we came in
sight of land, the regiment to which I belonged, for reasons with which
I am unacquainted, was shifted from the vessel we had occupied to the
_Sirion_, of seventy-four guns, one of the Danish prizes; and though so
near our destined port, we were exposed to danger, greater perhaps than
any we had hitherto experienced. There were on board, beside the crew,
seven companies of the 43rd, amounting to nearly as many hundred men.
Just at midnight, during a gale of wind, when all were wrapped in
security, and the greater part in slumber, the ship struck on a
sand-bank. The shock was excessively violent. Alarmed by the concussion,
which was attended by an ominous straining of the timbers, an immediate
rush was made by the soldiers below to gain the maindeck. To prevent
this dangerous intrusion, the hatches were secured, and a strong guard
appointed to keep them from being forced. The confusion and contention
that prevailed among such a body of resolute men, cooped up in their
berths between decks, and with the consciousness of danger, which they
were not even permitted to view, may be conceived, but not easily
described. To increase our alarm, the foremast went over with several
men in the top, one of whom fell on the shank of an anchor, and was
killed. By the mercy of God we were after all preserved. Several of the
most active soldiers, among whom I was one, were eventually ordered to
assist the crew, whose exertions were beyond all praise. The damaged
rigging and running tackle were all repaired; we contrived, under the
direction of the ship’s officer, to elevate a jury mast, and exhibit
canvas that answered the purpose of a foresail; and though in a
shattered condition, we had the happiness, assisted by a favourable
breeze, to feel the ship glide over the shoal, and swing into deep
water. On the following day, the sailor who lost his life by falling
from the foretop was committed to the deep. The body was carefully
enclosed in a blanket, and placed on an oblong grating, to each end of
which two round shot were lashed. The sea service for the burial of the
dead was then performed with great solemnity; immediately after which,
the grating was lowered from the ship’s side, and, being heavily
weighted, sank with the velocity of a stone. We landed in safety at
Yarmouth on the first day of December, and marched without loss of time
into the barracks, where all traces of our recent perils and exposure to
sudden mortality were soon forgotten, or remembered only for amusement.
Having saved a little money, I was soon able to furnish myself with such
extra articles of necessity and convenience as appeared desirable to a
young man just returned to his native shore, and aiming to appear
respectable. But, alas! I regret to state that my ambition was not
limited to things altogether needful. Surrounded by evil examples, I
became an easy prey to vicious men and their sinful practices. Prodigal
of cash while it lasted, the earnings of many a watchful, hard-fought
day were speedily dispersed; and among other considerations which now
occur to my mind, I am amazed that at the season of life now described,
although just escaped almost miraculously from the jaws of death, not
the smallest sense of gratitude to the Almighty seemed to enter the
minds either of my comrades or myself. That this acknowledgment is
discreditable to myself, I am sensible; but since such was the fact,—and
I am determined to represent things as they really were,—it must not be
suppressed merely for the purpose of putting a gloss upon conduct
essentially wrong. I shall not stoop even to concealment: the advice of
old Herbert is homely but sound,—
‘Dare to be true; nothing can need a lie:
The fault that needs it most grows two thereby.’
Subsequent reflection upon the debased condition of my mind at that time
has shown me, and my experience has borne out the fact, that man by
nature is spiritually insensible, and in a condition that exactly
verifies the declaration of holy Writ. His soul is touched with an
iceberg. The faculties are chained down by invincible ignorance. There
is a moral chaos within; through every power darkness and confusion
reign with total absence of form and order. In the more emphatic
language of inspiration, he is ‘dead in trespasses and sins,’ nor can an
archangel’s voice awaken or revive him. But when the Spirit of truth
shall descend, the frozen heart shall melt, and flow down before the
Lord in streams of contrition and obedience. Equally sure am I that no
power less than Divine can effect the change alluded to. Reason can do
many things; it may distinguish right from wrong, and can prove the
truths on which the distinction rests. But the knowledge of good and
evil is one thing, power to choose the former and reject the latter is
another; and without pretending to unusual research, I fearlessly
affirm, and challenge refutation, that spiritual influence, and that
alone, is sufficient to overcome the spiritual malady of the human race.
Man does not want his heart to be merely mended; it must be renewed. To
attempt the repair of bad principles is wide of the mark: that would be
like decorating the outside of a building, the rottenness of whose
timbers betokens the nearness of its fall. All such trash and lumber
must be cleared away: they seldom pay even for stowage, and the safer
way is to carry them out of sight. A new foundation must be laid, based
on firmer ground, and constructed with better materials. Old things must
pass away, and all things become new. Principles are to be engrafted
which had no previous existence; and this decisive and comprehensive
reformation, which is not to be viewed as an accessory or appendage to
religion, but as its leading feature, constitutes the chief difference
between refinement in morals and actual conversion to God. Some apology
is perhaps due for thus breaking out into meditations instead of
pursuing my narrative: all I have to offer is, that, reflecting on the
goodness of God, I cannot refrain from exulting in the change I have
myself experienced, grounded on the sacred verities just described.
Feeling myself invigorated by the review, perhaps others may share in
the privilege, and rejoice in possession of the same hope. Travelling
through the great and terrible wilderness of this world, I gather solace
from such recollections, and go forward. The retrospect is like an oasis
in the desert; a beautiful green spot, amid the aridity of desolating
barrenness, verdant as the garden of the Lord, and refreshing as the dew
of Hermon.
[Illustration]