SACRED WAR.—Sacrum Bellum.—The first, about the celebrated temple of Delphi, took place B.C. 448. The second occurred also at the same place, when it was attacked by the Ph?nicians, B.C. 356. SADOWA, BATTLE OF.—Fought, July 3rd, 1866, between the Prussians and Austrians. Dr. Russel thus writes:—
“In spite of the sombre morning and of the grey clothing, relieved only by the darker but livelier green of the Jagers and their plumed hats, the effect of the whole host wheeling, deploying, advancing, taking ground to the right or left, or marching in lengthened column, was so bright that it was difficult to believe they all, horses and men, had been sleeping out under the veiled stars of heaven, and were still dank and heavy with the night dew and the rain of the morning. But there could be no mistake about the reality of the work in which they were engaged, for the Austrians on the brow of the slope to the right were pounding away fiercely at the invincible enemy in the valley. That there was an enemy was plain enough, for the earth flew up on the slope as the answering shells glanced upwards, and then exploded among the infantry in the rear. This was about 8.30 A.M. At nine o’clock a heavy shower obscured the field, and when it drifted northwards three Austrian batteries were still busy on the slope, and several columns of infantry, deploying on its side, moved up around it and disappeared into the valley, whence there soon came masses of curling smoke, and then the batteries limbered up and moved over also, showing that the enemy were falling back. The second line on the right made a slight movement to the right and upwards, but it did not seem as if the Austrians concerned themselves much for the ground between the rear of Imilovitz and the river. The cannonade which had all this time been going on[279] towards the right now extended towards the middle or centre; a line of batteries moving on or halting to fire could be seen on the plateau to the right of Klum, and it was evident that the enemy was in great force in that direction. It looked as if the Prussians had attacked the position almost simultaneously from left to right, for no sooner had the action developed itself on the centre than it rolled back from Nechanitz on the left, and before 9.30 the whole range of hills and valleys and slopes for nine miles and more was as if the earth had been turned into snow wreaths agitated in a wintry gale. Before 10 o’clock a thicker and darker cloud rose from the trees and the village on the right. “My God, Imilovitz is in flames,” exclaimed the guardian of the tower. The officers said “Ja so!” “Hem!” and uttered various other sounds of varied import possibly, smoked their cigars, and looked on. Imilovitz, indeed, blazed up furiously after a time, and in about a quarter of an hour more the Austrian batteries which had gone down the slope toiled up again, unlimbered, and fired from the brow. Puffs of smoke high in the air or rising from the ground showed where the Prussian fire was plying the Austrians on the right; but their guns replied vigorously, and all through that day, though sometimes ill-placed, the Austrian artillery behaved most gallantly. It was difficult to ascertain why the Austrian corps on the right were so unsteady, and why so many men were leaving the ranks of regiments still invisible; but after a time another sponge-like rain-cloud wiped away everything, and left it all like a clean slate, from behind which there issued a rolling fire of cannon as close as the volleys of a feu de joie. When the shower passed away, the cannonade on the right near the tree had sensibly diminished, and the Austrians seemed to have the advantage all along the front, judging by the advance of their guns and infantry, except near the left centre and right of their line. On the extreme left another black cloud now rose up, licked by flames at the base. “Gott in Himmel!” exclaimed the guardian of the tower, “Sadowa burns now!” And so it was. The pleasant little village, snug church, hospitable mill—all were burning. It was with surer divination of the coming woe than we had that the poor people had fled in tears, or remained in hopeless sorrow in their homes. The heat of this great battle burned up whatever it touched, and sent forth the lava which destroyed as it flowed on all sides. Between the big tree and Klum, in the centre and far away towards the second ridge, the fight was raging with extraordinary fury from 10 o’clock till 10.30—and that half-hour seemed an age. But still the[280] Austrians advanced. One grey mass of men followed another into the smoke, and was lost there. Towards Sadowa and Nechanitz on the left they also were gaining ground, and before 11 o’clock their columns had gone out of sight into the valley or undulations, and the Prussians could be seen by their fire to have fallen back on the opposing slopes of the second range of hills.
An animating and magnificent feature was now added to the terrible spectacle by the forward movement of the heavy cavalry near the Prague road and towards the centre. These great squares of white, spreading out slowly, obliterated the cornfields. The very colour of the ground was changed and darkened under the trampling of horses. One column went towards the Nechanitz road, the other two moved towards Klum; but after a few formations they halted again, and some of these regiments dismounted and stood by their horses. The Saxons, readily to be distinguished by their light blue, also advanced parallel with the Prague road towards the top of the slope. This was some time after eleven o’clock, when the Prussian left and centre had visibly given way, though fighting with extreme tenacity and fervour. The light cavalry, at the same time, or part of them, advanced towards Klum in the centre, awaiting the moment to deluge the plain with an exulting flood. But the time was not come. The Prussians, reinforced, or calling in their second line and reserves, came with a desperate impetus up the slopes on the left and centre, and also developed a new attack on the left of the Prague road, which looked like a black riband now and then as the smoke was driven off by the wind. They were intent on turning our left if possible, but they met with a stubborn and successful resistance at that point. Soon afterwards, in the midst of a heavy fall of rain, the cavalry made another advance, and when it cleared the Austrian infantry were seen to have moved still further to the left and centre, while the sound of the cannonade grew so deafening that the Prussians must have been driven back beyond the position they occupied when they began the action. Between half-past eleven and twelve o’clock the Austrians were to all intents successful on the centre and on its flanks, although the fury of the cannonade and the incessant rattle of musketry all along the front, from the front of Nechanitz to the plateau beyond Klum attested the severity of the struggle and the obstinate resistance of the Prussians. Probbis, another pretty village, was now in flames; three villages burning at once, farmhouses adding their contingents to the fire and smoke, caissons blowing up, shells bursting, and the slopes and hill tops covered[281] with grey and blue specs—each a man in agony or in death. Again the cavalry moved onwards. This time one division, in three bodies, crowned the ridge and formed near the front line under the church, on the left of Klum, in the centre and left of the position, and there they waited once more. But now on the right the action awoke again, and, to our surprise, a very heavy fire of musketry, comparatively close at hand, came from the direction of Smirlintz; the Austrians on the crest of the ridge moved uneasily, while many more stragglers than one cared to see pressed down towards the railroad. Whatever the cause of the agitation, the Prussians on the centre and left pressed their attack with renewed vigour, and the contest which ensued was of exceeding fierceness; but still the enemy did not prevail—the Austrians not only held their ground, but repulsed the enemy advanced against them, took their ground, and made prisoners. From the left of Klum to the Prague road, and beyond it, all was fire and smoke. The tumult of voices was dreadful, and such as is never to be heard save in such awful agony of battle. The Austrians again advanced a little nearer the big tree, and two batteries of reserve artillery could be seen driving fast to the left to strengthen the attack. But the Prussian reserves were once more called upon, and from 12.30 till nearly 1 o’clock there was an artillery fire from centre to left for six miles or more, which could not well have been exceeded in any action of which history makes mention. That ammunition was becoming needed in the advanced position was evident from the motion of the trains of supply and reserve, and we watched the cavalry with intense interest, as it seemed to be the time for them to make an impression. The Prussians were wavering. At 1 o’clock the Prussians, however, recovered some of the ground on the right near the big tree. The Austrian artillery began to fall back over the brow of the hill, and again battalions of infantry came in sight and moved away obliquely towards the centre. Still, no Prussians appeared in that direction, but they were certainly forcing the Austrians back on the right. It might have been expected that the reserves to the right would have been sent up to hold the top of the slope, but I could not see it was so. Many stragglers now appeared on the railway, the fields were spotted with them; and now and then a shell bursting in or over the infantry marching along the slope or the reserves, struck them, or left a little pile of dead or struggling men in the voids which the opening columns displayed. I confess the advance of the Prussians in this direction appeared to me inexplicable and very serious; for, although the left and centre of the Austrians might be victorious,[282] this movement threatened, by forcing back their right, to cut them off from Konigsgratz—so, at least, was the situation as viewed from the tower; but it is strange how different a field of action appears from different points of view, as any one may find out by riding from place to place on a field-day. However, a General who saw what was visible to those in the tower would have felt uneasiness and have turned his attention to fill the gap in his line at the centre, and to drive back the Prussians who were doubling up his right.
While the centre advanced slowly, but surely, a space seemed to be left between the ground they had occupied and the left of the Austrians, who were continually retiring there. The houses burning fiercely in Klum emitted volumes of smoke, which were swept away towards the right. Another village lying apparently to the left of Prague road, named Gres Biaritz, or Hiaritz, as well as I could catch the name, was now in flames. More tumbrils blew up in that direction, so that there were now six or seven villages and hamlets on fire from left to right. The battle was assuming a more awful and tremendous aspect, and the faint rays of sunshine which shot at intervals through the lifting clouds only gave the scene greater terror. Horses without riders careered among the wounded, who were crawling all over the plain, dismounted dragoons dragged themselves to the rear, and men came crawling along in such numbers that they appeared like a broad fringe to the edges of the battle. The rolling of musketry in the hollows beyond smothered the voice of the cannon. At last the reserves behind were pressed forward with energy. Their artillery unlimbering opened from sixteen guns into the dense blue columns which were driving the Austrians before them, and checked their advance, till the Prussian artillery, getting upon the small ridge and firing down so as to get a slight enfilade, began to knock over horses and men. The Austrians, however, here, as elsewhere, stuck to their pieces admirably, and it was not till the Prussian infantry, getting into a clump of timber, opened a sharp fire on their flank that they limbered up, leaving more than one black heap to mark the position they had occupied. Meanwhile the Austrians on the left pursued their onward career. The Saxon reserves pushed up the hills in the direction of Nechanitz; and a great body of cavalry sweeping round between the left and centre, dashed in wavelike columns through the smoke towards the Prussians, and menaced their artillery, against which some thirty or forty pieces in line were directing a steady and rapid fire. Prussian prisoners begun to arrive at intervals between the convoys of wounded, winding[283] their way along the Prague road. Most of those men belonged to the 6th and 31st regiments, to judge from the numbers on their shoulder-straps; and among them was an officer of great stature, with red moustaches and whiskers, who bore his captivity with great sang froid, and walked along like a conqueror. As the Austrian left and centre gained ground, the right yielded, and column after column of Prussians came upon the ridge, firing as they advanced, while their guns on the flanks swept the slowly retreating, but not disorderly, Austrians with shrapnel and shell. At times the Austrians halting opened a brisk fire; once or twice several regiments formed square to receive cavalry, but I could not see any Prussian horse on the slope near them. There was a hesitation, both in the Austrians and the enemy, which was not intelligible, and several times the officers at the head of the Prussian columns riding forward, fired over their horses’ heads, and stood up in their stirrups as if to see into the hollows. A shell burst close over one of them, and when the smoke cleared away, man and horse were down, and never stirred again. The folds of the ground must have hid most of the Prussians from the Austrian artillery as they got near the big tree, for the gunners principally directed their pieces against the Prussian guns, which received accessions rapidly, and occupied their full attention. At last the Prussians were perceived, and five battalions of Austrians from the reserve, coming from the extreme right, tried to check their advance by a flanking fire. The Prussians halted, and in an instant a fire of surprising volume and sharpness flew along their front. The Austrians for a few minutes replied steadily, but they fell fast, and at last two battalions, with great vigour, charged up the hill, but were broken in the run, were shaken by a rolling volley and by several rounds from the artillery in flank, and retreated in some disorder towards the left, behind a spur of the ridge. The enemy pressed on anew, and soon gained the plateau close by the big tree, where they dipped into an undulation only to reappear at the other side, and then formed up in compact square-like formations, pushing out lines of skirmishers towards Klum, from which they were about a mile distant. The Austrians below them and nearer to Konigsgratz halted and faced round to meet a new enemy, for the Prussians now showed near the railway, and a sanguinary encounter took place around some houses in a wood, in which artillery and musketry raged for a quarter of an hour in a perfect tornado. A range of buildings near a large factory chimney on the very banks of the Elbe, as it seemed to me, was the scene of another very severe struggle. Another village, Trothina, burst[284] into flames, and from under the very smoke appeared the Prussian skirmishers on the very extreme right, followed by more infantry. The enemy were, indeed, quite inexhaustible in number, though still he could not hold his own on the left. Suddenly an Austrian battery, galloping from the left centre, began to mow down the Prussians on the right. They were retiring behind the burning Trothina. But their artillery was at hand again. From a lane above the village a battery opened on the Austrians, and, at the same time, another battery, wheeling over the slope below the big tree, crossed its fire on the devoted Austrians. “Ein Kreuz feuer? Ein Kreuz feuer?” exclaimed the officers. “Good God! where do they come from?” Where, indeed! This combat now assumed larger proportions. The Prussian right showed in great force, and the hills were covered with their regiments advancing in the most perfect order. All over the field were hundreds limping away, and piles of dead lay in rows along the lanes and in the thick corn. The enemy, whose strength had been hidden from us by the hills, now displayed numbers, which accounted for the retreat of the Austrians on the right.
The Austrian gunners could not hold up against the cross fire, and the weight of pieces opposed to them. What avail was it that they were winning on the centre? Through the glass they could be seen pressing on from point to point in a tempest of smoke and flame. It was now near two o’clock. On the left and centre there could be no hesitation in declaring that the Prussians were all but beaten. It seemed as if a charge en masse of the horse deployed for miles on the plateau could roll up their centre on their left, or crumble the left into pieces. The fire at Klum, in the centre, which had died out, broke forth with fresh violence, and all the village began to burn. The Prussians in the centre made another grand effort, and it would only be a repetition of adjectives, utterly feeble at the strongest, to endeavour to give the smallest conception of the roar of cannon which announced and met this fresh attempt to change the fortunes of the day. The strong wind could not clear away the smoke, which poured in banks as agitated as the sea itself over the battle-field, now contracted to the centre and right, for all towards the Prague road the fight had apparently ended in the discomfiture of the Prussian left. As it contracted it heated up, and the caissons and tumbrils blew up repeatedly. The movements of the Austrians from the right centre to oppose the last effort of the Prussians increased the open interval between the centre and the extreme right resting on the lower ground near the river, but the Austrians did not perceive it, or if they did, could not prevent[285] the advance of the enemy along the plateau by the big tree towards Klum. The Austrian right and reserves become more unsteady, but their artillery contests every foot of ground. Suddenly a spattering of musketry breaks out of the trees and houses of Klum right down on the Austrian gunners, and on the columns of infantry drawn up on the slopes below. The gunners fall on all sides—their horses are disabled—the fire increases in intensity—the Prussians on the ridge press on over the plateau; this is an awful catastrophe—two columns of Austrians are led against the village, but they cannot stand the fire, and after three attempts to carry it, retreat, leaving the hill-side covered with the fallen. It is a terrible moment. The Prussians see their advantage; they here get into the very centre of the position. In vain the staff officers fly to the reserves and hasten to get back some of the artillery from the front. The dark blue regiments multiply on all sides and from their edges roll perpetually sparkling musketry. Their guns hurry up, and from the slope take both the Austrians on the extreme right and the reserves in flank. They spread away to the woods near the Prague road and fire into the rear of the Austrian gunners.
Thus a wedge growing broader and driven in more deeply every instant was forced into the very body of the Austrian army, separating it at the heart and dividing its left and centre from the right. The troops in the centre and left are dismayed at hearing the enemy’s guns in their rear, and are soon exposed to the fire which most of all destroys the morale of soldiers already shaken by surprise. The right, previously broken up and discomfited, hurry towards the Prague road in something like confusion, and spread alarm among the reserves of the centre and left. The regular lines of the columns below are gradually bulging out, and are at last swallowed up in disordered multitude. Officers gallop about trying to restore order. Some regiments hold together, though they are losing men in heaps every instant. The left wing is arrested in its onward progress. The Prussian Generals in front of them and on the centre, seeing their enemy waver, throw their battalions against them, and encourage their artillery to fresh efforts; but the formidable Austrian cavalry prevents any hasty or enthusiastic demonstrations on the part of the Prussian right, whom long continued fighting and heavy losses must have somewhat enervated.
Even yet there was hope for the Austrians! There, on the Prussian front, wheeled a force of horse with which a Murat or a Kellerman or a Seidlitz could have won a battle and saved an empire. There, still[286] unshaken, were at least 40,000 men, of whom scarcely one had ever fired a shot. The indomitable Austrian artillery still turned hundreds of muzzles on the enemy’s guns, and girt their men in a band of fire. To let slip that cavalry on both sides of Klum, to crash through infantry and guns, seemed really worth doing, though failure would have made the difference between a defeat and a rout. It would have been a supreme deed fit for such a force to accomplish or to perish in attempting. And there were no natural obstacles visible from the tower to a grand charge. The Prussian right, separated from its centre and left, would have been rolled down into the valley among the Austrians, and utterly crushed, and the Austrian centre and left have been liberated to continue their contest with the enemy. Moments were precious. The Prussian fire became more severe, the wavering of the Austrians greater. The falling of trees on the Prague road, the rush of fugitives, the near approach of the Prussian shells to the place, some of them bursting over the railway station, were awful warnings of the state of the battle. All the roads were blocked up with retreating trains and waggons. Men were throwing down their arms and wading through the inundations. The Austrian gunners on the causeway began to catch a sight of the Prussians near at hand in the woods, and opened on them with shrapnel and shell. It was now somewhere about 2.30; but it was not possible to note time when such things were going on so near. Scarce could the glass be directed to one point ere an exclamation from a bystanding officer or an awful clamour carried it to another. Seconds were of inestimable value—not only that hundreds were falling, but that they were falling in vain—that all the issues for which an empire had summoned its might and the Kaiser his people to the field were being decided, and that the toils of generations of Emperors, warriors, and statesmen were about being lost for ever. The genius of the Prussian was in the ascendant.
The spirit of Bismark or his genius ruled the battle-field. While the Austrian was hesitating, the Prussian was acting. The lines of dark blue which came in sight from the right teemed from the vales below as if the earth yielded them. They filled the whole back ground of the awful picture of which Klum was the centre. They pressed down on the left of the Prague road. In square, in column, deploying or wheeling hither and thither—everywhere pouring in showers of deadly precision—penetrating the whole line of the Austrians; still they could not force their stubborn enemy to fly. On all sides they met brave but unfortunate men, ready to die if they could do no more. At the side of the Prague[287] road the fight went on with incredible vehemence. The Austrians had still an immense force of artillery, and although its concentrated fire swept the ground before it, its effect was lost in some degree by reason of the rising ground above, and at last by its divergence to so many points to answer the enemy’s cannon. Many Austrians must have fallen by their own artillery. Once an Austrian column, separating itself from the great multitude below, with levelled bayonets, led by its officers in front waving caps and sabres, went straight at the wood around Klum and drove back the Prussian Tirailleurs, but were staggered by fearful volleys of musketry. Their officers were all killed or wounded. They fell suddenly back. Down came the Prussians, but they were received on the bayonet point and with clubbed muskets, and were driven back to the shelter of the wood, and some were carried off prisoners in the retreating column. Indeed, handfuls of Prussians were coming into the town behind us all the day, showing how close the fight was, and a considerable body of the 27th Regiment, with some officers, are now in the Grosser Ring. Chesta and Visa were now burning, so that from right to left the flames of ten villages, and the flashes of guns and musketry, contended with the sun that pierced the clouds for the honour of illuminating the seas of steel and the fields of carnage. It was three o’clock. The efforts of the Austrians to occupy Klum and free their centre had failed, the right was driven down in a helpless mass towards Konigsgratz, quivering and palpitating as shot and shell tore through it. “Alles ist verloren!” Artillery still thundered with a force and violence which might have led a stranger to such scenes to think no enemy could withstand it. The Austrian cavalry still hung like white thunder-clouds on the flanks, and threatened the front of the Prussians, keeping them in square and solid columns. But already the trains were streaming away from Konigsgratz, placing the Elbe and Adler between them and the enemy. The grip of the Prussians could not be shaken. Word was brought to me to leave at once, for the city gates were about being closed, and the gunners on the walls were laying their pieces to cover the inundations and the causeways. One more glance showed a very hell of fire—cornfields, highways, slopes, and dells, and hillsides covered with the slain—the pride and might of Austria shattered and laid low. What happened more I can only tell from hearsay. But I am told that at the last the Austrian horse saved all that was not lost, and in brilliant charges rolled back the tide of Prussian infantry; that the gunners threw their pieces into the Elbe and into the inundated fields as they retreated; that men were drowned in[288] hundreds as they crowded over pontoon bridges hastily laid and sunk or burned ere the columns could cross over; that luggage-trains, reserve ammunition, guns, and prisoners, the spoils of that enormous host, fell into the hands of the victors, who remained masters of that hard-fought field, covered for nine miles with myriads of the slain. Well might Benedek exclaim, “All is lost but my life! Would to God I had lost that too!”
There is no account of our losses, estimates varying from 10,000 to 25,000. If prisoners be included, I am inclined to think the latter number correct. The loss in guns is reckoned at 150 to 180. It would not astonish me to hear it was more.”
INCIDENTS OF THE BATTLE.
Incidents of the battle are furnished by several other correspondents of the London papers. The following are selections:—
“In the Austrian ranks some striking instances of inhumanity have been exhibited. Yesterday, a prisoner was brought hither loaded with chains, to suffer well-deserved punishment. He was a Croat, and was taken in the very act of cutting off his own wounded captain’s fingers to get quicker at his rings.
In the knapsacks of the fallen Austrians were found spare suits of regimentals that had never been worn; and, according to the prisoners, those uniforms were intended to be worn at the solemn entry into Berlin.
One correspondent was informed by an Austrian officer, a prisoner, that in Konigsgratz, on the 2nd July even, there were 7000 wounded Austrians. But—disgraceful as the fact may seem—three days after the battle of Skalitz, wounded Austrians—such is the testimony of Prussian officers and surgeons—were found with wounds still bleeding on the field among the dead bodies.
At 1.5 the staff galloped off to see the position on the right, passing through the 6th Corps, which was in reserve. As the green plumes were seen rapidly advancing, the bands broke into the National Anthem, and the men cheered their commander as he passed with no uncertain note. Faces broke out into broad smiles; Jager hats were thrown into the air; all seemed joyous in the anticipation of an approaching triumph. Benedek, however, waved to them to cease, shouting in his peculiar tone of voice, always clear and distinct, “Not now—wait till to-morrow, my children.”
[289]
By half-past four o’clock the whole army was in full retreat; its rear, harassed by the enemy, was protected by the artillery and cavalry, who are said to have made many desperate charges, and to have been more than decimated. The bridges across the Adler and the Elbe are few and narrow, and the several columns meeting at such points became confused and intermixed. Guns that could not be carried away, were thrown off their carriages into the river; many were lost in this manner, but it is said that comparatively few are taken. A captain of artillery, who heard me asking about the loss in guns, said, “Out of my whole battery I have but one gun and seven horses left, and many others are in like condition.” Another said, “We have no artillery.” Every head was hung down, every spirit depressed. It was not merely a battle, but an empire lost, unless diplomatists can at last unweave the net which baffled them before, and which the sword has failed to cut. The soldiers knew nothing of all this; their only trouble was the fatigue from which they suffered, or the thought that the day’s battle would have to be fought over again before they could reach the pleasant plains and reap the benefits held out to their imaginations in Benedek’s proclamation issued but a few days ago. The night was chilly, and bivouac fires lined the sides of the road at intervals. Had it been an advance instead of a retreat, we might have enjoyed the picturesque scene. Round fires of firwood, flaming high above their heads, stood or sat the brave fellows who had laboured so hard and fought so gallantly on that day. Some stood warming themselves by the blaze which lighted up their bronzed faces to as red a glow as that of the pine stems that towered over them; others sat resting a wounded arm or leg on the bed of branches plucked for them by their more fortunate comrades; others, again, lay about in every attitude of exhaustion.”
SAGUNTUM, SIEGE OF.—Like Numantia, one of the most important in history, occurred B.C. 219. The citizens, after sustaining the siege for eight months, with heroic bravery, to prevent themselves falling into the hands of Hannibal, buried themselves in the ruins of their city. They burnt their houses and all their effects, and thus reduced the city to ashes.
ST. ALBANS, BATTLES OF.—The first fought, May 22nd, 1455, between the houses of York and Lancaster. The second between the Earl of Warwick and Queen Margaret of Anjou, who conquered. Fought, February 2nd, 1461. This battle was fought on Shrove-Tuesday,[290] and resulted in the death of the Earl. “The Earl of Warwick, who now put himself at the head of the Yorkists, was one of the most celebrated generals of the age, formed for times of trouble, extremely artful and incontestably brave, equally skilful in council and the field; and inspired with a degree of hatred against the Queen that nothing could suppress. He commanded an army, in which he led about the captive King, to give a sanction to his attempts. Upon the approach of the Lancastrians, he conducted his forces, strengthened by a body of Londoners, who were very affectionate to his cause, and gave battle to the Queen at St. Alban’s. In this, however, he was defeated. About 2000 of the Yorkists perished in the battle, and the person of the King again fell into the hands of his own party, to be treated with apparent respect, but real contempt.”
ST. CHARLES.—On the 6th of November, 1837, a riot occurred at Montreal, but no lives were lost. On the 10th, Sir John Colborne, the Commander of the Forces, removed his head quarters from Sorel to Montreal. On the same day, a detachment proceeded to St. John’s under the command of Captain Glasgow. He found a large body of people posted on the opposite bank of the Richelieu, and the cavalry proceeded to take possession of the bridge, in order to prevent them from crossing. On the 16th, warrants were issued for the apprehension of twenty-six of the chief leaders. As a party of volunteer cavalry, newly organised, who had charge of two prisoners, were returning to Montreal, a large body of peasantry fired upon them from behind the fences near Longueuil, and compelled them to abandon their prisoners. Colonel Wetherall, with a considerable force, proceeded immediately from Chambly in the direction of St. Charles, for the purpose of dispersing a large body of people who had assembled there, and fortified their position. At some places the insurgents fled on the approach of the army, but at St. Charles the defenders were so obstinate that the Colonel was obliged to storm and carry the works, burning every house but one. The slaughter was great on the side of the unfortunate and misguided people, but slight on that of the troops. Another party of troops, who were marching from Sorel up the course of the Richelieu to effect a junction with Colonel Wetherall, were not so successful. At St. Denis they met with such a strong opposition, that they were compelled to abandon their intention and march back to Sorel. This success on the part of the insurgents was only of short duration, for, on the winter roads being formed, the[291] same party marched through the country without opposition. Having captured St. Charles, and dispersed a considerable body collected for the purpose of cutting off his return, Colonel Wetherall came back to Montreal, bringing with him the pole and cap of liberty, which had been reared at St. Charles, and twenty-five prisoners. Four or five battalions of troops were raised in Montreal, and upwards of 50 corps of various kinds in other parts of the country. One of the most tragical events which took place at this time was the murder of Lieutenant Weir. This young officer had been sent overland to Sorel with a despatch directing the officer in command to prepare a force to accompany Colonel Gore, who was to leave Montreal in the afternoon in the steamboat. The roads were so bad that travelling was almost impossible, and he could not reach Sorel by land until half an hour after Colonel Gore and his division had crossed the St. Lawrence and marched on their route to St. Denis. Taking a fresh calèche, he hastened to join his troops; but, mistaking the road, he passed them and arrived at St. Denis before them. Here he was made a prisoner, closely pinioned, sent forward to St. Charles, and on the road was barbarously murdered by his brutal guardians. The fact and the circumstances attending it were only ascertained on the second expedition to St. Denis. The body was found in the Richelieu, and was brought to Montreal for interment. The funeral took place with military honours, and so solemn and imposing a sight was never before witnessed in the city.
Martial law was proclaimed in the District of Montreal on the 5th of December, and Sir John Colborne invested with authority to administer it. Immediately after this the attention of Government was called to the preparations making at the Lake of the Two Mountains, at St. Eustache, St. Benoit and St. Scholastique, where the most active and able leaders of the revolt had fortified themselves in a formidable manner.
On the morning of the 13th of December, Sir John Colborne, with about 1300 men, advanced towards the district from Montreal along the left hank of the Ottawa. On the 14th the army crossed the river and invested the village of St. Eustache. The attack was completely successful, though attended with much destruction of life and property. The handsome church was set on fire as well as the presbytère and about 60 of the principal houses. One of the leaders was killed near the church, and a large number burnt or suffocated from the flames; of the troops only one or two were killed and a few wounded.
The next day, as the troops marched forward to St. Benoit, His[292] Excellency was met by delegates bearing a flag of truce, and stating that the insurgents were prepared to lay down their arms unconditionally. Almost every house exhibited something white; and, on arriving at St. Benoit, 250 of these misguided men were found drawn up in a line and suing for pardon, stating that their leaders had deserted them. They were immediately dismissed to their homes and occupations. With the return of the troops from the county of the Two Mountains the military operations, connected with the first insurrection in Lower Canada, may be said to have terminated.
ST. DIZIER, BATTLES OF.—In France.—Between the Allied armies and the French—one of the engagements being commanded by Napoleon himself. The French sustained in these battles, as in several proceeding, severe defeats, and led the way by which the Allied armies entered Paris. Fought, January 27th and March 26th, 1814.
ST. JEAN DE LUZ, BATTLE OF.—“Soult had a strong position on the Nivelle from St. Jean de Luz to Ainhoe, about twelve miles in length. General Hill, with the British right, advanced from the valley of Baztan, and attacking the French on the height of Ainhoe, drove them towards Cambo, on the Nive, while the centre of the Allies, consisting of the English and Spanish troops, under Beresford and Alton, carried the works behind Sarre, and drove the French beyond the Nivelle, which the Allies crossed at St. Pé, in the rear of the enemy. Upon this the French hastily abandoned their ground and works on the left of the Nivelle, and during the night withdrew to their entrenched camp in front of Bayonne. Wellington’s headquarters were established at St. Jean de Luz, November 10th, 1813.”
ST. QUENTIN, BATTLE OF.—Philip II, of Spain, assisted by the British, defeated the French here, August 10th, 1557.
ST. SEBASTIAN, BATTLE OF.—The fortified works, through which ran the high road to Hernani, were carried by the English Auxiliary Legion, under General Evans, after very hard fighting. The British naval squadron off the place, lent, under Lord John Hay, very great aid to the victors. Fought, May 5th, 1836. Again, on the 1st of October, same year, a vigorous assault was made on the lines of General De Lacy Evan by the Carlists. Both sides fought with great bravery, but the Carlists were repulsed after suffering severely. The Anglo-Spanish[293] loss was 376 men, and thirty-seven officers killed and wounded. The General was also wounded.
ST. SEBASTIAN, SIEGE OF.—By the British and Allied armies, under Wellington. After a short siege, during which it sustained a heavy bombardment, and by which the whole town was nearly laid in ruins, it was stormed by General Graham, and taken, August 31st, 1803. The loss was almost all on the British side in the storming—the Spaniards losing few.
ST. VINCENT, BATTLE OF CAPE.—Between the Spanish and British fleets off this Cape. The latter was commanded by Admiral Sir John Jarvis, who took four line of battle ships, and damaged considerably the rest of the Spanish fleet, February 14th, 1797. His own fleet consisted of 15 sail of the line only—whilst the enemy’s fleet was 27 sail, 7 of which carried from 112 to 130 guns each.
ST. VINCENT, CAPE.—Admiral Rooke, with 20 men of war, and the Turkish fleet, under his convoy, was attacked by Admiral Tourville with a force vastly superior to his own, when 12 English and Dutch men of war, and 80 merchant men were taken or destroyed by the French, June 16th, 1693. Here, also, Admiral Rodney destroyed several Spanish ships, January 16th, 1780.
SALAMANCA, BATTLE OF.—Fought July 22nd, 1812.—“Lord Wellington had fought the battle of Talavera in less than three months after he had marched out of Lisbon, and in only three months and six days after his landing in Portugal. He had seen some kind of action and enterprise to be absolutely necessary. It was demanded by England; it was expected by Spain and Portugal. Hence he first drove the French out of Oporto and out of the Portuguese dominions, and then, in conjunction with a Spanish army, marched upon Madrid, and fought a battle with the French.
But these three months sufficed to show him, how utterly valueless was the aid proffered him by the Spaniards. They left him without provisions; they furnished him with no means of transport; and when they placed an army by his side, that army could do nothing but run away, and spread alarm and consternation on every side. Hence, so soon as he fully understood the real condition of affairs, he wrote home to the British government in these plain terms:
“Spain has proved untrue to her alliance because she is untrue to[294] herself;” “and until some great change shall be effected in the conduct of the military resources of Spain, and in the state of her armies, no British army can attempt safely to co-operate with Spanish troops in the territories of Spain.”
Having arrived at this conclusion, Lord Wellington soon withdrew his army from Spain, retired into Portugal, and began to concert measures for the effectual defence of that kingdom. At home, party spirit, as usual, led to injustice. The opposition in the British parliament questioned the whole of his conduct of the past campaign. Sir W. Napier tells us, that “his merits, they said, were nought; his actions silly, presumptuous, and rash; his campaign one deserving not reward but punishment. Yet he had delivered Portugal, cleared Galicia and Estramadura, and forced 100,000 French veterans to abandon the offensive and concentrate about Madrid!”
He now calmly submitted to the British government his views of the defence of Portugal. He assigned to Marshal Beresford the organization of the Portuguese army; he required only 13,000 British troops to be permanently maintained; and with this force he expected to be able to defend Portugal, at least until Spain should be thoroughly subdued by the French; so as to allow of the concentration of their whole force on the work of subjugating Portugal.
The wisdom and expediency of this employment of English troops and English revenues in foreign war, was abundantly evident. For, when the Continent should have been wholly conquered by Napoleon, he would then, as he plainly declared, attempt the invasion of England. Hence, to keep his armies employed in the Peninsula, was the way plainly pointed out by common sense, as likely to postpone or wholly avert a French invasion of the British islands. To defend Portugal, therefore, was Wellington’s first object; for Portugal had become a sort of outwork of England.
The Spanish government, meanwhile, with equal imbecility and self-sufficiency, chose to rush into inevitable defeat. They had starved the English army; which, in a whole month, got only ten days’ bread; and which lost 1000 horses from mere want of provender; and had thus forced Lord Wellington to retire into Portugal. They now choose, with an army of 50,000 men, to give battle to the French at Ocana; where, on the 12th of November, they sustained such a total defeat, that ten days after the battle not a single battalion kept the field. No fewer than 20,000 of the Spaniards laid down their arms, and the rest were utterly scattered and dispersed.
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At the opening of 1810, Napoleon resolved to complete the conquest of the Peninsula. He augmented his armies in Spain to 360,000 men. One army, consisting of 65,000 men, under the command of Soult, was charged with the subjugation of Andalusia; and another, of 80,000 men, under Massena, was to move to the west, and reduce Portugal. Now, therefore, must Wellington’s plans for the defence of Portugal be brought to the test.
The actual force of Massena’s army in May, 1810, is shown by French returns given by Sir W. Napier, to have been 86,847 men.
On the 1st of June the French commander invested Ciudad Rodrigo, which capitulated on the 11th of July. Almeida surrendered on the 26th of August, and thus the road to Lisbon was opened to the French army. Wellington would gladly have fought a battle to save these fortresses; but if he engaged 80,000 French, with 32,000 English and Portuguese, and did not signally defeat them; what would then have become of Portugal? Still, when on Portuguese ground, and engaged in the defence of Portugal, he thought it right, on September 27th, to make one stand at Busaco; where he inflicted on the French a loss of 4500 men, at a cost, to his own army, of only 1300. Massena then began even to think of retreating into Spain; when a peasant informed him of a mountain-pass by which he might carry his army into a position from which he could threaten Wellington’s left. This compelled the English General again to make a retrograde movement; and on the 15th of October the whole British and Portuguese army was collected within the lines of Torres Vedras.
These now famous lines, which Wellington had long been silently constructing, were so little thought of either in England or in France, that military instructions were actually given in England commencing thus: “As it is probable the army will embark in September.” And the French commander on his part, found his way suddenly stopped by an insurmountable obstacle, of the existence of which he had never before heard.
Lord Wellington had observed that on the land side (and the French had no force upon the water) Lisbon could be completely defended by a series of entrenchments properly manned. Silently, therefore, during many months past, he had been at work on these lines. They were now complete, mounting 600 guns and when manned by 50,000 men they might have defied Napoleon himself at the head of one of his largest armies.
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Massena, astonished, employed several days in examining these lines on every side, but at no point could he find an attack to be feasible. One or two attempts were made, in which his troops were roughly handled, and one of his Generals killed. At last, altogether perplexed, he sent off General Foy to Paris to ask of Napoleon what was to be done. But Napoleon himself had no remedy to prescribe, and hence, after remaining before the lines for one whole month, until utter starvation menaced his army, the French Marshal commenced a retreat. He first retired to Santaren, where he remained until the following March. He then finally retreated out of Portugal, having lost, in the short space of seven months, not fewer than 45,000 men, chiefly by exposure, disease, and starvation. Lord Wellington followed him, and at once invested Almeida. Massena ventured on an engagement at Fuentes d’Onore, but failed, and Almeida capitulated to the English on the 12th of May, 1811.
This campaign had greatly raised the hopes and the confidence of England, and had placed the character of her General on an unassailable elevation. Portugal had been defeated, and a French Marshal with a noble army had been driven back in defeat. Lord Wellington now, therefore, resolved to begin offensive operations in Spain, and he sat down before Badajoz. But Napoleon had at last awakened to the real character of this great struggle. He resolved that Badajoz should not be lost. He therefore earnestly and strenuously increased his forces in Spain, until, in September, 1811, they again amounted to 368,000 men. Soult and Marmont received their orders, and approached Badajoz with 60,000 men. Lord Wellington retired, but in July he threatened Ciudad Rodrigo, when again the two French Marshals marched to its relief with a greatly superior army. And now, as the winter approached, both armies went into cantonments, and the campaign of 1811 ended.
But with January, 1812, commenced that career of triumph which only ended at Waterloo. In 1810, Wellington had saved Portugal; in 1811, he had threatened and disquieted the French armies in their possession of Spain; but the opening year was not to close until that possession was very seriously endangered.
Silently, all November and December, Wellington’s preparations were going on. Soult imagined that he was about to renew the siege of Badajoz, but suddenly, in the earliest days of January, a bridge was thrown over the Agueda, and the English army crossed the river and invested Ciudad Rodrigo. The siege commenced on the 8th, and on[297] the 19th the place was stormed and carried. It had cost the French a siege of six weeks to take it from the Spaniards two years before. On hearing of its capture in twelve days, Marmont wrote to Napoleon, saying, “On the 16th, the English batteries opened their fire: on the 19th the place was taken by storm, and fell into the power of the enemy. There is something so incomprehensible in all this, that until I know more I refrain from any observation.”
Badajoz, a far stronger place, was next invested, on the 17th of March, and on the 6th of April it was taken by storm. And here, too, General Lery, a French engineer, expressed his astonishment, writing thus: “I think the capture of Badajoz a very extraordinary event, and I should be at a loss to account for it in any manner consistent with probability.” These two great strongholds, the border-fortresses, had now been taken, and the way was thus opened into the heart of Spain. All Europe saw with astonishment that a little English army, seldom amounting—even with the aid of the Portuguese,—to more than 40,000 men, could counteract the efforts of the best armies of France, led by Napoleon’s most trusted Generals.
After these exploits, Wellington gave his army some rest until the harvest should grow up, and provisions be more easily obtained. But in May he sent General Hill to storm the forts at Almarez on the Tagus, when the French works, with all their artillery and stores, fell into the hands of the English, who lost only 180 men. By this able man?uvre the two armies of Marmont and Soult were separated.
On the 13th of June, the rains having ceased, and the field magazines being completed, Wellington passed the Agueda, and on the 17th be entered Salamanca, the people shouting, singing, and weeping for joy. The forts, however, were still held by French garrisons, and were not taken until the 27th.
On the 8th of July, Marmont, the French General now opposed to Wellington, received a reinforcement of 6000 men, and both he and Wellington began to prepare for a battle. On the 15th and 16th, Marmont, who had previously made several deceptive movements, concentrated his beautiful and gallant army between Toro and the Hornija rivers. Then began a series of man?uvres, continued for several successive days, until, on the 20th, the two armies were in sight, marching on parallel heights within musket-shot of each other in the most perfect array. The strength of each army amounted to from 45,000 to 48,000 men; but of Wellington’s force a considerable portion consisted of Portuguese troops.
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In two or three days more, Marmont would have been joined by two other French corps, augmenting his force by nearly 20,000 men. But then he apprehended the arrival of either King Joseph, or Jourdan, the senior Marshal then in Spain, either of whom would have superseded him in the command. His object, therefore, was either to force the English to retreat from Salamanca, or else to fight a battle, and if possible gain a victory, before either of his superiors in command could arrive.
On the 22nd of July, some change of position on the part of the English army gave Marmont the impression that Wellington was about to retire towards Ciudad Rodrigo. Eager not to let the English thus escape him, the French General ordered Maucune’s division, which formed his left, to march forward so as to fall upon the flank of the British in their expected retreat. They did so; but in so advancing a chasm intervened between them and the division of Bonnet, which formed part of the French centre. Word was brought to Wellington of this movement. “Starting up, he repaired to the high ground, and observed their movements for some time with stern contentment. Their left wing was entirely separated from the centre. The fault was flagrant, and he fixed it with the stroke of a thunderbolt.” Turning to the Spanish General Alava who stood by his side, he exclaimed, “Mon cher Alava, Marmont est perdu!”
A few orders issued suddenly from his lips like the incantations of a wizard, and suddenly the dark mass of troops seemed animated by some mighty spirit. Rushing down the slope of the mountain, they entered the great basin. And now, after long coiling and winding like angry serpents, the armies suddenly fastened together in deadly strife.
Marmont saw the country beneath him suddenly covered with enemies when he was in the act of making a complicated evolution; and when by the rash advance of his left, his troops were separated into three parts, each at too great a distance to assist the other. In this crisis, despatching officer after officer, some to hasten up his troops from the forest, some to stop the march of his left wing, he still looked for victory, till he saw Pakenham with his division penetrate between his left and his centre; then hope died within him, and he was hurrying in person to the fatal spot, when an exploding shell stretched him on the field, with two deep wounds in his side.”
This naturally augmented the confusion of the French; but they still fought manfully. It was just five o’clock when Pakenham fell on Maucune, who, little thinking of such an onset, expected to see, from the[299] summit of a hill he had just gained, the Allies in full retreat. Still, his gunners stood to their guns, and his cavalry charged; but both were killed or repulsed; the infantry endeavoured to form a front, but in the midst of its evolution it was charged and broken. The British cavalry fell upon the rear, while Leith, with the fifth division, bore down on the right flank. For awhile, the French veterans maintained some kind of order, but at last the cavalry broke them; Thomiere, one of their Generals, was killed, 2000 of the French threw down their arms, and the whole division was utterly routed.
The next portion of the French line, Clausel’s division, while warmly engaged with the English under Cole and Leith, had to sustain a charge from 1200 British dragoons. The whole French division was broken in an instant. Five guns and 2000 prisoners were taken in a few minutes. The entire of the left wing of the French army was now only a helpless mob of fugitives. In the centre the struggle was a more arduous one. The French still held a strong position on a hill—the Arapiles. Two attacks by the Portuguese and English were repelled. Beresford, Cole and Leith, were all wounded, and the English centre for a moment was shaken and in danger. But Wellington, whose eye was always where the peril was greatest, immediately ordered up Clinton’s division from the rear, and restored the battle. The ridge of the Arapiles was regained, “And now the current once more set in for the British. Pakenham continued to outflank the French left; Foy retired from the ridge of Calveriza, and the Allied host, righting itself like a gallant ship after a sudden gust, again bore right onwards, holding its course through blood and gloom.”
There remained only the division of Foy, which formed the extreme right of the French line, and still maintained a gallant fight. It seemed difficult for this General to extricate his division, but he did it with great dexterity. Just as the darkness fell, he increased his skirmishers, and brought forward some cavalry, as if for a charge. But when the English had prepared themselves for a real encounter, the skirmishers fell back, and the English pursued; but when they reached the top of the hill, the main body of the French had escaped into a forest hard by, where darkness gave them safety.
Another failure on the part of a Spaniard, here, again, favoured the French. The castle of Alba, on the Tormes, was garrisoned by a Spanish force, under Carlos d’Espana. This, if maintained, would have stopped the French in their flight by the main road, and have forced[300] them to take the fords. But d’Espana, without informing Wellington, had withdrawn the garrison, and left the road open! “Had the castle of Alba been held,” says Napier, “the French could never have carried off a third of their army.” But by this piece of Spanish folly or cowardice, they were permitted to escape.
As it was, their loss was enormous. They went into action with 43,800 infantry and 4000 cavalry. Three weeks after, their General, Clausel, who succeeded Marmont in the command, wrote to the Minister of War at Paris, “The army consists of 20,000 infantry, and 1800 horse.” So that, by death or wounds or capture, it had lost more than half of its numbers. On the part of the Allies, the loss was 3176 British, 2018 Portuguese, and eight Spanish. One General was killed, and five were among the wounded. Wellington himself was struck in the thigh by a spent ball, which passed through his holster. This was one of the last incidents of this great battle; in which the English leader, to use a French officer’s expression, “defeated 40,000 men in forty minutes.” “Late in the evening of that great day,” says Sir William Napier, “I saw him behind my regiment, then marching towards the ford. He was alone; the flush of victory was on his brow, his eyes were eager and watchful, but his voice was calm and even gentle. More than the rival of Marlborough,—for he had defeated greater Generals than Marlborough ever encountered, he seemed with prescient pride to accept this victory only as an earnest of future glory.”
The French fled with such celerity, that their headquarters, on the following night, were at Flores d’Avila, no less than forty miles from the field of battle! The English army, on the other hand, entered Madrid on the 12th of August, amidst a scene of the wildest ecstasy. “No words can express the enthusiasm which prevailed when the English standards were seen in the distance, and the scarlet uniforms began to be discerned through the crowd. Amidst a countless multitude, wrought up to the highest pitch of rapturous feeling; amidst tears of gratitude and shouts of triumph, the British army entered the Spanish capital, not as conquerors, but as friends; not as oppressors, but deliverers.” As for Wellington, “with tears and every sign of deep emotion, the multitudes crowded round his horse, hung by his stirrups, touched his clothes, and throwing themselves on their knees, blessed him aloud.” The intrusive King, with about 12,000 men, had fled out of the city a few days previous.
The Retiro, the largest arsenal which the French possessed in Spain,[301] still had a garrison of 1700 men. But it surrendered on the 13th, and the British found in it, 180 pieces of cannon, 20,000 stand of arms, and immense stores of all kinds. Meanwhile, “the French affairs in every part of the Peninsula now exhibited that general crash and ruin which so usually follows a great military disaster, and presages the breaking up of a political power.”
Nor were the mighty results of this great battle limited to Southern Europe. At the very moment when it took place, Napoleon, at the head of 450,000, was entering the heart of the Russian empire. The news of the defeat of his forces in Spain, reached him on the evening preceding the great battle of Borodino. It doubtless reached the Emperor Alexander also; and the news must have greatly aided the Russian Monarch in forming that remarkable resolve, “I am immovable; and no terms whatever shall induce me to terminate the war, or to fail in the sacred duty of avenging our country.” And, in a general order, issued shortly after, General Kutusoff, Alexander’s chief commander, said, “The hand of God is falling heavily on Napoleon: Madrid is taken.” Still, when, in October, Wellington, from the want of battering-artillery, failed in carrying the castle of Burgos, faction again raised its head in England, and even dared to question his skill and talent as a General! It was with reference to some of these attacks that Wellington took the following review of the results of the year.
“I fear that the public will be disappointed at the results of the last campaign: and yet it is, in fact, the most important and successful campaign in which a British army has been engaged for the last century. We have taken by siege Ciudad Rodrigo, Badajoz, and Salamanca, and the Retiro has surrendered. Since January, this army has sent to England little short of 20,000 prisoners; and it has taken and destroyed, or we now possess, little short of 3000 pieces of cannon.”
More wonderful achievements, occupying a series of years, never were wrought out by a British army. Sir William Napier justly traces the triumph of Salamanca and other victories to the forethought of Wellington, in having laid such a foundation as he had provided in Torres Vedras. “This strong post was of his own planning,—he had chosen it, fortified it, defended it, and now, knowing its full value, he was availing himself of its advantages. The tree was planted to bear such fruit as was gathered at Salamanca, and the value of his combinations must be estimated from the general result. He had only 60,000 disposable troops, and 100,000 were especially appointed to watch and control him; yet[302] he passed the frontier, defeated 45,000 men in a pitched battle, and drove 20,000 others from Madrid in confusion, without difficulty and without risk. No General was ever more entitled to the honour of victory.”
SALAMIS, BATTLE OF.—The Persians defeated by the Greeks in this great battle, October 20th, 480 B.C. Themistocles, the Greek commander, with only 310 sail defeated the whole fleet of Xerxes, consisting of 2000 sail. One of the greatest naval engagements in ancient times.
SALDANHA BAY.—Near the Cape of Good Hope.—Here a Dutch squadron was captured by Admiral St. George Keith Elphinstone, without resistance. Five men of war and nine frigates surrendered, and St. George was in consequence of this bloodless victory, which was executed with wonderful judgment, created Lord Keith, August 17th, 1796.
SANTA CRUZ.—Here, April 25th, 1657, the renowned Blake totally destroyed 16 Spanish ships, secured with great nautical skill, and protected by the castle and the forts on the shore. This was thought, at that time, one of the greatest feats ever accomplished. The Earl of Clarendon, speaking of this exploit, says, “It was so miraculous, that all who knew the place wondered that any sober man, with what courage soever endowed, would have undertaken it; and the victors could hardly persuade themselves to believe what they had done, whilst the surviving Spaniards thought that they were devils and not men who had destroyed their ships so.” Here also, in an unsuccessful attack made upon this place by Nelson, several officers and 141 men were killed, and the brave Admiral lost his right arm, July 24th, 1797. It is remarkable that Captain Freemantle, the great friend of Nelson, and a companion of his in most of his great and brilliant achievements was also wounded in the arm immediately before Nelson had received his wound in the same limb. The following laconic note addressed to the lady of Captain Freemantle, (who was on board with her husband at the time he wrote) has been preserved, as being the first letter written by the glorious hero with his left hand:
My Dear Mrs. Freemantle,
Tell me how Tom is? I hope he has saved his arm. Mine is off; but, thank God, I am as well as I hope he is.
Ever Yours,
HORATIO NELSON.
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SARATOGA, BURGOYNE’S SURRENDER AT.—General Burgoyne, commander of a body of the British Army, after a very severe engagement with the American Provincials in the American War of Independence, October 17th, 1777, surrendered to the American General Gates. No less than 5791 men laid down their arms. This was the greatest check the British suffered during the war.
SCOPOLO.—On July the 5th, 1808, a desperate action was fought off the island of Scopolo, between a large Turkish frigate and corvette, and the Seahorse thirty-eight guns, captain Stewart, exhibiting the skill and gallantry of the latter against a great disparity of force, by which his own ship was so well preserved, while that of his opponent was ruined. The action began at half-past nine in the evening, the Turks under easy sail, a little off the wind, and continually endeavouring to board. At ten o’clock, after a quarter of an hour’s hot fire, the small ship was silenced; the large ship, which had during this time fallen a little to leeward, and thus been prevented from assisting her consort, recovered her position; the action was recommenced; and the resistance of the Turks was so obstinate, that it was not till a quarter past one she was rendered a motionless wreck. As they would neither answer nor fire, captain Stewart, knowing the character of the people, conceived it most prudent to wait for daylight to send on board her. At daylight, observing her colours upon the stump of the mizenmast, the Seahorse poured a broadside into her stern, when she struck. She was named the Badere Zaffer, of fifty-two guns, with a complement of 500 men, commanded by captain Scanderli Kichuc Ali, who had been prevented by his own people from blowing her up. Her loss was prodigious—165 killed and 195 wounded. The Seahorse had only five killed and ten wounded.
SEBASTOPOL.—The celebrated city besieged during the Crimean war. See Bombardment, first and second (final) of Sebastopol; also, Mamelon, Malakoff and Sortie.
SEDGMOOR, BATTLE OF.—Fought, July 5th, 1685, in which the Duke of Monmouth was completely defeated by the army of James II of England. The Duke, who was the natural son of Charles II, by Lucy Walters, one of his mistresses, was made prisoner, and soon afterwards executed.
SEIDLITZ, BATTLE OF.—Fought, April 10th, 1831, between[304] the Poles and Russians. The Poles obtained the victory, after a bloody battle, taking 4000 prisoners, and several pieces of cannon. The killed and wounded, on both sides, amounted to many thousands.
SEMINCAS, BATTLE OF.—Fought A.D. 938. One of the most bloody battles ever fought. Between the Moors and Ramirez II, King of Leon, and the Austrians. More than 80,000 of the infidels were slain, the dead lying in heaps for miles around.
SEMPACH, BATTLE OF.—Fought, July 9th, 1386, between the Swiss and Leopold, Duke of Austria. The heroic Swiss, after prodigies of valour, gained a great and memorable victory over the Duke, who was slain. By this battle they gained their independence, which they possess until this day; and they annually commemorate, with great solemnity, this victory.
SERGEANT.—The highest non-commissioned officer of a company. This word enters into the title of different officers, as sergeant-major, color-sergeant, &c.
SERINGAPATAM, BATTLE OF.—This first battle, called also the Battle of Arikera, in which the British defeated Tippoo Saib, was fought May 15th, 1791. The second, in which the redoubts were stormed, and Tippoo reduced by Lord Cornwallis, fought February 6th, 1792. After this capture peace was signed, and Tippoo agreed to cede one-half of Mysore, and to pay 33,000,000 of rupees, about ￡3,000,000, sterling to England, and to give up his two sons as hostages. In a new war the Madras army arrived before Seringapatam, April 5th, 1799. It was joined by the Bombay army, April 14th, and the place was stormed and carried by Major General Baird, May 4th, same year. Tippoo was killed in this engagement.
The following account gives the particulars of the 1st engagement previous to the capture of Seringapatam.
“On the 27th of March, 1799, at three o’clock p.m., the right wing (of the British army destined for the capture of Seringapatam) moved slowly off the ground of encampment, along a heavy sandy road, impeded in their progress by the ponderous battering-train of guns, each 42 pounder being drawn majestically along by thirty, forty, and sometimes fifty bullocks, harnessed four abreast; and even these numbers were frequently found insufficient to extricate the wheels of the carriages from[305] the deep sloughs into which they often sank, even up to the axles, when the aid of elephants was required; these sagacious animals would wind their trunks or probosci around the nave and between the spokes of the wheels, and thus lift gun and carriage from the impending difficulty, whilst the bullocks were being goaded and whipped with leather thongs. The ponderous machines were thus drawn forward. It was indeed an admirable and beautiful sight to observe the sagacity of these huge creatures; for when one only was brought up to assist, if the weight was too considerable for its animal strength, a shrill trumpeting proceeding from its proboscis would instantly proclaim this deficiency in strength for the object required, when the keeper would call for another elephant, and then the united power of the two, simultaneously applying their whole force, would speedily overcome almost insurmountable difficulties; though, when guns and carriages were embedded up to the axles of the four wheels, several of these noble animals have been required to lift the machines bodily from the tenacious clay into which they had sunk.
Clouds of looties, or irregular predatory horsemen, were on the right flank of the line, who fired incessantly on the British as they advanced; and when a stoppage occurred, to extricate the guns, large bodies of these looties would suddenly dash through the intervals, cutting down the artillerymen, maiming the bullocks, and destroying the whole paraphernalia of harness; and this in spite of all the exertions of skirmishers to keep them at a respectable distance. The fierce sun was almost intolerable, and many Europeans fell dead from coups-de-soleil. Only three miles and a half could be marched from three o’clock until nearly twelve, when the little mud-walled fort of Malleville was descried, with the gallant 19th dragoons, drawn up in close column under the walls, to shelter them from the enemy’s brisk cannonade. At a hill fortress (Amboor), previous to mounting the Ghauts and entering the Mysore country, the British army had been joined by about 10,000 of the Nizam’s troops—a disorderly set of savage, undisciplined barbarians (clothed in stuffed cotton jackets, covered with steel-chained armour, capable of resisting a musket-ball), prancing and skirmishing about the country in every direction, wielding their long lances with uncommon dexterity, managing their horses with grace and ease, almost to perfection in the equestrian art—sometimes casting their spears, and then, at full gallop, bending the body so low under the horse, as to recover possession of the spear that lay flat on the sand. This heterogeneous force was certainly an additional strength to the numerical force of the British, but, in a[306] military point of view, of dubious advantage to the invading regular army, whose movements they frequently disconcerted by dashing furiously through the intervals between the columns on the line of march, and, being often mistaken for the enemy’s irregular horse, were fired at accordingly, many of them perishing in this unprofitable manner; and had any adverse fortune occurred in the campaign, confusion and defeat must have ensued, as these disorderly masses would inevitably have incommoded, and rendered all military discipline abortive. Accordingly, to protect them from absolute annihilation, the 33rd regiment of infantry, under command of the hon. colonel Wellesley (the Duke of Wellington), was attached to this disorderly crew, and acted with them during the advance to Seringapatam. The movements of the whole army was entirely confided to the management of Colonel Barry Close, a Company’s officer, and adjutant-general to the forces—a man of extensive capacity, who had displayed eminent talents in both civil and military departments during his long residence in India. He was an ornament to his profession, and, had fortune favoured him, might have proved a first-rate general. For his amiable and conciliatory disposition, he was beloved and esteemed by all who enjoyed the advantage of his society.
During the march, the towns and villages were involved in flames in every direction, and not an atom of food or forage was anywhere procurable (every officer of the army was provided with three months’ provision of biscuit, &c., borne on the backs of bullocks in various numbers, according to the grade of the officer), and every tank or pool of water was impregnated with the poison of the milk hedge, large quantities of the branches of which the enemy had industriously thrown in—so that many horses, bullocks, and even, in some instances, men, fell victims to the deleterious infusion.
As the head of the British column passed the little fort of Malleville, the quarter-master-general was observed marking out the site for encampment on an extensive sandy plain in front of the fort. The booming of distant heavy ordnance was plainly distinguishable. The lascars had commenced pitching the tents and marquees for the reception of the exhausted troops, but were suddenly interrupted in their occupation by the successive bounding of cannon-balls amongst them, when they precipitately quitted the dangerous situation, and fled for protection to the rear of the approaching troops. The enemy were posted on a commanding eminence about two miles distant, at the extremity of the sandy plain, supported by a long range of numerous heavy artillery and strong imposing[307] bodies of regular cavalry. The English pickets, commanded by Captain Macpherson, of the 12th foot, pushed on towards the enemy’s left flank with two 12-pounder galloppers, and the action became brisk in that quarter—for, having ensconced themselves in a wood, they were thus secure from the charges of hordes of cavalry surrounding, whom they saluted with reiterated discharges of grape-shot from the galloppers. In the interim, whilst this scene was agitating, the right wing of the British army formed, on the intended ground of encampment, in contiguous close columns, and in this form cautiously advanced towards the eminence in front. I now, for the first time, became acquainted with the whirring, hoarse noise of cannon-balls—the phitz, phitz, of musket-bullets passing close to the body—and the ping, ping, of those flying distantly over head: fortunately, the balls, rockets, &c., were ill-directed, and did little execution. As the columns approached nearer the enemy’s position, the heavy guns were withdrawn behind the eminence (Tippoo Saib fearing nothing so much as the capture of his artillery, which he had invariably lost in his former battles with lord Cornwallis, in 1782), and ultimately disappeared! In this short advance, Captain Whitley, of the grenadiers of the 12th (to which company I was attached), observing, I presume, the unaccustomed paleness of my countenance, turned round and offered me a refreshing draught of brandy and water from the contents of his canteen, or leathern bottle attached to his side, which I gratefully accepted; for at eighteen we have not the nerves and stamina of a man of forty years old. Untried individuals may sarcastically sneer at this apparent indication of pusillanimity; but never, during all my service, did I observe soldiers enter on a scene of action with that calm, florid appearance, denoting a sense of health and security: did man ever yet exist exempt from the common feelings of human nature? In point of fact, there is an evident, palpable alteration of feature in every man, at the commencement of a battle; as it rages, this marked difference in the lineaments of the countenance disappears, and the excitement of exertion soon produces the usual effect of renewed animation, with a spirit of recklessness indifferent to the consequences of existing danger.
The advancing columns having approached within a few yards of the summit of the eminence, halted, and deployed into line, and thus marched on, when having reached the apex of the ascent, the formidable army of the redoubtable Tippoo Saib appeared drawn up on the plain below in battle array, with woods on both flanks, covered with tens of thousands of horsemen: the first indication of a serious attack proceeded from a body[308] of cavalry, who charging the light infantry skirmishing front, soon drove them with headlong speed into the British line, where they rejoined their battalions; this body of horse, of about 1500, was formed in a compact wedge-like shape, with the front angle headed by two enormous elephants (saddled with howdahs, filled with distinguished officers), having each a huge iron chain dangling from the proboscis, which they whirled about with great rapidity, a blow from which would have destroyed half a company of infantry; at the first superficial view they were mistaken for the Nizam’s troops, but as they rapidly approached (firing their pistols and carbines, which produced some trifling effect) towards an interval of a few yards extent between his majesty’s 12th regiment and a battalion of Sepoys on the right, it was soon obvious they intended passing through this interval to the rear of the British line; fortunately, at this momentous crisis, a detachment of the Company’s native cavalry suddenly galloped from the rear, and completely filled up the space, when the enemy edged off, and directed their whole column to the front of the 12th regiment. General Harris, the commander-in-chief, suddenly appeared in the rear, vociferating aloud, “Fire, 12th! fire!” To their eternal credit, coolness, and unexampled discipline, be it recorded, that although standing with recovered arms, not a shot was fired, nor even a movement made, that indicated indecision; the men knew it was not the voice of the colonel, who, however, thus pressed by the authority of his superior officer, now gave the command—“Steady, 12th! and wait until these fellows are within ten yards of you,—then singe the beggars’ whiskers.” This order was implicitly obeyed. At the word “Fire!” a volley was effectually poured into the wedge of cavalry, followed by a rapid and well-directed file-firing, which produced the happiest effect; for on the smoke clearing away, a complete rampart of men and horses lay extended on the earth, in front of this invincible old corps! The elephants, maddened, with pain from their innumerable wounds, were shuffling away with speed, and swinging the enormous chains to right and left amidst the retiring cavalry, many of whom were thus destroyed. The howdahs (from which the leading chiefs had directed the charge) were dashed to atoms, and several of these brave men’s heads hung from the backs of the enraged animals; horses rearing, and crushing the riders to death—other loose and wounded horses scouring the plain on all sides—the scene was awfully terrific! Just at this eventful period, two 9-pounder field-pieces replaced the cavalry in the interval alluded to, at once opening a destructive shower of grape-shot on the discomfited horsemen, who were attempting to join[309] their main body stationed in the woods below; these latter, perceiving the entire defeat of the “Forlorn Hope,” poured forth their tens of thousands, scouring rapidly over the sandy plain, exposed to the exterminating effects of the British artillery. The battle now became general along the whole line—infantry, cavalry, and artillery, all exerting their utmost efforts of destruction. Unfortunately, a large body of the Mysorian cavalry outflanked and cut into the rear of the British line, destroyed crowds of sick men and lascars, who were considered safe from such indiscriminate and inhuman butchery. Many of these gallant fellows, although in the last stage of human debility, crawled out of the doolies (rough palanquins for sick men), and fought manfully to the last gasp. On the extreme right of the line, the hon. colonel Wellesley was stationed, with his majesty’s 33rd regiment of foot, surrounded by the Nizam’s cavalry. The Mysorians at once charged the Nizam’s horse, who as suddenly scampered off. When the 33rd regiment were first observed by the enemy, the usual cry of “Feringee bong chute!” (“Rascally English!”) was uttered, and Tippoo’s cavalry fled in confusion, leaving several battalions of infant............