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GENERAL GORDON:
SAINT AND SOLDIER.
BY
J. WARDLE, C.C.,
A PERSONAL FRIEND.
NOTTINGHAM:
HENRY B. SAXTON, KING STREET.
1904.
{The Author: p6.jpg}
PREFACE.
Nothing but the greatest possible pressure from my many kind friends who
have heard my lecture on "General Gordon: Saint and Soldier," who knew of
my intimacy with him, and had seen some of the letters referred to, would
have induced me to narrate this little story of a noble life. I am
greatly indebted to many friends, authors, and newspapers, for extracts
and incidents, etc., etc.; and to them I beg to offer my best thanks and
humble apology. This book is issued in the hope, that, with all its
imperfections, it may inspire the young men of our times to imitate the
Christ-like spirit and example of our illustrious and noble hero, C. G.
Gordon.
J. WARDLE.
THIS BRIEF STORY
OF A
NOBLE, SAINTLY AND HEROIC LIFE,
I DEDICATE WITH MUCH AFFECTION
TO MY SON,
JOSEPH GORDON WARDLE
"If I am asked, who is the greatest man? I answer, "the best." And if
I am requested to say, who is the best, I reply: "he that deserveth
most of his fellow creatures."
--_Sir William Jones_.
INDEX.
_Chapter_ I.--Introduction--Gordon's birth, parentage and school--His
first experience of warfare in the Crimea--His display of exceptional
soldierly qualities--The storming of Sebastopol and its fall.
_Chapter_ II.--Gordon assisting to lay down frontiers in Russia, Turkey
and Armenia--Gordon in China--Burning of the Summer Palace--Chinese
rebellion and its suppression.
_Chapter_ III.--Gordon at Manchester--My experiences with him--Ragged
School work--Amongst the poor, the old, the sick--Some of his letters to
me, showing his deep solicitude for the lads.
_Chapter_ IV.--Gordon's letters--Leaflet, &c.--His work at
Gravesend--Amongst his "Kings"--His call to foreign service, and leave
taking--The public regret.
_Chapter_ V.--His first appointment as Governor General of the Soudan--His
journey to, and his arrival at Khartoum--His many difficulties--His visit
to King John of Abyssinia, and resignation.
_Chapter_ VI.--Gordon's return to Egypt and welcome by the Khedive--Home
again--A second visit to China--Soudan very unsettled--The Madhi winning
battles--Hicks Pasha's army annihilated--Gordon sent for; agrees again to
go to Khartoum.
_Chapter_ VII.--Gordon's starting for Khartoum (2nd appointment)--His
arrival and reception--Khartoum surrounded--Letter from the Madhi to
Gordon--Gordon's reply--His many and severe trials in Khartoum.
_Chapter_ VIII.--Expedition of Lord Wolseley's to relieve Gordon--Terrible
marches in the desert--Battle of Abu-Klea--Colonel Burnaby killed--Awful
scenes--The Arabs break the British Square--Victory and march to
Mettemmeh.
_Chapter_ IX.--Gordon's Boats, manned by Sir Charles Wilson, fighting up
to Khartoum--Khartoum fallen--Gordon a martyr--Mourning in all lands--Our
Queen's letter of complaint to Gladstone--Gladstone's reply and
vindication--Queen's letters to Gordon's sister--Account of the fall of
Khartoum--Acceptance by the Queen of Gordon's Bible.
CHAPTER I.
"There is nothing purer than honesty; nothing sweeter than charity;
nothing warmer than love; nothing richer than wisdom; nothing brighter
than virtue; nothing more steadfast than faith."--_Bacon_.
It has been said that the most interesting study for mankind is man; and
surely one of the grandest objects for human contemplation, is a noble
character; a lofty type of a truly great and good man is humanity's
richest heritage.
The following lines by one of our greatest poets are true--
"Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time."
While places and things may have a special or peculiar charm, and indeed
may become very interesting, nothing stirs our hearts, or rouses our
enthusiasm so much as the study of a noble heroic life, such as that of
the uncrowned king, who is the subject of our story, and whose career of
unsullied splendour closed in the year 1885 in the beleaguered capital of
that dark sad land, where the White and Blue Nile blend their waters.
"Noble he was contemning all things mean,
His truth unquestioned and his soul severe,
At no man's question was he e'er dismayed,
Of no man's presence was he e'er afraid."
General Gordon was the son of a soldier who proved his gallantry on many
occasions, and who took a pride in his profession. It was said of him
that he was greatly beloved by all who served under him. He was
generous, genial and kind hearted, and strictly just in all his practices
and aims. He gave to his Queen and country a long life of devoted
service. His wife, we are told, was a woman of marked liberality;
cheerful and loving, always thoughtful of the wants of others; completely
devoid of selfishness.
The fourth son, and third soldier of this happy pair, Charles George, was
born at Woolwich in 1833. He was trained at Taunton. When about 15
years of age he was sent to the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, to
prepare for the army; a profession his father thought most worthy of the
Gordons. While here at school an incident occurred which served to show
that our young hero was no ordinary student. His tutor, with an air of
contempt, rebuked him severely for some error or failure in his lessons,
and told him sneeringly he would never make a general. This roused the
Scotch blood of the budding soldier, and in a rage he tore the epaulettes
from his shoulders, and threw them at his tutor's feet--another proof of
the correctness of the old adage, "Never prophesy unless you know." By
the time he reached the age of twenty-one, he had become every inch a
soldier, and when tested he proved to have all a soldier's
qualities--bravery, courage, heroism, patriotism, and fidelity,
characteristics of the best soldiers in our army.
Archibald Forbes, writing of him, says "The character of General Gordon
was unique. As it unfolded in its curiously varied but never
contradictory aspects, you are reminded of Cromwell, of Havelock, of
Livingstone, and of Captain Hedley Viccars. But Gordon's individuality
stood out in its incomparable blending of masterfulness and tenderness,
of strength and sweetness. His high and noble nature was made more
chivalrous by his fervent, deep and real piety. His absolute trust in
God guided him serenely through the greatest difficulties. Because of
that he was not alone in the deepest solitude. He was not depressed in
the direst extremity. He had learned the happy art of leaning upon the
Omnipotent arm."
{Gordon, the hero: p17.jpg}
Early in 1884 a leading newspaper said of him, "General Gordon is without
doubt the finest captain of irregular forces living." About the same
time Mr. Gladstone said of him, "General Gordon is no common man. It is
no exaggeration to say he is a hero. It is no exaggeration to say he is
a Christian hero." Mr. W. E. Forster also remarked of him, "I know no
other man living for whom I have a greater admiration than General
Gordon. He is utterly unselfish. He is regardless of money. He cares
nothing for fame or glory. He cares little for life or death. He is a
deeply religious man. The world to come, and God's government over this,
are to him the greatest of life's realities. True heroism has been said
to be a sacrifice of self for the benefit of others. If this is true,
Gordon has well won the appellation, "The Hero of the Soudan." His
soldierly qualities were first tested in the Crimea, where we find him in
1854 and 1855. Here for the first time in his military career he was
brought face to face with all the horrors of actual war, and here for the
first time he saw friend and foe lie locked like brothers in each other's
arms. Here he got his first baptism of fire; and here he showed the
splendid qualities which in after years made him so famous and so
beloved. An old soldier who served under him during this terrible
campaign says "I shall never forget that remarkable figure and form,
which was an inspiration to all who knew him, and saw him on the field of
carnage and blood."
He was utterly unconcerned in the midst of dangers and death. He would
twirl his cane and good humouredly say "Now boys, don't fear, I see no
danger." On one occasion when engaged in the very thick of a most awful
struggle he said, "Now my boys, I'm your officer, I lead, you follow,"
and he walked literally through a shower of lead and iron with as little
concern apparently, as if he were walking across his own drawing-room;
and he came out of the conflict without a scar.
Sir E. Stanton in his dispatches home, making special reference to our
hero, says--"Young Gordon has attracted the notice of his superiors out
here, not only by his activity, but by his special aptitude for war,
developing itself amid the trenches before Sebastopol, in a personal
knowledge of the enemy's movements, such as no officer has displayed. We
have sent him frequently right up to the Russian entrenchments to find
out what new moves they are making." Amid all the excitement of war and
its dangers he never omitted writing to his mother; an example I hope my
readers, if boys, or girls, will studiously copy. He loved his mother
with the passion of his great loving heart. Soldier lads often forget
their mother's influence, their mother's prayers, and their mother's God.
Writing home to his mother he says "We are giving the Redan shells day
and night, in order to prevent the Russians from repairing it and they
repay us by sending amongst us awful missiles of death and destruction,
and it requires one to be very nimble to keep out of their way. I have
now been thirty-four times, twenty-four hours in the trenches; that is
more than a month without any relief whatever, and I assure you it gets
very tedious. Still one does not mind if any advance is being made."
An eye witness of this bloody work in the trenches and the storming of
the Malakof and the Redan, writes:--
"On that terrible 8th of September, every gun and mortar that our
people and our noble allies, the French, could bring to bear upon the
enemy's work, was raining death and destruction upon them. The
stormers had all got into their places. They consisted of about 1,000
men of the Old Light and 2nd Division; the supports were formed up as
closely as possible to them, and all appeared in readiness. History
may well say, 'the storming of a fortress is an awful task.' There we
stood not a word being spoken; every one seemed to be full of thought;
many a courageous heart, that was destined to be still in death in one
short hour, was now beating high."
"It was about 11.15 a.m., and our heavy guns were firing in such a way
as I have never heard before. The batteries fired in volleys or
salvoes as fast as they could load and fire, the balls passing a few
feet above our heads, while the air seemed full of shell. The enemy
were not idle; for round shot, shell, grape and musket balls were
bounding and whizzing all about us, and earth and stones were rattling
about our heads like hail. Our poor fellows fell fast, but still our
sailors and artillery men stuck to it manfully. We knew well that
this could not last long, but many a brave soldier's career was cut
short long before we advanced to the attack--strange some of our older
hands were smoking and taking not the slightest notice of this 'dance
of death.' Some men were being carried past dead, and others limping
to the rear with mangled limbs, while their life's blood was streaming
fast away. We looked at each other with amazement for we were now
under a most terrible fire. We knew well it meant death to many of
us. Several who had gone through the whole campaign shook hands
saying, 'This is hot,' 'Good bye, old boy,' 'Write to the old folks
for me if I do not return.' This request was made by many of us. I
was close to one of our Generals, who stood watch in hand, when
suddenly at 12 o'clock mid-day the French drums and bugles sounded the
charge, and with a shout, 'Vive l'Empereur' repeated over and over
again by some 50,000 men, a shout that was enough to strike terror
into the enemy. The French, headed by the Zouaves, sprang forward at
the Malakof like a lot of cats. On they went like a lot of bees, or
rather like the dashing of the waves of the sea against a rock. We
had a splendid view of their operations, it was grand but terrible;
the deafening shouts of the advancing hosts told us they were carrying
all before them."
"They were now completely enveloped in smoke and fire, but column
after column kept advancing, pouring volley after volley into the
breasts of the defenders. They (the French) meant to have it, let the
cost be what it might. At 12.15 up went the proud flag of France,
with a shout that drowned for a time the roar of both cannon and
musketry. And now came our turn. As soon as the French were seen
upon the Malakof our stormers sprang forward, led by Colonel
Windham--the old Light Division consisting of 300 men of the 90th,
about the same number of the 97th, and about 400 of the 2nd Battalion
Rifle Brigade, and with various detachments of the 2nd and Light
Divisions, and a number of blue jackets, carrying scaling ladders. Our
men advanced splendidly, with a ringing British cheer, although the
enemy poured a terrible fire of grape, canister and musketry into
them, which swept down whole companies at a time. We, the supports,
moved forward to back up our comrades. We advanced as quickly as we
could until we came to the foremost trench, when we leaped the
parapet, then made a rush at the blood stained walls of the Redan. We
had had a clear run of over 200 yards under that murderous fire of
grape, canister and musketry. How any ever lived to pass that 200
yards seemed a miracle; for our poor fellows fell one on the top of
another; but nothing could stop us but death. On we went shouting
until we reached the redoubt. The fighting inside these works was of
the most desperate character, butt and bayonet, foot and fist; the
enemy's guns were quickly spiked: this struggle lasted about an hour
and a half. It was an awful time, about 3,000 of our brave soldiers
were slain in this short period." Our hero Gordon, tells us that on
the evening of this 8th of September--
"I heard most terrific explosions, the earth seemed to be shaken to
its very centre;--It was afterwards discovered the enemy's position
was no longer tenable, so they had fired some 300 tons of gunpowder,
which had blown up all their vast forts and magazines. O! what a
night: many of our poor fellows had been nearly buried in the
_debris_, and burning mass: the whole of Sebastopol was in flames. The
Russians were leaving it helter-skelter--a complete rout, and a heavy
but gloriously-won victory."
For his acknowledged ability, his fine heroism, and his true loyalty to
his superiors during this most trying campaign, he received the
well-earned decoration of the Legion of Honour from the French
Government, a mark of distinction very rarely conferred upon so young an
officer.
"God gives us men, a time like that demands.
Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands;
Men whom the lusts of office cannot kill,
Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy,
Men who possess opinions and a will,
Men who have honour, men who never lie."
We must not leave this part of our story without a brief notice of one
whose name will live in song and story, when this generation shall have
passed away. Many noble English ladies bravely went out to nurse the
suffering soldiers; but in this noble band was one whose name remains a
synonym for kindly sympathy, tenderness and peace--Miss Florence
Nightingale.
The following lines were written in her praise--
"Britain has welcomed home with open hand
Her gallant soldiers to their native land;
But one alone the Nation's thanks did shun,
Though Europe rings with all that she hath done;
For when will shadow on the wall e'er fail,
To picture forth fair Florence Nightingale:
Her deeds are blazoned on the scroll of fame,
And England well may prize her deathless name."