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MEMORABLE BATTLES

ENGLISH HISTORY,
WHERE FOFGHT. WHY POLGHT AVD THER RESULTS:

MILITARY LIVES OF THE COMMANDERS,

BY

W. HW. DAVENPORT ADAMS,

AUTHOR OF “ NEPLUNE’s HEROES; OR, THE SEA KINGS OF ENGLAND,” ETC.

* Own that the progeny of this fair isle
Hath power as lofty actions to achieve
As were performed in man’s heroic prime.”
Worpsworti.

THE FRONTISPIECE BY ROBERT DUDLEY.

LONDON:
GRIFFITIT AND FARRAA,
(SUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND IARRIS,)

CORNER OF ST, PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.

 

MDCCCLXIII.
PREFACE,

 

A FEW worps will serve to explain my object in the preparation
of this volume.

I have selected those great battles which appear to me to
have largely influenced the fortunes of the British Empire, and
have endeavoured to show where they were fought,—why they
were fought,—how they were won,—and what were the results
achieved by them. I have added brief, but, I believe, accurate
memoirs of the military careers of those illustrious English
soldiers who fought them, and whose fame is inseparably con-
nected with the glories of British History. As my book is in-
tended for the general reader—for him who runs and reads,—I
have dwelt most fully upon those battle-fields which have been
usually subjected to the least popular mode of treatment. So
many able pens have written, for instance, of Waterloo and
Wellington, that I have purposely condensed my own account of
that famous victory and illustrious victor into the fewest possible
pages.

The battle of Hastings changed the whole face of English
society. It not only placed a new dynasty on the throne, but
planted a new people in the heart of the nation. Crecy was the
first of a long series of military triumphs, which sustained the
spirit of England in its growing rivalry with France. Lewes
exhibited the rising power of ‘a middle class,’ and taught both
vi PREFACE.

the King and the Barons to respect its privileges and value its
support. Azincourt was of importance in establishing, upon the
Continent, a reverence for the resolute courage of English soldiers.
Naseby was a death-blow to the cause of Charles I. Blenheim,
by checking the ambition and frustrating the projects of Louis
Quatorze, rescued Europe from an overwhelming military pre-
ponderance. Plassey won India for England. Waterloo secured
the peace of Europe for half a century. Such, in briefest phrase,
are the reasons for which the particular battle-fields commemo-
rated in this volume have been selected.

I do not profess to have said anything that will be new to the
scholar, and can claim little merit for my work on the score of
originality. But I venture to hope that a volume which is a
condensation of many volumes, and a collection of the most
interesting details of the numerous authorities who have illus-
trated a most interesting theme, may be accepted by the public
as one of some value for the means of ready reference it affords.
I have appended to each subject a list of the principal works
I have consulted respecting it,—in order to avoid overloading my
pages with a multiplicity of minute and tiresome notes.

It is not fitting that I should add more words either by way
of apology or defence. My work has been done conscientiously,
if feebly, and I now submit it to the public in the belief that it
will meet, if it be considered to deserve, a favourable reception.

‘Amicus dulcis, ut equum est,
Cum mea compenset vitiis bona, pluribus hisce,
Si modo plura mihi bona sunt, inclinet.’—Horacp.

W. 4H. D. A.

bee
CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS (A.D. 1066).

Landing of the Normans—Equipment of their Forces—Harold marches
upon Hastings—The Norman and Saxon Camps—The Eve of Battle—
Count William’s Speech—An Omen—Harold and his Brothers—Taille-
fer—The Battle—Feigned Retreat of the Normans—Malfosse—Anec-
dotes of Courage—Defeat of the Saxons—Harold’s Death—The Battle-
field—Harold’s Burial—Consequences of the Battle of Hastings . 1

HAROLD, LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS: A BIOGRAPHY.

The House of Godwin—Expulsion of the Danes—Edward the Con-
fessor—Harold’s Exile—His Return—His Military Repute—Subdues the
Welsh—Pacifies Northumbria—Visits Normandy—Shipwreck, and Im-
prisonment—Remains at Count. William’s Court—His Oath—Returns to
England—Elected King—Defeats Harold Hardrada, of Norway—Defeat,
and Death at Hastings—His personal Appearance : m : 19

CHAPTER II.
THE BATTLE OF LEWES (A.D. 1264).

Its Causes—Positions of the two Armies—Simon de Montfort ad-
dresses his Troops—Charge of Prince Edward—Pursues the Londoners—
De Montfort attacks the Centre of the Royal Army—Terrible Slaughter
—The King of the Romans—Results of the Poe enins Feeling—
Grafton’s Narrative : ‘ o a 4 3 -  . 44
Vill CONTENTS.

SIMON DE MONTFORT, EARL OF LEICESTER: A BIOGRAPHY.

Birth and Parentage—Marriage—Wars against the Gascons—lIll-
treated by Henry II.—Espouses the popular Cause—Anecdotes—Oxford
Statutes—Retires to France—Is recalled by the Barons, and assumes
their Leadership—War breaks out—The Battle of Lewes—De Mont-
fort’s Power—Representative Government—Jealousy of the Barons—
Desertions—Prince Edward’s Escape—Skirmish at Kenilworth—Battle
of Evesham—Montfort’s Death—Love of the Common People—His
Character as indicated by contemporary Authorities . . 5 58

CHAPTER III.

THE BATTLE OF CRECY (A.D. 1346).

Origin of the War—Edward III. lands in France—His Danger—
Crosses the Somme—Pursued by the French—The Field of Cregy—
Confidence of the French—Conduct of the English—Prince Edward’s
Position—The Battle—The French Repulsed—Prince Edward and King
Edward—tTerrible Slaughter—Results of the Victory . : : 75

EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE: A BIOGRAPHY,

His Birth and Education—Battle of Crecy—A short Truce—War
again breaks out— Prince Edward’s Expedition—Overtaken by the
French—Disparity of Numbers— Wins the Battle of Poitiers—Chivalrous
Courtesy to King John—Returns to England—Marries Joanna of Kent—
Governor of Aquitaine—Joins the Party of Don Pedro of Castile—Vic-
tory at Navarréte—Retires to Bordeaux—Difficulties—Siege of Limoges
—Ill Health—Returns to England—Seclusion at Berkhampstead—The
Good Parliament—Edward’s Death—Anecdotes—Lessons of his Life—
His Character 7 , : . : : : < . : 86

 

CHAPTER IV.

THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT (A.D. 1415).

Position of Henry V. on his Accession to the Throne—Resolves on
War against France—Siege of Harfleur—Advances upon Calais—Sur-
rounded by French Troops—Arrives at Azincourt—Terms of Surrender
Proposed—The Night before the Battle—Shakspeare’s Henry V.—Dis-
position of the English Army—Confident Boastings of the French—The
Attack—Valour of the English Archers—Repulse of the French Cavalry

AOU
CONTENTS. ix

—Henry V. in Peril—Anecdotes—The Rout—A false Alarm—The
Battle-field—Number of Prisoners—The Duke of ane eee 's Re-
ception in England ‘ e 3 - 4 . - 103

HENRY V., SURNAMED HENRY OF MONMOUTH: A BIOGRAPHY.

His Birth, Parentage, and Education—Created Prince of Wales—Dis-
tinguishes himself at Shrewsbury Fight—Campaign in Wales—Youthful
Excesses—Chief Justice Gascoigne commits him to Prison—His Inter-
view with his Father—Death of Henry IV.—Resolves on a French War
—Conspiracy at Southampton—Battle of Azincourt—Second French
Campaign—Sees Katherine of Valois—Successes over the French—
Marries Katherine—Enters Paris—Reception in England—Third French
Campaign—Henry’s Illness—His Death, and Character F . 117

CHAPTER V.

THE BATTLE OF NASEBY (A.D. 1646).

Description of the Battle-field—Causes of the Battle—Positions of
the Hostile Armies—Prince Rupert’s Charge—Cromwell repulses Sir
Marmaduke Langdale—Charles and the Earl of Carnwath—Defeat and
Pursuit of the Royalists—Cromwell’s Letter to the Speaker of the House
of Commons—Results of the Victory—Present State of the Battle-field—
Quotation from Carlyle—A Memorial . . . . . . 188

OLIVER CROMWELL, LORD PROTECTOR OF ENGLAND: A BIOGRAPHY.

Birth and Parentage—His Father—His Mother--His Education—At
Cambridge—His Father’s Death—Removes to London—His Marriage—
His Life at Huntingdon and St Ives—In the House of Commons—A Por-
trait—Cromwell and Hampden—Causes of the Civil War—<Activity in
Cambridgeshire—The Associated Counties—Cromwell seizes the High
Sheriff of Herts—Brilliant Skirmish at Gainsborough—Winceby Fight—
An Interval—Marston Moor—Self-Denying Ordinance—Naseby—Dupli-
city of Charles I.—Cromwell in Ireland—Cromwell in Scotland—Dunbar
—Worcester—Chronological Summary of the Protectorate—Cromwell’s
Children ‘ : : ‘I : ; , i ‘ ‘ . 147

CHAPTER VI.

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM (A.D. 1704).

Position of France in 1704—Marlborough appointed to the Command
of the Allied Armies—Penetrates Louis XIV.’s Projects—Marches from
x CONTENTS.

the Netherlands into the Valley of the Danube—Strength of the Hostile
Forces—Their Relative Positions—The Battle-field described—Success
of Marlborough’s Attack—Repulse of Prince Eugene—General Advance
of the Allied Army—Defeat of the French—Attack upon Blenheim—
Capture of Marshal Tallard—Marlborough’s panama of
the Victory . ‘ : : 7 2 5 e - 204

JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH: A BIOGRAPHY.

Birth and Parentage—Obtains an Ensigncy—Favoured by the Duke
of York—Serves at Tangiers and in the Netherlands—His Marriage—His
Address and Conduct—Sedgmoor—Betrays James IJ.—Honours from
William III.—Betrays William II.—Rises again into Favour—Accession
of Queen Anne—Commander of the Allied Armies—Campaigns of 1703
and 1704—Victory of Blenheim—Campaign of 1705—Forces the French
Lines—Opposition of the Dutch Deputies and Generals—Campaign of
1706—Victory of Ramillies—Its Results—Political Parties in England—
Campaign of 1707—Charles XII. of Sweden—Misconduct of the Dutch—
Intrigues against Marlborough—Campaign of 1708—Victory of Oude-
nard—Its Results—Campaign of 1709—Malplaquet—Campaigns of 1710
and 1711—Political Intrigues—Fall of Marlborough — Retires to the
Continent—Accession of George I—Blenheim—His Death and Cha-
racter . > . . . . . . . . . - 220

CHAPTER VII.

THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY (A.D. 1759).

Struggles between the French and English—Condition of India—Siege
of Trichinopoly—Surajah Dowlah—Alliance with the French—Conspiracy
against Him—Clive’s Advance—Engagement at Plassey—Total Defeat
of Surajah Dowlah—Results of the Victory : ‘ . - 814

LORD CLIVE: A BIOGRAPHY.

Clive’s Humble Parentage—Goes to India—His Fits of Melancholy—
Joins the Army—Rapid Rise—Captures Arcot—Returns to England—
Conduct and Character—Second Voyage to India—Victory of Plassey—
Increase of British Power—Returns to England—Disputes with Mr
Sulivan—Third Voyage to India— Efficiency of his Government —
Returns Home—Impeached in the House of Commons—Acquittal—
Death. - : ‘ . . . - 7 : 7 - 824
CONTENTS. xi

CHAPTER VIII.

THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM (A.D. 1759).

War Administration of Mr Pitt—French Successes in North America
—Pitt’s Plans—Wolfe selected for Command—Position of Quebec—
Montcalm’s Defences—Wolfe’s Attack—Its Failure—His Despondency
Letter to Pitt—A-New Scheme—Baittle with the French—A Glorious
Victory—A Hero’s Death—Results ‘ se e 8 oe BDF

GENERAL WOLFE: A BIOGRAPHY.

Born at Westerham—Enters the Army—Early Distinction— Serves
against the French—Expedition against Rochfort—Incapacity of English
Commanders—Wolfe’s increasing Reputation—War in America—Wolfe
attacks Louisbourg—His Success—Returns to England—Attracts Pitt’s
Attention—Appointed to Command in Canada—Siege of Quebec—Defeat
of Montcalm—Wolfe’s Death—His Character : is a - 3866

CHAPTER IX.

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO (A.D. 1815).

Introduction—Napoleon’s Plans—Wellington’s Forces—Battles of
Quatre Bras and Ligny—Blucher—Strength of the Two Armies—De-
scription of the Field of Waterloo—Numerous Anecdotes—The Battle—
Attack on Hougoumont—La Haye Sainte—Death of Picton—Major
Macready’s Journal—Charge of French Cavalry—Gallantry of the British
—Wellington and his Staff—Approach of the Prussians—Last Charge of
the French—Its Repulse—The ee s ee
and Blucher—A Summary . é ‘ 3 . 873

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON: A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

Birth and Parentage—Rapid Promotion—Service in the Netherlands
—Goes to India—Seringapatam—vVictories of Assaye and Argaum—
Returns to England—Embarks for Spain—Victories of Roliga and
Vimiera—Returns to England—Appointed to Command the Army in the
Peninsula—The Peninsula War—Battles of Talavera, Salamanca, Busaco,
Fuentes d’Onore, Vittoria, the Pyrenees, Orthes, and Toulouse—Sieges of
Cuidad Rodrigo, and San Sebastian—Waterloo—The Duke’s Political
Career—His Death and Character . wo. of Ws » 404
xi CONTENTS.

CHAPTER X.

THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

Condition of Turkey—Designs of Russia—England and France Inter-
fere—The Allies land in the Crimea—Battles of the Alma, Balaklava,
the Tchernaya, and ee of the Six Hundred—Fall of
Sebastopol : ‘ ‘ , é F 3 . 449

APPENDIX.

CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF VICTORIES OF THE BRITISH ARMY 459

BriocRapPuicaL Notices oF DisTINGUISHED GENERALS :—

John Richmond Webb : ‘ 2 : : : - 461
James Wolfe 3 : 3 F é F $ : - 461
Sir Eyre Coote . . 5 : : : - 462
General Lord George Hvis s ‘ : : 2 - 462
Sir Ralph Abercromby : . 5 . . : - 462
Sir John Moore . : 3 - : : a - 462
Marshal Beresford . , : : : : - 463
Sir Charles James Napier . 3 : : ‘ : - 463
Henry, Viscount Hardinge - s ‘ ¢ - 463
Hugh, Viscount Gough 3 6 ; 2 : . . 463
Lord Clyde : , a . ‘ ‘ . . 464

Sir James Outram s ‘ é i ‘ é : 464
CHAPTER LIL.

THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS ; AND HAROLD, THE LAST
OF THE SAXON KINGS.

I climb to yon heights,
Where the Norman encamp’d him of old,
With his bowmen and knights,
And his banner all burnished with gold.
Still the ramparted ground
With a vision my fancy inspires ;
And I hear the trump sound,
As it marshall’d our chivalry’s sires.
Tuomas CaMPBELL.

[A.D. 1066.]

Between Hastings and Pevensey, on the coast of Sussex, extends
an ample bay, capacious enough to receive within its shelter all
the navies of the world. The horns of the crescent which it forms
rise into lofty promontories of glittering cliffs, while farther to the
west towers the well-known ocean steep of Beachy Head. In the
bend, or hollow of the crescent, the shore is low, and the land
ascends with a very gentle slope towards a range of hills, which,
clothed with hanging woods and dotted with grey church-towers,
runs from east to west in a low but undulating line. The soil
bordering more immediately on the coast is marshy and sterile ;
A
2 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

bnt farther inland, snug farmsteads are surrounded by fertile
crofts and blooming gardens. Afar, against the western sky,
swells a long billowy ridge of cloud-capped and wind-swept
downs. To the south, the waters heave and roll in one vast and
apparently unbounded expanse of sea. Eastward, an elevated
ridge of sandstone terminates in the cliffs of Hastings.

Such is the scene which now presents itself to the spectator,
but widely different were its features eight hundred years ago.
Then, as now, the downs uplifted their noble crests above the
clouds, and the cliffs of Hastings were as lofty, and the promon-
tory of Beachy Head as magnificent; but the sea rolled in where
now blooms the rank vegetation of the marsh,—rolled in as far,
perhaps, as the upland crowned by the ruins of Pevensey Castle,
—and the waters circled round many a little oasis or island ‘ of
greenery,’ now planted, and tilled, and levelled with the sur-
rounding plains; while beyond waved the ‘myriad arms’ of an
immense and almost impenetrable forest,—the Andredes-weald of
the Saxon. No villages clustered upon the hills; no rich farms
rested in the heart of fertile meadows. But armed scouts went
to and fro along the shore, and from many a height blazed the
ominous bale-fire, announcing to startled England that

‘Count Wyllyam to Hastynges was y-come,
And his banner had y-reared, and the contreye al y-nome!’!

It was on the 20th of September 1066, that the scene we have
attempted to describe was first gazed upon by the followers of
William the Norman. A mighty fleet of 696 vessels,? glittering
with lance and banner, and echoing with song and shout, swept

* Robert of Gloucester.

? Guil. Gemetiensis says 3000; but Wace, who isa more certain guide,
says, on the authority of his father, 696. The ‘Chronique de Normandie’
places the number at 907 ships. The same contradictions exist as to the
strength of William’s forces. Sismondi (Histoire des Francois), calculating
on the basis of the undoubtedly fictitious Battle Abbey roll, estimates
the total number of knights and soldiers at about 20,000,—an absurdly
small force for the invasion of England! William of Poictiers, one of
the most reliable authorities relative to the Norman Conquest, inasmuch
as he was Count William’s chaplain, declares that there were 60,000 men,
of whom 50,000 were men-at-arms, or milites,—that is, knights and squires,
LANDING OF THE NORMAN ARMY. 3

into the bay of Pevensey,—extending in dense array from Peven-
sey even unto Hastings,—and speedily landed their armed men
and armour (and such military stores as in those rude days were
considered needful) upon English ground. Then the ships were
scuttled, rowed into deep water, and left to sink, that the 60,000
soldiers whom they had disembarked might see that in the land
before them must be found a home, or a grave !!

And this was the order in which that mighty army landed.
First came the archers,—slight, sinewy men, with shaven heads
and short habits. Then the horsemen,—the bold cavaliers of
Boulogne and Ponthieu—Mantes, Poitou, and Bretagne,—and
the matchless chivalry of Normandy : some clad in heavy armour
—in coats of mail, with conical helmets of polished iron; some
carrying long and ponderous lances; others straight and keen
two-edged swords; others massive battle-axes, fit for the grasp
of giants. Next followed the pioneers, smiths, and carpenters
of the army, who were at once employed to put together the
framework of certain wooden castles provided by the foresight
of Count William. Lastly, the grand array was closed by the
Count himself, surrounded by his most favoured and powerful
barons; and the whole army encamped on the broad plateau
between Hastings and Pevensey,—the sea in their rear, the
wooded hills of Hastings on their right, and the forest of the
Anderida on their left and in their front.

‘Here, then, Count William prepared for the conquest of
England. To guard against surprise, he pushed forward his
outposts in every direction ; and to ensure victory, as far as might
be, exercised his men in military manoeuvres, and encouraged
them by promises of ample booty. Already had he shown him-
self a man well skilled in commanding men; and marvellous was
his dexterity in turning even accidents and ill omens into presages
of good fortune. He had been the last to leave the ships, and
while bringing his foot to the shore, had missed his step, and
fallen forward upon his face. Immediately his soldiers sent up a
cry of despair,—‘ God help us! God preserve us! A fatal sign
is this? But their leader, prompt of wit, sprang to his feet,

1 Some authorities dispute this statement, and assert that William’s
ships were cooped up in Pevensey Bay by the Saxon fleet.
4 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

exclaiming, ‘ Par la resplendar Dé,—his favourite oath,—‘ what
ails ye? I have taken seisin of this land with my two hands,
and as much as there is of it is yours!’ Then the soldiers, en-
couraged by a reply so ready, shouted lustily, and praised Count
William. A rare and wonderful faculty is this intuitive mastery
over men’s minds and hearts, which Providence bestows upon
the hero by whom, for good or for evil, his age will specially be
controlled! It is the lever with which Genius moves the world.

King Harold was at York,—recruiting his soldiers’ strength
after their victory over the Norwegian king, Harold Hardrada,
—when the tidings reached him of Count William’s invasion.
Without an hour’s delay he put his army in motion, and marched
towards the south. As he swept onward, he bade the chiefs of
the counties summon all their fighting men to arms, and lead
them to London as to a general rendezvous. This was his fatal
error. Had he remained a few days at York, the new levies
would soon have increased his forces to one hundred thousand
men, and ensured him a superiority in the field against which
Count William could hardly have contended. But, anxious to
spare his subjects from the miseries inflicted by a ruthless soldiery;
desirous, it may be, of surprising the foe by the suddenness of
his attack, he moved towards Hastings with the utmost rapidity,
though the army which he proposed to defeat was three times
more numerous than his own.

The Norman encampment was carefully guarded, and re-
connoitring parties of cavalry brought ‘accurate intelligence of
Harold’s rapid approach. He marched on, they said, like a
raging madman, until he found his design, of vanquishing the
enemy by a coup-de-main, completely frustrated by William’s
foresight. Then, halting at a distance of seven miles from the
Norman army, he resolved to assume the defensive, and com-
menced entrenching the position he had chosen. His forces were
massed upon the ridge of a considerable hill, and behind a deep
ditch, which he fortified with a stout palisade of hurdles woven
together, and filled up with earth and clay. The ruins of Battle
Abbey now indicate the site of this camp. Dangerous morasses

1 Roman de Rou, vol. ii, 151, 152.
WARRIORS, NOT PRIESTS. 5

and impervious woods protected each flank; so that his army
was drawn up across the only pass, or road, which opened into
the heart of England. His position was chosen, in fact, with a
high degree of military skill; and had it been held with the same
‘enduring coolness’—to use Professor Airey’s forcible expression
—as the lines of Torres Vedras, the slopes of Waterloo, or the
heights of Inkermann, the Normans must eventually have fallen
back, dispirited, and broken with famine. In afew days Harold’s
reinforcements would have arrived; he might have poured down
upon the invaders an irresistible army; and on the heights of
Hastings the glory of the Norman chivalry would have set in
blood for ever. Happy for England that it was otherwise! It
needed the fusion of the two races—the union of Norman spirit
with Saxon solidity—to produce that enterprising and wide-
spreading people, whose triumphs in art, literature, and science,
in war, colonization, government, and commerce, are the won-
der, ay, and the envy, of a world.

Harold’s spies, whom he had sent to learn the numbers and
dispositions of the enemy’s forces, were astounded at the spectacle
presented to them. They told their king that they had seen
more priests in the Norman army than there were fighting men
in their own: for the Saxons, who wore their hair long and their
beards unshorn, had mistaken the close-cropped and smooth-
shaven Normans for monks. ‘Those whom you have seen in
such numbers,’ replied King Harold, ‘are not priests, but war-
tiors, who will soon teach us of what stuff they are made.’?
Alarmed at these reports, several of his captains counselled him
to avoid a battle, and to retreat upon London, devastating the
country as he retired, that the invaders might perish of famine.
‘By my faith,’ replied the noble Harold,'‘I will not destroy the
land whose charge has been entrusted to me; nay, it were
treason! I will rather dare the fortune of the battle with what
few men I have, and trust to my own courage, and the justice of
my cause.’?

A monk, Dom Hugues Maigrot, was now despatched by
Count William to the Saxon monarch, to propose terms of ac-

1 Roman de Rou, ii. 2 Chronique de Normandie.
6 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

commodation. Harold should either resign his crown to William;
refer the dispute between them to the arbitration of the Pope
(already pledged, be it remembered, to the encouragement of the
Norman enterprise); or decide the point at issue by single com-
bat. Brief was Harold’s answer: ‘I will not surrender my
crown ; I will not accept of the Pope’s arbitration; nor will I
meet Duke William in single combat.’ But the crafty Norman’s
intention was to prejudice and dishonour King Harold before his
own people,—for he well knew that his insulting propositions
would only excite the contempt of the gallant Saxon,—and so
he again despatched his monkish herald, and bade him deliver
his message in these terms: ‘If Harold will observe the.compact
he made with me over the holy bones of the saints, I will leave
to him all the country which lies beyond the Humber, and will
give to Gurth, his brother, the lands which were his father’s. If
he refuse these conditions, then do thon tell him, before his people,
that he is a perjurer and a liar; that he, and all who aid him,
are excommunicated by the mouth of the Pope; and that the
bull of excommunication is in my hands.’

Dom Hugues Maigrot delivered his lord’s bidding in solemn
tones, and at the threat of excommunication many of the Saxon
nobles were sorely dismayed. But one among them, of bolder
spirit than the rest, exclaimed, ‘ Whatever the perils that menace
us, we must fight! What we have to consider is not whether
we shall receive a new prince, as if our king were dead, but
this: the Count of Normandy has bestowed our lands upon his
barons, knights, and squires, most of whom have already done
homage to him, and will look for their gifts if their Count becomes
king. In like manner will he be bound to deliver up to them our
lands, and our wives, and our daughters, for he has already pro-
mised them. They come, then, not only to destroy ws, but our
descendants, and to deprive us of the country of our forefathers.
And what are we to do, whither to go, when we possess no longer
a land of our own?’ Touched by this vigorous appeal, every
Saxon swore that he would make no peace with the invaders, but
was ready to drive them into the sea, or—to die.

' Roman de Rou.
THE EVE OF BATTLE. qT

The Count now resolved upon giving battle. Eighteen days
had elapsed since his ships had cast anchor in the bay of Peven-
sey, and both armies felt that the hour had approached when
the ‘dread arbitrament of the sword’ must decide the fortunes
of Saxon England. How they passed ‘the eve of battle —the
night of the 13th of October—has been graphically told by the
chroniclers. Harold and his brothers, in disguise, reconnoitred
the Norman camp, it is said, on that memorable night,—

‘Of brave chevaliers took they none,
Nor squires a-foot,—they went alone;
And all unarm’d was each great lord,
Save shield, and spear, and trusty sword ;”!

and the spectacle they beheld was very curious and wonderful.
The long row of watchfires blazing before the line of array
showed how vast a force was collected under Count William’s
standard. A broad dyke ran in front of the camp, and behind,
in regular streets or rows, extended the bough-woven huts of the
common soldiers. In their rear stood the tents of the knights,
and the pavilions of the barons and prelates. The centre was
occupied by the splendid pavilion of the leader of this mighty
host, before which was unrolled the gonfanon, or banner, blessed
by the Pope himself. The steady beat of the sentinels ; the clang
of the armourers’ hammers; the neighing of innumerable horses;—
all told of busy preparation for the morrow. Suddenly these noises
ceased ; a silver bell tinkled upon the night; from every hut,
and tent, and pavilion came forth its inmates; and down through
the kneeling ranks paraded a long procession of priests, with
censer and with aube, headed by Odo of Bayeux, and Geoffrey,
Bishop of Coutances, in their splendid pontificais. Then arose
the low murmur of confession, and hands were uplifted as in
absolution and benediction. Solemn litanies broke in tender
music upon the air, and voices round the watchfires joined in
holy psalms. And the excited soldiery vowed that, if God
granted to their swords the victory on the morrow, never again
upon a Saturday, as long as they lived, would they eat flesh.

1 Roman de Rou.
§ _THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

The Saxon camp presented avery different scene. Its hardy
warriors, still leavened by much of the rude ferocity of the old
Norse blood, sat around their fires, chanting loud runes and
vigorous war-songs, and pledging one another in flagons of
strong beer. ‘All night,’ says the Norman chronicler, ‘they
might be seen carousing and playing, dancing and singing:
bublie, they cried, and waeshael, and laticome, and drinchael, and
drinc-to-me.’ To their staunch hearts the idea of defeat and
disaster on the morrow was never present: they had always
conquered under Harold’s banner; they were yet flushed with
their triumph over Harold Hardrada’s Norwegians; and they
doubted not but victory would again be theirs.

Towards the dawn of the 14th of October, Count William put
his army in motion, advanced along the greensand range of hills
which stretches inland from Hastings, and keeping to the north
of the modern village of Hollington, through the silent glades
of what is now Crowhurst Park, halted upon Telham Hill,—then
kuown as Hethelande,—in sight of the Saxon entrenchments. As
the morning breaks redly over the eastern sea, the trumpet
summons the Normans to arms. The horsemen, clad in coats of
mail which reach to the knee, put on their conical helmets, affix
their prick-spurs to their heels, seize their kite-shaped shields—
adorned with many a fanciful device,—and grasping their heavy
swords, or their long, ponderous lances, nimbly mount their steeds.
The foot-soldiers have mostly no weapons to make ready but bow
and arrow. Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and William’s half-brother,
a, soldier-priest of truculent spirit, dons a hauberk over his white
aube (the sacerdotal raiment), mounts his white horse, sways to
and fro his formidable mace, and draws up the cavalry in line.
There may be seen, all glittering in splendid armour, the proud
Norman barons, founders of our English chivalry: the gallant
D’Albini, afterwards Earl of Arundel; the heroic Mowbray ;
Robert, Count of Eu, who, in the fight, ‘ demeaned himself as a
brave man, so that those upon whom his blows fell were sorely
handled ;’ Robert, Count of Mortaigne, afterwards Earl of
Cornwall; William de Warenne, the future Earl of Surrey, ‘his
helmet sitting gracefully on his head ;’ William Fitz-Osbert, the
Conqueror’s most trusted councillor ; Aimery de Thouars, a brave
HOW TO READ EVIL OMENS. 9

and loyal Poitevin ; Roger de Montgommeri ; the two brothers,
Baynard? and Gilbert de Montfichet; Hugues de Grantmesnil, and
many others of high repute as valiant knights and proven soldiers.

Then Count William—a true ‘Agamemnon, king of men’—
prepared to arm himself, and called for his coat of mail, which,
by some mischance, his squire handed to him with the wrong side
foremost. The knights and nobles in attendance, easily infected
with superstitious fears, cursed the misadventure as an evil omen;
but William Fitz-Osbert, the Duke’s seneschal, soothing them
with his usual constancy, declared that it should rather be
regarded as a presage of good fortune,—as showing that those
things which had hitherto remained unmoved, were now about
to yield to the Count’s power. William himself, undismayed,
and with a calm countenance, put on his hauberk, and exclaimed,
‘I know, my friends, that I ought not, did I put any faith in
omens, to enter in the fight to-day. But, committing myself
trustfully in all things to the Creator, I neither give heed to
auguries, nor favour sorcerers.’

Having girded on his sword and laced his helmet, the great
soldier mounted his horse, and proceeded to draw up his army in
battle array. So stately was his carriage, so regal his mien,
that all his followers broke out into murmurs of approbation. ‘I
have never seen,’ exclaimed the Vicomte de Tours, ‘a man more
admirably armed, nor one who rode more boldly, or carried his
armour so well. Never did any one bear his lance more grace-
fully, or manage his horse with equal skill. No knight like him
lives under heaven! A fair Count he is, and a fair king (beau
Roi) he shall be!’? His forces were marshalled in three columns
of attack: in the first, led by William Fitz-Osbert and Roger
de Montgommeri, rode the horsemen of Boulogne and Picardy,
and most of the mercenaries from the banks of the Rhine,—from
France and from Flanders, from Aquitaine and Burgundy,—
whom the hope of good pay and broad lands had attracted to
William’s banner. The second, under Aimery de Thouars, was
composed of the auxiliaries from Maine, Brittany, and Poitou.

1 Bayard Montfichet afterwards erected a castle in London, whence

the name, still existing, of Baynard’s Ward.
2 Roman de Ron.
10 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

The third, headed by the Count, comprised the main body of the
chivalry of Normandy, the flower of European horsemen ; and to
this division was attached the reserve. ‘For it is curious to
notice, that William’s strategy resembled in much that of the
last great Invader of Nations,—relying first upon the effect of
the charge ; secondly, upon a vast reserve brought to bear at the
exact moment on the weakest point of the foe.’!

By William’s side rode young Tonstain le Blanc, carrying
the gonfanon, or standard, consecrated by the Pope. First its
charge had been offered to Raou! de Terni, the hereditary stan-
dard-bearer of Normandy. ‘I shall need my right arm,’ said he,
‘for my sword; my left, for my horse and shield.’ Then the
Count had called upon Guatier Giffart, Sire de Longueville:
‘My head is grey,’ he pleaded, ‘and my arm feeble; but no one
shall serve you more truly in the battle! I will smite with my
sword until it is red with the blood of your foes.’ So toa young
but stalwart knight the sacred banner was perforce entrusted.

The troops were now ready for the onset, when William rode
forward, and ‘loud as a trumpet with a silver sound,’ his voice
rolled over the serried ranks, who listened in eager silence :—

‘Knights and soldiers!—Remember ye to fight your best,
and yield quarter unto none: for if we conquer, rich will be
every one of us! What I gain, ye, too, will gain; if I triumph,
ye also will triumph; if I win this land, it shall be yours. I am
not come here to assert my own right alone, but to avenge our
whole nation for the felonies, perjuries, and treacheries of these
English. They slaughtered our kinsmen the Danes on the night
of St Brice;? they murdered Alfred, the brother of their last
sovereign, and decimated his companions. See, then, before you
are your foes! Never, even in a just cause, were they famous
for their warrior-blood or martial glory. On, on, and with God’s
help we will chastise them for their evil deeds.’

And, descending into the plain which separated them from
the Saxon position, the Normans, with loud shouts of ‘ Diex aide!’
(‘God aid us!’) advanced to the charge.

' Bulwer Lytton: Harold, the Lust of the Saxon Kings. .

? This was the terrible massacre which took place in 1003, during the
reign of Ethelred, and was so fearfully avenged by the Danish king Sweyn.
KING HAROLD'S ARMY. 11

Meanwhile, King Harold had drawn up his scanty forces
with all the skill of a consummate general. He possessed, un-
fortunately, but little cavalry, and what there was, of an inferior
quality ; but of these troops he made the best use possible. The.
infantry was divided into two compact and solid bodies; and
upon their flanks, already protected by dense woods and danger-
ous morasses, were disposed the horse. Outside the entrench-
ments was stationed the first division, consisting of the men of
Kent (who led the van), and the levies from Essex and Hertford-
shire, Sussex and Surrey, Lincolnshire, Somersetshire, Norfolk,
and Gloucestershire, assuming the shape of a wedge or triangle.
Of these the foremost ranks were clothed in heavy mail, covered
by huge shields, and armed with ponderous axes. The rear was
occupied by the archers, while, wherever a scanty covert could
be obtained, the trustiest bowmen and most. dexterous slingers
were posted.

Within the ramparts the second division was drawn up in a
seemingly impenetrable mass. It comprised the soldiers of Lon-
don and Middlesex—then, as at a later period, the pride of the
English army—Harold’s own body-guard of veterans and re-
tainers; and several companies of steady, resolute, and trained
Kast Anglians. The heavy-armed wore mail and shield like the
Normans, and carried ponderous axes,—formidable weapons in
the sinewy Saxon grasp! The light-armed were clad in tunics
of hide or quilted linen, wore helmets of hide, and wielded spears
javelins, swords, or clubs. In the centre was displayed the
famous standard of ‘The Fighting Man,’ embroidered with gold,
and blazoned with precious stones.

Harold’s two younger brothers now placed themselves beside
him. They had sought in vain to induce him to retire upon
London, and summon the able-bodied in every shire to the rescue
of the country, while they themselves resisted the advance of the
Normans. They had vainly pointed out, that as he had, of a
truth, sworn to certain things over the bones of the saints, the
guilt of perjury rested upon him in the eyes of superstition, and
paralyzed the arms of many a stout-bodied but weak-minded
Saxon. ‘It is for us who have not forsworn ourselves,’ they
cried, ‘to fight for the defence of our fatherland. Let us then
12 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

give battle without thee; if we give way, thou wilt support; if
we fall, thou wilt avenge us!’! Wain had been their prudent
counsel: Harold was too confident in the rightfulness of his cause,
and in his own valour; too large of heart to endure the shame
of avoiding the peril of the fight; and so the three brothers had
resolved to perish or conquer together! Did the thought occur
to either of them, that this 14th of October was not only King
Harold’s, but Duke William’s birthday ?

On came the press of the Norman battalions, sweeping, like
the roll of tempestuous billows, across the field of Senlac,—or,
as it was afterwards expressively named, Sangue-lac, the ‘Lake
of Blood,’—and forward, full in advance of the whole line, rode
a strange warrior, a man of more than ordinary stature, singing
aloud of the matchless deeds of the old chiefs of the Franks :—

‘Singing aloud the vigorous strain
Of Oliver and Charlemain,
And Roland, and the heroes all,
Who died at bloody Roncesvalles!’?

The Norman soldiery lustily helped to swell the chorus, with
shouts of * Diex aide!’ ‘God help us! God help us!’

‘The minstrel Cut-the-tron,? he,
His big heart flush’d with chivalrié ;
Heavily arm’d, on gallant steed,
Prompt to accomplish doughty deed,—
His ponderous lance he hurls thro’ air,
As though some lightsome reed it were ;—
Regain’d, once more it swiftly flies
Beyond the gaze of wondering eyes!
Thrice, thrice this featly thing he shows,
Then wheels the spear among his foes,
And straight, heart-struck, a Saxon dies!
Next, with his sword, the dexterous deed
He shows how bravely ’t will succeed,
Until each soldier, wondering, cries,—
“He works the strangest sorceries!”
He spurs his warrior-steed amain
Across the memorable plain,

1 Roman de Rou. ? Roman de Rou.
3 Taille-fer, or Cut-iron, a sobriquet expressive of his strength and skill.
THE BATTLE BEGINS. 13

(With jaws so wide, the Saxon coward
Trembles lest he should be devour’d) ;
And smiting with his sword a foe,

Lops off his head—so true the blow!’!

This knightly minstrel slew one of the Saxon standard-
bearers and a Saxon soldier before he himself was overpowered.

Thus it was that, at about nine o’clock on the morning of
the 14th of October 1066, the memorable battle of Hastings
began. Loud and far resounded the clang of horns and the
clash of lances, the heavy thud of the clubs and the ringing of
meeting swords. The English, standing firm as a castle and as
if rooted to the soil, shouted again and again, ‘Holy Cross!
Out! Out! God Almighty!’ to which the Normans, though
they understood not the meaning of the hostile cries, replied
with ‘ Diex aie!’ ‘Dieu aide! God help us!’ Onward pressed
two divisions of the Norman army, attempting to turn the flanks
of the Saxon vanguard, and so fall with a sudden swoop upon
the reserve within the entrenchments. The archers discharged
their arrows, and the cross-bowmen their bolts; but they fell
harmlessly against the high wall of the Saxon camp. The horse-
men rushed upon the foe in vain; in vain the foot, with their
long line of spears, bore down against that solid and impene-
trable mass. Beneath the blows of the ponderous Saxon battle-
axes both horse and foot went down like ripe corn before the
sickle. They wavered, they recoiled, and as they recoiled, step
by step, and still maintaining their unbroken array, Harold’s
soldiers pressed upon them.

At length, dismayed and dispirited, the Normans fell back
upon their reserve. Duke William rallied them, led them again to
the assault, and bade the archers discharge their arrows upward,
so that they should drop within the Saxon ramparts. Through
this manceuvre many of the Saxons fell.

William now put into execution a stratagem he had previ-
ously meditated, and whose object was to entice the Saxons
from the position their steady valour rendered impregnable. He
ordered the cavalry to charge boldly upon the enemy, and then

‘

1 Gaimar’s History of the English.
14 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

to feign a retreat; while Eustace, Count of Boulogne, was
directed to hold himself in readiness to fall upon them, if, misled
by the snare, they ventured in pursuit and scattered themselves
over the field. The bait took. Heated by the fight,—inflamed
with the hope of a speedy victory,—they rushed forward upon
the retreating foe, in spite of King Harold’s efforts to keep them
steady in their ranks. In the mélée which ensued, a fearful
slaughter took place. A deep fosse, or ditch, overgrown with
bush and bramble, was concealed in the plain across which the
Normans retreated. The Saxons drove them pell-mell upon
this chasm, and flung into it both men and horses. Many were
to be seen—says the old chronicler'—falling into the dark hollow,
rolling one over another, with their faces to the earth, and unable
to rise. Some of them clasped their arms around their opponents,
and dragged them also down to death; and so terrible was the
slaughter, that the hollow was made level with the plain by the
number of the dead who found therein a fearful grave. For
long, long years afterwards, it retained the expressive name of
the ‘ Malfosse,’ or ‘ Accursed Ditch.’

A panic seized the Norman army. It was rumoured that
their leader had perished in the Malfosse, and the varlets placed
in guard of the stores and tents began to fly. The contagion
spread, and threatened to become a rout, when Count William,
throwing back his helmet that his face might be readily seen,
and waving his spear in his right hand, flung himself in front of
the fugitives, crying aloud,—‘ Look, look at me, ye cowards!
See ye not that I am alive? Ay, and, with God’s help, will
conquer!’ Then Bishop Odo also hurried towards them, and
exclaimed,—‘ Stand fast! Stand fast! Be calm, and move not!
Fear nothing, for, with the grace of God, we yet shall triumph!’
The scattered ranks were rallied, and brought again to the
charge. The Saxons, disordered by the fury of their pursuit,
and closely pressed by the Count of Boulogne and his powerful
squadrons, were forced back within their entrenchments, which
Normans and Saxons entered péle-méle, fighting hand to hand.
King Harold was sorely wounded, by an arrow, in the right eye.

1 Roman de Rou (Wace).
DEEDS OF VALOUR. 15

In his great anguish he drew the weapon out, and, breaking it
with his hands, flung the pieces aside ; but so intolerable was the
pain, that he leaned for a moment upon his shield. This acci-
dent, perhaps, decided the fate of the battle. At all events, the
Saxons were long accustomed to say to the Normans, that the
arrow so sent up against their king was well shot, and that the
archer won great glory for his countrymen who thus put out
King Harold’s eye.

Count William’s horse was slain under him; it was the
second steed he had lost that day, and yet he received not a
single wound. So perilous even now appeared the Norman
position, that Eustace of Boulogne counselled him to withdraw
his forces as best he could, for there was no hope of recovering
the battle. But the intrepid chief fought on, encouraging his
knights to deeds of valour, which could only be fitly told by an
English Homer. A Saxon leader rushed impetuously forward,
leading his own company of a hundred men, provided with dif-
ferent weapons. He himself wielded an axe, whose blade was
full a foot in length, and where the throng was thickest leaped
forward swifter than a stag, marking his path by dead and
wounded Normans. Rushing against a knight who rode his
war-horse gallantly, he aimed a blow at his head with his
fearful axe; but the blow miscarried, and the keen steel shore
full through the horse’s neck, bringing both horse and rider
to the ground. Those who beheld the blow were so amazed
that they were fain to retreat, when Roger de Montgommeri,
with his lance poised, galloped hastily to the spot, and, little
heeding the Saxon’s long-handled axe, smote him with so
stout a blow that he fell dead. ‘Then cried Roger de Mont-
gommeri,—‘ Normans, strike! The day is ours;’ and so the fight
continued.

There was a Saxon who distinguished himself by wonderful
feats of strength and courage. His wooden helmet was so fast-
ened round his neck, that no blows could take effect upon his
head; and while with his sharp axe he dealt death and wounds
around him, he seemed himself to bear a charmed life. The
slaughter he made was espied by a brave Norman knight, who
rode a steed that ‘neither fire nor water could stop in his career,
16 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

when once his rider spurred him on.’ He charged full at the
Saxon, smiting him upon the helmet that it might fall over his
eyes, and then, as he lifted up his right hand to raise it from his
face, striking off his hand, which fell immediately to the earth.
A Norman sprang forward, and stooping, seized the Saxon’s
axe: he held it but a little while, and paid dearly for his prize ;
for even while he stooped, a soldier struck him on the shoulders
with such force that his bones were broken, and his lungs and
entrails forced through the terrible wound. The knight on his
war-horse had, in the meantime, regained his ranks uninjured ;
and coming face to face with another foe, rode him down, tramp-
ling him under foot, and wounding him with a grievous wound.

Twenty of the bravest and choicest of the Norman knights
now bound themselves by a vow to carry off King Harold’s
famous banner of ‘ The Fighting Man,’ or perish in the attempt.
They clove a way through the press, despite the sturdiest resist-
ance; and though many of them fell, they struck down one by
one the standard-bearers, and bore off the royal standard. It
was the signal of defeat to the Saxons. The cavalry of Boulogne
and Poitou once more swept down upon their thinned ranks, and
scattered them like chaff before the wind. An armed man in
the throng of the battle dealt King Harold—already bleeding
from many wounds—a heavy blow upon his helmet, which bore
him to the ground; aud as he endeavoured to recover himself,
another beat him down again, and smote him on the thigh even
to the very bone. Even thus perished our Saxon Harold, wor-
thier of a better fate; and by his side fell his heroic brothers,
Gurth? and Leofwin, while around them was heaped a circle of
the dead and dying. The best and bravest of the Saxon chivalry
perished with their gallant monarch, and none remained to direct
the battle, to rally the fugitives, or encourage the few who still
kept their ground. Yet far into the darkness of the night,
when the combatants could only distinguish friend from foe by
the difference of their speech, the fight was prolonged; and
never was Saxon valour more illustrious than on the fatal field of
Hastings !

1 Wace.

? According to the Roman de Rou, Gurth was slain by William himself.
THE BATTLE-FIELD. 17

While the Norman cavalry pursued the slowly retreating
Saxons, continuing the slaughter throughout the night, Count
William ordered his gonfanon to be planted on the spot where
Harold had raised his ‘Fighting Warrior.’ His pavilion was
pitched amidst the bodies of the slain—the bodies of those who
had so nobly fought and fallen in defence of their land and
liberties—and thither his meat was brought, and there his supper
was made ready. And he vowed that, on the spot distinguished
by so great a victory, he would raise a stately abbey, and dedi-
cate it to the Holy Trinity and St Martin, the patron of the
soldiers of Gaul. His knights and nobles gathered round, laud-
ing his deeds, and rejoicing in the triumph they had won. And
he stood among them, a man of lofty stature and noble mien, and,
with the pious hypocrisy of the age, rendered thanks to the Lord
of hosts, through whom he had gained the fight. Mourning and
weeping for the lost, he thanked his knights for their brilliant
valour ; and he ate and drank among the dead, and slept that
night upon the field.

Upon what a scene, next morning, rose the calm sun of the
Sabbath! The plain was heaped with dead bodies, and on every
side was to be seen ‘the red hue of blood.’ From the dells
around issued a purple stream, which increased as it rolled on-
ward into a river of gore. The peasant long believed that the
ruddy chalybeate sources of the little brook (still rippling across
the battle-field) derived their blood-red hue from the blood of the
slaughtered Saxons. So Drayton sings,—

‘Asten once distained with native English blood ;
Whose soil yet, when but wet with any little rain,
Doth blush, as put in mind of those there sadly slain.’

Broken swords, shattered helmets, fragments of lances and hau-
berks, everywhere strewed the ground; while from afar came
foul birds of prey, and dogs, and hungry wolves, to batten on the
horrible banquet which ambition had provided for them !

Count William now caused the roll of the army to be called
over, that he might ascertain how many had fallen; and Bishop
Odo, putting aside for awhile his helm and sword, chanted mass

for the souls of the departed. It is said that of the Normans
B
18 THE BATTLE OF HASTINGS.

three thousand were slain, while the slaughter among the Saxons
was nearly double. The Normans buried as best they might the
bodies of their comrades; and Saxon women who had come in
search of husband, son, or brother, received permission to remove
their corpses from the field, and inter them in the cemeteries of
the neighbouring villages. Those whom no loving eyes had
recognised,—and so mutilated were the bodies, that recognition
was often difficult,—rotted where they had fallen, or were de-
voured ‘by worms, and wolves, and birds, and dogs.’ The body
of the noble Harold—the last, and not the least illustrious, of the
Saxon kings—was not at first identified; until the two pious
monks of Waltham Abbey, Osgood and Alred, ‘the childe-
maister,’ who, it is said, had undertaken the search, called to
their assistance the beautiful Editha Swanneshales, or ‘ the Swan-
necked,’ Harold’s beloved mistress. Her tender eyes were quick
to detect the dead King’s features; and having pointed out the
disfigured corpse, it was duly wrapped in purple linen, and buried,
by the Conqueror’s command, upon the cliff of Hastings. Fain
would Githa, his mother, have ransomed the dead body. ‘I
have lost,’ she cried, ‘ three of my sons in this war ; return to me
the bones of but one, and I will pay you for them, weight by
weight, in pure gold.’ The Conqueror sternly replied, that he
through whose avarice so many had perished, and now lay un-
sepulchred, was himself unworthy of a grave. So Harold was
buried on the lonesome cliff,t where the winds and the complain-
ing seas breathe an eternal dirge; and a stone placed over his
remains long bore the Norman’s taunt, which a later age inter-
prets as the Saxon’s most fitting epitaph,—

‘Per mandata Ducis, rex hic Heralde, quiescas,
Ut custos maneas littoris et pelagi ’—
By the Duke's will thou restest here, King Harold, that thou
mayst remain the guardian of the shore and seas !

The defeat of Hastings was the overthrow of Saxon England.
Its chiefs at feud among themselves, and no longer held together

1 William of Poitiers and Ordericus Vitalis.—There seems no reason
to credit the tradition that Harold was interred at Waltham Abbey. It
was purely a monkish fiction. —
ITS RESULTS. 19

by the superior genius of Harold; its best soldiers slain, and
especially those veterans whom Harold himself had trained in his
sanguinary wars; its able-bodied peasantry unskilled in arms,—
for the martial tastes of the Saxon race had sorely degenerated
under its last two monarchs ; the country destitute of strongholds
where an army might be re-organized, or a defence prolonged ;—
the victory at Hastings placed all England at King William’s
feet. ‘The subjugation of a nation by a nation, says Lord
Macaulay, ‘has seldom, even in Asia, been morecomplete. The
country was portioned out among the captains of the invaders.
Strong military institutions, closely connected with the institution
of property, enabled the foreign conquerors to oppress the chil-
dren of the soil. A cruel penal code, cruelly enforced, guarded
the privileges, and even the sports, of the alien tyrants.’ Fortwo
centuries the two races remained apart: it was not until the
reign of Henry III. that they united against a common enemy,
and discovered that they had common interests. Then the fnsion
was rapidly effected, and from that fusion—the direct result of
the battle of Hastings—from that amalgamation of Saxon and
Norman—sprang ‘the great English people,’ sprang English
literature, English laws, and English commerce; our civil and
military glories; our wealth, power, and influence. In reading
of the battle of Hastings, therefore, our sympathies may be—
must be—with the noble Harold and his gallant Saxons ; but our
judgment and our reason forbid us to wish that victory had
crowned the standard of the ‘ Fighting Man !’

Haroxp, Tue Last or THE Saxon Kines:
A BrocrapHy.

Of the great English soldier whose splendid career was closed
upon the field of Hastings, the meagrest biegraphical sketch must
possess a certain interest; for his life was a life of deeds, or rather
one of those glowing and brilliant romances which Fate occasion-
ally makes historical.

Harold, or Harald, was the second son of the powerful Earl
Godwin, who ruled in almost independent sovereignty over the
20 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

West Saxons, and whose wealth and influence were greater than
those even of the Saxon kings. All the south of England acknow-
ledged Earl Godwin as lord. His father, Wolnoth—for we can-
not accept as historical the Norse tradition! which represents
him as a poor herdsman—was ‘Childe of Sussex,’ that is, its
minister or lieutenant, and the nephew of Edric, Earl of Mercia,
who had married Edgith, Ethelred the 2nd’s daughter. He
stood, therefore, so near the throne, that his influence oversha-
dowed it; and he held, in relation to the kings of England, much
the same position that the ‘ Maires du Palais’ held to the kings
of France. By his countrymen he was generally beloved, on
account of his liberality, justice, and urbanity ; and he appears to
have been as sagacious in the council as he was calm and prudent
in the field. His eloquence is especially dwelt upon by the chro-
niclers, who describe him as ‘ potent in speech,’ and in swaying
the minds of the people to his desires. By his first wife, Thyra,
a sister of King Canute, he had but one son, who was acciden-
tally killed while very young; by his second wife, Githa, also of
the Danish royal house, and sister of King Sweyn, he had six
sons,—Gurth, Harold, Tostig, Leofwin, Sweyn, and Wolnoth;
and two daughters, Edith and Thyra. His daughter Edith was
wedded to Edward the Confessor; his son Tostig to Judith,
daughter of Count Baldwin of Flanders, and sister to Matilda,
wife of Count William of Normandy. Thus he became allied by
numerous ties to the royal houses of Denmark, England, Flan-
ders, and Normandy ; and, secure in the love and confidence of his
countrymen—in the magnitude of his resources—in his own mar-
vellous strength of character and force of will—strode forward
in his path of ambition with firm and rapid steps. Not the less

* To Sharon Turner we are indebted for the following romantic narra-
tive:—Ulf, a Dane-chief, after the fight at Skorstein between Canute and
Edmund Ironsides, continuing the pursuit of the fugitives, lost his way in
a wood, and was hospitably sheltered by aSaxon herdsman. On the
morrow he was safely conducted to the Danish camp, and would receive
no other reward than that his son Godwin, who, by helping a Dane, had
imperilled his safety with his countrymen, should be recommended to the
favour and protection of Canute. But Florence of Worcester and the
Saxon Chronicle (unimpeachable authorities!) both speak of Godwin’s
father as Wolnoth, Childe of Sussex.
HIS EARLY YEARS. 21

has he been overshadowed to the eyes of posterity, by the supe-
rior genius, the greater fame, and more romantic fortunes of his
son Harold, who possessed all the virtues and few of the defects
of his father’s character, and rightly occupies an illustrious niche
in our English history as ‘ the last of the Saxon kings.’

Harold was born about 1020. Of his early years, unfor-
tunately, little is accurately known; and the chroniclers have pre-
served none of those anecdotes of youthful sagacity or precocious
genius, which we dwell upon with so much interest as illustrations
of the characters of our favourite heroes. We know that he re-
ceived a careful education, and, unlike most of the noble youths
of his time, studied the languages of Greece and Rome, without
neglecting those athletic exercises and martial sports in which his
young contemporaries especially delighted. As he grew up to
manhood, he displayed intellectual powers of no ordinary charac-
ter; and while his address was frank and dignified, his manners
winning, his eloquence persuasive, his judgment keen, and his
passions sedulously controlled, he was endowed by nature with a
handsome countenance, and a lithe but commanding figure. In
fact, he stood out a man among men,—a man born to rule and
influence his age,—and, of all the sons of Godwin, was most
beloved by the Saxon people, who regarded him as the future
representative of his powerful House.

Great was the distress of England under the sway of the
Dane-king, Hardiknut, whose cruelty almost equalled his avarice,
and, whose natural ferocity of disposition was heightened by
constant intemperance. The commonalty groaned under the
tributes he exacted; under the extortions of his tax-gatherers,
who carried off the crops as they ripened for the sickle, and set
fire to the humble dwellings of herdsman and peasant. And not
only did they suffer from the oppression of the sovereign, but
from that of his lords and barons,—Danes with no sympathy for
the peaceful pursuits of the Saxons, who paid no taxes and bore
no burdens, but shared in the tribute levied by their king.
When Hardiknut, on one of his progresses through his suffering
realm, was entertained in the house of a Dane, he rewarded
his host with money extorted from the Saxon, or fat cattle
plundered from the Saxon’s stalls. Any Dane might enter, when
22 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

he willed, a Saxon’s house, and make free with his bed, his food,
his fire: the enslaved Saxon durst not sit in his presence,
nor drink without his permission. Of the atrocities with which
they harassed the Saxon women we dare not write; and if any
heroic man had the rash daring to avenge the sufferings of his
wife or daughter, he was immediately deprived of all protection
from the laws; he was banished as a wolf-head,— Wulf-heofod ;
he was hunted and pursued by fierce hounds; a price was set
upon him ; and only in the most solitary recesses of the woodlands
could he hope to obtain a precarious refuge.’ If a Saxon, when
crossing a bridge, was met by a Dane, he paused until his Norse
tyrant had passed; if he did not salute him with bended head,
he was straightway bound and beaten.2 Great, then, was the
distress of England under the sway of King Hardiknut; and
well might the Saxon chronicler write of him, with indignant
simplicity, ‘he did nothing royal during his whole reign.’
But woe unto the oppressors of a nation !

‘Justice, though her doom she do prolong,
Yet at the last will make her own cause right.’—SPEnsER.

The Saxons were gradually roused to a full sense of the
tyranny under which they laboured ; and a fierce hatred of their
tyrants, and a strong lust of revenge, seethed in their hearts.
An opportunity at last was offered. At the marriage-feast of
Osgood Clapa’s daughter, at Lambeth, ‘on the 6th before
the Ides of June’ (June 7th) 1041, Hardiknut, ‘as he stood at
his drink, fell suddenly to the earth with a terrible convulsion,’
and never spoke again. The Danes prepared to elect a new
sovereign from among themselves ; but Har] Godwin and his son
Harold summoned the people to arms. A vast force of insurgents
gathered round their banners, and the Danes were swept north-
ward like waves before a mighty wind: they were chased from
town to town, and village to village; and such as escaped the
sword fled to their ships, to return to their own ice-bound lands,
and tell the tale of the deliverance of England. Ashamed of
their defeat, they strove to account for it by a calumny, and

1 Henr. Knyghton. ? Chron. Johann. Brompton.
KING EDWARD AND QUEEN EDITH. 23

pretended that Harold had invited all their principal chiefs to a
splendid banquet, and that a band of Saxons fully armed had
fallen upon them while they were deep in the wine-cup.

The care of the kingdom was now entrusted to Earl Godwin
and his son Harold,—whose fame was on every man’s lips, and
of whose valour all the minstrels sang,—and Godwin might
easily have placed the crown of England upon his own brow.
But he wisely preferred the reality of power without its splendid
penances, or, it may be, was unwilling to excite the hostility of his
fellow-chiefs, and, perhaps, imperil his influence over his country-
men. Whatever his reasons, certain it is that he, the most influ-
ential man in England, put aside the crown which was within his.
reach, and, by the power of his words and his bribes, procured the
election of Edward, the only surviving son of the Saxon king
Ethelred. At a great council held at Gillingham, in Kent, it
was decided that he should be invited to return from Normandy,
‘bringing with him very few Normans,’ and assume the crown.

Edward obeyed, and, with a few attendants, repaired to
England. Shortly afterwards he was crowned at Winchester ;
and being without a wife, chose for his consort the beautiful and
virtuous Edith, the daughter of his powerful subject, Earl God-
win. Whether he did this from a fear that the influence of the
great Saxon might not always be exercised in his favour unless
he attached him to his cause by the ties of blood, or whether the
marriage was the result of an agreement entered into between
king and subject before Edward’s election to the throne, is un-
certain. But of the virtue, amiability, and even the erudition of
Queen Edith, there is not a doubt. It was said of her,—

‘Sicut spina rosam, genuit Godwinus Edgitham ;’—

that ‘as the thorn begets the rose, so had Godwin begotten
Edith ; and her contemporary, Ingulf, the monk of Croyland,
relates a pleasant illustration of her sweetness of character. ‘I
frequently saw her in my childhood,’ he writes, ‘when I went to
visit my father, who was employed in the King’s palace. If she
met me as I returned from school, she would ask me questions
in grammar, in verses, or in logic, in which she was exceedingly
skilful ; and when she had involved me in the perplexities of some
24 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

difficult thesis, she never failed to reward me with three or four
crowns through the hands of her women, and send me to obtain
refreshment in the refectory.’ But amiable, lovely, and accom-
plished as was Queen Edith, Edward never loved her, nor was
she his wife save in name.

Edward’s Norman tastes and foreign predilections soon de-
veloped themselves, in spite of the condition on which he had
accepted the crown. And though he brought with him but few
Norman attendants, it was not long before other Normans crossed
the Channel, to be received with a cordial welcome. No one
who asked a favour in Norman speech was ever refused. Norman
priests were appointed to English bishoprics, and Norman soldiers
placed in charge of English fortresses. In the palace, Saxon was
no longer the favourite language. The Norman dress aud man-
ners were imitated by the young courtier as the surest passport
to his sovereign’s favour ; and throughout the breadth and length
of England, jealous then as now of foreign intrusion, stalked
Norman pride. But a popular party soon developed itself, and
at its head stood Godwin and his four brave sons, checking the
insolence of the Norman courtiers even in the presence of the
King himself, ridiculing their habits and attire, and deploring the
weakness which encouraged them. So, while the Normans sought
more eagerly than ever to embitter the King’s mind, and influence
his anger against Godwin and Harold, the people regarded them
with reverence as their heroic defenders. ‘See,’ they would say,
‘how King Edward places upstarts and foreigners above the
very man who secured him his crown! And yet he never utters
a word of reproach against him. Long, long may he live, our
great-souled chief, renowned both at sea and on land!’ At a
later period, Henry of Huntingdon recorded the national feeling
in singularly expressive language : ‘ Providence,’ he writes, ‘ must
have designed a double source of grief for the English race, and
have planned for us a sort of military snare: on the one side, He
let loose the Danes ; on the other, He created and strengthened the
Norman alliance; so that if we escaped the open thunder of the
Danes, we certainly could not avoid the subtlety of the Normans.’

Day by day the breach between Godwin and the Court ac-
quired larger proportions, and it became evident that the secret
A NORMAN FORAY. 25

wrath must soon flame out into open revolt. Wherever there is
smoke, says the old proverb, be sure there is fire; and an inci-
dent soon occurred to stir up the smouldering embers into fierce
conflagration. Eustace, Count of Boulogne, and brother-in-law
of Edward the Confessor, attended by a numerous suite, paid a
visit to the English Court (a.p. 1048). After exciting general
indignation by their haughty insolence, the Normans prepared
to return. They arrived at Dover in most warlike guise, for
they had clothed themselves in their coats of mail, and mounted
their war-steeds; and presuming on their power and influence,
they resolved to pass the night in the town, and appropriated
to themselves the best houses. One of the townsmen had the
courage to oppose a Norman who thus endeavoured to secure
his ease, and being wounded in the struggle, armed himself and
his household ‘in hot haste,’ attacked and killed the aggressor.
When the news reached Count Eustace, he immediately bade his
followers remount, and, besieging the Saxon’s house, they slew
him on his own hearth. Drunk with blood and rage, they swept
through the town, striking both men and women, and trampling
children and infants under their horses’ hoofs. The townsmen
armed; withstood their assault; killed nineteen of their foes;
wounded many more, and drove Count Eustace from the town.
Away he rode for Gloucester, where Edward and his Normans
were as blithe as might be; and, protesting that the townsmen,
and not they, were in fault, soon wrought the weak King into a
fury of rage. ‘Go forthwith,’ he exclaimed to Earl Godwin,
‘and chastise unto death those who have taken up arms against
my kinsmen, and disturbed the peace of my realm.’ But the
Earl was unwilling to condemn his fellow-countrymen to whole-
sale butchery, and suggested that the chiefs and magistrates of
Dover should be summoned with all due legal forms to appear
before the King and his judges, and answer for their conduct.
‘Those whom you ought to protect,’ he exclaimed, ‘it is not
fitting you should condemn unheard.’

Great was the wrath of King Edward against the patriotic
Earl, and, putting aside his vengeance against the citizens of
Dover, he accused Earl Godwin of treason and contumacy, and
summoned him to appear before a great council to be held at
26 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

Gloucester. At first the proud Earl gave but little heed to the
royal anger, thinking it would rapidly pass away; but when he
heard that, by dint of threats and promises, the members of the
council had been influenced against him and his sons, and were
about to pronounce sentence of banishment against them, he re-
solved to call the patriotism of the Saxon to his aid, and, without
wishing ill to the royal person, to expel the Normans from the
King’s court. So he raised a considerable force in the counties
south of the Thames included in his earldom; Harold’s standard
was soon surrounded byithe men of Hast Anglia; and Sweyn
drew to his side the inhabitants of the counties bordering upon
Wales and the Severn. They met near Gloucester, and de-
spatched a message to the King, demanding the expulsion or trial
of Count Eustace and his Normans. Edward’s answer was a
summons to Earls Siward and Leofric, the Dane-chiefs of North-
umbria and Mercia, to come to his aid with all the soldiery they
could bring together. But the men of the North were animated
with the same patriotic feeling as the men of the South, and
steutly refused to fight against them. Leofric and Siward,
therefore, proposed an armistice between Earl Godwin and the
King, and that a council to decide upon their differences should
meet at London. Edward reluctantly consented, and so, says
the Saxon chronicler, God’s peace and a full friendship—Godes
grith and fulne freondscipe—was sworn to by both opponents.
Edward’s fair words, however,were but the cloak of foul deeds;
and he busily employed himself during the truce in strengthening
his forces, until such an army was assembled as had never before
been seen in England. Placing it under Norman generals, he
encamped it in the immediate neighbourhood of London, and then
summoned Godwin and his sons to appear before his council, un-
armed and unattended. They wisely refused, unless hostages and
a safe-conduct were given them, ‘so that they might come,
unbetrayed, into the council and out of the council,’ Having
twice been summoned, and having twice refused, Edward pro-
cured from his council, as might have been expected, a sentence
of banishment against them. Only five days were allowed them
to prepare for their departure. Godwin, his wife Githa, and his
sons, Sweyn, Tostig, and Gurth, repaired to Bosham, and thence
A PLAGUE OF NORMANS. 27

embarked for the court of Baldwin, Count of Flanders. Harold,
with his beloved brother Leofwin, took ship at Brigstow (Bristol),
and passed over into Ireland. His earldom was bestowed upon
Algar, son of Earl Leofric, and the estates of his father and bro-
thers were similarly confiscated. Edith, the Queen, was stripped
of all her treasures, her lands, and her money, and immured in a
nunnery at Wherwell. For, of all the despicable cowards that
ever wore a crown, this same Edward the Confessor, whom the
monkish annalists have so falsomely lauded, was one of the vainest
and weakest.

A plague of Normans now descended upon unhappy England :
a Norman monk was made Archbishop of Canterbury ; and Nor-
man soldiers appointed to the government of the south-western
and western counties. When Count William, the future Con-
queror of England, visited King Edward, he could scarcely be-
lieve that he was not traversing a great part of Normandy; for
the Norman speech rang in his ear, and Norman fashions greeted
him on every side: ‘ Norman Counts held his stirrup to dismount,
and Norman hosts spread the fastidious board.’ His ambitious
soul was probably encouraged by these signs to meditate the in-
vasion of England; for already it seemed that the fruit was half-
ripe, and it was but for him to put out his hand to grasp it.
And, indeed, it might even have been so, had not a Saxon heart
‘throbbed boldly in Harold’s breast.

And Harold, where was he? For nearly four years he had
remained inactive in the fastnesses of Ireland; but at length the
hour had arrived to attempt once more the emancipation of his
country from the foreign yoke. Trusty emissaries had been long
preparing the minds of the people for his return; and in the north
and south, in the east and the west, brave men had sworn to gird
on the sword at Earl Godwin’s bidding, and to live or die with
him and Harold! So, while Earl Godwin’s ships, escaping from
the royal fleet, under the command of the Normans Eudes and
Raulf, took shelter in Pevensey Bay, Earl Harold appeared off
the mouth of the Severn, defeated the Celts of Devon and Somer-
set, sailed southward—keeping along the coast, and establishing
everywhere a correspondence with his friends—and finally effected
a junction with his father off the Isle of Wight. Together they
28 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

sailed for Sandwich, where Earl Godwin received large reinforce-
ments from every side, and, sailing triumphantly up the Channel,
drove before him the royal fleet, ascended the Thames, and cast
anchor before the village of Suthweorc, or Southwark. There the
stout Saxons abode—renewing their friendly relations with the
people of London—until the flood-tide came up, when they passed
London Bridge unopposed, and disembarked their army on the
north bank of the Thames.

The first step of the Earls was to send messengers to the King,
entreating him, in respectful language, to reverse the unjust out-
lawry pronounced against them. At first the King refused; but
finding that he could place no reliance upon his troops, he was
brought to disregard the counsels of the Norman courtiers, and
promise to abide by whatever decision the great, Witan, or coun-
cil of the nation, might pronounce. Godwin and his sons were,
therefore, invited to enter London in peace, and guarantees were
given them of their safety.

When the tidings of their arrival reached the ears of the Nor-
mans, their panic was wonderful to behold! They armed, and
they mounted horse, and they spurred, as hotly as might be, over
hill and plain to the sea-coast. The Norman Bishop of London,
and the Norman Archbishop of Canterbury, arrived cap-a-pié,
and, spear in hand, headed the flight. ‘Bodies of men drew up
against them at every angle, with the Saxon cry of “Out !—
Out!” “Down with the outland men!” Through each spear
pierced, and sword clove, the way. Red with gore was the spear
of the prelate of London ; broken to the hilt was the sword mili-
tant in the terrible hand of the Archbishop of Canterbury. So
on they rode, so on they slaughtered, gained the eastern gate
of the city, and passed with but two of their number lost. ‘The
fields once gained, for better precaution they separated. Some
few, not quite ignorant of the Saxon tongue, doffed their mail,
and crept through forest and fell to the sea-shore; others retained
steed and arms, but shunned equally the high roads. The two
prelates were among the last; they gained, in safety, Ness, in
Hssex ; threw themselves into an open, crazy fishing-boat, com-
mitted themselves to the waves, and, half-drowned and half-
famished, drifted over the Channel to the French shores. Of the
DEATH OF EARL GODWIN. 29

rest of the courtly foreigners, some took refuge in the forts yet
held by their countrymen; some lay concealed in creeks and caves
till they could find or steal boats for their passage. And thus,
in the year of our Lord 1052, occurred the notable dispersion
and ignominious flight of the counts and vavasours of great
William the Duke!’

The great national council of the Witan, attended by all
the brave and virtuous of the Saxon chiefs, duly assembled ; and
having heard the justification of Earl Godwin and his sons,
unanimously acquitted them; restored them to their honours
and estates; and perfected the triumph by banishing their
peculiar enemies, the Normans, from England, ‘because they
had disturbed the peace of the realm, and poisoned the King’s
mind against his subjects.’ The youngest of Godwin’s sons,—
named Wolnoth, after his grandfather,—and one of the sons of
Sweyn, were placed in the King’s hands as hostages; but it is a
proof of the implacable nature of the saintly Confessor, that he
entrusted these lambs to the wolf, and committed them to the
care of Count William the Norman. Saxon priests were restored
to their bishoprics ; Saxon fortresses given up to Saxon soldiers ;
and it seemed as if an era of peace and prosperity was dawning
auspiciously upon long-tortared and much-suffering England.

The death of Godwin in the following year (a.p. 1053),
elevated Harold to the headship of his powerful house. He
took to himself the command of the country south of the Thames,
and handed over his own earldom to Algar, son of Leofric of
Mercia. The earldom of Northumbria, vacant by the death of
Siward the Strong, was given to Harold’s brother, Tostig. And
throughout the length and breadth of Saxon England, no man
was more powerful in the love and confidence of his country-
men, or more distinguished for skill and courage in the battle-
field, and wisdom in the council, than Harold the Earl. To
whom else, then, on the death of ‘the Monk-King,’ should fall
the English crown?

Our rapid summary now ee us to the most splendid
period of Harold’s romantic career. A Norman, named Raul,

1 Bulwer Lytton.
30 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

a nephew of King Edward’s, was chief of the forces which pro-
tected the borders of England from the Welsh; but, deplorably
ignorant of the science of war, as well as of the peculiar character
of the Saxon soldiers, he neither repulsed the enemy nor pre-
served the discipline of his own troops. He endeavoured to
train them in continental fashion, and to mount them on horse-
back ; but the Saxons were never good horsemen, nor, indeed,
was cavalry available against a foe whose strength lay hidden
in his mountain-fastnesses (a.p. 1055). The Welsh, therefore,
ravaged the country with impunity, and it became necessary for
Harold himself to lead against them the Saxon army. In the
difficult campaigns which ensued, he displayed no ordinary mili-
tary genius. Step by step he beat the Cambrians back into
their obscure valleys and almost inaccessible mountains; he slew
their chiefs, and drew around the insurgents such a cordon of
sword, and spear, and axe, that they were glad to yield uncon-
ditionally to him. They swore solemnly never again to tres-
pass beyond their frontiers, and agreed that every Welshman
taken in arms on Saxon ground should have his right hand cut
off. And they gave hostages to the King and the Harl that
they would be faithful to him in all things, and everywhere ready
for him, by sea and by land, and render such tribute from the
land as had been yielded before to any other king.

He was summoned from his Cambrian triumphs to meet a
new danger. ‘Tostig, in his Northumbrian earldom, had ruled
with so arbitrary a violence, that at length the Northumbrians
rebelled, and, headed by two leaders of high repute, besieged
the gates of York, where he had fixed his residence (a.p. 1064).
The Earl made his escape, but a fierce slaughter took place
among his officers and attendants. The insurgents then elected,
as chief of Northumbria, Morcar, one of the sons of Earl Algar
of Mercia, who, joined by a body of Cambrians under his
brother Edwin, drove Tostig rapidly before him, and penetrated
as far south as Northampton.

Edward, in great alarm, bade Harold march against the
rebellion with the army under his command. He obeyed the
royal orders ; but the serene justice of his soul, and his freedom
from mean passions, impelled him to inquire into the causes of
THE NORTHUMBRIAN REVOLT. 31

the revolt before he attempted to crush it in blood. He held a
conference with the Northumbrian chiefs, and listened patiently
to their narrative of the grievances which they had suffered.
Brotherly feeling attempted to exculpate the wild tyranny of
Tostig, and promised a better and a wiser rule in the future;
but the Northambrians exclaimed, ‘ We were born free; we have
been bred free; a haughty chief we cannot endure, for we have
learnt from our ancestors to be free or die. We charge thee
to bear our answer to the King; for in thee, O Harold, true
friend of thy country, we know that we may confide.’ And
Harold, ever thinking more of the happiness of England than of
the aggrandizement of his house, bore their answer to King
Edward, and became the intercessor.and advocate of his brother’s
foes; so that Tostig was formally deposed, and Morcar, son of
Algar, elected in his stead. We shall see hereafter how this
act of true patriotism dealt a heavy blow to Harold’s power.
Tostig, wroth with his brother, his countrymen, and his King,
fled from England, and betook himself to the court of the Count
of Flanders, whose daughter, Judith, he had married.

England now breathed in peace, and a prosperous future
seemed dawning brightly upon her. King Edward, no longer
influenced by the evil counsels of Norman courtiers, governed
with gentle sway, and abode by the advice of Earl Harold,
whose tender deference and noble self-denial had won his heart,
and whom he treated, say the old chroniclers, as if he were his
son. It was under these circumstances that Harold besought
him to restore to their family the two hostages, his brother
Wolnoth and Haco his nephew, placed in his hands of old as a
guarantee for Godwin’s fidelity, who had languished for ten years
in a sort of splendid imprisonment at the court of Count William
of Normandy. The King willingly consented to their return ; but
when Harold proposed to cross the seas and claim them in person,
he grew alarmed. ‘I will not gainsay thee,’ he said ; ‘ but if thou
goest it will be without my will, for I foresee that thy journey
will bring some sore misfortune upon England and thyself. I
know Count William, and his subtlety of soul, and that he hates
thee, and will cede to thee nothing, unless it bring some gain to
himself. The better way would be to send some trusty person
32 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

in thy behalf” But Harold was keenly alive to the claims of
household love, and, moreover, was ignorant of the designs which
William meditated upon the English crown. Self-reliant, and
calmly courageous, he could apprehend no danger, and, wringing
at last a reluctant consent from the King, set out on his journey
as on a pleasant adventure,—his falcon on his wrist, and his
greyhounds running before him.

He and his suite embarked from a Sussex port in two vessels.
Overtaken by a storm, they were driven towards the mouth of
the Somme, where the coast belonged to a tyrannical freebooter,
Guy, Count of Ponthieu. ‘It was the custom of that maritime
country,’ says Thierry, ‘and of many others, in the middle ages,
that every stranger wrecked upon its shores, instead of being
treated with humane consideration, should be imprisoned, and
have a ransom set upon him. Harold and. his followers were
dealt with according to this law; were stripped of almost all
their baggage, and cast by Count Guy into his fortress of Bel-
rem, now Beaurain, near Montreuil.’}

In this emergency Harold despatched a messenger to Count
William, beseeching him to exercise his influence with his neigh-
bour to obtain his release. The crafty Norman, overjoyed at
the accident which thus placed the man whom, of all Saxons, he
the most feared as a rival, in his power, at first menaced, and
afterwards bribed—by a large gift of money and wn bel maneir on
the river Kaulne—the Count of Ponthieu into delivering up his
captive.? Then said William unto the Saxon Earl, ‘ The two
hostages are thine, and may return immediately, for I can refuse
thee nothing ; but as a courteous guest, thou wilt surely abide
with me for a few days, to share in our Norman pastimes, and
bask in the beauty of our Norman maidens.’ And he entertained
Harold and his companions with great splendour, with feats of
arms, with brilliant pageants and magnificent banquets; he
admitted them into the Brotherhood of Warriors which he had
instituted, or, in modern phrase, he knighted them ; and finally
he besought them to accompany him in his expedition against
the Bretons. Harold’s skill and valour were notably conspicuous

1 Thierry, Conquest of England. ? Roman de Rou, Part ii.
COUNT WILLIAM'S PERFIDY. 33

in this brief campaign, and he saved by his own personal energy
and strength the lives of several Normans, at the passage of the
river Coésnon, who would otherwise have perished in the quick-
sands. On their return, William and Harold rode side by side,
shared the same table and the same tent. They engaged in
lively converse as they moved forward; and it was on one of
these occasions that Saxon simplicity was fatally overreached by
Norman guile. William had spoken of his early acquaintance
with Edward the Confessor. ‘When we lived together like
brothers,’ he continued, ‘under one roof, the good King promised
that if he ever attained the crown of England, he would leave the
heritage to me. And now, Harold, I hope that thou wilt aid
me in realizing Edward’s promise; and if by thy assistance I
obtain the kingdom, whatever thou shalt demand shall be granted
to thee.’ Harold’s wrath was great, and his heart throbbed
violently ; but he felt himself in the power of an unscrupulous
antagonist, and he constrained his lips to mutter some vague
promises. William eagerly resumed: ‘Since, then, I have, thy
consent, I will tell thee what thou must do. Thou must fortify
the castle of Dover, and hold it for me until my coming. Thy
sister Thyra thou must give in marriage to one of my most
powerful chiefs, and my daughter Adeliza thou thyself shalt wed.
Moreover, when thou goest hence, I would have thee leave me
one of the hostages whom thou claimest, that I may know thou
wilt keep thy word, and when I am King of England I will
restore him to thee.’

Harold perceived into how fatal a snare he had fallen; but,
as open opposition might imperil his personal liberty, without
advancing his country’s fortunes, resolved to meet fraud by dis-
simulation, and to allow William to believe that he had attained
his ends. But he was not yet fully aware of the depth of his
rival’s cunning. A few days passed, and a great council of lords
and barons was summoned to meet at Bayeux. He had pre-
viously caused to be brought together, from every church and
abbey in Normandy, the bones and relics of the most famous
saints; and this ‘holy spoil,’ enshrined in a large chest, and
covered with cloth of gold, to be placed in the council chamber.
Surrounded by his nobles, he took his seat in his chair of state,

Cc
34 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

his brow glittering with a coronal of gems, and holding his sword
of office in his hand. Two reliquaires, or small caskets of relics,
were laid upon the cloth of gold. Then spake Count William :
‘Approach, Earl Harold, and, before the members of this noble
assembly, confirm by oath the promises which thou hast made
me; namely, that thou wilt assist me to obtain the kingdom of
England on the death of Edward, my cousin,—that thou wilt
marry my daughter Adeliza,—and send thy sister hither to be
given in marriage to one of my barons.’ Confused, surprised,
and dismayed at his own folly, Harold approached, with a per-
turbed air, laid his hands upon the sacred reliquaries, and swore
to execute his agreement. ‘If I live,’ he muttered, ‘and if God
help me!’ And all the Norman barons repeated, ‘Ke Dex li
dont!’ (may God help him !’). Then Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, sud-
denly withdrew the cloth of gold; and Harold perceived, with a
shudder and a sudden pallor of his countenance, the bones and
relics of the holy dead, upon which, in his ignorance, he had
taken his solemn oath. That awful sight—awful, at least, to the
superstitions of an ignorant age—revealed how great was the craft
of William, Count of the Normans, and how wise was that warn-
ing of Edward, the King, which he had so weakly set at nought!

Harold returned to England with his nephew Haco, leaving,
as a hostage, his younger brother Wolnoth, and to King Edward
he told the story of his own weakness and the Norman’s cunning.
The king’s health was already decaying, and from that moment
it was noticed that it gave way apace. He felt that to his weak
encouragement of Norman courtiers, in the earlier years of his
reign, might be attributed the darkness of the destiny which was
gradually advancing upon his country ; and, in the depth of his
despair, he turned with the greater eagerness to the observances
of his church. His feeble frame could not long resist the agony
of his sonl. The sword wore out the scabbard. On the 5th of
January 1066, and at the palace of Westminster, he died. His
death-bed was disturbed by visions of blood and woe. ‘The
Lord hath bent His bow,’ he exclaimed, ‘the Lord hath bared
His sword! He brandisheth it to and fro like a warrior! He
boweth the mountains, and comes down, and the darkness is under
His feet! By fire and by sword will He manifest His wrath!’
HAROLD'S CORONATION. 35

The thegns and prelates in attendance upon him trembled as
they listened; all save Stigand, the worldly Archbishop of
Canterbury, who ridiculed them, with a contemptuous smile, as
a dotard’s fancies. Then they asked him, in conformity with
the Saxon custom, to name his successor. He named Harold
the Earl. The choice was a patriotic one; for, if he had been
influenced by selfish considerations, he would have named the
legitimate heir, Edgar the Atheling, a grandson of Edmund
Tronsides. But the dying monarch saw, with that clearness of
vision so often granted to the dying, the dangers which menaced
England, and which could only be met by a bold and resolute
genius, by an heroic spirit, strong in the love of his countrymen,
and in the plenitude of his own resources. Edgar had been
born in Hungary and bred on the Continent: he neither spoke
in Saxon speech, nor had any sympathy with Saxon feelings.
He was weak, timorous, and imbecile: how could such a man
contend with William the Norman!
So—as the Saxon chronicler says—

‘The realm was entrusted

To a man highly-born,

To Harold himself,

The noble Earl!

He in all time had

Obeyed faithfully

His lawful lord

Both by words and by deeds,

Nor ought neglected

Which needful was

To his sovereign-king.’

Edward’s choice was speedily confirmed by the Saxon thegns,
and the day after his funeral Harold was duly elected, and
crowned by Archbishop Stigand. And from the moment of his
accession, says the old annalist, he showed himself ever just,
and wise, and generous; sparing no fatigue, either by land or
sea; and always actively exerting himself for the welfare of his
kingdom.

When the tidings of Harold’s accession reached Count Wil-
liam, he was in his park near Rouen, testing the value of a new
bow and arrows. He immediately flung them aside; betook
36 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

himself to his palace; and, with gloomy brow and a wrath too
terrible for words, strode to and fro in the great hall. None of
his boldest vavasours dared to address him; they stood apart,
and gazed at him in silence. His kinsman and councillor,
William Fitz-Osbert, was the first who spake. ‘ Why, sire,’ he
inquired, ‘dost thou hide from us the news thou hast received ?
What wilt thou gain by it? It is bruited abroad that Edward,
King of the English, is dead, and that Harold, breaking his oath,
has seized the crown.’ ‘It is even so,’ the Count rejoined, ‘and
IT am grieved at Edward’s death, and the wrong done to me by
Harold.” ‘Nay, then,’ rejoined Fitz-Osbert, ‘grieve not at a
matter which can easily be amended. For Edward’s death there,
may be no remedy, but there is for Harold’s wrong. ‘Thy cause
is just, and thy soldiers are valiant. Be bold to undertake, for
what is boldly begun is half accomplished.’

It was about this time that Tostig, the banished Earl of
Northumbria, and Harold’s own brother, smarting at Harold’s
refusal to restore him to his honours, arrived from Flanders at
the Norman court, and besought Count William not to suffer ‘a
perjurer to reign in peace.’ He boasted loudly of his influence
over his countrymen, and invited William to join him in what
he declared was a certain conquest. The wary Norman con-
tented himself with placing some vessels at his disposal, and
Tostig then proceeded on a similar errand to Sweyn, King of
Denmark. Sharp words were all that he obtained; but from
Harold Hardrada, the Sea-King of the Norwegians, to whom he
next betook himself, he received substantial aid. ‘There is no
warrior living,’ said Tostig, ‘who may be deemed thine equal ;
do thou but will it, and England will be thine.’ So the brave
but reckless chieftain was won over by Tostig’s flattery, and
undertook to put to sea with his fleet as soon as the spring-
smiles loosened the ice-bound ocean.

Meanwhile a messenger from Count William presented him-
self at the Saxon court, and addressed the King, it is said, in
words like these: ‘ William, Count of the Normans, sends to
remind thee of the oath which thou didst take upon the holy
relics, and to claim the fulfilment of thy promises.’ ‘It is true,
replied King Harold, ‘that I took an oath to Count William,
THE POPE OF ROME. 37

but I took it under grievous restraint. I promised what did
not belong to me, and therefore my promise may not be ful-
filled. My authority as King is given to me by my country,
and against the will of my country I may not put it off, nor,
against the will of my country, can I wed a foreign wife. As
for my sister whom the Count would marry to one of his barons,
alas! she died but seven days ago. Does he wish me to send her
corpse?’* A second messenger renewed the Count’s reproaches,
but in moderate terms, and claimed only the fulfilment of one
condition, that Harold should marry the youthful Adeliza. But
the Saxon King knew how unpopular such an alliance would
necessarily be, and how surely it would eventually render him
William’s vassal; and he strengthened his power, while he defied
the Norman, by marrying Aldyth, the sister of Earls Morcar
and Edwin, chiefs of Northumbria and Mercia. Then William
swore that before the year had run out he would come in person
to exact what was due to him, and follow his rival even into
those places where he should deem himself the safest. He en-
listed religious prejudices on his side, by accusing King Harold
of sacrilege and perjury, and demanding that all England should
be placed under an interdict. The Pope of Rome espoused his
cause, for the Normans had ever been faithful sons of the church,
while the Saxons were ever bold and independent. He sum-
moned Harold to appear before his tribunal; but the Saxon
King would not acknowledge its jurisdiction, nor send an ambas-
sador thither, ‘being too haughty to submit the independence of
his crown to any foreign dictation, and possessed, also, of too
clear an intellect to cast himself upon the impartiality of judges
to whom William had himself appealed.’?

The Pope, therefore, arrogated to himself the right of dis-
posing of England’s fortunes, and, despite the opposition of many
of his cardinals, authorized William, Count of the Normans, to
invade England, reduce it to obedience to the papal see, and
reimpose for ever the tax of ‘Peter’s pence’ Harold and his
followers were excommunicated ; and the bull of excommunica-
tion was placed in the hands of William’s own envoy, the astute

1 Eadmer. ? Thierry.
38 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

and energetic Lanfranc. A consecrated banner, and a costly
ring, containing one of St Peter’s hairs, were also despatched to
the Norman adventurer, who was thus enabled to appeal to the
two most powerful feelings in the breast of ignorance,—super-
stition and avarice.

Sad, indeed, was the condition of Saxon England, and many
were the thorns concealed by the crown which glittered upon
Harold’s lofty brow. Foes pressed against him on every side; and
when imminent was the need to prepare for the mighty arma-
ment of the Normans, the shameless ambition of his brother
Tostig summoned him to the north to meet a less cunning, but
scarcely less powerful enemy. The Norwegian fleet, composed
of several hundred vessels, after ravaging the Yorkshire coast,
sailed up the Ouse, and landed Hardrada’s soldiery. In vain
Morcar and Edwin attempted to oppose them. With the usual
impetuosity of the Norsemen, they swept across the country as
far as York, and there beset the Saxon chiefs. Harold, who had
encamped on the Sussex coast to meet the attack of the Nor-
mans, was forced to break up his quarters and hasten to their relief.
He arrived under the walls of York at night. The city had just
capitulated, and was awaiting the triumphant entry of the Nor-
wegians on the morrow. They, on their part, secure of their
prize as they considered themselves, had retired to their camp
for repose. A few flickering fires indicated their position on
the bank of the deep-rolling Humber. Harold made his arrival
known to the men of York, who immediately flew to arms,
closed their gates, and manned their ramparts. When the broad
autumn sun aroused the invaders from their slumbers, the Nor-
wegians, still ignorant of Harold’s approach, issued from their
camp without their heavy mail, and took their way to the doomed
city, making merry as they went with thoughts of Saxon plunder
and the beauty of Saxon maids. Suddenly, a great cloud of dust
arose between them and the city, and out of the heart of the
cloud shone the glittering steel. ‘Who are these men that bear
down upon us?’ cried Hardrada to Tostig. ‘Surely they can
be no other than frightened Northumbrians, who come to ask
my pardon, and claim thy friendship.’ But the cloud gradually
broke, and revealed the serried ranks of an army drawn up in
HAROLD HARDRADA. 39

order of battle. ‘The foe! the foe!’ shouted the Norsemen;
and Hardrada, despatching three of his swiftest horsemen to the
camp to order up all his warriors, ranged his forces in a double
but necessarily feeble line, curving at the wings so closely as to
form a circle, and bade them advance to the centre his famous
standard, Land-Eythona, or, ‘The World-Ravager.’ The Norse
King’s soul was all a-flame with the joy of the fight, and he rode
his black horse up and down before his men, chanting rude but
vigorous extemporaneous verses, which fired them with an ardour
equal to hisown. ‘ Let us fight, let us march,’ he sung, ‘ though
without our coats of mail, even under the edge of the sea-blue
steel! Lo, our crests glance and gleam in the sun! What
other armour is needful to the brave ?’

Now, just as spear was ready to meet spear, and sword clash
upon sword, the Saxon Harold, his noble heart inspired with
brotherly love, summoned twenty of his thegns to follow him,
and riding boldly up to the Norsemen’s lines, paused before the
Northumbrian lion-banner, and cried,—‘ Where is Tostig, the son
of Godwin and Githa?’ At the sound of that well-known voice
the proud Harl trembled, and he muttered, ‘I am here.’ Then,
said one of Harold’s followers, ‘ Thy brother, Harold the King,
salutes thee, and offers thee the hand of peace, and all the honours
that were formerly thine.’ ‘Goodly words be these,’ replied
Tostig, ‘and widely different from the contumelies poured upon
me for the last twelve months. But if I accept King Harold’s
offer, what shall there be for my true friend and ally, Hardrada
‘of Norway?’ The Saxon gazed haughtily at the towering form
of the Sea-king as he sat, defiant, upon his coal-black steed, his
helmet glittering with gold, and replied, ‘Seven feet of English
ground for a grave, or even a little more, seeing that he is taller
than most other men!’ ‘Then go back,’ rejoined Earl Tostig,
who could deceive a brother but not an ally, ‘and tell King
Harold to make ready for the fight. Never shall it be said by
any but a liar, that Tostig, son of Godwin, betrayed Harold, son
of Sigurd.’ And so the battle began.

It is not for us to describe the shock of horse against horse,
the ringing of meeting spears, or the clash of swords upon helmet
and shield. With unbroken array advanced the Saxon soldiery,
40 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS.

who were drawn up in a triangular fashion; and wielding aloft
their heavy battle-axes, they crashed right through the Norwegian
plump of spears, resistless and exultant. In the thick of the fight
stood Harold Hardrada, singing aloud his fiery war-song, and
hewing down man after man with the sweep of his enormous
sword. Straight to his bare throat flew a Saxon arrow, as if
death itself had winged the fatal shaft ; and, tossing his arms to
and fro, the hero recoiled a step or two, to fall to the earth a
corpse. Then from the ranks of the Norsemen rose such a yell
of wrath and woe, that, say the chroniclers, for a moment it
silenced the very roar of the battle! And during the pause the
Saxon Harold sent again to his brother Tostig to offer him and
the Norsemen peace and life. But they cried with one accord,
‘ We would rather fall, one across the corpse of the other, than
abandon the field wherein our chief was slain.’

At this moment the Norwegian reinforcements arrived from
the ships ; but, wearied with their heavy armour, and their march
under a blazing autumn sun, they were ill prepared to resist the
fury of the Saxon onset. They went down before it like pines
before a northern tempest. The Saxons, cutting their way
through the press, seized the Norwegian standard. Tostig was
slain in this attack, and most of the Norse leaders ; and the battle
became a succession of short, sharp conflicts, in which the loss was
chiefly on the Norwegian side. Harold, for the third time, offered
terms to his foes, which now were joyfully accepted. Olauf, the
son of Hardrada, and the Bishop of the Orcades, on the part of
the Norsemen, swore faith and friendship with England for ever- .
more; and then, placing the dead body of Hardrada, the last of
the Sea-kings, upon a stately bier, they bore it, with the music of
sad dirges, to the royal galley, and set sail from the English shore.

Thus, on the 25th of September 1066, was won the victory of
Stamford Bridge, and thus signally failed the last Norse invasion
of England. ‘Be it, O Harold, remembered in thine honour,
that not by the Norman, but by thee, true-hearted Saxon, was
trampled on the English soil the Ravager of the World!’

Harold, who had been wounded in the battle, now led his

. See the graphic picture of this great battle in Snorro Sturleson’s
Heims-Kringla, edited by Laing, vol. ii.
A MONKISH LEGEND. 41

troops to York, and addressed himself to the administration of
his northern provinces. Scant was the time allowed him for such
useful toil! He sat one evening at the banquet, surrounded by
his thegns, to celebrate the splendid triumph achieved by his
military genius and their valour; and, it is said, the bold Saxons
had just, with ‘mocking solemnity,’ proposed the health of Wil-
liam the Norman—each man taking off his cap, kissing his hand,
and bowing—when a bode, or messenger, rushed into the hall,
and announced that that great leader, with a mighty army, had
landed upon the coast of Sussex! Harold straightway proceeded
by forced marches to London, where he summoned a council of
his chiefs and nobles, gave orders for the levy of additional troops,
encouraged the brave, and cheered the despondent. Then, with
fatal haste, and without giving time for his reinforcements to join
him, he pressed southward to measure swords with his subtle and
powerful enemy. A brief delay, and all England would have joined
his standard. A brief delay, and, with one hundred thousand
- men, he would have swept the invaders into the sea; but, strong in
his own genius, strong in the valour of his soldiers, and flushed by
the victory he had so recently gained, he hurried onwards to the
plains of Hastings, and found there—a grave, and immortality!
Of the great battle of Hastings we have already spoken, and
we have alluded to the obscurity which rests upon the actual
burial-place of the heroic Harold. The monks of Waltham—
the famous abbey, founded and richly endowed by the Saxon Earl
after his subjugation of the Welsh, and consecrated in 1062—
declared that his dust was interred within their stately church.
A more improbable legend pretends that some Saxon women dis-
covered his body on the field, and, finding it still breathing, bore
it away, and that two loyal peasants then removed the King, with
great care and secrecy, to Winchester, where he lay concealed
fortwo years. Recovering from his wounds, he visited Germany,
and afterwards Rome; and returning in disguise to England, lived
for ten years as a hermit, and attended but by one faithful com-
panion, among the rocky cliffs of Dover. Finally, he removed to
Chester, where, at an advanced age, he died in a little cell
attached to the church of St John, acknowledging on his death-
bed that he was King Harold.

t
42 HAROLD, THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS. ,

On his swift march from York to London, Harold visited
Waltham, where he was received by the monks with sorrowful
countenances, for they foreboded evil to their benefactor. While
the King knelt in prayer before the Holy Cross, which was en-
riched with his own costly gifts, one of the canons, whose eyes
were fixed upon the image, declared that its face suddenly
assumed an air of melancholy, and that he saw the head bend
downwards. At so terrible a portent the brethren were smitten
with fear; and as they could not induce the King to refrain from
appearing in person in the coming battle, they despatched two
of their elders—Osgood Cnoppe, and Ailred the childe-maister—
to watch over him, and if he should be slain, to bring back his
body for honourable burial. This duty, with the assistance of
Harold’s favourite, Edith the Swan-necked, the monks, it is said,
piously fulfilled.*

But the account we have already given of the King’s inter-
ment on the cliff at Hastings rests upon the best authority, and
is now generally accepted by our historians.

The personal appearance of King Harold is spoken of by the
chroniclers as commanding and dignified, and such as became the
man born to rule men. We may, perhaps, receive, with little
scruple, the admirable imaginary portrait drawn by Bulwer
Lytton, as scarcely exaggerated in its details; aud our brief
memoir of the great Saxon hero, whose fame is only second to
that of the royal Alfred, may fitly close with it. ‘His counte-
nance, habitually not without a certain melancholy, was wonder-
fully imposing from its calm and sweetness. There, no devouring
passions had left the cloud, or ploughed the line; but all the
smooth loveliness of youth took dignity from the conscious resolve
of man. The long hair, of a fair brown, with a slight tinge of
gold, was parted from the temples, and fell in large waves half-
way to the shoulder. The eyebrows, darker in hue, arched and
finely traced ; the straight features, not less manly than the Nor-
man, but less strongly marked; the cheek, hardy with exercise
and exposure, yet still retaining somewhat of youthful bloom,
under the pale bronze of its sunburnt surface; the form tall, not

1 Chronicles of Waltham Abbey.
AUTHORITIES QUOTED. 43

gigantic, and vigorous, rather from perfect proportion and athletic
habits, than from breadth and bulk—were all singularly charac-
teristic of the-Saxon beauty in its highest and purest type. But
what chiefly distinguished him was that peculiar dignity, so
simple, so sedate, which no pomp seems to dazzle, no danger to
disturb ; and which perhaps arises from a strong sense of self-
dependence, and is connected with self-respect,—a dignity com-
mon to the Indian and the Arab, and rare except in that state
of society in which each man is a power in himself. The Latin
tragic poet touches close upon that sentiment in the fine lines,—
“Rex est qui metuit nihil ;
Hoc regnum sibi quisque dat.”

Such, then, was Harold, son of Godwin, the last of the Saxon

Kings of England.

AUTHORITIES.

[Many of my readers may wish to enter more fully than I
have been able to do, into the history of the stirring times of the
Conquest ; others may desire to know the authorities upon which
I rely for the accuracy of my statements. Amongst the old
annalists may be named—The Saxon Chronicle ; William ot
Poitiers (the Duke’s own chaplain); the Chronique de Nor-
mandie in the Roman de Ron, by Wace; Vita Heraldi (Chron.
Ang. Norm.) ; Florence of Worcester ; Matthew of Westminster ;
Ordericus Vitalis; Robert of Gloucester; Chronicles of the
Abbeys of Battle (Chron. Monast. de Bello) and Waltham;
Carmen de Bello Hastingensi (by Guy, Bp. of Amiens?); Snorro
Sturleson’s Heims-Kringla (edited by Laing); and Gaimar’s
History of the English (edited by Wright). Among modern
authors the reader should consult—Sir F. Palgrave’s History
of England and Normandy; Roscoe’s William the Conqueror;
Sharon Turner’s History; Lingard; Thierry’s Conquest of Eng-
land; Sir Edw. Creasy’s Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World;
Sussex Archeological Collections (vols. ii. and vi.) ; and Lower’s
Contributions to Literature. ]

1¢A king is he who fears nothing: that kingdom every man gives to
himself.,—Ssneca, Thyestes, wa. ii.
CHAPTER II.

THE BATTLE OF LEWES; AND SIMON DE MONTFORT,
EARL OF LEICESTER.

Tl est apelé de Montfort,!

Il est el Mond, et si est Fort,
Si ad grand chevalerie,

Ce voir et ji m’acort,

Il eime dreit, et het le tort,
Si avera la mestrie.

E] Mond est veréement,

La ou la comun a ly concent,
De la terre loée ;

C’est ly Quens de Leycestre

Que bout et jouis se puet estre
De cele renomée.

PoxiticaL Sones or Encvanp, edited by WRIGHT,
Sor the Camden Society.

[A.D. 1264.]

Wuat were the causes of the battle of Lewes ?

Without inflicting upon our young readers an elaborate
account of all the movements of that great national crisis, com-
monly known as ‘the Barons’ War,’ we hope to render clear to
them the principles which it involved.

The gradual amalgamation of Norman with Saxon during

1¢He is called De Montfort, and, of a truth, he is both Mount and
Fort, and an illustrious knight who, I swear it, because he loves the right
and abhors the wrong, shall gain the mastery. Truly, he is a Mount of
refuge, lauded by all the land, to whom the commonalty flee. Well,
then, may the Earl of Leicester confide and rejoice in such renown !’
HENRY III. AND HIS COURT. 45

the two centuries that elapsed between the battle of Hastings
and the signature of Magna Charta, is one of the most curious
facts in English history. The causes of this complete fusion
were many; the results, of eminent importance. Norman and
Saxon were united by one common interest,—the restraint of the
royal prerogative within moderate limits; and the Anglo-Nor-
man barons were, in fact, the protectors of the Saxon common-
alty when they extorted the Magna Charta of English liberty
from the unwilling hands of King John. ‘ Both races,’ says
Macaulay, ‘ were alike grieved by the tyranny of a bad monarch.
Both were equally indignant at the favour shown by the court
to the natives of Poitou and Aquitaine. The great-grandsons
of those who had fought under William, and the great-grandsons
of those who had fought under Harold, began to draw near to
each other in friendship ; and the first pledge of their reconcilia-
tion was the great Charter, won by their united exertions, and
framed for their common benefit.’

But the great Charter by no means composed the dissension
which seethed between king and people. When, after the
death of John, Henry III. confirmed its stipulations, it was with
the secret intention of breaking them at the first favourable
opportunity. The son of a Poitevin woman who had re-marfied
in England, he felt but little sympathy with his English council-
lors, and eagerly welcomed to his court the adventurers of Poitou.
All the great offices of the state, all the most important dignities
in his kingdom, were bestowed upon men of foreign birth. ‘The
beginning of the struggle,’ says Matthew Paris, ‘between the
King and the barons was his retention of the foreigners whom,
for a long time, he had supported and cherished, contrary to the
will of the English-born, and the welfare of his kingdom.’ And
how rapacious were these birds of prey! They regarded Eng-
land as ‘an inexhaustible well, which could not be dried,’ and
they seized upon the fattest benefices and richest estates. A
certain John Mansel enjoyed no less than 700 livings, of a yearly
value, in modern money, of L.30,000. The benefices held by
foreigners were computed to yield an annual revenue of 70,000 |
marks (L.46,666). Stephen de Segrave, a pliant knave (vir fleai-
bilis), was Chief Justiciary, and so neglected his duties that ‘judg-
46 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

ment was given over to the unjust, law to the outlawed, peace
to the warlike, and justice to evil-doers.’ Peter of Savoy, the
Queen’s uncle, was endowed with Richmond, in Yorkshire, and
the castles of Pevensey and Hastings. Boniface, another of her
uncles, an ignorant and haughty alien, was made Archbishop of
Canterbury. Thomas, Count of Savoy, was favoured with a
yearly donation of 500 marks. John de Aigue Blanche, another
Savoyard, was made Bishop of Hereford. William de Valence,
the king’s half-brother, clung to the earldom of Pembroke, and
acquired enormous wealth. Even the King’s cooks throve upon
the plunder of unhappy England; and a man had only to be a
foreigner to rise to high office, and bask in the sunshine of the
royal favour.

While such was the prosperous condition of venal and repa-
cious strangers, the artisans and peasants of England laboured
under the most grievous afflictions. Famine stalked through the
country, and happy was the man who was not reduced to feed
upon ‘horse-flesh or the barks of trees.’ Wheat had risen from
2s. a-quarter, to 20s. and 24s. The poorest labourer is now
better clothed and better fed than any but the wealthiest
burghers of the England of Henry III. Murder and rapine
tioted unchecked by the law, and the clergy, who should have
supported the weak and protected the oppressed, were chiefly
foreign priests of shameless lives, whose extravagance and immo-
rality were without limit.

It is no wonder, then, that the English barons felt themselves
attracted towards the English commons, and that both should
eventually unite to redress the grievances under which they
mutually laboured. In the word of their King they could place
no trust. He

‘Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,
And in conclusion led them to seek out
This head of safety. —SHaxspEaRe.

Several times he renewed the Great Charter, but disregarded his
most solemn oath when the immediate pressure passed away.
‘On every new perjury the solemnity of the royal pledge seemed
to increase: when the oath to the Charter was administered in
GRIEVANCES OF THE PEOPLE. 47

Westminster Hall (May 3, 1258), before all the barons and pre-
lates of the realm, every stringent form which honour or religion
could devise to bind the conscience was employed. ‘The awful
curse was pronounced aloud, “which excommunicated, anathe-
matized, and cut off from the threshold of Holy Church, all
who should, by any art or device, in any manner, secretly or
openly violate, diminish, or change, by word or writing, by deed
or advice, either the liberties of the Church, or the liberties and
free customs contained in the Great Charter, or the Charter of
Forests.’ The original Charter of King John was spread out
in sight, and to this solemn confirmation of it, both the King,
and prelates, and barons impressed their seals, in testimony of
the truth to posterity. While others held a lighted taper during
the ceremony, it was remarked that the King put his out of hig
hand, excusing himself as not being a priest; and it is possible
that even this frivolous omission may have satisfied his conscience
afterwards as to the invalidity of the oath, but he held his hand
on his heart all the while. When the torches, amid the ringing of
« bells, were extinguished, and when the universal cry arose, “So
may all transgressors be extinguished and smoke in hell!” he
added, with a superfluous hypocrisy, “So may God help me as
I keep this oath, as a man, as a Christian, as a knight, and as
an anointed King !”?!

Sick of their monarch’s perjuries, the great barons, under
the guidance of the foremost man of the age, Simon pz Mont-
Fort, Hart or Leicester, resolved to extort from his fears
some satisfactory security for their liberties. The Parliament
holden at London was adjourned to Oxford, where (June 1258)
the barons also assembled, at the head of 60,000 retainers,
armed as if in readiness for a campaign against the Welsh, and
by this exhibition of their power compelled the King and the
Norman faction to assent to the enactment of certain statutes,
long celebrated as the ‘Oxford Statutes,’ and to the appoint-
ment of a commission of twenty-four barons and prelates*
authorized to reform the evils under which the commonweal

1 Blauuw, The Barons’ War. See also Matthew Paris.
? Twelve appointed by the barons, and twelve by the King. Of the
latter, eleven were foreigners.
48 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

was groaning. Of this commission Simon de Montfort, by the
force of superior genius, became both the head and the arm;
and so great were the changes (and so beneficial) introduced by
him and his associates, that it was nicknamed the ‘Mad Parlia-
ment.’ The principal conditions insisted upon by the barons
were—the confirmation of Magna Charta; the free seizin of
property ; the discouragement of marriages of rich orphans to
foreigners ; and the dismissal of foreigners from the government
of the castles of England, as well as from all high offices of
state. Four knights were to be chosen by every county as its
representatives, and three sessions of Parliament were to be held
regularly every year. Thus the whole fabric of the Norman
monarchy was overthrown, and the rude germs of constitutional
government evoked into sudden life.

To these conditions, the King, the barons, and the prelates
of England affixed their seals: Henry III. with indecorous haste,
Prince Edward with open reluctance; and Simon de Montfort,
with patriotic integrity, vowing that, whatever others might
do, he himself would never violate his faith under any pretext.
Many of the foreign nobles and Poitevin knights insolently re-
fused, and were immediately driven into exile. The castles of
England were placed in English hands. Hugh Bigod was made
Chief Justiciary, and sworn to do justice, ‘in spite of the King,
the Queen, their sons, or any living person, uninfluenced by hate
or love, prayer or price, and never accepting ought from any
one, save such matters to eat and drink as are wont to be carried
to the table of a rich man. Finally, on the 18th of October
1258, the Oxford Statutes and the Great Charter were solemnly
proclaimed in Latin, French, and English, in every county in
England; and the first great English Revolution, or, shall we
say, Reform, was accomplished without injury to property or
loss of life.

For three years the country rested in contentment under the
rule of the Oxford Commission, whose leaders showed themselves
quick to punish the evil-doer, and eager to develop the resources
of the kingdom. Henry III., meanwhile, maintained a covert
hostility. He applied to the Pope for absolution from his oath,
and dealt the barons many a bitter taunt and sarcastic jeer. An
DE MONTFORT OFFERS TO NEGOTIATE. 49

opportunity to regain his arbitrary power he patiently waited
for; and that opportunity was at length afforded by the dis-
sensions of the barons among themselves. De Montfort saw
with regret that several of his colleagues were slow to effect
the reforms which years of misrule had rendered needful. He
rebuked them sharply. ‘What, my Lords,’ he cried, ‘though
ye have resolved and sworn, do ye still remain in doubt; and
thou especially, my Lord of Gloucester, who, as the chiefest
of us all, art so much the more closely bound to these righteous
statutes? It does not please me to deal with men so false
and fickle.” The proud De Clare, Earl of Gloucester, could
ill brook the superior genius of De Montfort; and an enmity
arose between them, of which Henry III. was not slow to avail
himself.

Thus all parties gradually converged to that point where the
sword alone becomes the arbiter. To the barons’ army flocked
the common people of England, and the warlike trainbands of
London ;' and De Montfort was recognised as their general and
chief. His military skill was strikingly displayed in his earlier
movements,—over which, however, we cannot linger,—and having
sufficiently reinforced his army, he rapidly moved upon Fletching,
near Lewes (in Sussex), where the royalists had pitched their
camp, under the leadership of Henry himself, Prince Edward,
and Richard, King of the Romans. An attempt was here made
by De Montfort to arrange terms of negotiation. He selected
as his ambassadors, Richard de Sandwich, Bishop of London,
and Walter de Cantilupe, Bishop of Worcester, two prelates of
eminent character ; but the King, relying on his superiority of
numbers, and animated by a personal hatred of the Karl, treated
them with the utmost scorn. ‘The barons,’ cried Prince Ed-
ward, ‘shall have no peace whatever, unless they put halters
round their necks, and surrender themselves for us to hang them
up or drag them down as we please.’ So the prelates were sent
back to the barons’ camp with an insolent defiance, and De
Montfort prepared for battle (Tuesday, May 13, 1264).

1 15,000 in number, according to some authorities ; 60,000, according
to Robert Brune.
D
50 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

‘The barons ne couthe other red, tho hii hurde this,
Bote bidde Godes grace, and bataile abide iwis.’
For nought else could the barons do, when thus the King replied,
But for the grace of God to pray, and by the sword abide!

Lewes, in the year of our Lord 1264, was an irregular col-
lection of narrow streets and thatched houses lying in the centre
of an extensive plain watered by the Ouse, and at the foot of an
abrupt eminence which was crowned by an impregnable fortress.
A strong wall, pierced by four castellated gateways, and de-
fended by a deep ditch, surrounded the town. To the north, as
far as Fletching, where the barons were encamped, stretched a
vast thick forest, peopled by herds of deer and swine; and
beyond extended a long range of chalk-hills, occasionally broken
by a shadowy coombe, or valley. A more formidable range ran
westward, from Mount Caburn to Mount Henry (to adopt the
modern appellations), and from thence even to the borders of
pleasant Hampshire. South of the town, on an insulated knoll,
rose the proud Priory of St Pancras, where the King himself
had taken up his quarters, while Prince Edward and his suite
were splendidly entertained in the castle by Earl de Warrenne,
one of the most powerful of the royal adherents. In the plain
beneath was disposed the great body of the army.

As great a contrast reigned between the two camps on the
eve of battle as between those of the Saxon and the Norman
Kings on the eve before the fight at Hastings. The Bishop of
Worcester passed down the kneeling ranks of the barons’ army,
confessed, absolved, and blessed them. The great Earl himself
was foremost in these devout exercises, as was ever his wont,
and exhorted all his followers to confess and repent of their sins.
Then, as a token that they went to battle with the sanction of —
Heaven,’ and as a sign by which they might recognise one another
in the press, each man affixed a white cross to his garment.
Meanwhile, the Priory of St Pancras echoed with the sound of

1 Lingard says, somewhat sneeringly, ‘It was the peculiar talent of
this leader (Simon de Montfort), to persuade his followers that the
cause in which they fought was the cause of Heaven.’ Rather let us say.
that his sincerity, his earnestness, his enthusiasm, convinced his fol.
lowers, fired them with similar impulses, animated them with the like
THE MORNING OF BATTLE. 51

revelry, and King and courtiers made merry with lewd women,
with the song, the glowing wine-cup, and lascivious dance. So
daring were they in their vices, that not even the holy places, not
even the altars of the church, were regarded with reverence or
looked upon in awe.

After the soldiers of the barons had completed their devo-
tions, De Montfort proceeded to the discharge of his duties as a
general. Many of the young nobility who had gathered round
the standard of the people’s hero were solemnly knighted, and
among them were Robert de Vere, Earl of Oxford; John de
Burgh, son of the famous Justiciary; and Gilbert, Earl of
Gloucester, the youthful son of De Montfort’s former rival.
And then, as the balmy dawn of a May morning broke with soft
rare splendour over the green crests of the undulating downs,
and lit up with a tender radiance the waving boughs of the
primeval forest, Simon de Montfort put his patriot army in
motion, to conquer, or die, for the liberties of England! Lewes
was about nine miles distant, and a dense wood impeded their
progress ; but such was the skill of the great Earl’s dispositions,
so potent his influence over the affections of the commonalty,
that his troops neither broke their regular array, nor was any
intelligence of his operations conveyed to the royal camp.

Through the woodlands of Newick they moved forward, with
gleaming crest and glittering lance, and ascending the deep nar-
row defile of ‘the Coombe,’ soon gained the summit of the chalk-
ridge that extends from Lewes westward. Here they seized a
solitary royalist sentinel, who, far in advance of the King’s camp,
and unsupported by any comrades, had yielded himself to a sweet
repose, and was roughly awakened from it to furnish De Mont-
fort with information relative to the royal movements. With
silent regularity, the barons kept their way along the ridge of the
Downs, until, approaching the declivity which slopes to Lewes,
they could perceive the bell-tower of the Priory of St Pancras.

Earl Simon now dismounted, and taking his stand in the

feelings. Enthusiasm is the lever with which genius moves the world. A
hypocrite may deceive himself; he rarely deceives others. The whole life
of Simon de Montfort witnesses to his nobility of soul, his largeness of
heart, and elevation of character.
02 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

centre of the confederate barons, he thus addressed his soldiers :
‘O my beloved comrades and followers, we are about this day
to enter into battle for the sake of the true government of our
country,—in honour of God, the blessed Mary, all the saints,
and our mother the Church,—and for the due observance of our
holy faith. Let us pray to the Lord of all, that if what we now
undertake finds pleasure in His eyes, He will endow us with
strength and vigour to show a grateful service by our knightly
belt, and vanquish the malice of our foes. And as we are His,
to Him let us commend ourselves, body and soul.’ And immedi-
ately all those serried ranks flung themselves prostrate on the
earth, so disposing their outstretched arms as to imitate the form
of the Cross, and crying aloud, ‘Grant us, O Lord of hosts, our
desire, and a glorious victory, to the honour of Thy holy name.’

The Earl next proceeded to the disposition of his forces.
The declivity on which they had halted separates itself into three
projections, or spurs, each advancing towards Lewes, and each
bounded by a considerable defile. On the northern promontory,
which stretches towards the Castle, were stationed the Londoners,
under the leadership of Nicholas de Segrave, a soldier of repute
and proven valour. The central spur was occupied by the main
body of the army under young Earl de Clare, assisted by John
Fitz-John and William de Monchensy. The right wing, placed
on the southern declivity, was commanded by Henry, the eldest,
and Guy, the third son of De Montfort. The reserve was led
by the great Harl in person. As it was well known that his
capture or death was an object of high importance with the
royalists, a curious stratagem was devised to mislead them. The
Earl had some months previously met with an accident to his leg,
which resulted in a slight weakness, and necessitated the employ-
ment of a car, or litter, constructed for him in London. In this
car were now shut up some London merchants of considerable
importance, who had loudly espoused the cause of the King; and
it was stationed, with the baggage, on a prominent point of the
hill, surrounded by the Earl’s own banner and pennons, and de-
fended by a guard under young William le Blund.

Let us now glance at the disposition of the royal forces.
Opposite the Londoners was placed Prince Edward, with the
ADVANCE OF THE ROYALISTS. 53

flower of the army under his banner,—young knights and vete-
rans, in heavy armour, and mounted on richly caparisoned steeds,
against whom the unarmed citizens could avail but little. The
centre was led by King Henry, who, though neither a good
sovereign nor an able general, was, like all the Plantagenets, a
brave man. The left wing, opposed to the young De Montforts,
was commanded by the King of the Romans. The relative
strength of the two armies is uncertain, but the King, according
to one authority, had 60,000 men,—the Barons, 40,000.

The royalists now ascended the rising ground, with pennons
waving, and trumpets ringing. As they drew near their oppo-
nents, Henry III. advanced his standard of the dragon, and
shouted, ‘Symon, je vous défie!” (‘Simon, I defy you!’).

‘The King showed forth his shield, his dragon full austere ;
The King said on high, Symon, je vous défie.’*

On poured Prince Edward’s chivalry, crashing through the
ranks of the Londoners, who, brave and ardent as they were,
could not withstand the shock of such a tempest of men and
horses. They gave way, despite the exertions of their leader ;
and Prince Edward, who, it is said, ‘thirsted after their blood,
as the hart pants for the water-brooks,’ drove through the re-
treating ranks with merciless fury, spurring onward over the dead
and dying for some three or four miles, until he approached the
car and banner of Simon de Montfort. Slaying the standard-
bearer, William le Blund, he cried out, “Come forth, come forth,
Simon, thou devil! Come out of the car, thou worst of traitors !’

Meanwhile the King of the Romans, who had pressed heavily
on the centre of the barons’ army, had met with so doughty a
resistance that his own ranks were thrown into confusion. De
Montfort now, with the coup @wil of a great military genius, saw
that the victory was his, if he could overpower the royal centre
and seize the person of the King, before the return of Prince
Edward from his prolonged pursuit. Strengthening his right
wing with his own reserve, he poured down like an avalanche
upon the left of the royal army, scattering it before him in terrible

1 Robert de Brune’s translation of Langtoft’s Chronicle.
o4 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

confusion, and making numerous important prisoners. Then he
fell upon the weak and unguarded centre. The King fought
bravely. His horse was killed under him, and he received nume-
rous wounds. His soldiers defended him with the utmost resolu-
tion, though nothing could long withstand the fury of De Mont-
fort’s onset. At length they retreated into the Priory, bearing
with them their sovereign, and prepared to await the arrival of
Prince Edward.

The King of the Romans, after the defeat of his left wing,
had betaken himself to flight, and on the ridge of the hill founda
temporary shelter in a windmill, whose door he barred, and where
he remained blockaded by his pursuers until the evening came on.
Many were the jests with which they amused themselves. ‘Come
out, you rascally miller,’ was their cry. ‘What? are you, who
defied us so boldly, and called yourself King of the Romans, and
Augustus, now obliged to adopt the trade of a scoundrel miller?”
The ballad makers of the time long loved to sing of the proud
chief’s discomfiture. Thus, a favourite ballad runs :—

‘The Kyng of Alemaigne wende do full wel,
He saisede the mulne for a castel,
With hare sharpe swerdes he ground the stel,
He wende that the sayles were mangonel'
To helpe Windesore.?

Richard, thah thou be ever trichard,
Trichen shalt thou never more.

‘The King of Alemaigne gederede ys host,
Makede him a castel of a mulne post,
Wende with is prude and is muchele bost,
Brohte from Alemaigne mony sori gost

To store Windesore:
Richard, thah thou be ever ¢trichard,
Trichen shalt thou never more!’

ImiTarep.

The King of the Romans thought to do well,
When he seized on a mill for a proud casteél,

 

' A mangonel was « military engine, employed to hurl heavy stones
against the walls of a town or fortress.

2 Windesore, Windsor. Henry III. was called, from the place of his
birth, Henry of Windsor.
DEFEAT OF THE ROYALISTS. 55

And with sharpest swords upon it fell,

As though its sails were a mangonel
To help poor Wind-e-sore!

As a trickard, my Richard, thou bearest the bell,
But ne’er to trick us any more!

Our King did reckon without his host,

When a castle he saw in a windmill post,—

He who had brought with blatant boast

A troop of fiends from the Alemayne coast
To people Wind-e-sore:

A trickard, my Richard, thou art at the most,
But ne’er to trick us any more!

The shadows of the coming night were gathering rapidly
over the battle-field, when Prince Edward returned from his
headlong pursuit of the Londoners to find the victory in the
hands of De Montfort. Their long ride had so wearied both
horsemen and horses, that they could make no head against the
barons’ charge. He accordingly endeavoured to effect the
circuit of the town and gain the Castle, from whose battlements
the banner of De Warrenne wasstill flying. But, dispirited and
panic-struck, not less than 300 or 400 of his most powerful sup-
porters resolved to effect their escape.

Their spurs they pricked, and silently their arms they flung away,

And all, aghast and terrified, rode hotly from the fray ;

While many leapt into the Ouse, some rode towards the main,

And crost the seas to bonny France, and ne’er returned again! }

The slaughter in this fight was great, for in their terror many
of the fugitives were hurled into the river, while others fell, suffo-
cated, in the swamps and bogs of the surrounding morasses.
The knights who thus perished were afterwards discovered, ‘still
sitting on their horses in complete armour, and with drawn swords
in their lifeless hands.’ Quantities of arms, for many years,
continued to be found in this vicinity, and whitened bones were
frequently turned up by the husbandman’s ploughshare.

‘Finibus illis
Agricola, incurvo terram molitus aratro,
Exesa inveniet scabra robigine pila,

Aut gravibus rastris galeas pulsabit inanes,
Grandiaque effossis mirabitur ossa sepulcris.’—ViRGIL.

 

1 Tmitated from Robert of Gloucester.
56 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

Lewes was now full of the dead and dying, of the wounded
looking in vain for shelter, of slain horses, of fugitive royalists
and triumphant barons, of all the horrors and excesses of war.
The blackness of the night was strangely chequered with the
flames of burning houses, set on fire by ‘spryngelles of fire,”
which the castle garrison hurled from their mortars into the
town. Prince Edward was re-forming his scattered troops, with
the view of renewing the hopeless contest, when Simon de Mont-
fort, as humane as he was brave, proposed a truce during the
night, with the view of entering into negotiations on the morrow.
His proposition was accepted, and the carnage, which had lasted
from the dawn of a May morning far into the night, at length
was terminated. The chroniclers differently estimate the number
of the slain from 3000 to 20,000; but the best authorities place
it at near 5000.

‘Many fair ladies lost their lords that day, =
Many stout knights at Lewes slaughtered lay ;
The number ne’er was told by man to man,
Tis only known to Him who all things can!’?

The immediate result of this great battle was ‘the Mise of
Lewes,’ of which we shall speak in our sketch of De Montfort’s
career. Its ulterior results were the dissolution of the feudal
system, the legal equality of all ranks, ‘the democratical charac-
ter of the English monarchy,’ and that system of representative
government to which England is indebted for her prosperity,
power, and wealth. It was a battle won by the people on be-
half of the people, and as such, indeed, it was regarded by
contemporary chroniclers. ‘Blessed be the Lord God of ven-
geance,’ exclaims a popular poet of the period, ‘ who sits on His
high throne in heaven, and by His own might treads upon the
necks of the proud, making the great subject to the weak. He
has subdued two kings and their two heirs into captivity, as
transgressors of the Jaws, and has given over to ignominy all the
pride of their warfare, with their numberless followers!

1 That is, pellets of tow dipped in Greek fire,—an inflammable com-
pound of naphtha, bitumen, and sulphur.
? Robert Brune.
SUMMARY OF THE BATTLE. 57

May the Lord bless Simon de Montfort, his sons, and his com-
rades, who have so nobly and boldly fought, in compassion on
the sad fate of the English, when they were so unspeakably
trampled under foot, and nearly deprived of all their liberties,
and even of life, languishing under their hard princes.’ And
Matthew Paris, recalling the reproach of treachery cast upon
the great Earl, the victor of Lewes, by the King’s faction, indig-
nantly exclaims, ‘No man of sense should either call, or think
of, Simon as a traitor! No traitor, indeed, was he; but an
enemy of aliens and foreigners, though himself of foreign birth,
and the protector of the commonweal of England.’

Our account of the battle of Lewes may fitly conclude with
the graphic summary afforded by the old chronicler Grafton :—
“Upon Wednesday, the 23d of May,’ he writes, ‘early in the
morning, both the hostes met; where, after the Londoners had
given the first assault, they were beaten back, so that they began
to draw from the sharpe shot and strokes, to the discomfiture of
the barons’ hoste. But the barons encouraged and comforted
their men in such wise, that not all onely the freshe aud lustye
knights fought eagerly, but also such as before were discomfited
gathered a newe courage unto them, and fought without feare,
insomuch that the King’s vaward lost their places. Then was
the field covered with dead bodyes, and gasping and groning was
heard on every syde; for eyther of them was desyrous to bring
others out of lyfe. And the father spared not the sonne, neyther
yet the sonne spared the father! Alliaunce at that time was
bound to defiaunce, and Christian blood that day was shed without
pitie! Lastly, the victory fell to the barons; so that there was
taken the King, and the King of Romaynes, Sir Edward, the
King’s sonne, with many other noblemen, to the number of fifteen
barons and bannerets; and of the common people that were slain,
about 20,000. For their safe keeping the prisoners were sent
unto dyverse castellis and prisons, except the King, his brother,
the King of Almayne (King of the Romans), and Sir Edwarde
his sonne, the which the barons helde with them untill they came
to London.’

? William de Rishanger.
58 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

Thus was fought and won the battle of Lewes, Wednesday,
May the 23d, 1264.

Smmon DE Montrort, Haru or Leicester .
A BioGRAPHY.

‘Unconquer’d patriot, form’d by ancient lore,
The love of ancient freedom to restore ;
Who nobly acted what he boldly thought,
And seal’d by death the lessons which he taught.’

A.D. 1200-1265.

A modern poet says, pithily enough, ‘The world knows
nothing of its greatest men.’ It may be said, with equal force,
that England knows little of her most illustrious patriots. While
we pay our due homage to the genius of Marlborough, Welling-
ton, or Nelson, scarce a voice is ever raised in recognition of the
heroism of such men as Thomas 4 Becket or Simon de Montfort.
It is seldom, indeed, that the pioneers of human progress receive
the crown of their labours. To the latter hero how great is the
debt of gratitude which England owes! To his sagacity and
foresight we are indebted in a great measure for the English
representative system. It was he who first recognised the claims
of the people to be represented in the great councils of the nation.
It was he who raised the commonalty from their thraldom, their
misery, and their degradation, to give them a voice in the direc-
tion, as they had necessarily a share in the burthens and fortunes,
of the commonwealth. It was he who, in thus creating a potent
check upon the despotism of the Crown, and the absolutism of
the aristocracy, sowed the germs—to be developed under fairer
fates by a succession of brilliant heroes—of constitutional govern-
ment.

Simon DE Montrort, born about 1200, was the youngest of
the four sons of Simon, fourth Count de Montfort, and first Earl
of Leicester,—renowned in history as the stern chief of the cru-
sade against the Albigenses,—and Alice, daughter of Bouchard,
Sire de Montmorency and Ecouen, and Constable of France. He
DE MONTFORT’S MARRIAGE. 59

was born abroad, but appears to have been bred in England,
whose interests he thoroughly understood, and with whose for-
tunes he completely identified himself. His father having rebelled
against King John, his estates were confiscated; but in 1232
Simon de Montfort obtained their restoration, and took his place
among the nobles of England. ‘ A gentleman of choice blood,
education, and feature,’ he soon rose in the King’s favour, and in
due time wedded the beautiful Princess Eleanor, Henry’s sister,
and the widow of William, Earl of Pembroke. On the Earl’s
death, in 1231, she had publicly taken a vow of perpetual’ chas-
tity ; but the stately person and eloquent address of Simon de
Montfort overcame her resolution, and they were married at St
Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster Hall, J anuary 7, 1238. It may
be noted, that to the last their affection knew no change nor
discouragement, and that the royal lady clung close to her hus-
band’s side, even when he armed against her own kindred.

The superstition or credulity of the times was wroth at what
it called this sacrilegious union, and loudly condemned the poor
lady’s breach of vow. De Montfort, therefore, repaired to Rome,
and, by dint of bribes and entreaties, secured the Pope’s decision
in favour of his marriage. He returned in hot haste to England,
and arrived at his Castle of Kenilworth in time to hail the birth
of a son in November 1238. :

The first breach between King and Earl took place in August
1239, when Henry loaded the Earl with the most violent re-
proaches, on account of a marriage which the Church itself had
ratified. De Montfort and his Countess immediately quitted
England, but returned in April 1240, to find themselves once
more the object of royal favour, and to raise money upon his
estates to defray his expenses as a crusader. His stay in Syria
did not exceed a twelvemonth, yet his valour and military skill
shone out so conspicuous, that the crusaders themselves were de-
sirous he should receive the appointment of Governor of Jeru-
salem. He returned to Europe, however, in 1241; fought
against the French at the battle of Saintes in the following year ;
and was one of the commission of twelve peers and prelates ap-
pointed to investigate the financial condition of the kingdom.
His democratical sympathies—for in that age they were certainly
60 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

considered democratical—now rapidly developed themselves, and
his love of justice and hatred of despotism soon endeared him to
the common people. In the famous Remonstrance which the
barons addressed to the Pope in 1246, and in which they declared
that, unless the grievances of the English Church were speedily
redressed, they would raise ‘a bulwark in defence of the house
of the Lord and the liberty of the realm,’ his name stood second
among its signatures. The King he reprimanded boldly on ac-
count of his lavish profusion, and the exactions which crippled
commerce and strangled trade; and on one occasion he inveighed
bitterly against a breach of the chartered rights of the men of
London. Already Henry IIL. began to nourish an unappeasable
hatred against the sagacious statesman, who so boldly pointed
out the evils of the state; but he condescended to avail himself
of his military ability. He despatched him to subdue the re-
bellion in Gascony, but to carry on the war effectually De
Montfort was forced to cut down the timber on his own
estates; and when he had restored order, and sent to Eng-
land the head of the revolt, Gaston de Bearn, the King undid
his work by receiving the rebel into favour, and giving him back
his lands.

The Gascons, fearful of so strong a hand to curb them as the
invincible Leicester’s, commenced intriguing against him at the
royal court, and found the monarch prone to listen to the
calumnies they invented. The Earl returned in haste to defend
himself from them, and appearing before the Council, reminded
the King of his loyal services and of their scant reward. ‘Make
good your words, my Lord King,’ he exclaimed; ‘keep your
promises to me, and reimburse me in those expenses which I have
defrayed, to the imminent ruin of my own Earldom.’ ‘I do not
hold myself pledged,’ rejoined the infuriated monarch, ‘to fulfil
my covenant with a false traitor.’ ‘Traitor!’ exclaimed De
Montfort, and his broad brow flushed, and his calm eye glowed
with fire, ‘wert thou not my King, thou shouldst answer at once
for so foul a lie! Who can believe thee to be a Christian, or
that ever thou goest to confession? Useless, of a truth, were
such forms without repentance and atonement.’ ‘Of one thing,
indeed, I have repented, and of that sincerely, that I ever per-
THE WAR IN GASCONY. 61

mitted thee to enter England, or to fatten on those estates and
honours which now so puff thee up.’ t

A temporary peace, however, was agreed upon between King
and subject, and Henry bade the Earl, as he was so fond of mar-
tial glory, return to Gascony, where there was work enough to
do. ‘I go willingly,’ replied De Montfort, ‘nor, ungrateful as
thou art, will I return until I have made the rebels thy footstool.’
Before his departure, he consulted anxiously with his Countess
respecting the education of their children; and having entrusted
them to the care of the excellent Grosteste (or Grostéte), Bishop
of Lincoln, he set out joyfully upon his expedition, ‘rejoicing in
the protection of the Most High,’ and attended by the loving
prayers of his noble wife.

The war in Gascony was sharp but brief. At imminent
personal risk he drove the rebels from town to town, and castle
to castle, and, when his labours were nearly completed, had the
mortification to become a signal example of royal ingratitude.
His offices were taken from him, and conferred upon Prince
Edward, and, stripped of his honours and greatly impoverished,
he retired in disgust to Paris. There his fame was so great,
both as a statesman and a general, that the French nobles, in
the absence of King Louis the Crusader, besought him to accept
the regency of France,—an offer which, to a man of ambitious
genius, would have seemed no unworthy prize, but which De
Montfort’s patriotism and sympathies with the English people
induced him to refuse.

Gascony having again flamed into open rebellion, the King
was once more compelled to invite De Montfort’s military ser-
vices, and, at the instigation of Bishop Grostéte, the proud Earl
consented. The mere terror of his name having awed the Gascons
into submission, Henry III., as if to celebrate a triumph, in
which he had no share, resolved upon a visit to his brother of
France at Paris. The expenses of this royal promenade were
enormous, and seriously embarrassed the prodigal monarch on
his return to England. He was further involved in the con-
quest of Sicily as a kingdom for his second son Edmund, and to

‘Robert Brune. Rishanger. Oxenede.
62 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

defray the cost of the expedition had mortgaged the island for
14,000 marks to the Pope. When the conquest was effected,
the Pope demanded immediate payment of the mortgage, under
penalty of excommunication and an interdict for the whole king-
dom. A council was summoned to provide the King with the
supplies he so urgently needed; but De Montfort and other
barons remonstrated passionately against the royal extravagance,
and demanded a curtailment of expenditure. They proposed
measures, it is true, which trenched upon the royal prerogative ;
but ‘who can deny,’ says Hallam, ‘that measures beyond the
ordinary course of the constitution were necessary to control so
prodigal and injudicious a sovereign?’ A great council was con-
voked at Westminster, and, after a stormy sitting, adjourned to
Oxford, where the famous ‘Oxford Statutes,’ already spoken of
(see p. 48), were enacted by the barons, and reluctantly ratified
by the King (a.p. 1258).

De Montfort now became the foremost man of the kingdom,
and was held in greater repute than all other persons, native or
foreign. His hostile biographers accuse him of ambition; and
undoubtedly the charge is true, for when was genius ever without
ambition? As the sparks fly upward, so rises the heroic soul
above the ordinary conditions of the world. But De Montfort’s
ambition was of that pure and lofty character which the poet
has described :—

‘The true ambition there alone resides,

Where justice vindicates, and wisdom guides ;
Where inward dignity joins outward state,
Our purpose good, as our achievement great ;

Where public blessings, public praise attend,
Where glory is our motive, not our end.—Youne.

And if the approbation of the people can give a stamp and
justification to a great man’s ambition, it was enjoyed in abun-
dant measure by Simon de Montfort. It was his peculiar fortune
to be at once the champion of his own order and the protector
of the commonalty. In both characters he was loved, trusted,
and reverenced, and England long cherished the memory of his
triumphs and sufferings in the cause of freedom. To the King
his presence was absolutely hateful, and that treacherous prince
THE KING’S FEAR OF DE MONTFORT. 63

lost no opportunity of exhibiting his resentment. One day,
while sailing down the river Thames, he was overtaken by a
terrible storm of thunder and lightning, of which he was par-
ticularly afraid. He was put ashore at the Bishop of Durham’s
palace, whose site is now occupied by the stately pile of the
Adelphi ; and De Montfort, who then resided there, came out to
receive him with reverent ceremony. Seeking to soothe the
royal fears, the Earl inquired, ‘What fear you now, my lord,
that the storm has passed?’ ‘TI do, indeed, tremble at thunder
and lightning,’ replied the King ; ‘but, by the head of God, I
tremble more before you than before the tempests of heaven.’
‘How unjust, how incredible it seems,’ rejoined De Montfort,
‘that you should dread one who has ever loyally served you,
your family, and kingdom! Surely it is those who hate and
deceive you whom you should chiefly fear.’?

Nor by the barons of the royal faction was the great Re-
former better loved; and so open was the hostility of many of
those associated with him in the government of the kingdom,
that he at length abandoned the struggle, and retired to France.
In his absence he was not entirely unmindful of the noble cause
in which he had laboured, and Henry wrote to King Louis ‘to
give no credit to the Earl of Leicester, who had gone to France
without his knowledge, and for reasons unknown to him.’?
Shortly afterwards, he employed Louis in an attempt to detach
the Earl from the barons’ party, but no bribes were potent
enough to persuade him to so foul a dishonour; and the French
King was constrained to inform his royal brother of the assur-
ances of the Earl, that, ‘if he had any confidence in the good
intentions of King Henry, he had none in those of his advisers,
and therefore did not think it agreed with his honour to consent
to any terms.’

Early in December 1262, the great Earl returned to England.
His former friend and late rival, the powerful Earl of Gloucester,
was dead; and the barons, anxious to be led by the light of De
Montfort’s luminous sagacity, formally invited him to assume
their leadership. He consented, and the vigour of his mind soon

1 Matthew Paris, 2 Rymer’s Foedera.
64 THE BATTLE OF LEWES.

made itself felt throughout the length and breadth of unhappy
England.

War immediately broke out, though at first restricted to
narrow limits; but upon its earlier details the plan of this little
volume forbids us to expatiate. The barons’ partisans were
numerous and active. ‘A general persecution was carried on
against all who could not speak English, the people joining in
it so eagerly, that many foreigners, both laymen and clerical,
fled the country in alarm, and the stewards of the alien clergy
were forbidden to pay them any rents, or render them any ac-
count, on pain of their lands being laid waste.’?

The traveller, at the end of a long journey through a succes-
sion of interesting and agreeable landscapes, when he seeks to
arrange his impressions of the novelties which have met his eye,
does not linger upon every leafy lane, or wayside clump of trees,.
or sparkling rivulet, or garden bower; he contents himself with
fixing upon the landmarks of his travel, upon the memorable
objects he has admired or wondered at,—the foaming river, the
dense forest, or the lofty mountain. In like manner, while
glancing at the career of our favourite heroes, we pass over
details of little importance, and fix, to the best of our judgment,
upon those events and deeds which have helped to make their
lives historical.

In December 1263, De Montfort and his army, which had
grown in numbers daily, were quartered in that suburb of Lon-
don which is still known as the South Ward, or Southwark.
Here the royal forces, under the King and Prince Edward,
having failed in an attempt to surprise Dover, endeavoured to
capture the Earl by a sudden coup de main. Through the
treachery of three or four influential citizens, who shat the gates
of the city, and flung the keys into the Thames, the attempt had
nearly succeeded; but the Londoners, his stoutest partisans,
broke down the barriers of the bridge, and pressing to his rescue,
carried him across it in safety. De Montfort, with some diffi-
culty, rescued the traitors, spared their lives, but exacted from
them a heavy fine, which was employed in strengthening the forti-

’ Blauuw.
PRINCE HENRY DESERTS THE CAUSE OF THE BARONS. 65

fications of the city. They fell, however, at Lewes, incarcerated
in the car or litter which Prince Edward supposed to contain
De Montfort himself. (See p. 52.)

After this event, an attempt was once more made to save
England from the horrors of civil war; and it was agreed that
the differences between the King and the barons should be sub-
mitted to the arbitration of the French sovereign. (December
13, 1263.) The result is known in history as the ‘ Award of
Amiens ;’ and that award,—favourable, as might have been ex-
pected, to the pretensions of Henry III.,—annulled the Oxford
Statutes, and declared them void. Nevertheless, it provided
that the King should loyally observe all ‘the royal privileges,
charters, liberties, statutes, and laudable customs of the realm,
which were in existence before the Oxford Statutes.’!

The immediate effect of this award was to weaken the barons’
party. Those partisans whose pretensions had been disregarded,
or whose interests neglected, who envied the superior genius of
De Montfort, or expected to gain more from subservience to the
sovereign than loyalty to their country, gladly availed themselves
of so excellent an excuse for deserting their cause. Among the
recreants was Prince Henry, eldest son of the King of the Ro-
mans, and De Montfort’s nephew, whom the promise of a fat
manor from Prince Edward won from the side of the hero he had
professed to admire. He offered to surrender his arms, and to
swear never to appear in battle against him; but De Montfort
scornfully replied, ‘Go your way, my Lord Hemy, and take
your arms with you, for I do not fear them. It is not for them
I care, but for your base faithlessness.’* And when faltering
spirits pointed out to him the number and importance of these
desertions, the Earl exclaimed, ‘Though all abandon me, yet
will I, with my four sons, remain true to the just cause, which I
have vowed to maintain in honour of the church, and for the
welfare of the kingdom. I have fared in many lands, of many
nations, both Paynim and Christian; but I nowhere found such
treachery and deception as beset me in England.’

De Montfort now prepared for war. His supporters were

1 This remarkable document is given in full in Rymer’s Feedera.
* William de Rishanger.
E
66 SIMON DE MONTFORT, EARL OF LEICESTER.

to be found in the great towns, whose burghers and freemen
refused to recognise the authority of the French King’s award.
The English clergy were also on his side, for they acknowledged
in him the unflinching opponent of alien and dissolute priests.
He appointed his rendezvous at Northampton; but the town was
surprised and captured by Prince Edward, and young Simon de
Montfort, carried too far by his impetuous valour, was made
prisoner. The news of this misadventure reached the great Earl
at St Albans, but did not discourage him. ‘ Before the month
of May is out,’ he exclaimed, ‘the gladness of my foes shall be
turned to confusion.’ At first he turned his arms against Roches-
ter, and both city and castle were on the point of falling into his
hands, when tidings reached him of the rapid advance of the royal
army upon London. Thither he immediately moved, and his
enemy then re-crossed the Thames at Kingston, and by forced
marches proceeded to the relief of Rochester. From thence they
marched to Tunbridge, and struck through the wooded defiles of
Sussex to the sea-coast, marking their progress by ‘ plunder, fire,
and slaughter.’ Finding the Cinque Ports pledged to the sup-
port of the barons’ party, the King turned away from their
neighbourhood ; and on Sunday, May 11, 1264, appeared before
Lewes, then under the sway of his devoted adherent, the Earl de
Warenne.

Meanwhile, De Montfort, having largely reinforced his army
with loyal Londoners, who throughout his career were among his
steadiest supporters, began his march on the 6th of May, and
conducted it with such skill and success, that he reached Fletching
on the 12th, without any attempt to obstruct it on the part of
the royalists. The following day was occupied in abortive efforts
at negotiation, and the 14th was rendered ever memorable by the
battle of Lewes.

De Montfort’s victory was succeeded by what is historically
known as the ‘Mise of Lewes,’ which stipulated that the King
on the one side, and the barons on the other, should procure two
Frenchmen to be nominated, who, with the aid of a third person,
an Englishman, should inquire into and determine all the contro-
versies which had arisen between King and barons; and that
Prince Edward, the eldest son of King Henry, and Prince Henry,
HIS POLICY AFTER THE BATTLE OF LEWES. 67

the eldest son of the King of the Romans, should be surrendered
as hostages on the part of the King. This surrender took place
on Friday, May 16th, and Prince Edward was immediately
removed to Dover, in the custody of Henry de Montfort, who
treated him with the courtesy due to his rank and courage.

It is observable that Simon de Montfort, who, from this
moment, became the virtual ruler of the kingdom, introduced,
even in the flush of his triumph, no unjust or ungenerous condi-
tions into his agreement with the King, and treated him personally
with reverence, while he attributed his wrong-doing to the evil
counsels of bad advisers. The genius of the great Earl was,
indeed, in advance of his age, and appears to have fully grasped
at and comprehended many of those coustitutional maxims which
we are wont to fancy the birth of a later and more civilised era.
That he did not neglect his own security, nor the fortunes of the
good cause whose chief advocate he was, is certain, and may not
be attributed to him as a crime. But he carefully worded his
decrees as royal proclamations, and always sought to appear as
the adviser rather than the gaoler of the King. The imprisoned
adherents of the barons were liberated, and the custody of all
important castles taken out of royalist hands, while in every
couuty further hostilities were forbidden, with all the solemnity of
a royal proclamation. Each county was placed under the control
of a lieutenant or warden, and the carrying of arms was strictly
prohibited, under penalty of death or loss of limb, unless a license
had been obtained.

It would be interesting to linger upon other details, and to
show with what energy De Montfort prepared to meet a threat-
ened French invasion; with what vigour he prosecuted the changes
rendered necessary by the perturbed condition of the common-
wealth; with what generosity and confidence he treated both
friend and foe; but we are hurried onward to treat of that great
reform, which has illustrated to all time the name of our English
hero.

England breathed freely and happily under the just and
vigorous sway of her great statesman, when he resolved upon
the creation of a representative system. That he himself fully
appreciated the vast consequences which would result from his
68 SIMON DE MONTFORT, EARL OF LEICESTER.

idea is not to be supposed; but, on the other band, his liberal
and comprehensive genius could not fail to perceive something
of its results,—that it instituted a powerful check, a permanent
restraint, upon the selfishness of the aristocracy and the despot-
ism of the throne, and lifted into eminence the wealthy burgher
or citizen class. By a proclamation issued at Woodstock, De-
cember 24, 1264, a Parliament was summoned to meet in London,
on the 20th of the January following, to which, for the first time,
the cities and towns of England were each required to send
‘two discreet, loyal, and honest men’ as representatives. That
this was the origin of popular representation, ‘ almost all judicious
inquirers seem to have acquiesced in admitting.” It recognised
and gave stability to the growing middle class, and introduced
into the Government a third estate—the Commons.

Great thoughts, great ideas, have been few in the history of
the world. Great thoughts, powerful enough in their vitality
to outlive ‘the shocks of time,’ have been yet fewer. The polity
of the Hebrew, the mythology of the Greek, the science of the
Egyptian, the empire of the Roman, were grand ideas,—grand
in their power and influence,—yet they have perished. But this
thought, this idea of Simon de Montfort’s, will surely live as
long as English speech and English literature shall endure,
and wherever the influence of our arms, or letters, or our com-
mercial enterprise extends. This idea is also sown, to live
and flourish on the vast continent of North America, in the
half-peopled wilds of Australia, in many an island washed by
the eternal seas. Ah me, how huge the tree, how wide-spread-
ing the branches, which have sprung from the small germ planted,
in the year of grace 1265, by Simon de Montfort !

But the career of that illustrious patriot was fast drawing to a
close, and ominous shadows gathered rapidly over his path. The
young Harl of Gloucester, envious of his vast superiority in the
field and the council, and rebuked by his purer and mightier genius,
went over to the royal party, and was followed by all the waverers,
by all who were disappointed in their hopes of personal aggran-
disement, or actuated by the mean motives of personal enmity.
The old lion saw that the toils were closing round him, but
bated not one jot of heart or hope. It was at this crisis that
HIS SON’S FOLLY. 69

Prince Edward effected his escape. He was then at Hereford,
guarded by Thomas de Clare,—whose treachery was not sus-
pected by the Earl,—by Robert de Ros, and Henry de Mont-
fort. Having received a present (it is said from De Clare, under
a feigned name) of a very noble and spirited courser, he ex-
pressed a wish to try his speed and paces against the best
horses of his escort. The trial took place on a plain north of
the town, called the Widmarsh. There he mounted them, one
after another, galloping them to and fro until thoroughly ex-
hausted ; and when he had rendered them incapable of pursuit,
he leapt on his own fresh and fiery steed, and rode away for his
life, with a farewell jest to the wondering De Ros :—

‘Lordlings, good day, greet my father, and say,
Out of thrall I will see him as soon as I may.’

He effected his escape in safety to the castle of Wigmore,
the stronghold of one of the malecontents, Roger de Mortimer.
(May 28, 1265.)

De Montfort, having collected his forces at Gloucester, had
moved upon Monmouth and Newport, in order to crush the
insurrection in South Wales; but now, hearing that Prince Ed-
ward had levied a considerable army, and was marching in his
rear, he checked his advance, and despatched orders to his son
Simon, then besieging Pevensey Castle, to abandon the siege
and hasten to his assistance. The young chief, on his march,
captured and plundered Winchester, and then proceeded to his
father’s castle of Kenilworth. Meanwhile, De Montfort was
advancing from Hereford to join him, and surround Prince Ed-
ward in a cordon of steel through which he could not break.
His well-conceived plans were marred by the carelessness of his
son, who is said to have been addicted to ‘riotrie of living,’ and
for this reason, or for the convenience of bathing early in the
morning, instead of availing himself of the security of his ances-
tral stronghold, and the sage advice of its castellan, Henry de
Hastings, had taken up his quarters with many of his young
companions in the unguarded village, and neglected the most
obvious military precautions. Intelligence of this rash folly
was conveyed by spies to Prince Edward. With characteristic
70 SIMON DE MONTFORT, EARL OF LEICESTER.

energy, he immediately set his army in motion, and by a forced
night-march reached Kenilworth early in the morning of August
the 2d, before his opponents had roused them from their slumbers.
The royalists, it is said, awoke the sleepers with their cries,
‘Come out, traitors! By the death of God, you shall be slain!’
They took but little heed to awaken them softly, or give them
time to clothe themselves. Some were seen flying with only
their hose on, some with only a shirt or drawers, and young
Simon de Montfort himself, almost naked, escaped with difficulty
by a boat across the lake into the castle. The slaughter was
great; numerous important prisoners were made; the loyalist
forces completely routed. It was a death-blow to the barons’
party.

De Montfort, pressed by the forces of De Mortimer and De
Clare, in order to effect the earliest possible junction with his son,
advanced by quick marches from Hereford, and crossed the Severn
at Kempsey, on the evening of the fatal day marked by the dis-
comfiture at Kenilworth. A traitor in his camp, one Ralph de
Arderne, communicated his movements to Prince Edward, who,
preparing to take immediate advantage of De Montfort’s ignor-
ance of the disaster, advanced rapidly upon Evesham.

The vale of Evesham is renowned for its pastoral wealth and
gentle beauty. Drayton exclaims,—

‘ Great Evesham’s fertile glebe what tongue hath not extoll’d?
As though to her alone belong’d the garbe of gold!’

It is fertilized and enlivened by the meandering Avon, which,
flowing southward from Offenham, makes, below Evesham, an
abrupt and striking angle. The ground here enclosed by the
winding river is the scene of ‘ the murder of Evesham,’ as the old
chroniclers call it. Let the reader fancy a triangle, whose two
sides are formed by the river. The points let him compute as
nearly a mile and a half apart, and each side as about two miles
long. The base of the triangle let him imagine to be represented
by undulating and hilly ground, sloping rapidly to a dull level at
the apex, or river. On this high ground was fought the battle.
Evesham lies on the right of the apex, in the river-watered plain.

The day before the fight De Montfort arrived at Evesham.
THE FIELD OF EVESHAM. 71

On the morrow, at dawn, mass having been celebrated and abso-
lution dispensed by the intrepid Bishop of Worcester, he prepared
to put. his army in motion, ‘when there came into view, issuing
from the folds of the hill, in the very quarter where they looked
for young De Montfort, a large army, advancing towards them
in battle array, divided into orderly squadrons, and bearing in
their van the emblazoned banners of their expected friends.’ A
shout of joy was sent up at the gladsome sight! Nicholas, the
Earl’s barber,t who appears to have been a man well versed in
heraldic lore, was then despatched to examine more narrowly the
approaching force, and for this purpose ascended the clock-tower
of the Abbey of Evesham. Alas! he soon perceived among the
advancing banners the triple lions of Prince Edward, and the
ensigns of De Mortimer and the traitor Gloucester! The decep-
tion was at once understood, but too late. The hostile army,
largely superior in numbers, pressed rapidly down upon them.
De Montfort ascended a hill to reconnoitre, and, struck with the
order of their array, exclaimed, ‘ By the arm of St James,’—his
favourite oath,—‘ they come on skilfully ; but it is from me they
have learned the art, and not from themselves.’ Perceiving that
the Prince had divided his forces, and that the two bodies were
approaching on different lines so as to hem him in, he recognised
the full extent of his peril, and beseeching his friends to escape
while they could, said, with a sigh, ‘God have mercy on our
souls, for our bodies are theirs!’ His son Henry entreated him
to save his life by flight, while he and his friends withstood the
onset of the enemy. The brave old hero replied, ‘ Far be from
me the very thought of so shameful a course! No, my dear son,
I have grown old in war, and my life draws near its end. All of
our noble blood have, at least in this one thing, been conspicuous,
—never to fly, never even to wish to fly, from battle! But do
thou, my son, lest thou perish in the flower of thy youth, with-
draw from this fearful contest,—thou who art about to succeed,
if God so wills it, to me and my illustrious ancestors in martial
glory.’ But from that field of death none were so craven of heart
as to retire.

1 The barber, in those days, was also the chirurgien, and a more im-
portant person than he is esteemed at present.
72 SIMON DE MONTFORT, EARL OF LEICESTER.

The battle lasted two hours, and De Montfort’s soldiers,
though crushed and overpowered by a terrible superiority of
numbers, fought with unequalled courage and resolution. The
royalists even wavered before the onset of that heroic band, but
were rallied and reinforced by their leaders, and led again to the
charge. The grand old hero himself fought ‘ stoutly, like a giant,’
for the liberties of England, and, surrounded by a few faithful
friends, resisted the attack of the royalists like an impregnable
tower. He was summoned to surrender: ‘I yield to God alone,’
he cried, ‘ never to dogs and perjurers!’ Covered with wounds,
and beaten down by numbers, at length he fell—slain, but not
conquered—and his brave and beautiful son, the young Henry,
soon afterwards yielded up his spirit to join his father’s. The
battle became a slaughter, for Prince Edward had bidden his
soldiers give no quarter, and many who had yielded themselves
prisoners were butchered in cold blood. And over the red
battle-field suddenly spread a dense darkness, and the earth
quaked, and thunder roared, and the arrowy lightning shot
athwart the skies, as if heaven sympathized, while ‘ the people of
the Lord,’ says the chronicler, ‘ were in torment.’

Thus, on the 4th of May 1265, took place the ‘ Murder of
Evesham, for battle none it was.’ ‘ A cruell and bloodye bataille,’
says old Grafton, ‘ after which, in despite of the Erle, some mali-
cious persons cut off his head, mutilating him otherwise with a
barbaritie too disgusting to mention. His feet also, and his
handes, were cut off from the body, and sent to sundrie places,
and the trunck of his bodye was buryed within the church of
Evesham,’ where his tomb became a favourite object of pilgrim-
age with the English commons, who believed in the miracles it
wrought, and long cherished the memory of ‘Sir Simon the
righteous,’ as that of a saint and martyr, equal in honour to
Thomas & Becket.

On the page of history few characters shine out more con-
spicuously, or with a purer and nobler lustre, than that of the
great Harl of Leicester. If we may believe his contemporaries,
and credit the affection and reverence in which he was held by
the English people, few great men have ever been freer from
selfish influences, from personal vices, or an ignoble ambition.
HIS CHARACTER. 73

Though born a Frenchman, his life was one long and consistent
struggle for the freedom of Saxon England; and when he ob-
tained power, he exercised it with a wonderful moderation, and
simply for the commonweal. After his death, the pilgrims to
his shrine addressed him in language which sufficiently shows
how deep a love was borne towards his memory in the heart of
the nation :—

‘Salve, Symon Montis Fortis, Hail, Symon de Montfort, hail,

Totius Flos militiz ; Knighthood’s fairest flower ;

Duras peenas passus mortis, | England does thy death bewail,
Protector gentis Anglia. Whom thou didst shield with power.

Sis pro nobis intercessor, Never did saint such tortures rend,
Apud Deum, qui defensor As thee of martyr race ;

In terra extiteras,’! Thou, who on earth didst us defend,

Now gain for us God’s grace!

‘When the tidings of his death spread over the land,’ says
William de Rishanger, ‘ all mirth was suspended, and a general
lamentation arose, until our tears and groans were changed into
hymns of praise and joy through the many miracles wrought by
his invincible firmness, patience, and purity of faith, which en-
couraged the hope that we might yet be released from the
tyranny of the unjust.’

To conclude: the Earl, as a general, was possessed of con-
siderable talents, and thoroughly understood the art of war as
practised in his time. As a soldier, his courage was of the most
brilliant description; his constancy and resolution were uncon-
querable. His pious observance of the rites of the Church is
often praised by his contemporaries; and his affection for his
wife and children almost exceeded reasonable limits. He was
grave of address, with that natural aspect of dignity peculiar
to nature’s heroic spirits. A French contemporary chronicler
speaks of him as ‘noble, skilful in arms, and wise beyond all
other men of his age.’ His calmness and moderation, when
most beset by foes, attracted general admiration. Like all great
men, he enjoyed a peculiar faculty of influencing the minds of
those with whom he came in contact. He moulded the barons,

1 Quoted by Blauuw from the ‘Miracula Sim. de Montfort.’
74 SIMON DE MONTFORT, EARL OF LEICESTER.

it is said, as he himself desired, and, far in advance of them as
soldier and statesman, drew them forward in the path of glory,
which he followed with so resolute a perseverance. ‘He was a
man,’ writes the monk of Mailros, ‘of wonderful forethought
and circumspection, excelling in the preparation and conduct of
war, a complete soldier, abounding in ingenious stratagems,
worthy of his illustrious parentage, and surely endowed with
divine wisdom.’

Such was Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, the hero of
‘the Barons’ War.’ Happy is England to have possessed such
heroes !

‘In our halls is hung
Armoury of the invincible knights of old:
We must be free or die, who speak the tongue
That Shakspeare spake—the faith and morals hold
Which Milton held. In everything we're sprung
Of earth’s best blood, have titles manifold. —Worpsworrtu.

AUTHORITIES.

[The contemporary chroniclers afford most interesting details
of the varying fortunes of the barons’ war. The principal are—
Robert Brune’s Translation of Nicholas Langtoft ; William de
Rishanger; Hemingford; Chronicle of the Monks of Mailros;
Robert of Gloucester; Chronicle of Worcester; Matthew Paris.
Other authorities are—Grafton, and Fabyan; Rymer’s Feedera ;
Lower’s Handbook to Lewes; Horstead’s History of Lewes;
Lingard; Sir James Mackintosh; Dugdale’s Baronage; Hist.
Worcestershire; and especially the very able and interesting
volume of Mr Blauuw’s, ‘The Barons’ War.’ The latter is
valuablé for its copious quotations from contemporary anualists,
— quotations which we can vouch from close examination, are
as accurate as they are pertinent. ]
CHAPTER IIL.

THE BATTLE OF CRECY; AND EDWARD, THE
BLACK PRINCE.

Ye children of a soil that doth advance

Its haughty brow against the coast of France,

Now is the time to prove your hardiment!

To France be words of invitation sent!

They from their fields can see the countenance

Of your fierce war, may ken the glittering lance,

And hear you shouting forth your brave intent.
Worpsworta.

[Saturpay, Aucust 26, A.D. 1346.]

Tue circumstances in which originated Hdward JIL.’s great wars
with France, and the battles of Crecy and Poitiers, may easily
be made intelligible to the youthful student. Charles IV. of
France having died without issue, the nearest of blood were his
sister Isabella, the beautiful but cruel ‘she-wolf of Anjou,’ mother
of Edward III., and Philip of Valois, his cousin-german. <Accord-
ing to English customs, the mother of Edward III, or Edward
I. himself, in right of his mother, would have succeeded to the
vacant throne; but there prevailed in France the institution of
the Salic law, which excluded all females from the sovereignty.
The English lawyers, indeed, contended that, though that law
shut out a female, it by no means shut out her son; but the
French peers, to whom the dispute was referred, were of a diffe-
rent opinion, and pronounced Philip of Valois the rightful heir.
King Edward refused to accept of their decision, assumed the
title of King of France, and prepared to assert his claim to the
throne by arms. He formed an alliance for this purpose with
76 THE BATTLE OF CRECY.

the Flemings, who had their own causes of quarrel with France,
and were, at this time, under the influence of Jacques van Arta-
velde, a brewer of Ghent, and a man of extraordinary force of
will and decision of character. To obtain the necessary funds,
Edward was compelled to apply to his Parliament for a subsidy,
and to obtain the subsidy was forced to concede some new pri-
vileges. Soit may be noticed that, whatever injury was inflicted
on England and the English by the long French wars of her
Plantagenet sovereigns, they strengthened her liberties and ad-
vanced her freedom, by drawing from the Crown indulgences,
which the Crown would never have so readily conceded but from
its need of frequent pecuniary supplies.

In 1340, Edward gained the great naval victory of Sluys,
with a loss of two ships and nearly 4000 men, while the French
lost almost all their vessels, and about 30,000 men killed and
taken prisoners. His operations on land, however, were not so
successful, and soon afterwards an armistice for nine months was
concluded. The war recommenced in 1343, but the campaign
was without interest, and terminated, through the influence of
the Pope, in a truce for three years and eight months. The
truce did not last out, that period; and as both parties were
anxious to break it, reasons why it should be broken were easily
discovered and quickly multiplied. So, in 13845, the Earl of
Derby, with a small army, was despatched to Guienne, where he
reduced several towns, and gained some slight advantages in the
field. The French general, the Count de Lisle, on his part,
invested Auberoche with 12,000 men. Derby, with but 300
men-at-arms and 600 archers, sped to its succour. He surprised
the hostile camp ‘at supper-time,’ slew the general and most of
the principal officers, and entirely routed the troops. This
success awoke the French court to a sense of their danger, and
a formidable force under the Duke of Normandy was ordered to
advance into Guienne, and drive out the ‘ English leopards.’

Such was the state of affairs in July 1346, when King Edward,
with a noble army of 4000 men-at-arms, 10,000 archers, 10,000
Welsh and 6000 Irish infantry, attended by the Prince of Wales
and his principal knights and nobles, landed at La Hogue, on the
coast of Normandy. His course through the French provinces
THE ENGLISH ARMY ENTRAPPED, 77

was as desolating as that of an Indian simoom or an Alpine
avalanche. Town after town was captured. Villages in flames
and plundered granaries indicated the line of march. He ad-
vanced as far as Rouen, intending to cross the Seine, but found
the bridges broken, and the opposite bank occupied by the
French army in far superior numbers. Consequently, his inten-
tion of effecting a junction in Picardy with the 40,000 Flemings
who had invaded France on that side, was frustrated, and pro-
ceeding up the river he burned St Germain, St Cloud, and
Neuilly, carrying fire and sword almost to the very gates of Paris.
Yet, as he could not tempt King Philip to cross the river, he was
still separated from his allies. A stratagem, therefore, was re-
sorted to. In the grey of the morning he suddenly broke up his
camp, and marched upon Paris, flinging his advanced guard
actually into its suburbs. Philip, alarmed for the safety of his
capital, precipitately crossed the river. Then Edward wheeled
round, retraced his steps as far as Poissy, repaired its bridge
and carried over his army without loss. From Pontoise he swept
across the country to Beauvais, which he set on fire, and only
halted in his victorious career on the south bank of the Somme.
Here he learned that his adversary, by equally rapid movements,
in a line almost parallel to his own march, had gained Amiens,
with 100,000 men, destroyed all the bridges, and secured-all the
fords upon the river. While he left a considerable force on the
right bank to resist the passage of the English, he himself, with
the greater portion of his troops, advanced along the left bank to
sweep them before him into the sea. Thus beset, Edward
attempted to cross the Somme at Pont St Remi, at Long, and
at Peguigny, but found the French too strongly posted for him.
Philip, therefore, rapidly gained upon his rear, and actually
entered Airaines within two hours of his rival’s departure. On
the same evening the English army reached Oisemont, to find
themselves closely entrapped in the toils. The sea before them,
the French behind them, and the unfordable Somme on their
flank, it seemed that there was no outlet which would afford a
hope of safety. But among Edward’s prisoners was a ‘ varlet of
Mons,’ named Gobin Agace, who was well acquainted with this
part of the country. Bribed by a large sum of money (800
78 THE BATTLE OF CRECY.

nobles), and the promise of freedom for himself and twenty of his
fellows, he pointed out a place near Abbeville, where the river
was fordable at ebb of tide. ‘The King of England,’ says
Froissart quaintly, ‘ did not sleep much that night ;’ but at twelve
the trumpets sounded, and with all speed the army descended
the river as far as Blanche Taque (now Blanquetaque), the place
indicated.1_ When arrived there, great was Edward’s confusion
to discover that the tide was at its full, and that on the opposite
bank were stationed 7000 men under a ‘great baron of Nor-
mandy,—Godemar du Faye. Fearing every moment the French
King’s assault upon his rear, Edward watched in grievous anxiety
the gradual sinking of the waters.

It was nearly ten o’clock before they were fordable; and
then, with a rush and a shout, ‘in the name of God and St
George,’ the English rode into the depths, and fought their way
across. Many a horse and rider went down in the mélée, and
were rapidly borne away by the rolling tide. A body of Gene-
vese archers did considerable execution among the English, but
were at length repulsed by our own bowmen; and the river was
crossed and the bank gained before Philip came upon the scene.
Tn this brilliant ‘passage of arms’ the French lost upwards of
2000 men; and Philip being prevented from avenging their
defeat by the return of the tide, the English complacently en-
camped themselves in the meadows of Crotoy, and made merry
with a seasonable supply of wine seized on board some vessels
in the neighbouring harbour.

The French now reascended the left bank of the Somme as
far as Abbeville Bridge (the Pont de Talance), where they
crossed, and moved upon Crecy. Edward was fully aware of
their pursuit ; but, though advised by some of his nobles to
march into Flanders, resolved to give them battle. ‘I have
good reason,” he said, ‘to wait for them in this place. I am
now upon the rightful heritage of my lady mother,” which was
given her in dowry, and I will defend it against my adversary,
Philip of Valois.’® He proceeded to dispose his army in battle

 Blanche-taque,—the White Spot,—so called because the river-bed is

there composed of gravel and white stones.
2 The lands of Ponthieu. 3 Froissart, Robert de Avesbury, etc.
THE ENGLISH ORDER OF BATTLE. 79

array. His position was well chosen, on an eminence behind
the village and woods of Crecy, about 15 miles to the east of
Abbeville. The wooded enclosure of Crecy la Grange, in the
rear, received the horses and baggage. Vadicourt was on the
left; to the right lay Crecy. A station was appointed for every
knight, where he should place his banner and assemble his men-
at-arms. Then there was a burnishing of shield and crest, and
a sharpening of lance and spear, and the knight looked to his
coat of mail and the bowman to his bow and arrows. The King,
in his pavilion, gave a banquet to his nobles; and every soldier
round his watchfire had wherewithal to eat and drink and be
merry. When the feast was done, Edward retired to his privacy,
and besought Heaven to give him the victory on the morrow.

That morrow dawned in darkness and in storm. It was
Saturday, the 20th of August, and the day grew rapidly into its
noontide before the French army came in sight. Early in the
morning, King Edward and his son heard mass, and received the
holy sacrament,—a pious example, which was duly followed by
all his army. Then the soldiers took up their respective posts,
arranged in three divisions: the first, under the special command
of the young Prince of Wales, assisted by the Harls of Warwick
and Oxford, Lords Cobham, Holland, Stafford, and Clifford,
Richard de Beaumont, Sir Geoffrey d'Harcourt, and Sir John
Chandos; the second, slightly in the rear, led by the Earls of
Arundel and Northampton, Lords Willoughby, Lascelles, and
Basset ; the third, which formed the reserve, and was stationed .
on the summit of the hill, commanded by the King in person.
Before each division were placed the bowmen, drawn up in the
form of a wedge or harrow.

The relative strength of each division was as follows :-—

Men-at-arms. Archers. Light Infantry.
The Ist, . 3 800 2000 1000 Welshmen,
armed with long knives.
Thead, . . 800 1200
The 3d, . «700 2000

In advance of the army were stationed four wonderful en-
gines, whose powers were then scarcely developed and little
80 THE BATTLE OF CRECY.

understood, but which, as ‘cannons,’! were afterwards destined

to change the whole art of warfare.

The King, clad in a doublet of green velvet, embroidered with
gold tissue, now mounted his white palfrey, took his baton in his
hand, and, with a marshal on either side of him, rode before the
ranks. His cheerful bearing and hopeful countenance encouraged
the despondent and inspirited the doubtful, so that an assurance
of coming victory soon pervaded the whole army. About three
in the afternoon, he bade them eat and drink; and afterwards
sitting down in their places on the ground, with their helmets
and their bows in cases before them, they rested and refreshed
themselves.

And where was the French army? At Abbeville, Philip
had lost a day waiting for reinforcements, especially for a thou-
sand lances from the Count of Savoy, whose services had been
paid for three months previously. At length he had put his
forces in motion, and ‘all along the road, and flooding the
hedgeless plains which bordered the road, swelled by the sur-
rounding peasantry, they had rolled along, crying Kill! Kill!
drawing their swords, and thinking they were sure of their prey.’
Froissart draws a vivid picture of the disorder which convulsed
the entire force, and shows us Philip, heated with rage, burning
with the lust of revenge, moody, silent, and frowning, unable to
control or inspire the movements of his immense battalia. When
he came in sight of Edward’s orderly array, his own rear-guard
was far behind him, and he felt it advisable to adopt the counsel
of a Bohemian captain, that the attack should be deferred until the
morrow. Two knights, therefore, spurred back to check the
advance of the troops: ‘ Halt, banners!’ they cried, ‘in the name
of God and St Denis!’ The vanguard paused, but those in the
rear pressed on, swearing that they would not halt until they
were as foremost as the first. Since such was their intention,
the van, in like manner, again endeavoured to outstrip them;
nor ceased the roll and rush of the thronging troops until they

1 Giovanni Villani, Larrey, and others. Since the invention of ord-
nance, ‘nations,’ says Mr Tytler, ‘are more upon a level, as less depends
upon frantic exertions of courage, and consequently, from a consideration
of an equality of strength, the peace of kingdoms is better preserved.’
THE GENOESE BOWMEN. 81

were within bowshot of the foe. Then they retired, in consider-
able confusion, and Philip and his officers with difficulty mar-
shalled them into seeming order. The Genoese! bowmen were
ordered forward to begin the battle. These Genoese were
15,000 in number ; stout soldiers, well-disciplined, and ably led
by Dukes Doria and Grimaldi; but, having already marched
some eighteen miles that day, they waxed faint with the weight
of their heavy armour. They sent a message to the King, ‘We
are not fit to achieve any great deeds of battle this day.’ Out
spake Count d’Alengon, Philip’s brother, ‘Lo! such is our
reward for employing these scoundrels; they fail us in our time
of need.’ The Genoese heard, and felt the taunt; but, forming
in silence, advanced to the front, supported by the heavily armed
cavalry of France under d’Alengon. Meanwhile the darkness
of the day had broken in a fearful tempest. Thunder, and rain,
and hail stormed over the battle-field. The hoarse cries of
crows and rayens filled up their momentary pauses. The sun
was eclipsed. When at length the tumult of heaven ceased,
the sun burst forth in the west with a sudden glory, which
dazzled terribly the eyes of the advancing enemy. Neverthe-
less they pressed forward, and having shouted once, and twice,
and thrice, in a vain attempt to strike terror among the English,
discharged their crossbows. An ineffectual discharge! for the
strings were wet with the heavy rain. Not so with the English
archers, whose bows had been kept dry in their cases. They
advanced one step, and set to work with a hearty will. Like
snow or sleet—but ah, far deadlier !—their arrows poured down
upon those amazed Genoese. Through hauberk, and cuirass,
and shield, and helm; through head, and neck, and arm, and
hand; in they crashed, ceaseless and resistless, until the foemen
could endure it no longer, but turned upon their heels, and fled,
smitten by a terrible panic. ‘Kill me those cravens!’ cried the
angry Philip, as the mob rushed past him, ‘they stop our path,
and do us no good!’ The men-at-arms were not slow in obey-
ing his commands, and the Genoese suffered alike from friend
and foe. Into the confused mass now crashed the thunder of

1 Belleforest and Baron Seymour de Constant read Genevese, but pro-
bably Genoese is the more correct rendering.

F
82 THE BATTLE OF CRECY.

the English cannon, and fearful was the slaughter, awful the
disarray, ere out of the press struggled d’Alengon and his noble
cavalry ; and, avoiding as best they could the English archers,
fell heavily upon the flank of Prince Edward’s division. Un-
equal enough the contest, if numbers alone decided battles ; but
Edward and his men had stout hearts and stalwart arms, and
never budged an inch. At one time, indeed, the struggle was
so fierce that the Karl of Warwick sent Sir Thomas Norwich to
the King, and begged him to move down the reserve to their
reinforcement. But the royal Plantagenet,—who, from the wind-
mill, still standing on the summit of the hill of Crecy, had
watched the varying fortunes of the battle,—saw that the day
was with his own. ‘Js my son hurt,’ he said, ‘or dead, or felled
to the earth?’ ‘No, sire,’ was the reply, ‘but he is sore beset,
and hath need of your help.’ ‘Back, then,’ rejoined the King,
‘to those who sent you, and tell them they shall have no aid
from me. Let the boy win his spurs,’ for I am resolved, if it
please God, that the glory of the day shall be his and theirs.’
When this chivalrous answer was made known to Edward and
his comrades, their gallant spirits were much cheered and en-
couraged by it.2 Yet the Prince had been in no slight peril :
unhorsed, and beaten to the earth, he was only saved from death
by the prompt courage of Richard de Beaumont, the standard-
bearer of Wales, who flung over him the folds of the great
banner of the Principality, and manfully stood by him until his
assailants were driven back.

Far into the glorious autumn night, far into the dawning Sab-
bath, continued the clang of arrows and the crash of swords.
D’Alencon, the most trusty of all the French leaders, fell mortally
wounded, after a vain attempt to outflank the small English
army, and with him died all hopes of victory for the Oriflamme
of France. Among the slain were the King of Bohemia, Jean
of Luxemburg,* who was blind and aged, but, supported by two

1 An expression which has become proverbial. The young Prince
had been knighted a few weeks previously.

2 Froissart.

3 The Bohemian plume of ostrich feathers, and the motto, ‘Ich Dien’
—I serve—have ever since been borne by the Princes of Wales.
ROUT OF THE FRENCH ARMY. 83.

of his esquires, had bravely rushed into the fray, and bravely
fallen; the Dukes of Lorraine and Bourbon; the Counts of
Flanders, Aumale, Vaudemont, and Blois,—most of them done
to death by the long knives of the remorseless Welshmen. The
French King, who had done his devoir as a gallant soldier rather
than as an able general, was forced from the field by John of
Hainault, who exclaimed, ‘ Withdraw now, sire, for it is time!
Do not sacrifice yourself without cause; for if you have lost this
time, victory may be yours on some other field.” And they
spurred away through the darkness to the Castle of La Broye.
‘Open, open!’ cried the King, for the castellan demanded who
it was that craved admittance; ‘it is the fortune of France.’
Within its walls, he and his companions rested a while, and drank
a bowl of wine; and again commencing their flight, never drew
rein until they espied the walls of Amiens.

The pursuit had been continued so far that the English lit
their torches, and piled up huge fires, to indicate their position.
The King then hastened to embrace his gallant son, to whom,
indeed, the honour of the day was due. Taking him in his
arms, he kissed him, and exclaimed, ‘Sweet son, God give you
good perseverance; you are my true son; right loyally have
you acquitted yourself this day, and worthy are you of a crown.’
The young hero bowed to the ground, and gave all the honour
to the King, his father.?

The Sabbath opened in mist and gloom ; and Edward, scarce
comprehending the full extent of his victory, advanced a detach-
ment of 500 horsemen and 2000 bowmen to reconnoitre the
French position. They surprised on their march the militia and
men-at-arms of Amiens and Beauvais, led, by the Bishop of
Rouen and Grand Prior of France, to the reinforcement of an
army which they were unaware had ceased to exist. Sound
trumpets, and charge! Down go men-at-arms and footmen,
knights, Bishop, and Prior! Few escaped from the slaughter
to spread through the villages of France their tales of the in-
vincible ferocity of the sea-devils of England! Then, as the
mist rolled off, by the wayside—ip the open plains—under the

1 Froissart.
54 THE BATTLE OF CRECY.

grateful shade of trees—were discovered the unhappy fugitives
from the preceding day’s battle. No mercy even for them;
and on that terrible Sabbath morning more common soldiers were
slaughtered than had fallen in the whole of Saturday’s fierce
engagement. '

Wet with blood, the English returned to their camp to
meet their pious sovereign on his return from holy mass; for in
all ages the God of love has been invoked by weak man to
sanctify with His blessing the field of slaughter. Edward then
despatched the Lords Cobham and Stafford, with his heralds, to
examine what personages of distinction had been slain. The
whole day was spent in this dreary task; and at supper-time
they returned, and reported to the King that there lay on the
battle field,—déad,—-eleven princes, eighty bannerets, twelve
hundred knights, fourteen hundred esquires, and thirty thousand
common men.

On the following morning, the remains of the lords and knights
were interred in the cemetery of the Abbey of Montenay; anda
three days’ truce was proclaimed, that the peasants might bury
the less illustrious bodies. Edward then drew off his army from
the famous field, and on Thursday, the 31st of August, sat down
before Calais, which surrendered, after a blockade of eleven
months, in July 1347, and remained attached to the Crown of
England until the reign of Mary.

The introduction of cannon into warfare is usually dated from
the battle of Cregy.’| This circumstance has suggested the fol-
lowing ballad, whose insertion here will, we trust, be forgiven by
our readers :—

THE FIRST CANNON SHOT.

Come, chant amain a vigorous strain, and sing of Crecy’s wondrous day,
When Saxon hearts met Norman hosts, and vanquish’d in th’ unequal fray ;
When in the thickest of the fight flam’d Edward’s princely crest afar,
And gallant souls exultant glow’d, lit by its sheen as by a star.

 

' Authorities upon this point are conflicting. Froissart does not men-
tion the English cannon, but they are distinctly alluded to by Villani,
Larrey, and Mezerai; and the fact of their use would tend to account for
the remarkable disproportion between the French and English losses.
THE FIRST CANNON SHOT. 85

Oh, bravely fought our lion-prince! Qh, all undaunted smil’d our King!
‘ Now tell my son,’ quoth he, ‘this day to him shall endless glory bring ;—
‘Tell him,’ quoth he, ‘his spurs to gain; his be the honour of the fray!”

Oh, I wot that English hearts will e’er remember Cregy’s wondrous day!

All hurtling thro’ the darken’d air the arrowy sleet fell fierce and fast,
And drooping low, in very shame, the Oriflamme to earth was cast.
Bohemia lost his ostrich-plume—Lorraine his spotless shield of pride—
While through the vale rang out the shout, ‘St George for England!” far
and wide.
Alencon, humbled, bit the dust—sped Philip headlong from the fight—
And all the bloody plain was dark with dying serf and bleeding knight:
And thus Prince Edward won his spurs; his was the honour of the fray ;
Oh, I wot that English hearts will e’er remember Crecy’s wondrous day !

And when the onset fiercest grew (and Gallic fire is hard to quell),

King Edward wrought a magic feat—list to the wondrous tale I tell!

Front of our ranks he deftly plac’d a brave machine, an engine dire,

From whose hot mouth there hotly leapt (O fearful sight!) a tongue of fire,

And urg’d by some mysterious force, on demon-wings the huge stones sped,

Right, right into the Frenchmen’s rout, and pil’d the field with ghastly dead!

Oh, a wondrous thing this cannon seems, which won for us the dreadful
fray,—

For the first cannon-shot was fir’d on Crecy’s memorable day !

Anear my post a grave-brow’d man stood—he who fir’d this engine dread—

And much he mutter’d to himself as ball on ball resistless sped :

‘A marv’llous deed I do this day’—I caught by chance his words of scorn—

‘A mighty deed, I trow, and one surpass’d by none of woman born.

Lo, the first cannon-shot I fire! Who knows what man shall fire the ast?

Earth must first roll through seas of blood; grave upon grave be thickly
cast ;

Thrones shall be shaken ; empires wane; anarchies leap from tyrant sway.’

Such words as these our wizard spake on Crecy’s memorable day !

‘ At last,’ quoth he, ‘the despot reign of Strength, of brutal Strength, is o’er,
And mailed baron, cloth’d in steel, shall tread on jerkin’d serf no more.
Oh, curséd ever be each shot that men shall fire in truth’s despite ;
Accurséd ever be each shot that arms anew the tyrant’s might ;

Accurséd ever be each shot that speeds the law to overthrow,

Or strengthens foe, already strong, against a weak and suppliant foe ;
Accurséd ever be each shot for conquest fir’d, in lawless fray.’

Such words as these our wizard spake on Crecy’s memorable day!

‘ But oh,’ cried he, as Philip’s host fled madly from the fatal field,
‘Oh, blesséd be each cannon-shot compelling despot force to yield!
36 EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE.

Yh, blessed be each cannon-shot fir’d in the freeman’s holy cause,

When bold hearts troop in serried ranks, to fight for freedom’s equal laws!

And blest be every deadly ball, when nations, warm with glorious hate,

Rise ’gainst the tyrants who would fain both soul and body subjugate!’

3uch were the words our wizard spake i’ the storm-depths of the hurtling

fray,

When i ‘First Cannon-sHor’ was fir’d on Crecy’s memorable day!

W.H.D. A.

Epwarp THE Biack PRINCE.

A Biograray.

This illustrious hero, one of the best and bravest of the Plan-
tagenet princes, was born on the 15th of June 1330, at the old
palace of Woodstock, near Oxford, whence he was sometimes
called by his contemporaries Edward of Woodstock. In him
were blended both the qualities of his kingly father and admirable
mother—the stern resolution and indomitable courage of the third
Edward, and the gentleness and womanly generosity of Philippa
of Hainault. He was educated (it is said) at Queen’s College,
Oxford, which had just been founded by Robert de Eglesfield
(a.p. 1840), the confessor and chaplain of Queen Philippa, in
honour of whom he had named it. In the usual knightly exer-
cises of the time the young prince was admirably trained, and he
early displayed that gravity and strength of character which dis-
tinguished him through life. We know but little, however, of
the opening of his career, and, for English scholars, the history
of the Black Prince begins on the field of Cregy.

He was then but sixteen years of age, and yet the command
of the main body of the English army was entrusted to him.
Though this circumstance may show in how great an esteem his
knightly qualities were held by his royal sire, it is obvious that
he must have had other reasons for his choice. And it is said
that the Oriflamme, or sacred banner of France,—the great
scarlet flag, embroidered with lilies, which denoted that no
quarter would be given in the ensuing battle,—being hoisted by
the French King, Edward perceived how the fortunes of his
kingdom would be imperilled if he led his soldiers into the fight,
ORIGIN OF THE APPELLATION. 87

and he himself was slain. Whatever his reasons, it is certain
that he did not interfere at all in the conduct of the battle.

On this occasion the Prince was clothed entirely in black
armour,—‘ en armure noire en fer bruni,’-—a singularity which
originated the famous appellation, so long the terror of France
and the delight of England,—‘ The Black Prince.’ And the
sudden outburst of sunshine, which dazzled the eyes of the
Genoese archers, and encouraged the English ranks, at the very
moment of the onset of the former, suggested (it is said) the
badge, or chivalrous distinction, afterwards assumed by the hero
of Crecy, ‘a sun issuing from a cloud.’?

The next great event in his career was the victory of Poitiers,
gained ten years later (1356). The interval had not passed
unmarked by occurrences of interest, but none were of such im-
portance as to necessitate our lingering upon them. We must
point out, however, why the battle of Poitiers was fought.

Philip of Valois died in 1850, and was succeeded by his son
John, who showed himself disposed to arrange a peace with his
powerful and restless neighbour. Edward declared himself will-
ing to renounce all claims to the French crown, if John would
recognise him as the independent sovereign of the provinces then
attached to England, and restore whatever other lands England
at any time had held. The King accepted the proposition, and
envoys, to arrange the details of the cession, met at Guisnes,
when the French nobles with just indignation protested against
this voluntary dismemberment of their country. The English
people were equally eager with the French to come once more
to blows. The ancient hostility occasionally smouldered, but
was always ready to flame up redly and hotly at the slightest
spark. So war was again declared towards the close of the
year 1354.

In the following spring the Black Prince massed his forces
in Gascony, his own province, and setting out from Bordeaux,
swept in a whirlwind of fire across unhappy France, nor paused
until the precipitous heights of the Pyrenees were gained. Turn-

1 Pére Orleans. Froissart, however, does not once adopt this appel-
lation.
2 Archeologia: Sir Harris Nicolas’ Memoir.
oo EDWAKD THE BLAUK PRINUL.

ing to the north, he offered battle to the French under the walls
of Toulouse. Finding his challenge unaccepted, he again broke
into the inland provinces, plundered and burned the prosperous
towns of Carcassone and Narbonne, and, loaded with the burdens
of his pillage, returned to Bordeaux after a brief campaign, or
rather razzia, of seven weeks’ duration, in which he had de-
stroyed upwards of 500 cities, towns, and villages.

King Edward had, meanwhile, made a similar excursion
from Calais to Amiens, but with little result, for the French
destroyed the country before his advance, and want of provi-
sions compelled him to retreat. Shortly afterwards, tidings
reached him of the arrival of the Scots, and he returned to Eng-
land, leaving the Black Prince at the head of all the English
forces in France.

In July 1356, the Prince again took the field, but with an
army of only 8000 or 9000 men, whose principal strength was a
body of stalwart and veteran English archers. Fire and sword
once more harried the smiling vineyards and quiet villages: the
Agenois, the Limousin, Querci, Auvergne, and Berri, all were
scathed with the torrent of war. He even advanced to the very
gates of Bourges, to find the city too strong to be seized by
assault ; failed in a like manner at Issodun; but plundered and
set fire to Vierson and Romorantin. The King of France,
meanwhile, was rapidly advancing against him. He had crossed
the Loire at Blois, and moved with all speed upon Poitiers,
whitker also Prince Edward, who could obtain no information of
his enemy’s movements from the enraged peasantry, now directed
his course. By a glance at the map of Frauce, the reader will per-
ceive that the French line of march from Blois, and that of the
English from Romorantin, gradually converged, and that when
the Prince reached Maupertuis (or La Cardinieré, as it is now
called, a farmstead five miles south of Poitiers), he would neces-
sarily fall in with the French King’s rear (September 17, 1855).

Edward’s object had been to retire by way of Poitiers and
Saintes to Bordeaux, but he now learned from his scouts that a
-etreat was rendered impossible by the masses of French troops
commanding every road. ‘God help us!’ cried the Prince, ‘it
10w only remains for us to fight them bravely.’ He quickly pre-
THE FIELD OF POITIERS. 89

pared to make the best use of his position. he battle-field—it
still retains that name—may be briefly described as ‘two ridges
of rising ground, parted by a gentle hollow.’ Behind the highest
of these ridges was a cluster of forest and underwood, and the
ridge itself was approached by a steep lane, leading up from the
hollow through a dense growth of woods and vines. Upon this
ridge was stationed the English army, about 8000 strong. On
the lower ridge were gathered the French, some 60,000 in number,
grouped in three great divisions, of which the rearmost was com-
manded by King John in person.

Upon this famous ground two great battles had already been
contested. Here Clovis, King of the Franks, defeated the Goths,
and saved Europe from Paganism ; here, at a later period, Charles
Martel, ‘the Hammer,’ beat back the Saracens, and saved Europe
from Mahometanism. The fame of three great fights is therefore
eternally associated with Poitiers.

His situation appeared so desperate to Prince Edward, that
he was willing to conclude a truce with King John, upon almost
any conditions. When the Pope’s legate, Cardinal Talleyrand,
arrived at his camp on a mission of peage, and sought to prevent
the carnage of a battle under such unequal circumstances, the
Prince exclaimed, ‘Save my honour, and the honour of my army,
and I will agree to any reasonable terms.’! He offered to sur-
render all his plunder and prisoners, to restore all the towns and
fortresses he had captured, and to undertake not to bear arms
against the French King for seven years. But John, over-confi-
dent of victory, required, in addition, that the Prince and one
hundred of his leading knights should give themselves up as
prisoners. To so foul a dishonour Edward indignantly refused
to consent. In these fruitless negotiations was occupied the whole
of Sunday, September 18,—the English meanwhile strengthening
their naturally strong position, by digging some deep dykes, and
throwing up a few rude earthworks.

At 9 a.m. on the following morning (Monday, September 19),
the loud alarum of the trumpets summoned both armies to battle.
The rush of the French was spirited and impetuous; but as they

1 Froissart,
lads DLVYVUWAnY LOD DUAUD FHLNUD.

charged up the narrow defile leading to the Prince’s position, the
English archers, from the vineyards on each side, let fly their
showers of arrows with such deadly effect, that the French cavairy
wavered, turned aside, and finally retreated in hot haste, choking
up the pass with dead. Of the two marshals who led the attack,
d’Andreghen, wounded, was taken prisoner, and Clermont slain.

This sudden and unexpected repulse threw into confusion the
whole French army. Observing the panic, Edward ordered his
troops to charge, detaching 600 skilful bowmen to turn the
French King’s flank, and fall upon his rear. These archers shot
so well and truly, that their opponents knew not which way to
turn themselves, and the second division incontinently took to
their heels. Then the Black Prince, and his knights, and his
men-at-arms, with the shout of ‘St George for Guienne,’ spurred
into the thick of the fight, charging full against the French men-
at-arms, who followed the banner of the Constable of France,
and making for the troops led by King John in person. Very
steadily and bravely did the royal soldier withstand their onset,
dealing many a deadly blow with his ponderous battle-axe, and
standing firm while his chivalry were smitten down by his side ;
and very gallantly fought his youngest son, a lad of sixteen, an
impetuous, open-hearted boy, afterwards well known as Philip le
Hardi, Duke of Burgundy. The King was twice wounded in
the face, and being beaten to the ground, and hemmed in by
English and Gascons, stood in utmost peril of losing his life, when
a young knight pressed forward, and kneeling, prayed him to
surrender. ‘To whom?’ inquired the King. ‘ Where is my
cousin, the Prince of Wales?’ ‘ He is not here, but I will con-
duct you to him.’ ‘ But who are you?’ the monarch demanded.
‘ Denis de Morbecque of Artois,’ was the reply; ‘ but I serve the
King of England, having forfeited all that belonged to me in
France. King John then gave him his right hand glove, and
said, ‘I surrender.’ And the Earl of Warwick and the Lord
Cobham coming up, he was rescued from the crowd, who threat-
ened his life, and conducted to the tent of the Prince of Wales.
His son Philip was also taken prisoner.

The reception accorded by the conqueror to his captives was
conceived in a spirit of the purest chivalry, and characterized by
HIS ENTRY INTO LONDON. 91

the most generous tenderness. He came forth to meet him with
an air of grave respect ; ascribed his own victory to chance; and
declared that the King had won that day the very ‘prize and
garland’ ofknighthood. ‘ The night after the battle,’ says quaint
old Froissart, ‘the Prince gave a supper in his lodgings to the
French King, and to most of the great lords that were prisoners.
He caused the King and his son to sit at one table, and other
lords, knights, and squires at the others; and he always served
the King very humbly, and would not sit at his table although he
requested him: he said he was not qualified to sit at the table
with so great a prince as the King was. Then he said to the
King, “ Sir, for God’s sake, make no bad cheer, though your will
was not accomplished this day. For, sir, the King, my father,
will certainly bestow on you as much honour and friendship as he
can, and will agree with you so reasonably, that you shall ever
after be friends; and, sir, I think you ought to rejoice, though
the battle be not as you will, for you have this day gained the
high honour of prowess, and have surpassed all others on your
side in valour. And JI say not this, sir, in raillery, for all our
party, who saw every man’s deeds, agree in this, and give you
the palm and garland.” Thereupon the Frenchmen whispered
among themselves that the Prince had spoken nobly, and that in
all likelihood he would prove a great hero, if God preserved his
life to persevere in such good fortune.’

On the following day Prince Edward resumed his march, and
passed unopposed through Poitou and Saintes to his own city of
Bordeaux, where he concluded a truce for two years with the
Dauphin Charles, now appointed Lieutenant of France. Then,
with his royal and noble prisoners, he set out for England,
landed at Sandwich on the 16th of April 1857, entered Canter-
bury on the 19th,’ and London on the 24th. The pageant
was a splendid one: King John was mounted on his own
white charger, which had been captured with him at Poitiers;
and by his side, on a small black palfrey, rode the Black
Prince. A train of knights and nobles, of squires and pages,
richly dressed, of men-at-arms and heralds, of silken banners

" Hasted’s History of Kent. ;
va 3 BUWAKD LHD CLAUN ru

and ringing clarions, filled the main thoroughfares of the gaping
city.

Amongst the prisoners of Poitiers was the renowned Ber-
trand du Guesclin, the very ‘mirror of knighthood.’ On one
occasion, when Queen Philippa was entertaining the French
captives, the Black Prince proposed that Sir Bertrand should
name his own ransom, adding, with the chivalrous courtesy of
the times, that whatever sum he mentioned should be accepted.
Sir Bertrand named the sum of one hundred thousand crowns.
The Prince, astonished, inquired how he could expect to raise so
immense a ransom? ‘There are a hundred knights,’ was the
reply, ‘in my native province of Bretagne, who would mortgage
their last acre rather than Du Guesclin should pine in thraldom,
or be rated below his worth. Ay, and not a woman in France
now toiling at her distaff, but would give up a year’s earnings to
set me free, for I have deserved well of their sex. And if all the
fair spinsters of France employ their hands to redeem me, think
you, Prince, I shall bide much longer with you?’ Queen
Philippa, whose woman’s heart was touched by these noble
words, here interposed, and exclaimed, ‘I name, my son, fifty
thousand crowns as my payment towards your prisoner’s ransom;
for though a foe to my husband, a knight so illustrious for his
courteous defence of woman deserves my assistance.’*

The Prince accompanied his father in his re-invasion of
France in the fall of the year 1359, aud was present with him
in the series of successes which led the English soldiery to the
gates of Paris (March 31, 1360), and the series of disasters
which afterwards marked their retreat upon Chartres.? The
campaign was concluded by the great peace of Bretigny, on the
8th of May. His brilliant courage and immovable constancy
added fresh laurels to the noble garland which already crowned
his youthful brow.

His return to England was speedily followed by his marriage

1 §t Pelaye, Hist. de Chevalerie.

2? When within two leagues of Chartres, the English army was over-
taken by a terrible thunderstorm, which killed 1000 (?) knights and 6000
horses, and so awakened Edward’s conscience that he vowed on the spot
to conclude peace with France.—April 13, 1360.
HIS MARRIAGE. 93

with Joanna, ‘the Fair Maid of Kent,’ a woman of singular
beauty, but, if the old chroniclers are to be credited, of some
levity of manners. The Black Prince had loved her with a long
and enduring affection. Many years agone he had sought in vain
to obtain the consent of his royal parents to their union, and
Joanna, who in her infancy had been contracted to the Earl of
Salisbury, had obtained a divorce, and fully reciprocated her
princely lover’s passion. But, abandoning all hopes of gaining
the royal sanction, she married, in 1351, Sir Thomas Holland,
and to her two sons by this marriage the Prince had stood
sponsor. She was now a widow, and, though thirty-five years
old, her loveliness was unimpaired. The Prince renewed his
suit, which the King and Queen no longer opposing, the marriage
was celebrated with great pomp in the Chapel of St George,
Windsor, October 10, 1361. In commemoration of these happy
nuptials, the Prince founded a chantry in the crypt of the cathe-
dral of Canterbury, ‘ where two priests were to pray for his soul,
first in his lifetime, and also, according to the practice of those
times, after his death.’+

Edward was next appointed to the government of Aquitaine,
and thither, with his beautiful bride, he duly repaired. He took
up his residence in sunny Bordeaux, where, in 1366, was born
his son Richard,—Richard of Bordeaux,—afterwards Richard II.
Here, for some years, he ruled with a wise and equitable hand,
and amused himself with those studies to which he was so eagerly
affected—the letters and poetry of the Provencals. But the sound
of trumpets and the clash of arms soon called him to a more
active life. It was reserved for him to anticipate in some degree.
the fortunes of Wellington, to cross the snowy barrier of the
Pyrenees, and win a victory over the French amid the myrtle
bowers of Spain.

Peter IV. of Castile, surnamed ‘the Judge’ and ‘the Cruel,’
had signalized himself since his accession to the throne by a
series of barbarous murders, amongst which was generally in-
cluded the suspicious death of his wife (a French princess),
Blanche of Bourbon. Henry de Transtamare, his illegitimate

1 Stanley’s Hist. Memorials of Canterbury.
ot HUWAKD THK BLAULK PHRINUK.

half-brother, fled into France to escape a similar fate, and he-
sought the French King’s assistance. Charles—who, on the
death of King John (at the Savoy, in London, a.p. 1364), had
succeeded to the throne—seized the opportunity of avenging his
kinswoman’s death, and, at the same time, of ridding himself and
his kingdom of the mercenary soldiers, or ‘Free Companions,’
who, since the close of the English war, had spread ruin and
desolation on every side. The famous Sir Bertrand du Guesclin
was appointed to treat with them for their services, and having
concluded a satisfactory negotiation, marched at their head,
attended by a train of French knights, against the Castilian
King. Don Pedro fled before him, and made his way to Bor-
deaux, where he entreated the aid of the Black Prince, promising
him an ample recompense. The grave Plantagenet naturally
espoused the cause of legitimacy, always sacred in his eyes, and
was nothing loth, moreover, again to raise his standard in oppo-
sition to the chivalry of France. Of the Free Companies who
had enlisted under Du Guesclin, nearly 12,000 were English
subjects. These, receiving secret commands from Edward, sud-
denly returned to Guienne, under the leadership of Sir Robert
Calverly and Sir Richard Knowles. The Black Prince then con-
centrated his forces, summoned to his side his English veterans,
and, though it was mid-winter, forced his way through the
famous pass of Roncesvalles,—

‘Where Charlemagne and all his peerage fell,’

md which, at a later day, and in an opposite direction, was
shreaded by Wellington’s victorious forces,—and burst, like a
sorrent, upon the fair fields of Spain. Leaving on his right the
rillage of Vittoria, since associated with a memorable triumph,
1e crossed the Ebro, and advanced into the open plains between
Navarréte and Najera (April 8, 1367). Here Don Henry and
Du Guesclin were encamped with a force, according to some
vwuthorities, of 40,000 horse and 60,000 foot. The Black Prince
1ad about 25,000 cavalry, and nearly 40,000 foot. The battle
vas begun by his gallant brother, the young Duke of Lancaster,
vho proved himself not unworthy of the best blood of the Plan-
agenets. The English bowmen, as was their wont, shot their
HIS SUBJECTS IN INSURRECTION. 95

arrows among their foes with an inconvenient rapidity and
precision, and, despite the stones hurled by the Castilian slingers,
steadily pressed forward. It was not a battle in a strategic
sense ; it was a mass of hand-to-hand encounters; and English
‘solidarity,’ then as ever, won the day. The Black Prince flung
himself into the thickest of the carnage; nor did Pedro, though
a bad king, show himself other than a brave soldier.j Du
Gnesclin, after fully vindicating his glorious reputation, yielded
his sword to his former conqueror, and the victory of Navarréte
remained with the English.

After the fight, the sanguinary Pedro would have murdered
his prisoners in cold blood, but was indignantly restrained by
Prince Edward, who soon discovered that he had replaced the
crown upon a villain’s brow. When he found himself secure on his
throne, Pedro insolently refused to fulfil his promises, and langhed
at his ally’s remonstrances. The Prince, who had been seized
with a low fever, broke off the alliance in contempt, and led his
army back to Bordeaux in the month of July, having gained the
repute of another brilliant victory, but sown the seeds of death in
his enfeebled frame.

From this time the fortunes of the great Prince fell into the
sere and yellow leaf. His lavish expenditure during his rule in
Aquitaine,—for he had all the Plantagenet’s love of bravery and
gallant show,—and the expenses incurred in his recent expedition,
—expenses which Don Pedro refused to defray,—had plunged
him into debt. To raise money he imposed a hearth-tax on his
subjects, which drove them into rebellion. When he heard of
the insurrection at Limoges, that ferocity which he generally
subdued by strong self-control, but whose occasional exhibitions
have left a damning blot upon his ’scutcheon, broke forth. ‘He
sware by his father’s soul,’ says Froissart, ‘by which he was
never forsworn, that he would get it again, and that he would
make the traitors dearly abide their falseness.’? He marched
against the city, though his strength was rapidly failing ; be-
sieged and captured it; and immediately issued orders to his
soldiers to spare neither man, nor woman, nor child. As he
was unable to walk or ride, his attendants bore him in a litter
through the blood-weltering streets, and piteous it was (as the
JV LBVUWADYD LOD DLAUNH FHINUE.

old annalist tells us) to see the men, women, and children that
kneeled down on their knees before him for mercy. His usually
gentle soul was so inflamed with ire that he took no heed of
their cries, but put all to death that were met with, and such as
were in nothing culpable. ‘There was no pity taken of the poor
people who wrought no manner of treason, yet they bought it
dearer than the great personages, such as had done the evil and
trespass. There was not so hard a heart within the city of
Limoges but that, if it had any remembrance of God, wept
piteously for the great mischief they saw before their eyes;
for more than 3000 men, women, and children were slain
and beheaded that day. God have mercy on their souls! for I
trow they were martyrs.’ Not until Edward’s knightly feelings
were aroused by the sad spectacle of three knights contending
bravely for their lives against fearful odds, did he bid the carnage
cease.

Black as this massacre seems to us, the men of a more humane
age, it was not so regarded by most of his contemporaries; and
John Chandos, the herald and faithful follower of the Prince, in
his metrical history of the great soldier’s career, simply says,—

‘ All the townsmen were taken or slain
By the noble Prince of price,
Whereat great joy had all around,
Those who were his friends ;
And his enemies were
Sorely grieved, and repented
That they had begun the war against him.’

The declining health of the Prince now compelled his return
to England (4.p. 1872), and for four years he abode in great
seclusion at Berkhampstead Castle, drawing visibly nearer to a
premature grave. In cloud and shadow went down that sun
which had risen above the morning horizon with so wondrous a
splendour. The French were recovering, one after another, the
provinces which his genius and valour had helped to win. His
mighty father had sunk into dotage, and was ruled by an aban-
doned woman, Alice Perrers, who had been one of the damsels

1 Froissart. Chandos’ Poem.
HIS DEATH. 97

of the chamber to good Queen Philippa.t The government of
the State was in the hands of his younger brother, John of
Gaunt, ‘time-honour’d Lancaster,’ and arbitrary exactions
pressed heavily upon the common people. At this time ‘ the
Good Parliament,’ as it was called in recognition of the reforms
it attempted to achieve, made a bold effort to check the abuse
of the regal power. The dying Prince, abandoning his seclusion,
placed himself at the head of these reformers, invigorated their
counsels,.and restored a temporary peace to his distracted country.
He was removed to the Palace at Westminster, that he might
the more easily be carried into the council chamber. This oc-
curred on the 28th of April 1876. On the 7th of June he made
his will. On the 8th, Trinity Sunday, in the forty-sixth year of
his age—the very flush and prime of manhood—he died. Of the
death-scene his poet-chronicler has left some curious and affect-
ing details. When his servants and vassals entered the chamber,
he addressed them thus.:—

‘“ Sirs,” said he, “pardon me,
For, by the faith I owe you,
You have served me loyally,
Though I cannot of my means
Render to each his guerdon ;
But God, by His most holy name
And saints, will render it you.”
Then each wept heartily
And mourned right tenderly,
All who were there present,
Earl, baron, and bachelor ;
Then he said in a clear voice,
“T recommend to you my son,
Who is yet but young and small,
And pray, that as you served me,
So from your heart you would serve him.”
Then he called the King his father,
And the Duke of Lancaster his brother,
And commended to them his wife,
And his son, whom he greatly loved,
And straightway entreated them ;
And each was willing to give his aid,

 

1 Queen Philippa died before the return of the Black Prince to Eng-

land, on the 14th of August 1369.
G
Jo EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE.

Each swore upon the book,

And they promised him freely

That they would comfort his son,
And maintain him in his right.

All the princes and barons

Swore all round to this,

And the noble Prince of fame

Gave them an hundred thousand thanks.
But till then, so God aid me,

Never was seen such bitter grief

As was at his departure.

The right noble excellent Prince
Felt such pain at heart,

That it almost burst

With moaning and sighing,

And crying out in his pain.

So great suffering did he endure,
That there was no man living

Who had seen his agony,

But would heartily have pitied him.’!

As the hours passed on, the Prince grew rapidly weaker, and
death-mists dimmed the eye once so piercing and brilliant. Not
the less the Plantagenet spirit yet lived in the shattered frame.
A knight, one Sir Richard Strong, who had earned his displea-
sure by giving evil advice to his royal father, entered the chamber.
The Prince broke out into passionate exclamations against him,
and bade him quit his presence. But the outburst shook him
terribly, and he fell back on his pillow in a fainting fit. When
he had somewhat recovered, the Bishop of Bangor, who had
administered to him the last offices of religion, besought the
dying Prince to forgive all his enemies, and ask forgiveness for
himself both of Heaven and man. He simply answered, ‘I will,’
Not satisfied with the reply, the prelate renewed his exhorta-
tions. ‘It is not enough to say, “I will; ” but where you have
the power, you should declare your sorrow in words, and entreat
forgiveness.’ The Prince only replied, ‘I will.’ The Bishop,
much amazed at the obstinacy of his wrath, exclaimed in the
fashion of his times, and according to the custom of the Roman
Church, ‘ An evil spirit binds his tongue ; we must drive it away,

1 «Poem of the Black Prince,’ by the herald, John Chandos. Trans-
lated by the Rev. H. O. Coxe, for the Roxburgh Club.
THE NATIONAL GRIEF AT HIS DEATH. 99

/

lest he should die in his sins.’ And he sprinkled holy water in
the four corners of the room, and repeated an exorcism against
the evil spirit. Touched by the good Bishop’s earnestness, and
moved by his own better nature, the Prince suddenly joined his
hands together, lifted up his eyes to heaven, and cried, ‘I thank
Thee, O God, for all Thy mercies, and with all the agony of my
soul I beseech Thee to grant me remission of the sins I have
wickedly committed against Thee. And of all men whom in
wilfulness or ignorance I have offended, with all my heart do I
entreat forgiveness.’ And at three o’clock in the afternoon the
Black Prince passed away.

There was deep sorrow through all England when its hero
died. ‘Its good fortune,’ says a contemporary annalist, ‘as if
it had been attached to his person, after flourishing in his health,
and waning in his sickness, expired at his death. For with him
died all the hopes of Englishmen, who, during his life, had feared
no invasion of the euemy, nor encounter in a battle, inasmuch as
he went against no army that he did not conquer, and attacked
no city that he did not take.’ Therefore every Englishman
felt that his sword and shield were gone. His father, already
shaken in mind and body, was utterly prostrated by this sore
blow, and in a twelvemonth followed him to the grave. His
faithful brother-in-arms, the Captal de Buch, refused, in the
extremity of his sorrow, to take any food, and died in a few
days of a broken heart. Even in France the lamentation was sin-
cere as it was generous, and in the Sainte Chapelle of the palace
of the French King, Louis, son of the King John whom he had
captured at Poitiers, celebrated funeral services in his honour.

So he was buried at Canterbury? with an empire’s lamentation:

‘To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation,
Mourning when their leaders fall,
Warriors carried the warrior’s pall,
And sorrow darkened hamlet and hall.’—Trnnyson.

 

1 Walsingham.

2 During his illness he had resided for awhile in the Archbishop’s
palace at Canterbury; and the tradition runs, that he drank, for the sake
of their healing properties, of the waters of a spring at Harbledown, still
known as ‘the Black Prince’s Well.’
100 EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE.

From the 8th of June to the 24th of September, the great
soldier’s ‘ coffined body’ lay in state at Westminster, and then
was removed in a stately hearse, drawn by twelve black horses,
to Canterbury, where the procession was met ‘by two chargers,
fully caparisoned, and mounted by two riders in complete armour,
—one bearing the Prince’s arms of England and France, the
other the ostrich feathers,—one to represent the Prince in his
splendid suit as he rode in war, the other to represent him in
black, as he rode to tournaments. Four black banners followed.
So they passed through the streets of the city, till they reached
the gate of the Precincts. Here, according to custom, the armed
men halted, and the body was carried into the Cathedral.’?

Great men live not for themselves, but for the world; their
lives become history, and are the property of all who have eyes
to see or ears to hear. What lessons they read us! what truths
they teach! Thus, from the career of our great hero, the
victor of Cregy and Poitiers, certain results may easily be de-
duced. ‘To all who are engaged in the long warfare of life,’
says Canon Stanley, ‘is his conduct an example. To unite in
our lives the two qualities expressed in his motto, ‘Hoch muth”
and “Ich dien,” “ high spirit” and “reverent service,” is to be,
indeed, not only a true gentleman and a true soldier, but a true
Christian also. To show to all who differ from us, not only in
war, but in peace, that delicate forbearance, that fear of hurting
another’s feelings, that happy art of saying the right thing to
the right person, which he showed to the captive King, would
indeed adda grace and a charm to the whole course of this
troublesome world, such as none can afford to lose, whether high
or low. And, lastly, to act in all the various difficulties of our
every-day life with that coolness, and calmness, and faith in a
higher power than his own, which he showed when the appalling
danger of his situation burst upon him at Poitiers, would smooth
a hundred difficulties, and ensure a hundred victories. We often
think that we have no power in ourselves, no advantages of posi-
tion, to help us against our many temptations, to overcome the
mapy obstacles we encounter. Let us go back once more in

1 Canon Stanley’s Historical Memorials.
THE LESSONS OF HIS LIFE. 101

thought to the distant fields of France. A slight rise in the wild
upland plain, a steep lane through vineyards and underwood,—
this was all that he had, humanly speaking, on his side; but he
turned it to the utmost use of which it could be made, and won
the most glorious of battles. So, in like manner, our advantages
may be slight,—hardly perceptible to any but ourselves; let us
turn them to account, and the results will be a hundred-fold.
We have only to adopt the Black Prince’s bold and cheering
words, when first he saw his enemies, ‘God is my help; I must
fight them as best I can,” adding that lofty yet resigned and
humble prayer, which he uttered when the battle was announced
to be inevitable, and which has since become a proverb, “God
defend the right.” ’*

Edward the Black Prince possessed a commanding figure, a
grave, thoughtful brow, a complexion of dazzling fairness, piercing
eyes, and a long firmly chiselled nose. The general gravity of
his face was relieved by the soft and gentle expression of his
mouth. He was an adept in all martial exercises, and, like his
father, well-versed in the literature of the time. To his depend-
ents always just and generous, he was adored by his soldiers ;
and his uniform moderation and sincere piety endeared him to
his countrymen. His military abilities were of a high order, and
of his courage it is enough to say that he was a Plantagenet.
While he possessed all the virtues of chivalry,—generosity, ten-
derness to woman, valour, and courtesy,—he was not altogether
free from its vices, and his generosity often degenerated into
excess, his hasty temper maddened into ferocity. But as the first
great English Captain, who showed what English soldiers could
do against ‘a world in arms,’ as a knight sans peur et sans reproche,
as a wise and thoughtful statesman, as a brilliant English gentle-
man, the name and memory of the Black Prince should always be
cherished by loyal English hearts.

' Canon Stanley’s Memorials of Canterbury.
LUL EDWAKD THE BLACK PRINCE.

AUTHORITIES.

[Chronicles of William Knighton, Matthew of Westminster,
Fabyan, Grafton, and others; Robert de Avesbury; Hist. de
Gestis Milit. Edw. TII.; Hawkwood’s Compendious Chronicle of
Edw. the Black Prince; ‘ Poem of the Black Prince,’ by John
Chandos; Walsingham, Guthrie, Froissart, Rapin, Lingard, and
Hume; Mezerai; James’ Biography; Archxologia, vols. xxi.,
xxviii., etc.; Stanley’s Memorials of Canterbury, etc. ]
CHAPTER IV.

THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT; AND HENRY THE FIFTH.

‘ None from his fellow starts,
But playing manly parts,
And like true English hearts,
Strike close together.,—Drayton.

‘ Montjoy. The day is yours.
K. Henry. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it !—
What is this castle called that stands hard by?
Montjoy. They call it Agincourt.
K. Henry. Then call we this—the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. —SHAaKsPEaRE.

OcToBER 25, A.D. 1415.

Tue position of Henry the Fifth when, at the age of twenty-eight,
he ascended the English throne (A.p. 1413), was by no means
one of peace or security. The commons were daily increasing in
power and intelligence; the barons, divided into several factions
by the troubles which flowed from the deposition of Richard IT.
and the usurpation of Henry IV., were factious, turbulent, and
impatient of control; the Lollards inveighed against the evil lives
of the clergy; and Henry himself was painfully aware that his
crown lacked the consecration of ‘legitimate descent.’ To employ
the minds of his subjects, and provide a fitting occupation for the
numerous bold and impatient spirits who wandered to and fro in
the land, he had recourse to a foreign war ;! and by so doing,

1 It would appear that the astute Chichely, Archbishop of Canterbury,
had much to do with suggesting the attack upon France; it being his
object to prevent Henry and his Parliament from encroaching upon the
revenues of the clergy.
104 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

gratified, at the same time, his own greed of martial glory. The
old feud between England and France was easily revived. At
this epoch, moreover, France was so weakened with intestine
tumults,—with civil wars between Burgundians and Armagnacs,*
—with the vices of her monarch’s consort, Isabeau of Bavaria,
and the fatal imbecility of her monarch himself, the unhappy
Charles VI.,—that a less ambitious king than Henry might well ,-
have been tempted to renew the ancient pretensions of England
to the French crown. A plausible pretext was ready at his hand.?
The French had never carried out the conditions of the treaty of
Bretigny, concluded by Edward If. in 1360, nor surrendered
the full sovereignty of the provinces of Normandy, Aujou, Maine,
and Touraine. Henry, therefore, commenced his warlike pro-
ceedings by demanding the crown of France as the rightful heir
of Isabella of Anjou, queen of Edward II. On the immediate
rejection of this bold claim, he professed himself willing to be con-
tent with the full sovereignty of the places named in the treaty of
Bretigny, and one half of Provence, while he asked for payment
of King John’s ransom, and the hand of the Princess Catherine,
the French King’s daughter, with a dowry of 600,000 crowns.
Charles VI., who had at this time one of his lucid intervals,
received Henry’s ambassadors with great magnificence, but
evaded compliance with the object of their mission, by promising
to despatch his own envoys to the English court. It was for
them to intimate that the French would yield up the Princess,
her dowry, and the whole of the duchy of Aquitaine, but would
go no further.

A war with France has almost always been popular in Eng-
land, and Henry experienced no difficulty in obtaining the
necessary supplies from his Parliament, and liberal contributions
from the people. He pushed forward his preparations, therefore,
with the utmost energy; and though the French ambassadors
arrived, and offered to raise the Princess’s dowry to 800,000
crowns, he would not treat with them.

* The Armagnacs were so called from the Count of Armagnac, the
father of their leader, the Duke of Orleans, brother of Charles VI. ; the
Burgundians from the Duke of Burgundy, the King’s cousin.

? Lingard.
HENRY AND HIS ARMY ARRIVE IN FRANCE. 105

He landed in France, August 14, 1415, and straightway
invested and captured the town of Harfleur. Leaving a garrison
there, he moved forward with a force of not more than 9000
men,! through Normandy, Picardy, and Artois, upon Calais. It
is said that his generals were at first opposed to this daring step ;
but Henry exclaimed, ‘By God’s help, we will see a little more

~—efthis bonny land of France,—of this France which is all our
own. We are resolved to undergo every peril rather than suffer
the French to taunt us with fearing them. We will go, an’ it
please God, without harm or danger; but should they hinder
our journey, why, then, we will fight them, and the victory and
the glory will be ours.’ The fact is, that Henry dared not
return to England without having some greater triumph to
boast of than simply the capture of Harfleur.

He began his march on the 6th of October, and it is to his
honour that he permitted his soldiers to do no violence to the
inhabitants of the districts through which they passed. ‘We
give express charge,’—Shakspeare, following Holinshed, repre-
sents him as saying,—‘that, in our marches through the country,
there be nothing compelled from the villages, nothing taken but
paid for; none of the French upbraided, or abused in disdainful
language; for when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the
gentlest gamester is the soonest winner.’? Keeping near the
sea-coast, he steadily advanced, by way of Montvilliers, Fécamp,
and Eu,—where he repulsed the garrison in a brief but spirited
skirmish,—upon the Somme, hoping to cross that river, as
Edward III. had done, by the ford of Blanche Taque. He found
it strongly fortified on both sides, and defended by a large body
of troops. Similar obstacles were discovered at every passage
as he followed the course of the river inland. At Airennes he
slept on the night of the 12th; at Bailleul, on that of the 13th.
Abbeville, where the Constable of France had collected a for-
midable army, he was compelled to avoid. Sore was the dismay
of his soldiers as they thus penetrated into the depths of a
country bristling with arms; and ‘many there were who,’ in the
language of the old chronicler, ‘looked bitterly up to heaven,

1 Sir Harris Nicolas. 2 Henry V., Act iii., Scene 6.
106 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

and implored the divine mercy and the protection of the Virgin
and of England’s Saint, George, to save them from the imminent
perils by which they were surrounded, and enable them to reach
Calais in safety.’! At Bores, where he halted on the 14th, large
supplies were obtained of food and wine. At Ponteau de Mer,
on the 15th, he attempted, but in vain, to force a passage; at
Corbie, he defeated the armed peasantry with great slaughter ;
and finally, on the morning of the 19th, after wearily toiling
through sand and mud, discovering an unguarded ford between
Betencourt and Perouenne, he boldly carried his army across
the river, and with shouts of joy they occupied the opposite
bank. Henry then took up his quarters at Mouchy ; his forces
terribly weakened by famine and sickness, for they had with
them but eight days’ stores on leaving Harfleur, and had ob-
tained the scantiest forage in the miserable country through which
their march had been directed.

Let us now glance at the movements of the French.
D’Albret, the Constable of France, moved up the right bank of
the Somme as the English moved up the left, but quickly fell
back along the road to Calais, when they succeeded in crossing
the river. Meanwhile the Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon issued
stirring addresses to their countrymen, promising to lead them
to certain victory, and quickly collecting an immense body of
men, marched to effect a junction with the Constable’s forces.
At a council held at Rouen, under the presidency of Charles
VIL. himself, it was decided that a favourable opportunity had
arrived for crushing the English invaders, and instructions were
sent to the Constable and the two royal Dukes to give them
battle. The French chiefs thereupon sent heralds to King
Henry to announce their intention, probably expecting the
menace would terrify him into submission, but received a calm and
dignified reply ; while the heralds were gratified with a present
of 100 crowns.

‘Tell them we will come on,

Though France himself, and such another neighbour,
Stand in our way.

 

? An old chronicler (a priest), quoted by Sir Harris Nicolas. At this
time the army had but rations remaining for twelve hours.
THE EVE OF THE BATTLE. 107

‘If we may pass, we will; if we be hinder’d,
We shall your tawny ground with your red blood
Discolour.

‘The sum of all our answer is but this:
We would not seek a battle, as we are ;
Nor as we are, we say, we shall not shun it ;
So tell your masters.’!

The French forces were now concentrated between Roussau-
ville and Azincourt (or, as English historians call it, Agincourt),
completely blocking up the road to Calais, and numbering up-
wards of 100,000 regular troops. Nevertheless Henry pressed
forward, with a confidence in his own fortunes and in English
valour, which seems to us absolutely sublime, and crossing the
swift-rolling Ternois at Blangy on the 24th, soon discerned the
innumerable hosts of the French retiring upon Azincourt as he
approached, and covering the marshy plain with their elittering
pennons. Towards evening the English gathered upon the
village of Maisoncelles, and refreshing themselves with such pro-
visions as could be obtained, prepared to pass the night in pre-
sence of the enemy’s force.

There is always something peculiarly attractive to poet,
romancist, and chronicler in the eve of a great battle ;—the con-
trasts are so vivid; the lights and shades of the picture stand
out, as it were, in such conspicuous relief. The silent plains;
the expectant armies; the meditative chiefs; the hope of victory
and the fear of defeat; the chances of life and death; the watch-
ful sentinels; the deep slumber, which presages for so many a
deeper slumber ere the morrow’s sun shall set; the occasional
trumpet; the flaming watch-fires;—who can dwell upon these
details without feeling his heart stirred, and his fancy roused?
The eve before the great fight of Azincourt has happily been
celebrated by a painter whose lightest sketches excel the most
finished pictures of other artists; and though often quoted and
often read, we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of transferring
to our pages the great master’s magnificent verse :—

1 Henry V., Act iii., Scene 6—Shakspeare, throughout this play, has
closely followed Holinshed, but we prefer the great dramatist’s stately
rhythm to the old annalist’s unadorned prose.
108

THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

‘From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,
The hum of either army stilly sounds,

That the fix’d sentinels almost receive

The secret whispers of each other’s watch:

Fire answers fire; and through their paly flames
Each battle sees the other’s umber’d face:

Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs,
Piercing the night’s dull ear; and from the tents,
The armourers, accomplishing the knights,!

With busy hammers closing rivets up,

Give dreadful note of preparation.

Proud of their numbers, and secure in mak

The confident and over-lusty French

Do the low-rated English play at dice ;

And chide the cripple, tardy-gaited Night,

Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp

So tediously away. The poor condemned English,
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires

Sit patiently, and only ruminate

The morning’s danger ; and their gesture sad,
Investing lank-wan cheeks, and war-worn coats,
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon

So many horrid ghosts. O now, who will behold
The royal captain of this ruin’d band,

Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him ery, Praise and glory on his head!

For forth he goes, and visits all his host ;

Bids them good morrow with a modest smile ;
And calls them—brothers, friends, and countrymen.
Upon his royal face there is no note,

How dread an army hath enrounded him ;

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour

Unto the weary and all-watchéd night :

But freshly looks, and overbears attaint,

With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty ;
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks:

A largess universal, like the sun,

His liberal eye doth give to every one,

Thawing cold fear.’?

The condition of the two hostile camps on the eve of Azin-
court is vividly shown us in the pages of the old annalists. The

? That is, completing their equipment.
? Henry V., Activ. The Chorus,
HOW THE EVE OF BATTLE WAS SPENT. 109

English camp was alive with martial music; trumpets, and
-shawms, and clarions playing merrily throughout the dim and
rainy night. There was confession, and there was absolution ;
and many received the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, and
many made their wills. None spoke of surrender; all knew that
on the morrow death or victory was the only odds. When the
moon rose, the King despatched several trusty officers to examine
the capabilities of his position, and they discovered that the
French advance must be made through a comparatively narrow
pass, flanked by woods, where their very numbers would embar-
rass their movements. What skilful use was made of this ad-
vantage we shall shortly show.

In the French camp, its princes, and knights, and nobles,
in blind confidence, cast the dice to determine what English
prisoner should fall to their share after the morrow’s triumph.
Some few veterans, indeed, remembered Crecy and Poitiers, and
hinted that the battle was not yet won; but their doubts had
little influence on the general sanguineness of the army. ‘The
soldiers gathered round their blazing watch-fires, and indulged
in loud revelry and vainglorious boasting, though it was remarked
by some less exultant spirits that no noise of martial instruments,
nor neighing of horses, was heard throughout their camp all
that chill and rainy night. ;

At early dawn, King Henry and his soldiers heard matins
and mass, and the battle-array was duly ordered. In this wise:
there were three divisions: the right wing, led by the Duke of
York; the main battle, by the King, and his young brother,
Humphrey of Gloucester ; the rear, by General Lord Camoys.
Between the two wings, and in the fashion of a wedge, were
drawn up the archers, each of whom carried a long stake shod
with iron, which, planted obliquely in the ground, was to defend
them from the charge of the French chivalry. Some billmen
accompanied the archers to pluck up these stakes, when it should
become necessary for the English themselves to advance to the
charge. Horsemen and archers intermingled formed the right
and left wings of the little army,? and in a meadow, defended by

’ Barante. 2 Monstrelet.
110 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

a deep ditch, to the left of the French vanguard, was placed an
ambush of 200 bowmen. The baggage, tents, and non-com-
batant part of the forces were stationed in the rear.

The hero-king, whose gallant soul was the true inspiration of
his army, now mounted a small grey horse, and with his polished
helmet, encircled by a crown of gold and gems, rode along the
ranks, exhorting his men to do their duty that day. ‘For my
part,’ he said, ‘I swear that England shall never pay ransom for
my person, nor France triumph over me in life; for this day
shall either be famous for my death, or in it I will win honour
and obtain renown.’ He told them that the French had sworn
to cut off three fingers of every archer’s right hand, that he
might never again draw bow; and he recalled to their recollec-
tion the massacre at Soissons, when 200 English archers, who
had duly surrendered as prisoners of war, had been foully ill-
treated and hung. ‘They are full of sin,’ he cried, ‘and have
no fear of God.’ Hearing one Walter Hungerford, a gallant
knight, express his wish that some of the men-at-arms and
archers, then fat and idle in England, were with them to do
battle, the King exclaimed, ‘No, by my life, I would not have
one man the more. If we win the battle, as I trust we may,
the fewer we are the greater shall be our honour; and if we
lose, we are too many already. But no: we will not lose!
Fight as you were wont to fight, and the pride of our innumer-
able foes shall be laid low in the dust.’?

The French army, outnumbering the English in the propor-
tion of six to one,’ was also drawn up in three divisions, and
each division consisted of a centre and two wings. The van-
guard alone exceeded in strength the whole English army. It
comprised 8000 men-at-arms, all knights or squires, and heavily
armed, 4000 archers, and 1500 cross-bowmen, under the leader-
ship of the Constable @Albret, the Dukes of Orleans and
Bourbon, and at least twenty others of the noblest blood
of France. Upon either wing appeared a choice troop of
cavalry. ‘The whole line was glittering with gilded armour,

* Monstrelet.
* On this point there is a great diversity of opinion, but it seems pro-
bable that the French army numbered between 50,000 and 60,000 men.
THE ENGLISH ATTACK. 111

and gay with a thousand banners of embroidered arms ; and,
as the sun shone upon it, no courtly pageant was ever more
bright and beautiful to see’! The main battle was led by
the Dukes d’Alengon and De Bar, and six great Counts of
France. The rear was mainly composed of light-armed and
irregular soldiery, of little avail against English steadiness.
Some clumsy cannon were posted on the flanks, which do not,
however, appear to have been employed throughout the action.
But despite of this vast superiority of force, the Constable—who,
by virtue of his office, was commander-in-chief—delayed the
battle, and proposed to wait for further reinforcements,—6000
men under the Duke of Brittany being on their march to join
him. He also despatched a herald to King Henry, offering for
him and his army a safe passage to Calais, if he would give up
Harfleur, and the prisoners he had made, and abandon his pre-
tensions to the French crown. These terms Henry at once
refused. He knew that the Constable sought delay, in hope to
see his enemies perish piece-meal by famine and disease; and his
quick eye, moreover, having detected the loose discipline and
irregular formation of the French army, he did not despair of
the day’s battle. He saw that the archers were cooped up in
an utterly inadequate space, and that the heavy French cavalry
were already fatigued by the miry and saturated soil.?

Finding that the mountain would not come to Mahomet—
that the Constable hesitated to begin the attack—he resolved
upon immediate action, and towards noon gave the long-wished-
for order, ‘Banners, advance!’ Sir Thomas Erpingham, a
veteran knight with a head of snow and a heart of fire, who
officiated as marshal of the field, rode forward, and, flinging his
warder into the air, exclaimed, ‘Now, strike!’ The two armies
were not a quarter of a mile from each other, when our archers
ran forward with a tremendous shout—a true English cheer—
‘at which the Frenchmen were greatly astonished,’ fixed their
stakes in the ground, so as to form a simple but effective chevaux
de frise, took a step in advance, drew each his bowstring to his

1G. P. R. James.

? These absurd dispositions are attributed by French writers to D’Al-
bret, the marshal of the army.
112 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

ear, and then sent such a cloud of clothyard shafts whistling,
whirring, rattling, and clashing in amongst the enemy, that it
grievously daunted the stoutest knight, and brought many a
horse and rider to the earth. The ambushed bowmen, at the
same time, let fly a terrible discharge into their left flank, so
that it seemed to rain arrows, piercing eye, and forehead, and
neck, aud chest,—entering between steel gorget and steel breast-
plate—transfixing hands to lances—penetrating iron visors—
dealing death and wounds on every side. Hight hundred chosen
horsemen, under Louis de Bourbon and the Sire Clignet de
Brabant, attempted to break through the English line. They
might as well have led their horsemen against a wall of steel!
Around and about them rattled the arrows.

‘Who fights, the cold blade in his bosom feels ;
Who flies, still hears it whizzing at his heels.’!

Not more than one hundred and forty reached the chevauax de
Jrise, and of these few returned to tell the tale of their discom-
fiture. Many of their heavy-armed horses were gored upon the
iron pikes ; others, dismayed by the shouts of the English, and
wounded by their arrows, turned back upon the already dis-
ordered ranks, and increased the terrible confusion. The earth
was moist and slippery with recent rain, and down rolled horse
and rider among the dying and the dead. Only three of Sire
Clignet’s chivalry forced their way within the stakes—to die
there.”

At this moment the French forces were rather an armed mob
than an army. The Constable’s orders were neglected, and
every man, like Scott’s blacksmith of Perth, ‘fought for his own
hand.’ Riderless horses galloped hither and thither; the coward

. took to his heels to gain what shelter he might; the brave man
rushed to the front, and fought with a courage worthy of a
better fate. It was now that the English bowmen, slinging their
bows across their shoulders, and pulling up the stakes which had
served them so well, grasped their hatchets and their bill-hooks,
and advanced to the charge, stoutly supported by King Henry

1 Drayton. ? Monstrelet.

.
\

THE ENGLISH KING IN DANGER. 113

and his men-at-arms. The rout of the French vanguard was
soon complete. Could heavy-armed knight withstand the shock
of jerkined yoeman! Many an English soldier was bare-headed
and half-naked ; but his arm was just as stalwart, and his heart
as warm with loyal courage. With short knife, with sword and
dagger, with lead-loaded mallet, he dealt death around. The
Constable of France fell before the irresistible charge, and Duke
Anthony of Brabant, spurring fresh upon the field, was also
slain. The remnants of the beaten vanguard fell back upon the
second division, and were absorbed in it, though with much
disorder.*

Henry drew up his archers under cover of the men-at-arms,
and again led them to the assault. They rushed upon the main
body with dauntless ardour. It was known that the Duke
d’Alencon had sworn to take the English King alive or dead;
and the contest, therefore, became fiercer and more regular, and
was better sustained. ‘Pouring on in thunder upon the English
line, the French men-at-arms seemed to bear all before them;
but though shaken by the charge, the English cavalry gallantly
maintained their ground ; and as calm as if sitting at the council
table, the English King, from the midst of the battle, even
where it was fiercest around him, issued his commands, rallied
his men, and marked with an approving eye, and often with
words of high commendation, the conduct of the foremost in the
fight.’? The Duke of Clarence having been wounded, and beaten
to the ground, the King stood over him, and defended him until
he could be removed to the rear. Eighteen knights, led by the
Lord of Croy, came full upon him at this juncture. They were
bound by a vow to capture or slay him. Swinging high his
mace, one of them dealt the King so violent a blow upon the
crest, that he faltered to his knees; but his soldiers, closing round,
slew each of those bold assailants. Into the mélée, followed by
sixty preuw chevaliers, rode the Duke d’Alengon. He dashed the
Duke of York to the earth with a blow of his battle-axe, and
even, as Henry stood forward to defend his kinsman, cleft the
golden crown which encircled the royal helmet. But in a mo-

1 De Barante. 2G. P. R. James, Agincourt.
H
114 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

ment he himself was struck from his horse, and a dagger was
at his throat. ‘I surrender to you, sire,’ he cried; ‘I am the
Duke d’Alencon.’ ‘Spare him,’ exclaimed King Henry ; but the
death-blow was already dealt, and he rolled before the King a
corpse.

His death was a signal of victory to the English. The rear-
guard, though it had scarcely been engaged, incontinently took
to flight, and sped as fast from the field as the panic and the rout
would permit.

‘Report once spread through the distracted host
Of their prime hope, the Duke d’Alengon, slain,
That Flower of France, in whom they trusted most,
They found their valour then was but in vain:

Like men their hearts that utterly had lost,
Who slowly fled before, now ran amain.’?

The confusion had become unconquerable, and the number
of prisoners made by the English soon exceeded the number of
their own army that had gone into battle. A clamour and a
tumult suddenly arose in the rear, and Henry was informed that
a body of the enemy pressed hardly upon the small guard to
whom had been entrusted the care of the tents and baggage.
Perceiving that the French seemed at these sounds to pluck up
their hearts, and fearing that his rear was surprised by a de-
tachment under the Duke of Burgundy, whose arrival he knew
to have been expected, the King issued orders that every soldier
should slay the prisoners he himself had taken. These orders
were not too gladly obeyed, for the soldiers had prided them-
selves greatly on the ransoms they should extort from their cap-
tives, and were unwilling to lose their plunder, however willing
to battle-axe a Frenchman; but two hundred bowmen, hastily
despatched by Henry, executed the bloody task without a scruple
of reluctance. The King soon learned that the alarm was simply
caused by a body of six or seven hundred armed peasantry who
had poured through Maisoncelles, and fallen upon the English
baggage. They had hoped to partake in the victory which,
they naturally supposed, had blessed the banner of St. Denis.

’ Drayton.
THE SLAIN. 115

Henry immediately gave directions for the massacre to cease,
and the wounded to be succoured; but a terrible slanghter had
already taken place.?

One more effort was made to retrieve the fortunes of the day
by a body of 600 men-at-arms, under the Counts de Marle and
Fauquemburgue. A wild bravado! They were immediately
engulphed in the vortex of the victorious army, taken prisoners,
or slain. The King, attended by his barons, then rode round
the field where he had won the crown of France, and seeing
the French herald, Montjoye, inquired of him, ‘To whom the
victory belonged?’ ‘To thee, King of England,’ replied the
herald, ‘and not to the King of France, must the victory be
given.” ‘And what is the name of the castle I see yonder?’
‘Azincourt.’ ‘Then as all battles,’ said King Henry, ‘should
be named from the castles nearest at hand, let this battle be
henceforth known as the battle of Azincourt.’ But English
historians have corruptly called it ‘ Agincourt.’

‘Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.’

The loss of the English in this great fight amounted in all to
1600, including the Duke of York and Earl of Suffolk. That
of the French would almost appear incredible, were it not related
by trustworthy chroniclers.

‘When, without stratagem,
Was ever known so great and little loss,
On one part and on the other ?’

Amongst the more illustrious prisoners were—Charles, Duke
of Orleans, Duke John of Bourbon, the Marshal Boucicault, the
Counts of Eu, Vendome, and Richemont, and the Lords of Craon
and Harcourt. Of others, knights, squires, and lords, and
barons, 1500 surrendered. Seven kinsmen of the French
monarch perished,—D’Albret, the Constable of France, the
Duke d’Alencon, the Dukes of Brabant and Bar, the Count of
Marle, his brother Count John, and the Count of Nevers. Of

1 See Sir Harris Nicolas’ elaborate account of the battle.
116 THE BATTLE OF AZINCOURT.

the great French nobles 120 were slain, including the Counts
of Dampierre, Vaudemont, Foix, Fauconberg, and Grandpré ;
Messire Guichard Dauphin, the Grand Master of France; and
the Lords of Rambure, Verchin, and Helly. Of knights, squires,
and gentlemen there fell about 8000, and 1600 common men."

‘Here was a royal fellowship of death !’

The Duke of Orleans was courteously received by King
Henry, who sought to administer such consolation as a victor
may generously offer to the vanquished. ‘How fare you, my
cousin,’ said the King, ‘and why will you neither eat nor drink ?’
‘I am resolved to fast, in memory of the shame which has over-
taken our arms.’ ‘Nay,’ rejoined Henry, ‘be of good cheer ;
for if through God’s grace I have won this victory, I acknow-
ledge that it is not through merits of my own. I believe it is
God’s will that the French should be punished; and I do not
wonder at it, if what I have heard be true. I am told that
never before were seen such misrule, such unbridled wickedness,
such licence, such horrible vices, as now have sway in France. It
is piteous, it is terrible to hear these things; and certes, the
anger of the Lord has at last been aroused !’?

It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when the battle
ceased. The victors spent the night in Maisoncelles, and after
due thanksgivings to Heaven, abandoned themselves to merry-
making and rejoicing. The next morning they moved upon
Calais, laden with plunder,—

‘With arms and tents there taken in the field,
Ensigns, coat-armour, targets, spears, and shields,’ ?—

and from Calais departed for Dover, where England welcomed
her hero-King with a truly national welcome (November 16).
‘ The crowd plunged into the waves to meet him; and the con-
queror was carried in their arms from his vessel to the beach.

1 Those of the slain who could be recognised were buried in the
nearest churches, and about 5800 were interred in three long and deep
pits on the battle-field. A strong enclosure of thorns and trees long pro-
tected this vast cemetery.

? Monstrelet. See also De Barante. 5 Drayton.
HENRY THE FIFTH. 117

The road to London exhibited one triumphal procession. The
Lords, Commons, and clergy, the mayor, aldermen, and citizens,
conducted him into the capital; tapestry, representing the deeds
of his ancestors, lined the walls of the houses; pageants were
erected in the streets; sweet wines ran in the conduits; bands
of children tastefully arrayed sang his praise; and the whole
population seemed intoxicated with joy.’!

Thus was won the memorable battle of Azincourt, upon the
feast of St Crispin Crispianus,—Friday, the 25th of October 1415.

Henry THE Firta (Henry or Monmovurts) :
A BioGRrapuy.

‘Oh, when shall English men
With such acts fill the pen ;
Or England breed agen
Such a King Harry.’—Drayton.

‘The King is full of grace and fair regard.’-SHarsPEaReE.

Henry of Monmouth, so named from the place of his birth, was
born in 1384-5, though some authorities place the date of his birth
as late as 1887. Monmouth Castle, beautifully situated on the
banks of the exultant and abounding Wye, was the inheritance of
his mother, Mary de Bohun, daughter of the Harl of Hereford,
hereditary Constable of England, and wedded to Henry, Earl of
Derby, afterwards Henry IV., in 1384. By Earl Henry she
had six children: the hero of Azincourt; the gallant John,
Duke of Bedford; Thomas, Duke of Clarence; Humphrey,
Duke of Gloucester; Blanche, and Philippa. She died in 1394.

The infancy of Henry was passed at Courtfield, a village five
or six miles from Monmouth, on account of its mild and whole-
some air. The cradle in which he was rocked is carefully pre-
served at Bristol. His nurse’s name was Joan Waring ; and one
of his first acts, after his accession to the throne, was to settle

' Lingard.
118 HENRY THE FIFTH.

upon the good woman an annuity of L.20. His education was
carefully attended to, and directed at first by his mother,—a
lady famous for her knowledge of Latin and divinity. At an
early age he displayed a singular passion for music; and it is’
on record that he learnt the harp before he was ten years old.
The houschold-book of his grandsire, John of Gaunt, ‘ time-
honour’d Lancaster,’ contains some curious items in illustration
of the young hero’s home life. An ounce of black silk is re-
quired for his sword-knot, and a new scabbard for his mimic
sword. At one time his harp is in need of new strings; and
four shillings are paid for seven treatises of grammar, bound in
one volume. At another, a messenger is duly rewarded for
bearing tidings of his serious illness to his father, Henry of
Bolingbroke.

After his mother’s death in 1394, his grandmother would
seem for awhile to have had charge of the Lord Henry; but on
his father’s banishment in 1398, he was removed to the royal
palace, and brought up by Richard IL, his kinsman. His first
essay in arms was in that monarch’s Irish campaign (May 31 to
August 5, 1399), when his valour and conduct were so eminent
as to win for him the distinction of knight banneret. A higher
distinction awaited him. Richard returned from Ireland to
succumb to the power of Henry of Bolingbroke, to sign his
name to a forced abdication, and to see Henry IV. seated on
the throne of England with the good will and ready consent of
the whole nation. Young Henry, therefore, became the heir-
presumptive to the crown. Meeting his father at Chester, he
accompanied him on his triumphal march to London; and was
duly created Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, and Earl of
Chester.

It would appear that Prince Henry was now sent to complete
his education at Queen’s College, Oxford. The chamber which
he inhabited was long pointed out to the curious stranger. It
was a room over the gateway, opposite St Edmund’s Hall, and
formerly contained a window blazoned with his portrait, in painted
glass, and the following inscription (in Latin verse) : 1—

’ Tyler’s Life of Henry V.
HIS EARLY EDUCATION. 119

‘To RECORD THE Fact FOR EVER,
THE Emperor or Britain,
THE TRIUMPHANT LorD or FRaNcE,
THE ConQUEROR OF HIS ENEMins AND HimsELr,
Henry V.,
OF THIS LITTLE CHAMBER ONCE THE GREAT INHABITANT.’

{In perpetuam rei memoriam
Imperator Britannia,
Triumpator Gallia,
Hostium Victor et Sui,
Henricus V.,

Parvi hujus Cubiculi
Olim Magnus Incola.]

The window may now be seen in the modern library of the
College, and a portrait of Henry V. is preserved in the Hall.

His guardian at Oxford was his half-uncle, Henry Beaufort,
‘a young, handsome, and turbulent ecclesiastic,’ whose lessons and
example were neither calculated to inculcate self-control, self-
respeet, nor purity of life and manuers. Leaving Oxford towards
the close of the year 1402, he rapidly passed from the world of
study into the world of action, and in 1403 was appointed Lieu-
tenant of Wales. He accompanied his father in the brief but
important campaign which crushed the insurrection of Hotspur.
At the battle of Shrewsbury (July 21), where the royalist and
insurgent forces were each about 14,000 strong, he displayed all
the cool, calm courage of a veteran soldier. When wounded by
an arrow in the face, and pressed to withdraw that the steel
point might be extracted, ‘ Whither shall I retire?’ he exclaimed:
‘ And if I, the Prince and the King’s son, retreat at the first taste
of steel, who will remain to fight? Nay, rather let my comrades
see that I bleed at the first onset; for deeds, not words, are the
duties of princes, who should always set the example of boldness.”
He fought, therefore, throughout that desperate day, when ‘ the
flame of bold rebellion’ was quenched in the ‘rebels’ blood,’ and
did much by his courage and conduct towards ensuring the victory

for his father.
He next penetrated into Wales, where Owen Glendower, one

1 Titus Livius.
120 HENRY THE FIFTH.

of the chiefs of the rebellion, was still in arms; and throughout
the protracted war which followed, exhibited a remarkable mili-
tary genius. The Welsh leader was driven from fastness to
fastness, and compelled at length to conceal himself in the recesses
of his inaccessible mountains, where he dragged out, for several
years, an independent but sorrowful existence. Wales acknow-
ledged the sovereignty of Henry, and in 1408 the young Prince
returned to London, to receive the praises he had so vigorously
earned.

But though Wales was conquered it yielded little profit, and
the Prince Henry was soon reduced to a condition of actual
poverty. This circumstance, and the bold, wild habits a life of
predatory warfare naturally had engendered, drove him, perhaps,
into those excesses which are so graphically depicted by the con-
temporary chroniclers, and which have been immortalized by
Shakspeare. Some attempts have been made to deny or disprove
these narratives; but they are abundantly confirmed by the evi-
dence of Titus Livius, who was employed by Duke Humphrey of
Gloucester to prepare a biography of his great brother, and
would hardly have referred, in his elaborate panegyrics, to his hero’s
extravagance, if it could conveniently be contradicted. According
to Stow, the Prince would often ‘disguise himself, and lie in wait
for the receivers of the rents of the crown-lands, or of his father’s
patrimony, and, in the disguise of a highwayman, set upon them
and rob them. In such encounters he sometimes got soundly
beaten; but he always rewarded such of his father’s officers who
made the stoutest resistance.’ Henry’s excesses, in fact, were
those of a wild, brave, and daring soldier, and lacked the guilt
of fraud or meanness. Inaction ill suited his restless spirit, and
he sought in the revel the excitement no longer afforded by the
battle. But there was ‘a soul of goodness’ in his strangest
extravagances. In a fray in the streets of London, one of his
retainers was captured by the Lord Mayor’s guard, and taken
before Chief Justice Gascoigne. When the Prince heard of his
arrest, he hastened to the judicial chamber, and strove with his
own hands to undo his fetters. Gascoigne interfered, and the
Prince struck him in the face. Calm and unmoved, the Chief
Justice ordered him into custody, reprimanded him for his mis-
THE PRINCE IN TROUBLE. 121

doings, and committed him to the King’s Bench prison. The
Prince, deeply moved with grief for his mad extravagance, yielded
himself without resistance to his gaolers, and suffered his punish-
ment with a gentle grace, that inspired King Henry’s famous
exclamation, ‘ Happy the king who possesses a magistrate reso-
lute enough to discharge his duty upon such an offender, and
happy the father who has a son so willing to submit himself to
the law!’ But, in recognition of the offence, the King removed
his son from his seat at the Privy Council.

A reconciliation, however, took place, in due time, between
father and son. It was on a New Year’s Day, probably the New
Year’s Day of 1418, that the court was astonished by the appear-
ance of Prince Henry in a rebe of dark blue cloth, worked with
eillets, or ‘eye-holes,’ round the collar, from each of which was
suspended a needle and thread. This was the New Year’s Day
costume of the students of Queen’s College, and was probably
assumed by the Prince to indicate his desire to return to the
thriftiness and quiet of a college life! He then advanced into
the reception-chamber of Westminster Palace, and moved towards
the upper end, where, on a raised dais, his father was seated,
surrounded by his attendants. Having respectfully saluted him,
he prayed leave to speak with him in private. The King was
carried by his attendants into another apartment; and there, we
are told, the Prince of Wales flung himself upon his knees, and
offering his dagger to his father, entreated him to strike him to
the heart, if he believed he could cherish other feelings towards
him than those of love, loyalty, and reverence. The King was
so touched by the frankness and sincerity of his son’s appeal, that
he received him into his arms, and entirely forgave him.

Prince Henry was now twenty-eight or twenty-nine years
old, and yet remained unmarried. An attempt had been made
to procure him the hand of the beautiful Isabella of Valois, the
young widow of Richard IT. ; but her love-marriage with Charles,
Duke of Orleans (afterwards Henry’s prisoner at Azincourt),
frustrated the royal schemes. Marie, her sister, and the second
daughter of Charles VI. of France, was next addressed ; but she

1 Miss Strickland. See also Canon Stanley’s Historical Memorials of
Canterbury.
122 HENRY THE FIFTH.

had chosen the seclusion of a nunnery at a very early age,—nay,
had been vowed to the service of God even before her birth.
The final choice both of father and son fell upon Katherine of
Valois, the youngest of the French princesses; and Edward,
Duke of York, was despatched to the French court to negotiate
the marriage.

It has been stated by some authorities that Prince Henry
was conspiring against his royal father at the time he was seized
with the illness of which he died; and at a later period,
Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, openly accused Cardinal Beau-
fort of having plotted with Prince Henry to seize the crown,
while he himself was secretly meditating the Prince’s assassina-
tion. ‘My brother was,’ he said, ‘when Prince of Wales, in
great danger once, when he slept in the green chamber at West-
minster Palace. There was discovered, by the rouse of a little
spaniel belonging to the Prince, a man concealed behind the arras
near the Prince’s bed. When he was hauled out by Henry’s
attendants, a dageer was found on the man’s person, and he con-
-fessed he was hidden there to kill the Prince in the night, insti-
gated by Beaufort ; but when the Earl of Arundel heard this, he
had the assassin’s head tied in a sack and flung into the Thames,
to stifle his evidence.’*

The memorable scene between Henry IV. on his death-bed,
and Prince Henry, which forms so splendid a feature of the
Shakspearian tragedy, is related by several of the old chroniclers.
The Lancastrian monarch, though only in his forty-seventh year,
wag worn out with a leprous body and a remorseful conscience.
Frequent epileptic fits had robbed him both of bodily and mental
vigour. The last and fatal stroke fell upon him as he knelt in
all the pomp of regality before St Edward’s shrine in Westminster
Abbey. From thence he was removed to the Abbot’s state
apartments, and placed upon a pallet before the fire until he re-
vived. ‘Where am I?’ he inquired. He was told, ‘In the
Jerusalem Chamber.’ It immediately flashed upon his memory
that it had long ago been predicted he should die at Jerusalem,
—a prediction he had interpreted as referring to the Holy City ;

1 Parl. History,—quoted by Miss Strickland.
HIS FATHER’S DEATH. 123

and he had accordingly received the cross, and meditated a
crusade thither, in expiation of his blood-guiltiness. But it now
seemed to him that the prediction was about to be otherwise
fulfilled. After awhile the dying monarch again fell into a swoon.
His attendants thought it was death, and hastened to communi-
cate the intelligence to his son. Henry entered’ the room to gaze
upon his father’s face once more, and seeing the crown upon the
pillow, removed it into an adjoining chamber. Meanwhile the
King revived, and noting the absence of his crown, sent for
Prince Henry, and angrily inquired wherefore he had touched it?
The Prince replied that all had thought him dead, and he had,
therefore, taken the crown as the sign of the royalty which was
lawfully his. ‘Alas,’ exclaimed the King, ‘Heaven knows what
right to it I had myself, and how little I have enjoyed it!’

‘By what by-paths, and indirect, crook’d ways,
I met this crown ; and I myself know well
How troublesome it sat upon my head!’

‘Of that,’ rejoined the Prince, with a bright eye and a
flushed brow, ‘it is not for me to judge; but well I wot that
when you die, my father, I will wear the garland, and defend it
against all enemies as stoutly as you have done!’

‘You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me;
Then plain and right must my possession be,
Which I, with more than with a common pain,
*Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain.’!

Upon the death of the grave and melancholy Henry IV.,
March 19, 1413, Prince Henry was immediately proclaimed
King, and he straightway exhibited to the world a remarkable
example of self-conquest. His dissolute companions he banished
ten miles from the royal palace, allowing them such a pension as
might save them from poverty and the crimes which poverty en-
genders ; he cast off the slough of his vices and follies; aban-
doned his extravagant courses; subdued his passions; and
emulated the virtues of the best and wisest of his predecessors.

1 Shakspeare’s Henry IV., 2d part.
124 HENRY THE FIFTH.

‘The breath no sooner left his father’s body,
But that his wildness, mortified in him,
Seem’d to die too: yea, at that very moment,
Consideration like an angel came,

And whipp’d the offending Adam out of him,
Leaving his body as a paradise,

To envelop and contain celestial spirits.
Never was such a sudden scholar made;
Never came reformation in a flood,

With such a heavy current, scouring faults ;
Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness

So soon did lose his seat, and all at once,

As in this King.’?

As the object of this volume is simply to trace the military
careers of our great English soldiers, we are spared the necessity
of dwelling upon the details of King Henry’s administration of
the civil government of his kingdom. We have, moreover,
already indicated the causes of the French war, into which he
plunged in the second year of his reign, and need not enter here
into any elaborate retrospect. There can be no doubt but that
it was popular with the nation; with shrewd merchants, who
loved the large gains furnished by the purveyance of warlike
munitions ; with proud nobles, who hoped for fresh honours from
success in the field, and for a goodly share of the booty of plun-
dered towns; with ardent young knights, longing to flesh their
maiden swords ; with stout yeomen, animated by the traditional
hostility of England against France, and as anxious as their
betters to fill their pouches with good French coin. Henry’s
army was assembled at Southampton, and thither, as soon as his
preparations were complete, he joyously repaired. Antelope,
pursuivant-at-arms, was despatched with a missive to the French
King, dated from Southampton, to show that the invading forces
were ready to embark, which required the hand of Katherine of
Valois and the immediate surrender of the provinces claimed
by England. ‘Otherwise,’ wrote the stout soldier, ‘I will come
and take them. ‘If that be his will,’ replied King Charles, ‘I
will do my best to receive him ; but as to the marriage, I think it

"Henry V., Act i, Scene 1.
HE IS CONSPIRED AGAINST. 125

will be a strange way to woo Katherine, wet with the blood of her
countrymen.’* Katherine’s young brother, the Dauphin Louis,
added, in dangerous merriment, that he had sent the English
King ‘some fitter playthings, according to his former mode of
life, than the provinces he demanded.’ These playthings were
a cask of tennis-balls, Henry, exasperated at the insult, swore
vehemently, that ‘they should be struck back with such a racket
(in allusion to the game of racket, or tennis) as should force open
the gates of Paris.’?

The night previous to the embarkation of the English army,
a conspiracy was discovered against Henry’s life and crown,
which had grown to alarming proportions. In Henry’s early
manhood his father had given to him, in wardship, the young
Earl of March, whose claim to the English crown was a formi-
dable one, and based upon his kinship to Richard II. Never-
theless, Henry formed a sincere and earnest friendship for this
apparently dangerous rival, who was now, with all his retainers,
in attendance upon him. The Earl of Cambridge, a near rela-
tive of the King, had married the young EHarl’s sister, Anne
Mortimer, and by her had a son (afterwards the celebrated
Richard, Duke of York, and father of Edward IV.), who, as the
Earl was childless, was necessarily his legitimate representative.
Cambridge resolved to overthrow King Henry, and place the
crown upon his brother-in-law’s head; but as that brother-in-
law was warmly attached to the King, it was resolved to carry
him off to the borders of Wales, and there proclaim him, when
Henry had been got rid off by the dagger of his treacherous
chamberlain. When Cambridge revealed the plot to the Earl,
the latter refused to take an oath of secrecy; and having re-
quested an hour for consideration, unburdened the deadly tale
to his King and friend. Henry was deeply moved at this
household treason ; and it has been remarked that his nature,
previously open and generous, was ever afterwards suspicious,

1 White Kennet’s History of England.

? This anecdote rests upon sufficiently good authority, though doubt
has been cast upon its authenticity by recent writers. Our old historians,
by the way, believed everything ; our modern historians seem determined
to doubt everything.
126 HENRY THE FIFTH.

doubtful, and inquiring. With the traitors he dealt quickly
and sternly. An impromptu court of justice was immediately
constituted, of which his brother, the Duke of Clarence, was
president ; and the conspirators, being quickly condemned, were
beheaded at the North Gate, while the royal fleet of 1500 sail
swept proudly, with a favourable wind, out of Southampton
harbour? (August 7, 1415).

Henry landed his forces in safety at the mouth of the Seine,
three miles from Harfleur,—(August 13th to 16th),—an impor-
tant and strongly fortified seaport, against which he immediately
directed his arms. He had under his banner, at this time, 6000
men-at-arms and 24,000 archers, and was accompanied by a
large and well-equipped train of artillery.2 The progress of the
siege was marked by no incidents of chivalric interest; but a
dysentery, caused by insufficient and unwholesome provisions,
broke out in the besieging army, and slew upwards of 2000
men in a few days. Henry’s constancy was immoveable. The
lion did but close his teeth more firmly on his prey. And at
length, two waggon-loads of powder, intended for the besieged,
having been intercepted by the English, the Governor agreed to
surrender unless the French army should relieve him within three
days. The three days passed, and lo, from the walls of Harfleur
waved the bright banners of bonny England (September 22d)!

Henry remained in Harfleur several days. The sick and
wounded were sent back to England under the command of
the Duke of Clarence. The fortifications were repaired and
strengthened, and provisions collected from the surrounding
country. Then, with that chivalrous ardour which burned so
brightly in the soldier-king’s heart, he despatched a cartel to
the Dauphin, inviting him to finish the war by a personal combat.
But the Dauphin had no relish for a hand-to-hand encounter
with Harry of Monmouth ; and so, leaving a strong garrison in
the captured town, the English army moved forward, to fight
the battle of Azincourt, and win imperishable fame.

We have noted how rapturous a reception England accorded
to her hero-king on his return to England after that great vic-

Guthrie, Hist. of England. ? Monstrelet.

e
WAR WITH FRANCE. 127

tory (November 27, 1415). He now appears to have abandoned
for a time his long-meditated project of winning Katherine of
Valois, and despatched his ‘favourite valet,’ Robert Waterton,
to consider whether the bonne mine of the Princess of Arragon
might not suit him better.

In 1416, the Count of Armagnac, who virtually governed
France,—her monarch having relapsed into imbecility,—at-
tempted to recover Harfleur; and, for this purpose, invested it
both by sea and land. But his fleet was defeated by the gallant
and able Duke of Bedford, and the town relieved, and the garrison
strengthened. The condition of France at this period was that
of a fair woman whose own lovers are her worst enemies. The
struggle between the Burgundians and the Armagnacs was
characterized by peculiar ferocity. The latter had now the
upper hand, through their leader’s influence over the unhappy
Charles VI.; but the Burgundians were reinforced by the vin-
dictive spirit and factions power of Queen Isabeau, who had
received from the Count of Armagnac a deadly insult she was
little likely to forgive or forget. Sigismund, the Emperor of
Germany, and Heury held an interview with the Duke of Bur-
gundy at Paris, and the conditions of a new war against France
were arranged. The Duke, gladly securing the alliance offered
by the Queen, collected an army of 60,000 men, advanced upon
Paris, released the Queen from her imprisonment at Tours, pro-
claimed her regent, and himself her lieutenant ; while King Henry
marched through Normandy iu triumph, with an army of 16,000
men-at-arms and 16,000 archers.? .

In the spring of 1418, having received a reinforcement of
15,000 men, he captured town after town and fortress after
fortress, and on the 30th of July invested Rouen, which was
garrisoned by 4000 men-at-arms and 15,000 armed citizens.
Both Armagnacs and Burgundians strove to win him to their
side ; but Henry, with all the finesse of an able statesman, played
one faction against the other, while he steadily kept in view, as
the prize of his exertions, the French crown. Queen Isabeau
sent to him her daughter Katherine’s picture, and demanded

‘ 1 Guthrie. Lingard.
128 HENRY THE FIFTH.

whether so beautiful a princess required such a great dowry as
he hadasked?! But Henry, ‘ proud as a lion,’ while he confessed
the princely damsel’s loveliness, abated not one jot of his demands,
and made it evident that his love was that of a king, and his
wooing that of a soldier.

After a desperate defence of nearly six months’ duration,
Rouen fell ; and Isabeau, in despair, agreed upon an interview be-
tween herself, the King, and the Duke of Burgundy, on the one
part, and Henry onthe other. In the hope of influencing the con-
queror’s inexorable nature, the Queen resolved that her daughter
should accompany her. The meeting took place at Pontoise, in
a large field enclosed by a palisade, and bordered by a deep
ditch, which was fed by the Seine. The entrances were secured
by barriers, and within were pitched numerous tents and pavilions,
of blue and green velvet embroidered with gold. Both parties
were attended by a thousand men-at-arms. Henry was accom-
panied by the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, the Earl of
Warwick, and other nobles (May 30, 1419). The King of
France was too ill to appear, but the Duke of Burgundy filled
his place ; and Queen Isabeau was there, and Katherine radiant
in her youthful loveliness. She wore an arched crown, and a
veil, bordered with ermine, which fell upon her shoulders; a long,
full mantle half concealed her close-fitting robe—which blazed
with jewels—but could not hide the admirable symmetry of her
figure. During the interview Henry placed himself immediately
opposite, and fixed his eyes upon her with a respectful but ad-
miring gaze. Isabeau considered that the conquest: of the con-
queror was now complete, and at the second conference, which
took place a fortnight later, would not permit the Beauty to
appear. Henry was very wroth at her absence, ‘for it was
plainly to be seen,’ says Monstrelet, ‘that he was desperately in
love with her ;’ but his passion was as yet less ardent than his
ambition, and he still adhered to his original demands.

A few days passed, and Henry demanded a third interview,
having resolved, it is said, to modify in some degree his condi-
tions ; but on arriving at Pontoise he found the enclosure de-

1 Monstrelet.
UNION OF THE FRENCH FACTIONS. 129

serted, and stripped of its tents, its pavilions, and palisades.
Great was his ire at the sorry sight! and in the burst of his anger
he revealed the force of the passion with which Katherine, spite
of himself, had inspired him. He angrily addressed the Duke of
Burgundy, who had accompanied him, and exclaimed, ‘ We would
have you to know, fair cousin, that we wld have the daughter
of your king, or we will drive him and you out of his kingdom.’
‘You are pleased to say so,’ rejoined the Duke ; ‘ but before you
succeed in driving my lord und me ont of this kingdom, I make
no doubt that you will be heartily tired” ‘Many high words
passed,’ adds the chronicler,’ ‘too wearisome to relate, and
taking leave of each other, they separated, and each went his
way.

Henry now discovered that, during the time he had wasted
on these fruitless interviews, a rapprochement had taken place
between the Burgundian and Armagnac factions, temporarily
united by the danger of their common country, which boded no
good to the English cause. The young Dauphin Charles and
the Duke of Burgundy met at Melun on the 11th of June, and
agreed to sink in oblivion their former differences, to unite their
forces, and free France from the presence of the invader. It is
not so easy, however, to compose traditional enmities or con-
quer ancestral jealousies; and while Burgundians and Armag-
nacs were yet wrangling about their differences, Henry strode
forward, with the step of a giant, surprised and captured Pon-
toise, reduced Gisors and Chateau Gaillard, and threatened the
safety of Paris itself. ‘The King, Isabeau, and Burgundy aban-
doned it in terror, and retreated to Troyes. j

But if the two leaders of the hostile factions would have
acted towards each other in good faith, Henry’s triumphal
advance might still have been checked. No country was ever
subjugated by a foreign invader that remained true to itself ; and
brilliant as was the genius of the English king, and daring the
valour of his soldiers, France, after all, was conquered by the
French—by the treachery of ber own children, who wasted her
tesources in intestine broils. In the hope of finally composing

1 Monstrelet.
130 HENRY THE FIFTH.

their differences, a second interview was agreed upon between
the Dauphin Charles and John Sans Peur, the Duke of Bur-
gundy. They met upon the bridge of Montereau-sur-Yonne, on
the 10th of September, each attended by ten trusty followers.
As the Duke bent his knee to the heir of France, one of the
Dauphin’s attendants, Tannegui du Chastel, treacherously struck
him in the face with his battle-axe, and he fell dead, wounded in
several places. One of his followers was slain, another escaped,
the rest were made prisoners. The Dauphin protested that the
murder was a sudden and unpremeditated mishap, which he
bitterly regretted ; but the murderers, nevertheless, retained their
places in his favour.

The murder on the bridge of Montereau set the seal to the
misfortunes of France. Philip, Count of Charolois, the only son
of the Duke of Burgundy, succeeded to his honours and _ his
enmities, and cherished against the Dauphin a hatred even
deadlier than that which his sire had shown. He had to avenge
his father’s bloody death. Immediately he concluded a treaty
with Henry of England, in which Queen Isabeau—whose un-
natural animosity towards her son burned with an unquench-
able flame—was easily induced to concur; and the King ad-
vancing to Troyes with 16,000 men, was there received in great
splendour by the young Duke (May 20, 1420). The next day,
Henry was welcomed by the fair Katherine herself in the church
of Notre Dame. He was royally attired.in a suit of burnished
armour, and wore in his helmet a fox’s tail, glittering with
precious stones.1 The Princess, arrayed with equal splendour,
received her soldier-bridegroom with evident satisfaction. Lead-
ing the Queen and her daughter up to the altar, Henry listened
patiently while the articles of peace were read, and then receiving
the Princess’s betrothal-promise, placed upon her finger the coro-
nation-ring of the Queen-consorts of England. Finally, he pre-
sented to her his favourite knight, Sir Louis de Robsart, and
entrusted him with the custody of her person.

On Trinity Sunday, June the 3d, the King and the Princess
were wedded in the parish church near which he lodged. ‘Great

1 Godwin’s Life of Henry V.
HIS MARRIAGE, 131

pomp and magnificence,’ says Monstrelet somewhat. bitterly,
‘were displayed by him and his princess, as if he had been king
of the whole world.” And tidings of the successful accomplish-
ment of his ambitious schemes were straightway despatched to
his English subjects. ‘It is accorded between our fader of
France and us,’ he wrote, ‘that forasmuch as by the bond of
matrimony made for the good of peace between us and our dear
and most beloved Katherine, the daughter of our said fader and
of our most dear moder Isabel, his wife, the said Charles and
Isabel be made our fader and moder; therefore them, as our
fader and moder, we shall have and worship, as it fitteth such
and so worthy a prince and princess to be worshipped, before all
other temporal persons of this world. Also, that the said
Katherine shall take and have dower in our realm of England,
as queens of England hitherward were wont to take and have:
That is to say, to the sum of 40,000 scutes (sewd’, crowns) by
the year, of the which, twain algates (always) shall be worth
a noble, English money. Also, if it happen that the said
Katherine shall overlive us, she shall take in the realm of France,
immediately from our death, 20,000 frances yearly. Also, that
after the death of our said fader, and from thenceforward, the
crown and realm of France, with all their rights and appur-
tenances, shall remain, and abide, and be of us and of our heirs,
for evermore.’

A soldier’s wedding was King Harry’s, and fitly celebrated
by the loud triumph of martial music. ‘ Playing at fighting’—
jousts and tournaments—were by no means to the hero’s taste;
and he soon gave his knights to understand that their ‘tilt and
tourney’ would be at the siege of Sens." Taking his newly
wedded Queen with him, he invested Sens on the following
Tuesday ; and that ‘great town and notable’ speedily fell before
the united arms of England and Burgundy.? Montereau, where
Duke John had been murdered, was next laid siege to. The

‘ Monstrelet.
2 At Sens, Henry restored the Burgundian Archbishop of Sens to his
dignities, obserying, with a smile, as they entered the Cathedral, ‘Now,
Monseigneur, we are quits: you gave me a wife the other day, and I, to-
day, restore you to yours.’

*
132 HENRY THE FIFTH.

town was soon captured by assault, but the garrison retired
into the castle, and prepared for a desperate resistance. Henry,
hotly enraged at the fruitless opposition, ordered twelve of the
prisoners taken in the town to be despatched to the governor to
urge him to surrender, threatening them with death if they were
unsuccessful. Their entreaties being disregarded, he hung them
up in sight of the castle-walls; a foul butchery, which must
always be regretted by Henry’s biographers as a lasting stain
upon his fair renown.

From Montereau the conqueror proceeded to Melun-on-the-
Seine, a town of great strength and importance, and garrisoned
by some of the Dauphin’s most experienced veterans. It resisted
for 18 weeks the combined force of the English and Burgundians,
and was finally reduced by famine. In the course of the siege,
King Henry and the Duke of Burgundy, entering a mine which
the besieged had counter-mined, were forced into a hand-to-hand
combat with two of the garrison before they could effect their
retreat. In the camp before Melun resided Queen Katherine,
with her mother and King Charles, and a gay train of knights,
nobles, and courtly ladies, but at such a distance from the town
as might prevent the invalid monarch from being disturbed by
the war of the artillery. ‘Ten clarions, and divers other instru-
ments,’ belonging to King Henry’s military band,’ played at
nightfall for an hour, ‘ most melodiously,’ before the door of the
unfortunate King of France.

The soldier-king and his bride now prepared to visit Paris.
Henry first made his entry ; and having taken possession of the
city with his troops, on the following day Queen Katherine and °
her mother were received with a splendid welcome. ‘Great was
the magnificence displayed at the arrival of the Queen of Eng-
land; but it would take up too much time,’ says our chronicler, ?
‘to record all the costly gifts which were presented to her by the
citizens of Paris. The streets and houses were decorated with
tapestry all that day, and wine was constantly flowing from brass
cocks and in conduits through the squares, so that every person

? Henry V. was the first English monarch who formed a private mili-
tary band. .
? Monstrelet.
QUEEN KATHERINE’S RECEPTION IN ENGLAND. 133

might have of it in abundance ; and more rejoicings than tongue
can tell were made in the city on account of the peace and the
marriage of Katherine the Fair.’

Having kept their Christmas with unusual splendour, Henry
and his bride prepared to depart for England, where their
arrival was impatiently expected. Appointing Queen Isabeau
Regent of France, they set out on their winter journey, attended
by the Duke of Bedford and an escort of 6000 men; embarked
at Calais; and on the 1st of February 1421, landed at Dover.
Katherine was received ‘as if she had been an angel of God.’!
In London, her reception was, in itself, a triumph. On the 24th,
she was crowned with extraordinary magnificence by the hands
of Chicheley, the Archbishop of Canterbury ; and every tongue
was loud in praise of the surpassing charms of their sove-
reign’s bride. The coronation feast was enlivened with various
emblematic devices, significant of the affection in which she was
already held. Images of St Katherine, her patron-saint, were
very numerous, and rhyming compliments were uttered by the
mouths of apostles, pelicans, and panthers. For instance, a
pelican bore the following motto :—

‘C’est la signe et du roy ‘This sign to the King
Parer tenez joy, Great joy will bring,
Et tout sa gent And all his people
Elle metre sa content.’ She (the Queen) will content.’?

And an image of St Barnabas was adorned with a moral poesy :—

‘Tl est ecrit, ‘It is written,—
Pur voir et eil, It may be seen, and is,—
Per mariage pure In marriage pure
C’est guerre ne dure.’ Wars ne’er endure.’

As soon as possible after the coronation festivities, Henry,
with his fair bride, went on a triumphal procession through the
northern counties of England, addressing the corporations of the
different towns he visited, and keeping alive the warlike spirit of
the people. At every famous shrine he paid his devotions; for
‘the Priests’ King,’ as the Lollards called him, was noted for
the depth and sincerity of his piety ; and everywhere he paraded

1 Monstrelet. 2 Miss Strickland’s Queens of England.
134 HENRY THE FIFTH.

before his subjects the loveliness of their Queen. He was
checked in his exultant progress by the disastrous tidings re-
ceived from France. There, indeed, the English were on the
point of losing all that their valour had won. At Baugy, his
best-loved brother, the illustrious Clarence, had been defeated
by the Dauphin’s superior forces, and he himself and 3000 of his
men left dead upon the field. Town after town, and castle after
castle, ceased to flaunt the colours of England from their walls,
and the French were rapidly advancing upon Chartres. Obtain-
ing liberal supplies from his Parliament, the English soldier set
out, in June 1421, to carry war for the last time into the heart
of France. His army comprised 4000 men-at-arms and 24,000
archers; and under his banner, as a private knight, fought his
long-time captive, James I. of Scotland. And here it may be
noted that King Henry hung every Scot he took prisoner in
France, on the pretence that they were fighting against their
own sovereign, but, in reality, because the victory of Baugy had
been mainly won by Scotch soldiers.

Henry’s arrival re-invigorated the Burgundian party, whom
the Dauphin’s successes had wofully dismayed, and the army ad-
vanced with rapid marches to raise the siege of Chartres. The
Dauphin quickly retired before them, and with indecorous haste
retreated towards Touraine, pursued for some leagues by the
English king, whom, however, want of provisions soon compelled
to return towards Normandy. A small detachment of Armagnacs
was surprised on the march, and, retreating into the castle of
Rougemont, offered a gallant but unavailing defence. Their
courage merited the conqueror’s admiration ; but, with the cruelty
which was his principal vice, he ordered them all—about sixty
in number—to be drowned in the Loire.

The English forces next invested Meaux. Its resistance was
spirited and protracted. A chivalrous effort was made by a
knight of brilliant fame, named Offernout, to force his way into
the town, to take the command of the garrison. With forty men-
at-arms he succeeded, under the cover of night, in reaching the
foot of the walls, and a ladder being lowered, his companions
mounted. He was climbing it in his turn, when a spoke gaye
way under his weight, and flung him into the moat below. The
HENRY AND KATHERINE’S VISIT TO PARIS. 135

unguarded exclamations of his friends, and the noise of his fall,
aroused the English. He was discovered and made prisoner.
The next day the town was taken by assault.

While prosecuting the siege of Meaux, Henry received intelli-
gence of the birth of a son, the ill-fated Henry VI., December
6, 1421. Contrary to his special injunctions, Katherine had been
brought to bed in the stately castle of Windsor,—a circumstance
- which greatly discomposed him; and it is said he exclaimed, in a
prophetic but ‘rough and ready’ stanza,—

‘I, Henry, born at Monmouth,
Shall small time reign, and much get ;
But Henry of Windsor shall long reign, and lose all.
But as God will so be it.”

This curious incident is related by most of the chroniclers;
and as Henry’s sagacity probably foresaw the troubles to which
his realm would be exposed in the event of his premature death,
it need not be rejected as a, fiction.

Queen Katherine landed at Harfleur, May 21, 1422, attended
by the Duke of Bedford, and a right royal escort of 20,000 men.
She progressed through France in martial pomp, and at Paris
was welcomed by her soldier-husband. They entered the city in
state, on Whitsun eve, the 30th of May, and were lodged in the
Louvre. Queen Isabeau and King Charles resided in the Hotel
de St Pol. ‘On Whit-Sunday, Queen Katherine sat at table at
the Louvre, gloriously apparelled, having her crown on her head.
The English princes and nobles were partakers with the great
lords of France at this feast, each seated according to his rank,
while the tables were covered with the richest viands and wines.
Queen Katherine next day held a great court, and all the Pari-
sians went to see their princess and her lord sitting enthroned,
crownell with their most precious diadems; but as no meat or
drink was offered to the populace, they went away much discon-
tented. For when, of old, the kings of France kept open court,
much good cheer was freely given to all comers. King Charles
VI. had once been as courteous and liberal as any of his prede-

1 Holinshed ; Stowe; Fabyan.
136 HENRY THE FIFTH.

cessors; but now he was seated at a table, with his queen, quite
forsaken by his nobles, who all flocked to pay their court to his
daughter and her husband, whereat the common people grieved
much.’

But while Henry was enjoying the pomp of victory, and
administering the affairs of France, a deadly malady was making
rapid inroads on his frame, and its effects were increased by the
mental excitement under which he laboured. For the Dauphin,
again making head against the forces of the English faction, had
invested the town of Cone-sur-Loire. Reduced by famine, the
garrison agreed to surrender, unless relieved by the Duke of
Burgundy before the 16th of August. Henry resolved to march
to the Duke’s aid, in the hope, perhaps, of crushing in one great
battle the Dauphin’s party. Leaving his queen at Vincennes,
then the royal residence of the kings of France, he marched as
far as Melun, where his disease exhibited such violence as to
compel the abandonment of his enterprise. With slow steps he
was removed in a litter to Senlis, and from Senlis to Vincennes ;
while his brother, the Duke of Bedford, proceeded on the march
to Cone, from whence the Dauphin retreated on his approach.
The Duke then returned, to be present at his brother’s death-bed.

Henry was well aware that his days were numbered, and
made such arrangements as were needful to secure his infant’s
peaceful succession to the throne. Inquiring of his physicians,
‘How long he had to live?’ one of them, kneeling, replied,
‘That, without a miracle, he could not survive more than two
hours.” Then he bade his confessor read the seven penitential
psalms, and listened to them with devout earnestness. At the
verse, ‘ Build thou the walls of Jerusalem,’ he remarked that he
had always designed, when he had completed his conquests in
Europe, to take up the Cross and rescue the Holy City from
infidel hands. Turning to the Duke of Bedford, he sighed,
‘Comfort my dear wife, the most afflicted creature living ;’ and
so passed away quietly and calmly, on the 81st of August 1422,
in the 38th year of his age, and the tenth of his reion. The
disease of which he died is said by the French chroniclers to
have been St Anthony’s fire; by the English, fistula.

Both as a statesman and as a soldier, Henry V. must be
HIS CHARACTER. 137

ranked among our ablest and most successful monarchs. His
courage was unimpeachable; but his prudence guarded it from
degenerating into the excesses of temerity. Sagacious, self-
reliant, and devout, he was the idol both of his people and his
soldiers, and his whole reign was unmarked by a single popular
disturbance. In the prosecution of his claim to the French
crown, he exhibited a remarkable combination of qualities: the
boldness of the warrior, the astuteness of the diplomatist, and
the ability of a great general. The affability of his manners,
and the gracious eloquence of his address, are much dwelt upon
by contemporary chroniclers, and even the French regarded him
with admiration and reverence. In person he was tall and
slight ; well-made; and so nimble of foot, that he could, with
the aid of two attendants, capture deer in the royal chace without
dogs. His features were regularly formed; his eyes keen and
brilliant; the nose well cut; the brow lofty and grave; the
mouth large, and the lips closely compressed ; the general ex-
pression, a mild and benevolent gravity. He was learned after
the fashion of his times; passionately enamoured of music; and
constant and sincere in his religious exercises. Not forgetting his
occasional ferocity, and duly remembering the warmth of his
ambition, we may nevertheless adopt the creat poet’s eulogium,
with but little qualification :—
‘England ne’er lost a king of so much worth !—
Virtue he had, deserving to command ;

His deeds exceed all speech,
He ne’er lift up his hand but conqueréd.’?

 

AUTHORITIES.

[Tyler’s Life of Henry V.; Lingard, Hume, and Mackin-
tosh ; Sir Harris Nicolas’ Chronicle of the Battle of Azincourt ;
Monstrelet ; Fabyan, Grafton, and Harding ; Hallam ; Walsing-
ham; Drayton’s Ballad; De Barante; Holinshed; Guthrie’s
History of England; White Kennet’s History; Miss Strick-
land’s Lives of the Queens; and Musgrave’s By-roads and
Battle-fields of Picardy. ]

1 Hallam. ? Henry VI., Pt. I., act i, s. 1.
CHAPTER V.

THE BATTLE OF NASEBY; AND OLIVER CROMWELL,
LORD PROTECTOR OF ENGLAND.

‘Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud,
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed,
And on the neck of crowned fortune proud
Hast reared God’s trophies, and his work pursued.’-—MIxron.

‘His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone ;
For he was great ere Fortune made him so:
And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,
Made him but greater seem, not greater grow.’—DryDrEn.

‘Immediately there was lost the King, and the kingdom in it.’-—
CLARENDON.

SaturDay, June 14, A.D. 1645.

Nasepy is a small hamlet, with a population of some five hundred,
seated upon high ground on the north-west border of Northamp-
tonshire, seven and a half miles from Market-Harborough, and
about the same distance from Daventry. The Avon—the
memorable Avon—Shakspeare’s Avon—rises in the garden op-
posite its church, and

‘Makes sweet music with the enamell’d stones,

Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge

He overtaketh in his pilgrimage,’
The church is very old. Its curions truncated spire is sur-
mounted by a hollow copper-ball, which has, indeed, a history of
its own. It was brought by a certain Sir Giles Allerton from
Boulogne, when Henry VIII. captured that much-enduring
THE SCENE OF THE FIGHT OF NASEBY. 139

town; and, like Hudibras’ breeches, has been at ‘the siege of
Bullen.” From the summit you may see, it is said, when the
air is clear, the flats of Boston, seventy miles distant. Near the
church stands the ancient market-inn; for Naseby, though now
as sorry a village as ever you entered, was anciently a market-
town. The cottages are mostly built of clay, and roughly
thatched, forming a small square, or oblong, which throws out
towards the south a couple of long, rambling streets. The
church occupies the centre.

Following the course of the silver Avou as it winds to the
north-west, we come, after a mile or so’s ramble, to a remarkably
elevated table-land, whose base the river washes. Ascending it,
we notice that each side slopes inwardly towards a broad, deep
hollow, like the two sides of a trough, and that the summit
commands a very extensive, if not a very romantic, prospect.
From one point the spires and grey towers of at least forty
churches are plainly visible. This table-land we speak of was
the scene, in 1645, of the memorable fight of Naseby. But then,
all the wide bleak moorland was garnished with purple heath,
and golden-blossomed gorse, and waving ferns; now, it is en-
closed by many low green hedges, and bears, at harvest-time,
far-rolling billows of tawny corn.

The different epochs of English progress—of the progress of
England towards a complete civil and religious freedom—are as
distinctly marked as the beacons which guide the labouring ship
into her destined harbour. It is easy enough to count the land-
marks which our ancestors erected. Magna Charta; the battle
of Lewes; Bosworth Field; the Reformation; the Defeat of
the Armada; the Revolution of 1640, are but a few of the
points of the long, ascending series of triumphs to which, under
Providence, we owe our peaceful enjoyment of established
liberties. No period, however, has received fuller or more fre-
quent illustration than that of the Civil War, and none has better
deserved it. How much do we owe to its heroes! How large,
how endless should be our debt of gratitude! And in that great
civil war, how important a scene is the battle of Naseby! Then,
truly, the Roundheads wrenched the sword out of the King’s
hand, and broke, as it were, the neck of the royal prerogative.
140 THE BATTLE OF NASEBY.

The triumph was complete, was decisive ; and the gain has been
England’s, throughout two and a half busy centuries of reform
and change. |

Upon the events which resulted in the field of Naseby it is
not needful that we should dilate. Let it be remembered, how-
ever, that the year 1645 opened auspiciously for King Charles’
cause, and found his partisans sanguine of a speedy and surpass-
ing triumph. The dangers which threatened England were not
underrated by England’s defenders, and at Cromwell’s sugges-
tion the parliamentarian army was re-organized under the pro-
visions of the ‘Self-Denying Ordinance.’ Fairfax was with his
army in the neighbourhood of Oxford; Cromwell was strenuous
and earnest in the advocacy of the good cause at Westminster.
At this conjuncture King Charles determined on the offensive.
He relieved Chester, stormed Leicester, and flung the cloud of
war upon the northern counties. Fairfax thereupon abandoned
Oxford, and moved forward to Harborough, while he wrote to
the Parliament pressingly that Cromwell might be sent to his
assistance. The King was at Harborough when tidings reached
him of the approach of the Puritan forces. Believing that the
recent changes had resulted in their entire demoralization, he
quickly concentrated his army upon Daventry, with the view of
giving them battle. But here he heard that the enemy was by
no means in the strait he imagined, and that a hasty attack might
terminate in a complete defeat. He withdrew to Harborough
(Thursday, 12th June), intending to retreat upon Leicester, but
soon discovered that the Roundhead troopers were rapidly press-
ing on his rear,—were, in fact, scarce six miles from his camp,
—and would fall upon him like an avalanche, if he carried out
his original intention. For during a council of war called by
Fairfax on Friday the 18th of June, Cromwell had arrived in
hot haste from London; and the soldiers had given ‘a mighty
shout of joy for his coming to them,’ and he had brought with
him 700 of his veteran soldiers; and his word was, ‘Forward!
Forward!’ In his turn King Charles summoned a council, and
‘the former resolution of retiring was presently laid aside, and a
new one, as quickly taken, “to fight,” to which there was always
an immoderate appetite when the enemy was within any distance.
THE ORDER OF BATTLE. 141

They would not stay to expect his coming, but would go back
to meet him. And so, in the morning early, being Saturday the
14th of June, all the army was drawn up upon arising ground
of very great advantage, about a mile south from Harborough.’?
It was divided into three bodies,—the right wing, under Prince
Rupert, and the left, under Sir Marmaduke Langdale, composed
entirely of cavalry; the centre, under Lord Ashley, of foot; the
reserve, under the Harl of Litchfield, of horse and foot combined.
The King held the command in chief. Altogether, about 10,000
soldiers were drawn up under his banner.

The excellent position thus occupied was, however, soon
abandoned. Some movements of the enemy deceived Prince
Rupert into a belief that they were on the retreat, and his counsel
persuaded the King to move his forces forward. They descended
from the rising ground, and advanced their battalions upon the
north-eastern edge of Broad Moor, to find the parliamentary
regiments bristling on the continuous range of Mill Hill and
Fenny Hill, about half a mile distant. Between them stretched
the wide and deep ravine already spoken of. The morning
breeze came with a gentle sough from the north-west. In the
eastern sky rose the glowing sun, and flung a golden splendour
over the purple heather and yellow broom which checkered with
their brilliant colours the swelling uplands. There was music on
the wing, and all around and about floated the rich, rare glory
of the summer.

Cromwell and Fairfax had thus disposed their battle. On
the east, the right wing, all cavalry, was led by Fairfax’s. ‘In-
vincible Lieutenant ;’? the centre, all foot, by Fairfax aud Major
Skippon; the left, all cavalry, by Cromwell’s son-in-law, the
gallant Ireton; and the reserves of horse and foot by Rains-
borough, Colonels Pride and Hammond. Colonel Okey’s troop
of dragoons was placed by Ireton under the shelter of a tall
hedge,—‘ Lantford Hedges,’—‘a kind of thicket which runs right
down the hill.’ Before Cromwell and his Ironsides rose the par-
tial concealment of much broken ground, of ‘furze-bushes’ and
‘a cony-warren.’

1 Clarendon. 2 Milton’s Sonnets.
142 THE BATTLE OF NASEBY.

Such were the positions of the two English armies—akin in
religion, nationality, and language, but so widely apart in thought,
sympathy, and feeling—on the morning of Naseby fight (Satur-
day, June 15, 1645). The royalists overflowed with joyous
assurance of victory; the parliamentarians were calmly but hope-
fully resolute. The former distinguished themselves by wearing
bean-stalks in their hats; the latter went into battle with few
marks or signals. It was noticed by his men that Fairfax’s
countenance, usually so pale and worn, was flushed with cheerful
confidence; and as for Cromwell,—blithe, indeed, is the war-
horse when he scents the coming battle! He, perhaps best
of all those ‘fighting men,” comprehended the importance of
victory, the fatality of defeat. Be sure that /vs sagacious
mind fully understood the vastness of the influence which the
field of Naseby would exercise upon the fortunes of the Com-
monwealth.

Hark to the shot scattering over hill and plain! And yet it
is not by artillery this great fight will be decided. It is ten
o'clock in the morning, and already the hot cavalry of Prince
Rupert are crossing the hollow—are riding up the grassy slope—
are down upon Ireton’s Roundheads with a shock of fire, while
their shouts of ‘Queen Mary’ ring exultantly through the air.
Against these gentlemen of England, stoutly, but vainly, struggle
Ireton’s men, comforting themselves with the cry of ‘ God is our
strength!’ They give their hearts to the gleaming steel; they
bring down many a horse and rider to the dust; but they waver
—they falter—they fly! Ireton is hurled down in the onset, his
horse slain under him; he is gashed across the face; a halberd-
wound in the thigh renders him weak and sorely faint ; the Cava-
liers hem him in; he becomes for a while a prisoner. Now, if
Rupert should fall upon the exposed flank of Fairfax’s centre,
Heaven help the cause of the people! But no; those gay riders
are little troubled with strategical notions; and on they spur,—
on through the retreating fugitives.—sabreing and cutting,—
their horses’ hoofs deep in blood, crossing Rutput Hill and Fenny
Hill,—until Rupert espies the enemy’s train of baggage on the
north-west side of Naseby village, and falls suddenly upon it.

But Cromwell has planted there a strong and trusty guard,
INDECISION OF CHARLES. 143

and Rupert loses much valuable time in a fruitless attempt to
break through their line of steel.

Meanwhile a similar charge has been made by Sir Marmaduke
Langdale, but with a very different result. He has to cope with
Cromwell’s famous Tronsides, and it is in vain, you may be sure,
that he dashes against them. Instead of flinching from the
assault, they meet it with sanguine bosoms, and in their turn
charge their opponents boldly, ‘driving all before them, like a
torrent.’ They sweep down the declivity; they hurl the flying
Cavaliers into the hollow; they pursue them for a quarter of a
mile from the battle-ground; and then, assured that the enemy
are completely broken, Cromwell recalls most of his troopers from
the pursuit, to fling them against the rear ranks of the King’s
central battle. Just in time ; for there the contest has been long
and doubtful. Ashley’s men are resolute, and Fairfax’s, nothing
loth, have met them hand to hand, and they have dealt each other
deadly blows with the butt-ends of their muskets, and grappled
closely together in the fearful grasp of death. Fairfax’s men at
length retire a pace or two. Their leader, bare-headed,—for he
lost his helmet in the first swift rush,—springs into the front,
encourages the dispirited both by word and deed, orders up fresh
supports, and shows in all he does ‘a spirit heightened above the
ordinary spirit of men.’ Sturdy old Skippon, leading into action
a regiment as yet unbroken, is shot’ in the side, but will not quit
the field, even at his general’s desire. ‘No, sir,’ he cries, ‘I will
not stir while a man still stands.’ Up come the reserves; Crom-
well is plying the enemy hotlyin the rear; the Roundheads recover
their ground; they gain upon the foe; they advance more quickly
and more triumphantly ; for the battle is won! Naseby is won!
The Amalekites are smitten by ‘the sword of the Lord and
Gideon!’ In three hours we have crushed them.

But why idles King Charles updn yonder ridge? Indecision,
indeed, has marked his counsels all the day, and he still holds his
reserve untouched and impact. The battle goes against him,
and broken regiments hasten, in wild confusion, across the bloody
field. Now, at last, he will charge. He places himself at the
head of his men, and is about to give the word, when the Earl of
Carnewath, a Scotch peer, of whom history says but little, lays
144 THE BATTLE OF NASEBY.

his hand upon the back of his horse, and crying, ‘Saul of my
body, will you go upon your death in an instant?’ before the
King understands his intention, turns his horse’s head.*_ What!
The King flies? Then every one for himself; and away speed
jerkined pikemen and glittering cavaliers. In vain the King
attempts to check the rout; he is hurried onward by the press.
He cries to his guard, ‘One more charge, and we will regain the
day! Fruitless the appeal: the disorder is complete, for Crom-
well’s Ironsides are thundering heavily in the rear. Little do the
fugitives heed the bloom of the heather, or the glow of the golden
gorse, the soft bland airs of ‘the evening, or the dying glories
of the summer twilight; up the grassy slope, past the fragrant
hedgerows, along the green and leafy lanes they ran—they run!

Rupert now returns from his misspent ride: returns—to gaze
on a battle lost, and to spur after the King, who is still attempt-
ing to rally his reserves at Dust Hill, half a mile distant from the
battle-field. Rupert’s troopers are weary: they have done their
part; they will fight no more. ‘ This difference,’ says my Lord
Clarendon, ‘ was observed in the discipline of the King’s troops,
and of those which marched under the command of Cromwell;
that though the King’s troops prevailed in the charge, and routed
those they charged, they never rallied themselves again in order,
nor could be brought to make a second charge again the same
day; whereas Cromwell’s troops, if they prevailed, or though
they were beaten and routed, presently rallied again, and stood’
in good order, until they received new orders.’ Rupert’s troops
retreat at first in tolerable array; but as Cromwell gains upon
them they break from their ranks, and mingle with the other fugi-
tives,—the flight and the pursuit continuing for sixteen weary
miles, even from Naseby unto Leicester.

A number of women, of that unfortunate class which generally
accompanied the Cavalier forces,—‘ Irish women’ many of them,
‘ with cruel countenances,’—were slain, or wounded in the pur-
suit.2 A foul deed certainly, and only to be excused upon two
pleas: that the Puritans had good cause to remember the mas-
sacres perpetrated by the Irish in the ‘ O’Neil insurrection,’ and

1 Clarendon. ° Whitlocke.
CROMWELL'S ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE. 145

that a well-founded belief prevailed, that these women, after pre-
vious battles, had plundered, and even stabbed the wounded,
with ‘long skean-knives, about a foot in length.’ Otherwise, the
slaughter was altogether disproportionate to the fierceness of the
contest. King Charles lost only 400 men killed, but no less than
4500 taken prisoners. The Parliamentarian forces had a like
number slain and wounded, and these mainly in Rupert’s hot and
headlong charge.

Of the Roundhead generals, it was universally admitted that
Cromwell had won the greatest fame, and by his skill and con-
duct ensured the victory. But all had fought heroically : Fair-
fax, with his own hands, captured one of the royal standards,
and killed the ensign who guarded it. He committed his prize
to the custody of a common soldier, who afterwards had the
audacity to boast of the deed as his own. ‘ Let him retain that
honour,’ said Fairfax; ‘I have to-day acquired enough besides.’
Due credit was given to him, and to others as brave as he, by
that one—greater than all—Cromwell, the ‘ Invincible Lieu-
tenant,’ in his letter to the Speaker of the House of Commons :—

‘ For the Honourable William Lenthall, Speaker of the Commons
House of Parliament: These.

‘Harporoucy, 15th June 1645.

‘Srr,—Being commanded by you to this service, I think my-
self bound to acquaint you with the good hand of God towards
you and us.

“We marched yesterday after the King, who went before us
from Daventry to Harborough; and quartered about six miles
from him. This day we marched towards him. He drew out
to meet us; both armies engaged. We, after three hours’ fight
very doubtful, at last routed his army; killed and took about
5000. Very many officers; but of what quality we yet know
not. We took also about 200 carriages, all he had; and all his
guns, being twelve in number, whereof two were demi-cannon,
two demi-culverins, and I think the rest sackers. We pursued
the enemy from three miles short of Harborough to nine beyond,
even to the sight of Leicester, whither the King fled.

K
146 THE BATTLE OF NASEBY.

‘Sir, this is none other but the hand of God; and to Him
alone belongs the glory, wherein none are to share with Him.
The General served you with all faithfulness and honour: and
the best commendation I can give him is, That I daresay he
attributes all to God, and would rather perish than assume to
himself. Which is an honest and a thriving way :—and yet as
much for bravery may be given to him, in this action, as to a
man. Honest men? served you faithfully in this action. Sir,
they are trusty; I beseech you, in the name of God, not to
discourage them. I wish this action may beget thankfulness
and humility in all that are concerned init. He that ventures
his life for the liberty of his country, I wish he trust God for
the liberty of his conscience, and you for the liberty he fights
for. In this he rests, who is your most humble servant,

‘OLIVER CROMWELL.’
'

After this ‘complete and decisive victory’ the King’s cause
never regained its former position, nor made head in the field
against the triumphant Parliamentarians. It decided, at one
blow, the fate of the war and the fortunes of Charles, whose
course from Naseby field to the Whitehall scaffold was only now
to be measured by three and a half short years. A heavy moral
blow was dealt him by the discovery, among the booty, of his
private cabinet of letters: these, when published by order of
the Parliament, as ‘The King’s Cabinet Opened,’ conclusively
established his insincerity and faithlessness ; conclusively proved
his unkingly disregard of his kingly word. It was one of the
most serious ‘consequences’ of the battle of Naseby. For all
history shows that honesty, in a sovereign, is of infinitely greater
importance to his influence over men than the most shining abili-
ties or brilliant courage. Integrity is surely the best ‘king-craft.’

The site of this famous battle is easily traceable. Even at

» «The “honest men who served you faithfully ” on this occasion are
the considerable portion of the army who have not yet succeeded in
bringing themselves to take the Covenant; whom the Presbyterian
party, rigorous for their own formula, call ‘ Schismatics,” ‘“ Sectaries,”
“ Anabaptists,” and other hard names; whom Cromwell, here and else-
where, earnestly pleads for.’— Carlyle, ii. 177.

«
DESCRIPTION OF ITS SITE. 147

the present day, its terrible souvenirs are frequently turned up
by spade or plough. ‘There are hollow spots; of a rank vege-
tation, scattered over the Broad Moor, which are understood to
have once been burial mounds; some of which, one to my know-
ledge, have been (with more or less of sacrilege) verified as such.
A friend of mine has in his cabinet two ancient grinder teeth,
dug lately from that ground, and waits for an opportunity to
rebury them there. Sound effectual grinders, one of them very
large, which ate their breakfast on the 14th morning of June
200 years ago, and, except to be clenched once in grim battle,
had never work to do more in this world. “A stack of dead
bodies, perhaps about 100, had been buried in this trench, piled
as in a wall, a man’s length thick: the skeletons lay in courses,
the heads of one course to the heels of the next; one figure, by
the strange position of the bones, gave us the hideous notion of
its having been thrown in before death! We did not proceed
far,—perhaps some half-dozen skeletons. The bones were treated
with all piety ; watched rigorously, over Sunday, till they could
be covered in again.”’1 The bodies are seldom more than two
feet from the surface, the pits having been hastily dug and
quickly covered in. ‘The earth then thrown over them has sunk
considerably, and formed hollows, which in a wet season fill with
water. On the height, but nearly a mile to the eastward of the
actual site of the battle, stands a pyramidical monument-me-
morial, erected some few years ago, and inscribed with a very
poor and prosaic inscription. There is no battle-ground in
England, I think, which better deserves commemoration, or to
which the Englishman, proud of his freedom, is more bound to
make a devout pilgrimage. ‘

OLIVER CROMWELL.
A BrogRapuHy.

Oliver Cromwell, the most illustrious of those Englishmer
who ‘have achieved greatness,’ was born of a good family, at
Huntingdon, on the 25th of April 1599.

1 Carlyle’s Cromwell, ii, 174.
148 OLIVER CROMWELL.

He was the son of a reputable English squire, Robert Crom-
well, whose estate might have been worth about L.1000 per
annum at the present value of money, and who was lineally de-
scended from Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, the ‘ Malleus
Monachorum,’ or ‘Mauler of Monasteries,’ of Henry VIIL’s
time. His mother was Elizabeth Stewart, whom genealogical
enthusiasts have shown to be an offshoot of the royal stock of
Stuart. His uncle, Sir Oliver, ‘kept a brave old house, at a
bountiful rate,’ at Hinchinbrook, where he right splendidly feasted
King James I. in April 1603, and obtained the royal eulogium—
‘Marry, man, thou hast treated me better than any one since I
left Edinburgh.’ Oliver, therefore, was of decent parentage,
though scurrilous calumniators have called him ‘a brewer’s son,’
and made the most of the fact that a brewhouse, or rather a malt-
house, was a portion of the economical arrangements of his
father’s estate. ‘The essential trade of Robert Cromwell was
that of managing those lands of his in the vicinity of Hunting-
don: the grain of them would have to be duly harvested,
thrashed, brought to market ; whether it was as corn or as malt
that it came to market, can remain indifferent to us.’ Had he
been 4 huckster’s son, the love and reverence for him cherished
by all pure and noble souls would in no wise have been the less.
And now-a-days the world asks, ‘What is he? What can he
do?’ of its hero, and troubles itself little about the oldness or
newness of his genealogical tree, whether cedar of Lebanon or
venerable English oak.

Of Cromwell’s father, as a man, we know but little: he looms
dimly upon us, through the mists of traditions and conflicting
biographies, as grave in his address, simple in his manners, and
earnest in his faith, leaning very much to those new-old theories,
then fast rising above the horizon and making themselves known
as ‘Puritanism.’ Of his noble mother, a Cornelia in her devout
affection and primitive simplicity, an admirable picture has been
painted by the able hand of a biographer not always just to
Cromwell himself. ‘An interesting person, indeed,’ says he,
‘ was this mother of Oliver Cromwell—a woman with the glorious
faculty of self-help when other assistance failed her. Ready for
the demands of fortune in its extremest adverse time—of spirit
: HIS BOYHOOD. 149

and energy equal to her mildness and patience—who, with the
labour of her own hands, gave dowries to five daughters suf-
ficient to marry them into families as honourable, but more
wealthy than her own—whose single pride was honesty, and
whose passion love—who preserved in the gorgeous palace at
Whitehall the simple tastes that distinguished her in the old
brewery at Huntingdon—whose only care, amidst all her splen-
dours, was for the safety of her beloved son in his dangerous
eminence—finally, whose closing wish, when that anxious care
had outworn her strength, accorded with her whole modest and
tender history, for it implored a simple burial in some country
churchyard, rather than those ill-snited trappings of state and
ceremony wherewith she feared, and with reason feared, that his
highness, the Lord Protector of England, would have her carried
to some royal tomb! There is a portrait of her at Hinchin-
brook, which, if that were possible, would increase the interest
she inspires, and the respect she claims. The mouth, so small
and sweet, yet full and firm as the mouth of a hero—the large
melancholy eyes, the light pretty hair, the expression of quiet
affectionateness suffused over the face, which is so modestly en-
veloped in a white satin hood—the simple beauty of the velvet
cardinal she wears, and the richness of the small jewel that
clasps it, seem to present before the gazer her living and breath-
ing character.’?

Little that is authentic can be told of Oliver Cromwell’s boy-
hood. He was bred up at the Grammar School of Huntingdon,
then under the care of a Dr Beard, and was probably given to
bird’s-nesting, and tree-climbing, and brook-leaping, like other
boys. A famous oak, celebrated by ‘ Drunken Barnabee’ in his
Itinerarium, in 1683, but which has long since disappeared, may
have witnessed many of his boyish sports. He was four years
old when his uncle and godfather, Oliver, was knighted by King
James at Hinchinbrook. Two years later, he probably heard of
the dark conspiracy against Protestantism which culminated and
failed in the Gunpowder Plot. The annual thanksgivings which
commemorated its failure helped, perhaps, to nourish in him a

1 Forster’s Memoirs of Eminent British Statesmen :—Cromwell.
150 OLIVER CROMWELL.

stern hostility to the ritualistic forms and general character of
Roman Catholicism. When he was eleven years old, news
reached the quiet households of Huntingdon of a still darker and
bloodier outburst against Protestantism,—of the terrible blow
of Ravaillac’s dagger, which smote to the death, great, gallant,
and generous Henry of Navarre. Prince Henry, the hopeful son
of James I., the pride and promise of Reformed England, died
in 1612; and, three years later, the country was alarmed by the
murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, and the foul deeds of the
infamous Rochester, and the yet more infamous Countess of
Essex. Such were the events which marked the years of Crom-
well’s childhood, and were discussed and commented upon in the
grave family-circle which drew around ‘ the brewer’s’ fireside.

His temper, it is said, was wayward and violent; and Mark
Noble tells us, that on a visit paid by Charles I., then Duke of
York, to Hinchinbrook (1604), a quarrel arose between him and
testy young Oliver which resulted in blows, and the sturdy
Huntingdon boy drew blood—ay, princely blood—from the
feeble princeling’s nose. ‘This was looked upon as a bad
presage for that king when the civil wars commenced.’ But
it does not appear to have been spoken of until after Charles’
death, and altogether has a very apocryphal and fictitious air.
Another tradition seems to be less unsubstantial. It is said that,
having wearied himself with his youthful sports, he laid himself
down, one afternoon, to sleep, and that then the curtains of his
bed were slowly drawn aside by a gigantic female figure, which,
after gazing at him for a while in silence, proclaimed, ‘he should,
before his death, be the greatest man m England, but not King.’
Clarendon informs us that this incident was generally spoken of,
‘even from the beginning of the troubles, and when he was not
in a posture that promised such exaltation;’ and there seems
reason to believe that Cromwell himself frequently related it after
his accession to power.

Tn 1616, Cromwell was removed from the Grammar School
at Huntingdon to Sidney-Sussex College, Cambridge, in whose
register the fact of his admission is thus recorded:—‘ A festo
Annunciationis ad Festum Sancti Michaelis Archangeli,’ runs the
list, ae. from the 25th March to 29th September ; and the first
HIS FATHER'S DEATH AND HIS OWN MARRIAGE. 151

entry is as follows:—‘Oliverius Cromwell Huntingdoniensis
admissus ad commeatum Sociorum, Aprilis vicesimo tertio;
Tutore Magistro Ricardo Howlet.’ (On this same 23d of April,
1616, died William Shakspeare.) A Royalist scribe, writing,
perhaps, just after the Restoration, has added to this brief entry
a curious bit of scurrility:—‘ Hic fuit grandis ille Impostor,
Carnifex perditiossimus, qui pientissimo Rege Carolo Primo
nefaria cde sublato, ipsum usurpavit Thronum, et Tria Regna
pet quinque firme annorum spatium, sub Protectoris nomine,
indomita tyrannide vexavit.’? This ‘great Impostor’ was re-
called from his serious college studies in June 1617, to stand at
his father’s deathbed, and to attend the devout Puritan’s body
to its resting-place in St John’s Church, Huntingdon. He was
now the head of his family, for none of his brothers had lived ;
and to his care were entrusted his mother and six young sisters.
He returned no more to Cambridge ; but, to fit himself for the
due discharge of his duties in life as a decorous English squire
and Huntingdon burgess, proceeded to London to gain some
knowledge of the law. The stories of his vicious career in the
metropolis rest only on the authority of ‘ Flagellum’ Heath, and
may be dismissed without hesitation into the limbo of Oblivion.
For he was even then prosecuting his suit to Hlizabeth Bour-
chier (the daughter of a well-to-do knight, one Sir James
Bourchier); and a young heart, rapt in its first love-dream, is
little likely to run riot in the coarse debaucheries of a great town.
At the early age of twenty-one the earnest young lover wedded
this fair and virtuous maiden (August 22, 1620), and immediately
took her home to the quiet household at Huntingdon, where she
was received, we fancy, by the loving mother and warm-hearted
sisters with all imaginable affection and respect.

And now, for ten years, Oliver Cromwell leads a life which
affords little of interest to history or biography, though impor-
tant enough in its influence upon his genius and character.
He farmed his lands; he watched over his tenants; sons and
daughters were born unto him; death made certain gaps in his
social circle; and a great change was working itself out in his
honest, earnest heart. Dr Simcott, a physician of Huntingdon,
told Sir Philip Warwick that he had often been sent for to
152 OLIVER CROMWELL.

Oliver Cromwell at midnight, when he had splenetic, hypochon-
driacal fits upon him, and indulged in ‘strange fancies about
the Town Cross,’ which doubtlessly, as a memorial of Popery,
vexed his very soul. For he now began to perceive that it was
not enough to lead merely a grave and decorous life,—to observe
the moralities and respect the conventionalities of society. The
hot faith of Calvinism seized hold of him; he began to think
and speak of himself in Calvinistic language, as ‘the chiefest of
sinners ;’ occasionally his mental excitement took strange forms,
and even found vent in grotesque buffoonery; he wandered
alone by the Ouse, and muttered much to himself; and at length,
after a weary passage ‘through the valley of the shadow of
death,’ he discovered peace, and reposed in the consciousness
that he was accepted of Heaven. Henceforth he grew up ‘in
peace and privacy,’ as Milton nobly says, ‘silently cherishing in
his heart a confidence in God, and a magnanimity well adapted
for the solemn times that were approaching. Although of ripe
years, he had not yet stepped forward into public life; and
nothing so much distinguished him from all around as the culti-
vation of a pure religion, and the integrity of his life.” Hence-
forth he became a Puritan; associated with the gradually-
increasing fellowship of Puritan gentlemen and Puritan pastors ;
aud entered upon public life as the representative of the county
of Huntingdon, March 1627-8.

To that Parliament, the third sammoned by Charles I., were
also returned many other great English worthies, whose names
still stir our hearts like the sound of a trumpet. Pym was there,
and Sir John Eliot, and the learned Selden, and Denzil Holles,
and, above all, Oliver’s cousin, John Hampden. ‘He was in-
deed,’ says Lord Clarendon, ‘a very wise man, and of great
parts, and possessed with the most absolute spirit of popularity,
and the most absolute faculties to govern the people, of any
man I ever knew.’ Mr Forster’s sketch of the two famous
cousins, at this memorable epoch in Cromwell’s career, is emi-
nently picturesque; and we cannot refuse to illustrate our pages
with its vivid colours :—‘ Let us suppose,’ he says, ‘that he and
Hampden entered the house together at the momentous opening
of that famous Parliament,—two men already linked to each
HAMPDEN AND CROMWELL. 153

other by the bonds of counsel and of friendship yet more than
by those of family, but presenting how strange a contrast to each
other in all things, save the greatness of their genius! The one
of exquisitely mild deportment, of ever civil and affable manners,
with a countenance that at once expressed the dignity of his
intellect and the sweetness of his nature; and even in his dress,
arranged with scrupulous nicety and care, announcing the refine-
ment of his mind. The other, a figure of no mean mark, but
oh how unlike that! His gait clownish, his dress ill-made and
slovenly, his manners coarse and abrupt, and face such as men
look on with a vague feeling of admiration and dislike! The
features cut, as it were, out of a piece of gnarled and knotty
oak ; the nose large and red; the cheeks coarse, warted,
wrinkled, and sallow; the eyebrows huge and shaggy, but,
glistening from beneath them, eyes full of depth and meaning,
and, when turned to the gaze, piercing through and through the
gazer; above these, again, a noble forehead, whence, on either
side, an open flow of hair ‘round from his parted forelock manly
hangs,’ clustering; and over all, and pervading all, that unde-
finable aspect of greatness alluded to by the poet Dryden, when
he spoke of the face of Cromwell as one that

“ Did imprint an awe,
And naturally all souls to his did bow,
As wands of divination downward draw,
And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow.”

_‘Imagine, then, these two extraordinary men, now for the
first time together, passing along the crowded lobbies of that
most famous assembly :—Hampden greeting his friends as he
passes ; stopping now and then, perhaps, to introduce his country
kinsman to the few whose curiosity had mastered the first
emotion inspired by the singular stranger; but pushing directly
forward towards a knot of active and eager faces that are
clustered round a little spot near the bar of the House, on the
tight of the Speaker’s chair, in the midst of which stand Sir
John Eliot, Sir Robert Philips, and Pym. The crowd make
way for Hampden; the central figures of that group receive
him amongst them with deference and gladness; he introduces
154 OLIVER CROMWELL.

his cousin Cromwell; and, among the great spirits whom that
little spot contains, the clownish figure, the awkward gait, the
slovenly dress, pass utterly unheeded ; for, in his first few words,
they have discovered the fervour, and, perhaps, suspected the
greatness of this accession to their cause.’!

This was the Parliament which, in its first session, carried
the memorable ‘Bill of Rights,’ and boldly denounced the
favourite, Buckingham, as the author of all the miseries under
which the country laboured. During the prorogation, Bucking-
ham was slain by the assassin Felton, In its second session it ap-
pointed a committee on religion, and afforded Cromwell an oppor-
tunity of addressing the House. Ie had heard, by relation from
one Dr Beard (his ILuntingdon schoolmaster), that Dr Alablaster
had preached flat Popery at Paul’s Cross; and that the Bishop
of Winchester (Dr Neile) had commanded him, as his diocesan,
he should preach nothing to the contrary. Mainwaring, so justly
censured in this House for his sermons, was by the same Bishop's
means preferred to a rich living. ‘If these are the steps to
church preferment,’ exclaims the indignant God-fearing Puritan,
‘ what are we to expect ?

After passing a strong remonstrance against the King’s illegal
exercise of an arbitrary prerogative, and his encouragement of
false doctrines, the Parliament was summarily dissolved, its
leading members fined, and England supposed to be able to
content herself with dumb inaction and servile specchlessness for
eleven years.

Eleven years! And what years! In the history of no
country can we recall a more memorable period. ‘The spirit of
the people was calmly training itself to vindicate its privileges.
Men literally ‘watched and prayed,’ and, in their own scriptural
language, ‘ girded up their loins,’ for the great fight which they
knew was near at hand. Cromwell, be sure of it, was not idle.
He had determined upon extending his farming operations, and
having sold most of his lands at Huntingdon, rented a con-
siderably larger estate at St Ives,? in the ecntre of an excellent
grazing district. Jere, for five active years, he toiled and

 Yorster, vol. i. ? Mark Noble’s Life of Cromwell.
HAMPDEN'’S REFUSAL TO PAY SHIP MONEY. 155

taught ;—bringing his servants and labourers within the sphere
of his devotional exercises; teaching them the value of work
and prayer; accustoming them to understand that in religion
existed a legitimate equality—a loyal brotherhood, of which all
men might avail themselves; inculcating ‘self-reverence, self-
Tespect, and self-control,’ as the true virtues of true hearts.
Tilling his lands, fattening his cattle, enjoying the household
graces, and sunning his great soul in the warmth of household
love,—who can believe that this active farmer and grazier of St
Ives meditated, at this time, the high destinies to which Hearen
had appointed him ?

In 1634 came out the writ of Ship Money; an attempt to
provide the King with supplies beyond the control of trouble-
some Parliaments; with ‘a spring and magazine that should
have no bottom,’ and ‘an everlasting supply’ for ‘all occasions ;*+
but which aroused the courage and genius of Hampden to sup-
port ‘the liberty and prosperity of the kingdom,’ and completed
the alienation already existing between the people and the throne.
Hampden refused to pay it. ‘The struggle resulted, towards the
close of the year 1636, in an adverse decision on the part of the
jadges; five out of the twelve voting in Hampden’s favour, but
seven against him. Nevertheless. the victory which the King
had won was worse than a defeat. ‘The judgment,’ says
Clarendon, ‘ proved of more advantage and credit to the gentle-
man condemned than to the King’s service.” Hampden became
the foremost man in England. The leading Puritans rallied
round him, and even the Royalists admired his calmness, modera-
tion, and admirable temper. But he knew that he had incurred
the bitter hatred of Charles and his evil genius, Strafford; and
he did not know, as yet, the power and strength of his own cause.
He resolved to abandon England, and cross the Atlantic to find
the liberty of conscience he prized so dearly. With him would
go his cousin Cromwell; and when they had built up a home
for their families they would send for them, and peace should
gild the remaining years of their busy lives. They embarked on
board two vessels in the Thames; but, even as they were about

1 Clarendon.
156 OLIVER CROMWELL.

to sail, were stopped by an order of Council. They remained :
one to fall on Chalgrove field, the other to sway with un-
wavering hand the British sceptre. :

Cromwell was now living at Ely, on an estate bequeathed to
him by his maternal uncle, Sir Thomas Stewart; and from his
exertions in opposing the peculations and injustice committed in
relation to the drainage of the famous Bedford Level, earned
the title from his neighbours of ‘Lord of the Fens,’ and the
character of being a man—as Sir Philip Warwick expresses it—
‘that would set well at a mark.’ With so wide an influence
among his neighbours; with a reputation among the Puritan
leaders as a man of courage, energy, and sagacity; with an un-
compromising hatred of everything false and feeble, showy and
fantastic; with a deep religious enthusiasm, firing his genius and
sublimating his whole nature; Cromwell went up to the short-
lived Parliament, called in April 1640, as one of the members for
Cambridge. Brief was his trust: the Commons proved them-
selves Jess compliant than the King desired, and ‘in a huff’ he
dismissed them. An hour or two after the dissolution, Hyde,
better known to us by his title of Lord Clarendon, met Oliver St
John, Hampden’s friend, and a distant kinsman of Cromwell’s.
‘Hyde was dispirited; St John, on the contrary, though of a
naturally sombre countenance, and who was never seen to smile,
had now a joyous look and beaming eyes. ‘‘ What disturbs
you?” said he to Hyde. ‘That which disturbs many honest
men,” answered Hyde, “the so imprudent dissolution of so sensi-
ble and moderate a Parliament, which, in our present disorders,
was the only one likely to apply a remedy.” “Ah, well,” said St
John, ‘before things get better they must get still worse; this
Parliament would not have done what must be done.”’!

What must be done! On the 3d of November 1640 assembled
a Parliament prepared to do it,—the immortal Long Parliament
which won again for England ‘those charters and liberties,’
secured by so many a sacrifice, by so many a bitter struggle.
On Monday, the 9th of November, Cromwell, member for Cam-
bridge, presented a petition in favour of John Lilburn—after-

* Forster.
HIS APPEARANCE IN PARLIAMENT AS A SPEAKER. 157

wards the violent demagogue, of whom it was said that Lilburn
quarrelled with John, and John with Lilburn—and a lively pic-
ture of our hero on this same 9th of November has been sketched
by the Royalist pen of Sir Philip Warwick ‘The first time I
ever took notice of Cromwell was in the beginning of the Parlia-
ment held in November 1640, when I vainly thought myself a
courtly young gentleman, for we courtiers valued ourselves much
upon our good clothes. I came into the House one morning well
clad, and perceived a gentleman speaking, whom I knew not,
very ordinarily apparelled; for it was a plain cloth suit, which
seemed to have been made by an ill country-tailor. His linen
was plain, and not very clean; and I remember a speck or two
of blood upon his litle band, which was not much larger than
his collar; his hat was without a hat-band. His stature was of
a good size; his sword stuck close to his side; his countenance
swoln and reddish; his voice sharp and untuneable; and his
eloquence full of fervour,—for the subject-matter would not bear
much of reason, it being in behalf of a servant of Mr Prynne’s,
who had disperst libels against the Queen for her dancing, and
such like innocent and courtly sports; and he aggravated the
imprisonment of this man by the council-table to that height,
that one would have believed the very Government itself had been
in great danger by it. JI sincerely profess it lessened much my
reverence unto that great council, for he was very much hearkened
unto. Hampden’s opinion of his cousin, however, in no way de-
pended upon the country-tailor’s misfit; and when a certain Lord
Digby inquired of him, ‘Pray, who is that sloven who spoke just
now, for I see he is on our side by his speaking so warmly?’
Hampden answered,—‘ That sloven whom you see before you
hath no ornament in his speech; that sloven, I say, if we should
ever come toa breach with the King—which God forbid!—in such
a case, I say, that sloven will be the greatest man in England.’
It is not for us to trace the history of the Long Parliament,
which has already been done full often, and by most able hands.
The impeachment and execution of Strafford and Laud; the
abolition of the Star Chamber, the Court of High Commission,

1Sir P. Warwick's Relation.
158 OLIVER CROMWELL.

and the Council of York ; the appointment of the judges for life,
instead of at the will of the Crown; the reformation of the Forest
and Stannary Courts; and the regulation of Triennial Parlia-
ments; these were some of its labours in its earlier sessions. At
first there was but little opposition within the House itself; but
so much having been accomplished, two parties speedily arose,—
those who were content with what they had gained, those who
wanted more. The former, aptly called by Lord Macaulay the
Constitutional Royalists, were led by Hyde, Falkland, and Cul-
peper, and nearly outnumbered their opponents. A. collision
soon took place. The opponents of the Government moved that
famous address to the King, which is known as the Grand Remon-
strance. The debate began at nine in the morning, and lasted
until after midnight (November 21, 1641). Only by eleven votes
were the Royalists defeated. ‘At three o’clock in the morning,’
says Sir Philip Warwick, ‘when they voted it, I thought we had
all sat in the valley of the shadow of death; for we, like Joab’s
and Abner’s young men, had catched at each other’s locks, and
sheathed our swords in each other’s bowels, had not the sagacity
and great calmness of Mr Hampden, by a short speech, prevented
it, and led us to defer our angry debate until the next morning.’
So small a majority placed the Puritan leaders in a position
of considerable danger ; and Charles—if at this time he had lis-
tened to moderate counsels—might have regained the affection
of his people, and secured the influence of a constitutional king.
But the vacillating tyrant was content with nothing short of
arbitrary power. One bold stroke, and it seemed to him that he
might recover all the ground he had lost. He looked around, and
marked as the great leaders of the opposition, Hampden, Pym,
Holles, Strode, and Haselrig, in the Commons, and Lord Kim-
bolton in the Lords. He would crush them. The Attorney-
General was ordered to impeach them, at the bar of the House of
Peers, of high treason,—a proceeding so illegal, so violent, and so
unjust, that it is difficult to believe it could ever have found defend-
ers. The Commons refused to give up their members, and it was
evident that the Lords had no inclination to try them. The King
then determined to seize them, and marched down to the Com-
mons’ House, attended by two hundred of his guard, and many
EVENTS PRECEDING THE CIVIL WAR. 159

gentlemen of the court, armed with swords. Pym, however, had
received intelligence of the royal conspiracy, and the five members
left the House as Charles entered Palace Yard. The King
walked up Westminster Hall. ‘At the southern end of the Hall
his attendants divided to the right and left, and formed a lane to
the door of the House of Commons. He knocked, entered, darted
a look towards the place which Pym usually occupied, and seeing
it empty, walked up to the table. The Speaker fell on his knee.
The members rose and uncovered their heads in profound silence,
and the King took his seat in the chair. He looked round the
House, but the five members were nowhere to be seen. He inter-
rogated the Speaker. The Speaker answered, that he was merely
the organ of the House, and had neither eyes to see nor tongue
to speak, but according to their direction. The King muttered
a few feeble sentences about his respect for the laws of the realm
and the privileges of Parliament, and retired. As he passed
along the benches, several resolute voices called out andibly,
“ Privilege!” He returned to Whitehall with his company of
bravoes, who, while he was in the House, had been impatiently
waiting in the lobby for the word, cocking their pistols, and
crying “ Fall on.” That night he put forth a proclamation,
directing that the ports should be stopped, and that no person
should, at his peril, venture to harbour the accused members.’ *
This was the signal of civil war to distracted England. Be-
tween the people and the throne there would no longer be con-
fidence nor peace. It was evident that either the law or the
prerogative must succumb, and that the pretensions of either
party could only be decided by the sword. King Charles sent
Queen Henrietta to Holland to pawn the crown jewels and pro-
cure arms; while he himself hastened to Newmarket, and from
thence to York, and gathered around him such troops as the
Northern peers could muster. ‘Commissions of Array’ were
issued in the Loyalist counties, and subscriptions levied from
wealthy cavaliers. The Parliament was equally active. Men
were enlisted in Puritan London alone at the rate of 4000, some
say 5000 daily, and the militia was called out in every shire.

1 Macaulay’s Essays: on Hampden.
160 OLIVER CROMWELL.

This, indeed, is no time for waverers or trimmers. No English-
man can now serve two masters. And yet the struggle in many
an honest soul must have been a painful one ;—between the
Englishman’s instinctive loyalty to the Throne, and his manly
love of freedom of thought and speech; between his hereditary
reverence for the royal prerogative, and his conviction that
Charles wag a weak despot, whose absolute pretensions must
effectually be restrained. Happy they who comprehended that
even greater principles than these were involved, and so found an
easier solution to their doubts. For the issue really to be de-
cided was, Law and Religion against Tyranny and Superstition.
And Parliament only conquered when it understood this issue
fully, and, acting on Cromwell’s clear perception of ‘the fitness of
things,’ brought the enthusiasm of faith to: cope with the earnest-
ness of loyalty.

During this rapid sketch of the events immediately preceding
the breaking out of the civil war, we have lost sight of the hero
of our biography, though he played an active part in the labours
and counsels of the Puritan leaders throughout that time of
expectation and suspense. But from henceforth he will stand
forward in conspicuous prominence upon the political canvas,
until all England ‘with his name shall ring from far and wide,’
and the uncouth Huntingdon grazier shall prove himself possessed
of all the best qualities of a wise statesman and a great soldier.
It is now 1642, and Cromwell is in his 43d year; a man of strong
muscular frame, and untiring activity; seasoned by a hardy
country life; his mental and physical energies in the fulness of their
vigour ; altogether, as dangerous an antagonist as fraud or force
can meet with. He is the first to take the field. Two or three
passages from the Journals of the Commons will best show how he
sets to work :—

February 7.—Mr Cromwell offers to lend L.300 for the
service of the commonwealth.

July 15.—Mr Cromwell moves that the townsmen of Cam-
bridge shall be allowed to raise two companies of volunteers,
and to appoint captains over them.

Whereas Mr Cromwell has sent down arms into the
county of Cambridge for the defence of that county, it is this day
THE BATTLE OF EDGEHILL. 161

ordered that he shall be reimbursed in the L.100 he has thus
expended.

August 15.—Mr Cromwell having seized the magazine in
the Castle at Cambridge, and hindered the removal of the plate,
valued at L.20,000, from the University, it is now ordered that
he shall be indemnified for the same ‘ treasonable,’ but right use-
ful service.

We find, then, that Cromwell was at this time in Cambridge-
shire, very active on behalf of ‘the good cause,’ training the new
levies of militia, and infusing something of his own earnestness
into all who came into contact with him. He was already lay-
ing the foundation of his notable regiment of ‘TIronsides.’ In
the Parliamentarian army, under the Earl of Essex, he now
takes the command, as captain, of the troop of cavalry (60
men), numbered 67, and his eldest son Oliver joins troop 8 as
cornet. Cromwell was present, aud did good service, at the in-
decisive battle of Edgehill (sometimes called Keinton Fight),
fought near Keinton, in Warwickshire, on Sunday, the 23d of
October ; and it was there that his quick soldier’s eye at ouce per-
ceived the defective material of the Parliamentarian forces. To
use his own emphatic words,—‘ At my first going out into this
engagement I saw our men were beaten at every hand; I did
indeed, and desired Mr John Hampden that he would make some
additions to my Lord Essex’s army of some new regiments, and
I told him I would be serviceable to him in bringing such men in
as I thought had a spirit that would do something in the work.
Your troops, said I, are most of them old, decayed serving-men
and tapsters, and such kind of fellows; and, said I, ther troops
are gentlemen’s sons, younger sons, and persons of quality. Do
you think that the spirits of such base and mean fellows will be
ever able to encounter gentlemen, that have honour, and courage,
and resolution in them? He was a wise and worthy person, and
he did think that I talked a good notion, but an impracticable
one. ‘Truly I told him I could do somewhat in it: I did so: I
raised such men as had the fear of God before them, and made
some conscience of what they did; and from that day forward, I
must say to you, they were never beaten, and wherever they were
engaged against the enemy they beat continually.’

L
162 OLIVER CROMWELL.

During the winter of 1642 and the spring of 1643, there
arose among certain counties associations for mutual defence ;
of which, the principal, and indeed the only permanent one, was
that of the Eastern Counties, including Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex,
Herts, and Cambridge. Cromwell was attached to the Cam-
bridge Committee ; and the whole was under the superintendence
of Lord Grey of Wark. Throughout the war this confedera-
tion rendered important service to the commonwealth, while it
protected the whole of an extensive and wealthy district from
the ravages of battle, and the incursions of Rupert’s plunderers.

An important service was now rendered to the good cause .
by the ever-active Cromwell. The Royalist high sheriff of Herts,
attended by a numerous band of armed men, rode one day into
the market-place of St Albans, and there read aloud the Royal
Proclamation, or Commission of Array, denouncing the Earl or
Essex, his officers, and soldiers as traitors, and summoning all
loyal Englishmen to arm in the King’s behalf. Suddenly Crom-
well’s troopers dash through the startled crowd, and, after a
fierce struggle, seize the sheriff, scatter his followers to the wind,
and carry off a large quantity of stores and ammunition. For
this notable feat Cromwell is made a colonel; and we next hear
of him and his ‘five troops’ of Ironsides at Lowestoft, which he
captures for the Parliament, on the 14th of March 1642-3.

Having augmented his ‘Tronsides’ to the number of fourteen
troops of sixty men each,—every man a God-fearing, earnest,
and well-living Puritan,—Cromwell, early in ’43, entered Lin-
colnshire, where the Royalist cause, at that time, was in a very
prosperous condition. He had as yet, we see, distinguished '
himself mainly as a daring guerilla leader, prompt to conceive
and quick to execute; but he was now to develop the higher
qualities of a great general,—unbounded fertility of resources,
comprehensiveness of design, and the faculty of penetrating im-
mediately into the weak points of an enemy’s disposition. The
Royalists found themselves checkmated in every movement. On
the 13th of May, a greatly superior force of cavalry was broken
by Cromwell’s Ironsides, near Grantham. It was late in the
evening when the skirmish began. After a little firing, Crom-
well’s men advanced at ‘a pretty round trot,’ and, charging
won

DEFEATS THE ROYALISTS AT GAINSBOROUGH. 163

fiercely upon the enemy, immediately routed them, and drove
them for some two or three miles along the Newark road. They
were under the command of General Cavendish,’ a young cavalier
of some repute for valour and ability, and had been very confi-
dent of success; and their rout was a sore discomfiture to the
Royalist party.’

Stamford and Burleigh House now fell into Cromwell’s hands;
and, receiving a reinforcement of 300 horse, he next pushed for-
ward to Gainsborough, which was then imperilled by the ap-
proach of a large body of the enemy, under the Marquis of
Newcastle. A further reinforcement of troops from Lincoln
joining him at North Scarle, on the evening of Thursday, the
27th of July, he advanced upon the town, and, driving back a
forlorn hope of 100 troopers, ascended the hill, and without
hesitation charged the main body of the enemy. ‘ We came up
horse to horse,’ writes Cromwell,’ ‘where we disputed it with
our swords and pistols a pretty time; all keeping close order,
so that one could not break the other. At last, they a little
shrinking, our men perceiving it, pressed in upon them, and
immediately routed this whole body; some flying on one side,
and others on the other of the enemy’s reserve; and our men,
pursuing them, had chase and execution about five or six miles.

‘I perceiving this body,’ continues Cromwell, ‘ which was the
reserve, standing still unbroken, kept back my major, Whalley,
from the chase; and with my own troop and the other of my
regiment, in all being three troops, we got into a body. In
this reserve stood General Cavendish, who one while faced me,
another while faced four of the Lincoln troops, which was all of
ours that stood upon the place, the rest being engaged in the
chase. At last General Cavendish charged the Lincolners, and
routed them. [They were not Ironsides, you see.] Immedi-
ately I fell on his rear with my three troops, which did so
astonish him, that he gave over the chase, and would fain have
delivered himself from me. But I, pressing on, forced them
down a hill, having good execution of them, and below the bill

Cousin of the Marquis of Newcastle.

? May’s History of the Long Parliament.
3 Carlyle’s Letters and Speeches of Oliver Cromwell.
164 OLIVER CROMWELL.

drove the General with some of his soldiers into a quagmire,
where my captain-lieutenant slew him with a thrust under his
short ribs. The rest of the body was wholly routed, not one
man staying upon the place.’

The town being relieved, Cromwell discovered that about a
mile on the other side were still lying six troops of horse and
300 foot,—the advanced guard, in fact, of the Marquis of New-
eastle’s army. The brave Colonel resolved to attack them, and
borrowing 400 foot from ‘my Lord Willoughby,’ marched to-
wards them. They occupied an advantageous position on the
brow of a stecp hill, but were soon beaten back, and then, having
gained the summit, Cromwell perceived in the hollow bencath the
main battle of the Marquis of Newcastle. Before these vastly
superior forces he was compelled to retire, but executed his re-
treat with a masterly skill which won general admiration. The
Earl of Manchester and a Parliamentarian army lay at Boston,
and thither he withdrew, followed by Newcastle, who speedily
retook Gainsborough and Lincoln.

Cromwell’s success at Gainsborough was ‘ the beginning,’ says
Whitelock, ‘ of his great fortunes,’ and proved also the begining
of his memorable intimacy with the gallant Ircton. He was, at
that time, a captain in ‘Colonel Thornhaugh’s regiment,’ but
had solicited permission to join Cromwell in his daring Gains-
borough adventure, and charmed by his superior conduct and
genius,’ remained from henecforth attached to his fortunes.
Three years later, their friendship was further consolidated by
his marriage with Bridget, Cromwell's eldest daughter.

The position of the Parliamentarian party at this moment was
by no means a hopeful one. Cromwell alone had displayed any
courage or genius in the field ; but in the west the Earl of Essex
had lost Bristol (July 22d), and nearly sacrificed his army. Sir
William Waller ‘had been beaten all to picces’ on Lansdown
Heath. The Puritan leaders, therefore, besought assistance
from the Scots, and after much consideration, the famous Solemn
League and Covenant was subscribed by the House of Commons
and Assembly of Divines on the 22d of September 1643 ; and the

Mrs Ilutchingon’s Memoirs.
THE ROYALISTS ATTEMPT TO CUT OFF CROMWELL. 165

immediate consequence was the calling out of all ‘ fencible’ Scots,
from 16 to 60, to march to the assistance of the English Puritans.
The Earl of Manchester now accepts the command of the
forces raised by the Eastern Association, and Cromwell acts
under him as his lieutenant. Fairfax brings his troops across
the Humber, and joins them ; and itis decided that Lincolnshire
shall be thoroughly cleared of the ‘ Malignants.’ Against Crom-
well, of whose active genius and zealous courage they begin to
have a lively perception, the said Malignants are especially bitter,
and Sir John Henderson, the Royalist general, determines to cut
him and his cavalry off from the Earl of Manchester’s body of
foot. On the 11th of October, Henderson seized the oppor-
tunity he sought for; and while Manchester’s infantry were a
day’s march in the rear, drew together his masses on Boling-
broke Hill, near Winceby, five miles westward of Horncastle, in
the fenny lowlands of Lincolnshire. The account given by ‘loud-
spoken Vicars’ may here, in some measure, be made use of :—
The enemy drew, that Wednesday morning, their whole body
of horse and dragooners into the field, being 74 colours of horse,
and 21 colours of dragoons,—in all, 95 colours. We had not
many more than half so many colours of horse and dragooners ;
but I believe we had as many men, besides our foot, which in-
deed could not be drawn up until it was very late. [From other
accounts it would appear that the enemy outnumbered Crom-
well’s troops in the proportion of three to one.]’ The enemy’s
word was Cavendish [in memory of General Cavendish, slain in
the skirmish at Gainsborough]; and ours was Religion. It was
about twelve of the clock ere our horses and dragooners were
drawn up. After that we marched about a mile nearer the
enemy; and then we began to descry him, by little and little,
coming towards us. So soon as our men had knowledge of his
coming, they were very full of joy and resolution, thinking it a
great mercy that they should now fight with him. Our men
went on in several bodies, singing psalms. Quartermaster-
General Vermnyder, with five troops, had the forlorn hope, and
Colonel Cromwell the van, assisted with other of my Lord’s
troops, and seconded by Sir Thomas Fairfax.
Both they and we had drawn up our dragooners, who gave
166 OLIVER CROMWELL.

the first charge, and then the light horse set to. Colonel Crom-
well fell with brave resolution upon the enemy, immediately after
their dragooners had given him the first volley. His horse was
killed in the charge, and rolled over him; and as he rose up, he
was knocked down again by the gentleman who charged him,
who, it was conceived, was Sir Ingram Hopton; but afterwards
he recovered a sorry horse in a soldier’s hands, and bravely
mounted himself again. Truly this first charge was so home-
given, and performed with so much admirable courage and reso-
lution by our troops, that the enemy stood not another, but were
driven back upon their own body, which was to have seconded
them, atid at last put these into a plain disorder; and thus, in
less than half an hour’s fight, they were all quite routed, and
driven headlong down a narrow defile [still called, in remembrance
of the slaughter, Slash Lane]. Above a hundred men were
drowned in the ditches and quagmires; Sir Ingram Hopton,
Cromwell’s assailant, was slain; some hundreds were taken
prisoners; and thus the fen-country was effectually cleared of
Royalist armies. So great was the blow to the royal cause, that
Charles, when the tidings reached him, is said to have exclaimed,
‘I would that some one would do me the good fortune to bring
Cromwell to me, alive or dead!’

Having garrisoned all important towns and castles, and placed
the borders of the Associated Counties in security, Cromwell and
Manchester retired their forces into winter quarters.

But during the winter Cromwell was by no means inactive.
He had been appointed Governor of Ely, and resided there with
his family for several weeks. A certain Mr Hitch officiated in
the cathedral, and conducted the ceremonies with a superfluity
of form and an absence of earnestness, which, to our devout-
minded Colonel, was truly objectionable. To his remonstrances
Mr Hitch paid no attention; and accordingly, one Sunday, ‘ with
a rabble at his heels,’ and with his hat on, Cromwell stalked into
the beautiful choir, and plainly addressed its occupants,—‘I am
a man under authority, and am commanded to dismiss this
assembly.” Then he drew back, that the congregation might
quietly disperse ; but Mr Hitch misunderstood the purport of the
movement, and recommenced his prelections. ‘Leave off your
CROMWELL AT KNARESBOROUGH. \

fooling, and come down, sir, thundered Cromwell, in a v

which Mr Hitch was quite wise enough to obey and tremble ‘at.
The Malignants left the cathedral, and Cromwell felt that he had
struck another blow in favour of Protestantism and the Puritans.

On the 19th of January 1644, the Scots army entered Hng-
land, wading up to the knees in snow, that they might hasten to
the assistance of the English religionists. Lesley, Harl of Leven,
a stout old warrior, was their commander. The cavalry under
Cromwell, and the foot under Fairfax, crossed the Humber to
effect a junction with him; and the united armies laid siege to
York, and beleaguered Newcastle’s army. The royal troops had
also received a reinforcement, but one that rather weakened than
strengthened them, in a large body of Irishmen, who, abandon-
ing themselves without restraint to the most shameless plunder,
cruelty, and rapine, brought a stigma upon the King’s cause it
never got rid of.

Over every step of our great soldier’s career we dare not
linger. His first action of note, in 1644, was the capture of
Knaresborough Castle, and an eye-witness furnishes posterity
with a curious glimpse of his manner of life at that time. ‘When
Cromwell came to lodge at our house in Knaresborough, I was
then but a young girl. Having heard much talk about the man,
I looked at him with wonder. Being ordered to take a pan of
coals and air his bed, I could not, during the operation, forbear
peeping over my shoulder several times to observe this extra-
ordinary person, who was seated at the far side of the room,
untying his garters. Having aired the bed, I went out, and
shutting the door after me, stopped and peeped through the key-
hole, when I saw him rise from his seat, advance to the bed and
fall on his knees, in which attitude I left him for some time.
When returning again, I found him still at prayer; and this was
his custom every night as long as he stayed at our house; from
which I concluded he must be a good man. And this opinion I
always maintained afterwards, though I heard him very much
blamed and exceedingly abused.’

King Charles was at Oxford when tidings reached him that
York and the Marquis of Newcastle’s army were beleaguered by
the combined forces of Fairfax, Leven, and Cromwell. He im-
168 OLIVER CROMWELL.

mediately despatched peremptory orders to Prince Rupert, who,
at the head of 20,000 men, had been harrying the Welsh coun-
ties, to march to their relief. He obeyed; and the Parliament
generals retired from the city upon Long Marston Moor to cut
off his advance. But skilfully crossing the Ouse, and avoiding
the Roundhead army, Rupert relieved York on Monday the 1st
of July, and joined his forces to those under Newcastle. If he had
now effected, as with his superiority of numbers he might have
done, a further junction with King Charles at Oxford, the united
forces of the Royalists might have crushed, for a while, all oppo-
sition; but, in spite of Newcastle’s sage advice, the impetuous
cavalier determined to bring the Roundheads to an engagement.
The result was the battle of Marston Moor, fought from seven
o’clock to ten, on the evening of Tuesday, July 2, 1644.7

The Parliament army was already on the retreat, when
Rupert’s cavalry fell against their rear. It was immediately
determined to await his arrival. The ground they occupied
was a long and slightly elevated ridge, stretching from Marston
to Tockwith, and the disposition of their battle-array was into
three bodies: the left wing under Cromwell, the right under
Sir Thomas Fairfax, and the centre under the Earls of Leven
and Manchester. The masses of the Royalists were drawn up
on the moor below in similar order: the left wing under Rupert,
the right under the Marquis of Newcastle, and the centre under
Goring, Lucas, and Porter. Numbers were somewhat in favour
of the Royalists.

About five o’clock in the evening,—a calm and tender
summer evening,—both armies were ready to engage. Never-
theless, for nearly two hours longer, they stood and faced each
other, as if unwilling to begin the deadly strife; and the silence
was only broken by a ringing trumpet, or the whirr of an occa-
sional cannon-shot. Newcastle, believing the fight would not
take place until the morrow, had retired for repose to his car-
riage, when a stray bullet, which fatally wounded young Valentine
Walton, a lad of good parts, and Cromwell’s nephew, aroused in
the great soldier’s heart the slumbering fire, and he ordered his

? Clarendon ; Rushworth ; Whitelock,
THE BATTLE OF MARSTON MOOR, 169

invincible Ironsides to advance. A broad deep ditch, which
separated them from the enemy, Rupert had lined with musketeers,
whose steady fire brought to the ground many a horse and rider ;
and their progress was further impeded by a storm of shot rained
down from the batteries on the hill beyond. But into this
baptism of fire plunged Cromwell and his troopers, turned to
the right of the ditch, crossed the moor, and fell with such fury
on Goring’s cavaliers, that they crashed through their ranks like
a hurricane through a forest. Then driving over them with
merciless impetuosity, the hills in the rear were won, the cannons
silenced, and the cannoneers struck dead. Those who escaped
this terrible charge mingled in the yet unbroken squadrons of
Prince Rupert, who had thundered against Fairfax’s men with his
characteristic ardour and usual good fortune, and driven them
off the field.

The royal centre, under Newcastle, had also been successful,
when Cromwell, recalling his cavalry from their pursuit, fell
upon its flank. Newcastle bravely withstood their steel, and
his own regiment, composed of his retainers and personal ad-
herents, died as they stood almost to a man. But Cromwell
was not to be denied. He broke through the centre and put it
to the rout; rallied his men once more, and advanced to meet
the onset of the victorious Rupert, now returning from his pursuit
of Fairfax’s troops. In the charge he himself was wounded
in the neck. For a moment the result seemed doubtful; but
Fairfax brought up a regiment which he had rallied, and Leven
led to the struggle a choice body of veteran Scots; and so—
about ten in the evening, as shadows darkened and deepened
over the earth, and stars looked out from the depths of the quiet
heaven—the Royalists fled in terror from the field, and victory
crowned the genius of the ‘ Good Cause.’

The slaughter in this three hours’ fight was terrible: not less
than 4150 dead, mostly Royalists, were buried on the field. The
Parliament army took 1500 prisoners, a hundred standards, and
a vast quantity of arms, artillery, baggage, tents, and stores.
Rupert made for the south, with such horse and foot as he could
get together; the Marquis of Newcastle escaped to the sea-side,
and thence embarked for the Continent. York immediately fell
170 OLIVER CROMWELL.

into the victors’ hands, and the royal cause was utterly ruined in
the north. A great comfort to the Parliament party, and a heavy
blow to King Charles’s interest, was Cromwell’s victory at Marston
Moor.

Here is the victor’s own account of his triumph :—

© To my loving Brother, Colonel Valentine Walton: These.

‘ LEAGUER BEFORE York, 5th July 1644.

‘ Dear S1r,—It’s our duty to sympathize in all mercies, and
to praise the Lord together in chastisements or trials, that so we
may sorrow together.

‘Truly England and the Church of God hath had a great
favour from the Lord, in this great victory given unto us, such
as the like never was since this war began. It had all the evi-
dences of an absolute victory, obtained by the Lord’s blessing
upon the godly party principally. We never charged but we
routed the enemy. The left wing, which I commanded, being
our own horse, saving a few Scots in our rear, beat all the Prince’s
horse. God made them as stubble to our swords. We charged
their regiments of foot with our horse, and routed all we
charged. The particulars I cannot relate now; but I believe, of
twenty thousand, the Prince hath not four thousand left. Give
glory, all the glory, to God.

‘Sir, God hath taken away your eldest son by a cannon-
shot. It brake his leg. We were necessitated to have it cut off,
whereof he died.

‘Sir, you know my own trials this way;! but the Lord
supported me with this,—that the Lord took him into the hap-
piness we all pant for and live for. There is your precious child
full of glory, never to know sin or sorrow any more. He was a
gallant young man, exceedingly gracious. God give you his
comfort. Before his death he was so full of comfort, that to
Frank Russel and myself he could not express it, “it was so great
above his pain.” This he said to us. Indeed it was admirable.
A little after, he said one thing lay upon his spirit. I asked him

1 Alluding to the death of his son Oliver, some few weeks before.
THE BATTLE OF NEWBURY. 171

what that was. He told me it was, That God had not suffered
him to be any more the executioner of His enemies. At his fall,
his horse being killed with the bullet, and, as I am informed,
three horses more, I am told he bid them open to the right and
left that he might see the rogues run. Truly he was exceedingly
beloved in the army, of all that knew him. But few knew him;
for he was a precious young man, fit for God. You have cause
to bless the Lord. He is a glorious saint in heaven; wherein
you ought exceedingly to rejoice. Let this drink up your sor-
row; seeing these are not feigned words to comfort you, but the
thing is so real and undoubted a truth. You may do all things
by the strength of Christ. Seek that, and you shall easily bear
your trial. Let this public mercy to the Church of God make
you to forget your private sorrow. The Lord be your strength:
so prays your truly faithful and loving brother,
‘ OtiveR CROMWELL.’

Though the genius of the Great Soldier had so completely
prostrated Charles’ fortunes in the north, in the west they were
triumphant, and the cause of the Parliament was, indeed, on the
very verge of ruin. The army under Essex, cooped up amongst
the bleak, bare hills of Cornwall, was compelled to surrender
(September 2), and their general, with difficulty, escaped by sea
to Plymouth. The Parliament, however, ‘ with Roman dignity,’
acknowledged the fidelity, while they secretly regretted the imbe-
cility of Essex, and assured him of the continuance of their good
affection and high esteem. He was despatched to Portsmouth
to collect what levies he could, while Waller moved to his aid,
and Manchester led from Yorkshire the veterans of Marston
Moor. The combined forces came up with the King at Newbury,
on his march to Oxford; and there a great battle was fought, on
Sunday, the 27th of October. The King was resting at Mr Dole-
man’s house,—Shaw House, on the banks of the Lamborne,—
and a brass plate, near an upper window, still marks the spot
where a cannon-ball lodged which was fired at him. The engage-
ment began with a general cannonade, after which Cromwell led
his squadrons down the hill in two columns, waded the Lamborne,
and fell with great fury upon the right and left of the royal army,
172 OLIVER CROMWELL.

The attack upon the centre was less successful. Charles had
chosen his position well, and strongly fortified it. After a des-
perate and confused fight, both armies, therefore, when night
came, remained upon the field. But the King’s left wing had
been completely routed by Cromwell’s desperate charges ; and
feeling that he could not resist another attack on the following
day, he removed his guns and stores into Donnington Castle,
while, in the soft moonlight, his forces gradually retired upon
Oxford, battalion following battalion with silent regularity. Sud-
denly the watchful eye of Cromwell detected their movements.
He entreated Manchester to suffer him to charge upon the re-
treating troops with his invincible cavalry. At that critical
moment he could have crushed the royal army, and ended the
war. But Manchester, unwilling in his heart to press the King
too closely, and rebuked by the superior genius of his lieutenant-
general, refused. Next morning, indeed, he made a feint of
pursuing ; but the King, with his prisoners and materiél, had
then securely effected his escape. Reinforced by Prince Rupert
and a large body of horse, he returned twelve days afterwards,
and while the Parliament camp was occupied with the discussions
of its leaders, carried off all his guns and stores from Donnington
Castle, and again retired to Oxford unmolested ; for Manchester,
in spite of Cromwell’s entreaties, refused to attack him. If we
lose this army, said he, where shall we get another? and if the
King gets the upper hand, and we have treated him too harshly,
mind you, shall we not be hanged? To which Cromwell plainly
but not over courteously, replied, ‘ There will never be a good
time in England until we have done with lords!’

It now became evident to Cromwell and the Independents,
that if the war was to be effectually prosecuted, these timid
Essexes and Manchesters must be got rid of. On the other
hand, the Presbyterians and the Scots, who were secretly anxious
to come to terms with the King, protested against Cromwell as
an incendiary ; and Manchester, in the House of Peers, openly
inveighed against his thorough-going principles. But the Inde-
pendents triumphed. After a fierce struggle, they carried the
‘Self-denying Ordinance,’ which provided that no member of
either House should, during the continuation of the war, hold
HIS RAPID SUCCESSES. 173

any civil or military office or command. Essex, Manchester,
and Waller immediately resigned their commissions, and received
the thanks of the House of Commons. The army was re-
organized,’ and placed, by the advice of Cromwell, under the
command of Sir Thomas Fairfax, a brave, honest, and success-
ful soldier. When these steps became known to the Royalists,
great was their gaiety and superabundant their confidence.
They spoke with derision of this new army, as ‘a mob of peasants
and preaching mechanics, idiots enough to drive from them
generals whose names and ability had constituted their sole
strength, and to raise to the command officers as obscure, as
utter novices, as their soldiers.’

What followed we may relate in the clear summary of M.
Guizot :—‘ Towards the end of April, Fairfax announced that
in a few days he should open the campaign. Cromwell went to
Windsor, to kiss, as he said, the General’s hand, and take him
his resignation.? On seeing him enter the room, Fairfax said,
“T have just received from the Committee of the two kingdoms
an order which has reference to you: it directs you to proceed
directly with some horse to the road between Oxford and Wor-
cester, to intercept communications between Prince Rupert and
the King.” The same evening Cromwell departed on his mis-
sion, and in five days, before any other corps of the new army
had put itself in motion, he had beaten the Royalists in three
encounters, taken Bletchington, and sent to the House a full
report of his success. ‘Who will bring me this Cromwell,
dead or alive?” cried the King; while in London all were
rejoicing that be had not yet given in his resignation’? The
Parliament and the people, indeed, had already determined that,
at all events, he, their greatest soldier, should be exempted from
the provisions of the Self-denying Ordinance. It was felt that
it would be a treachery to the good cause to deny it the services
of the victor of Marston Moor.

‘It consisted of twelve regiments of foot, each of ten companies, ten
regiments of horse, and 1000 dragoons: in all, 14,000 foot and 7000
horse—picked men—men of the Cromwellian stamp.

2 See this confirmed by Sprigge in his Anglia Rediviva.

3 Guizot’s History of the Revolution of 1640.
174 OLIVER CROMWELL.

Cromwell’s account of his brilliant series of successes must
here be introduced :—

‘To the Right Honourable the Committee of both Kingdoms, at Derby
House: These.

‘Biercnineton, 25th April 1645.

“My Lorps anp GentLEmen,—According to your Lord-
ships’ appointment, I have attended your service in these parts ;
and have not had so fit an opportunity to give you an account
as now.

‘So soon as I received your commands, I appointed a ren-
dezvous at Watlington [April 23]. The body being come up,
I marched to Wheatley Bridge, having sent before to Major-
General Browne for intelligence; and it being market-day at
Oxford, from whence I likewise hoped, by some of the market
people, to gain notice where the enemy was.

‘ Towards night I received certain notice, by Major-General
Browne, that the carriages [a convoy of artillery, etc.] were
not stirred, that Prince Maurice was not here; and by some
Oxford scholars, that there were four carriages and waggons
ready in one place, and in another five; all, as I conceived, fit
for a march.

‘I received notice also that the Earl of Northampton’s
regiment was quartered at Islip; wherefore in the evening [of
Wednesday] I marched that way, hoping to have surprised
them’; but, by the mistake and failing of the forlorn hope, they
had an alarm there, and to all their quarters, and so escaped
me, by means whereof they had time to draw all together.

‘I kept my body all night at Islip; and, in the morning
[April 24th], a party of the Earl of Northampton’s regiment,
the Lord Wilmot’s, and the Queen’s, came to make an infall
upon me. Sir Thomas Fairfax’s regiment was the first that
took the field; the rest drew out with all possible speed. That
which is the General’s troop charged a whole squadron of the
enemy, and presently broke it. Our other troops coming sea-
sonably on, the rest of the enemy were presently put into con-
fusion so that we had the chase of them three or four miles,
SURRENDER OF COLONEL WINDEBANK. 175

wherein we killed many, and took near 200 prisoners, and about
400 horse.

‘Many of them escaped towards Oxford and Woodstock,
divers were drowned, and others got into a strong house in
Bletchington, belonging to Sir Thomas Cogan, wherein Colonel
Windebank kept a garrison with near 200 men, whom I pre-
sently summoned; and after a long treaty, he went out, about
twelve at night, leaving us between 200 and 300 muskets, besides
horse-arms and other ammunition, and about threescore-and-
eleven horses more.! :

‘This was the mercy of God; and nothing is more due than
areal acknowledgment. And though I have had greater mer-
cies, yet none clearer; because, in the first, God brought them
to our hands when we looked not for them; and delivered them
out of our hands, when we laid a reasonable design to surprise
them, and which we carefully endeavoured. His mercy appears
in this also, that I did much doubt the storming of the house,
it being strong and well-manned, and I having few dragoons,
and this being not my business; and yet we got it.

‘I hope you will pardon me, if I say, God is not enough
owned. We look too much to men and visible helps: this hath
much hindered our success. But I hope God will direct all to
acknowledge Him alone in all.— Your most humble servant,

‘OLIvER CRoMWELL.’

With respect to Bletchington, we may add, that it is now the
seat of Viscount Valentia, but the present mansion is not the
one which Cromwell beleaguered. Plot, in his ‘ History of Ox-
fordshire,’ declares that never a snake will live at Bletchington,
even if imported from other districts.

Two days later, and Cromwell pushed westward to Radcot
Bridge (April 26th), where he totally defeated a body of Royalists,

1 ¢ Poor Windebank was shot by sudden court-martial, so enraged were
they at Oxford,—for Cromwell had not even foot soldiers, still less a bat-
tering gun. It was his poor young wife, they said, she and other ‘ladies
on a visit there,’ that had confused poor Windebank ; he set his back to
the wall of Merton College, and received his death-volley with a soldier’s
stoicism.’— Carlyle, Vol. I. p. 167. See also Heath’s Chronicle.
176 OLIVER CROMWELL.

capturing 200 prisoners. He next invested the strong moated
Castle of Farringdon, and it is well to note that the attack was
led by the owner of the house himself, Sir Richard Pye, who had
married Hampden’s eldest daughter, Anne. It proved unsuc-
cessful; and Cromwell, being ordered to rejoin the army at
Reading, was forced to abandon the siege.

His further movements brought him into the Associated
Eastern Counties to levy recruits, and provide for the protection
of Cambridge and the Isle of Ely. He had not yet resigned his
commission, and Fairfax and his officers were unwilling that he
should do so. They petitioned Parliament to appoint him
Lieutenant-General and Commander-in-Chief of the cavalry,
and urged that his services were absolutely indispensable. So
the Commons granted him leave of absence for ‘forty days’ or
‘three months’ at a time; and by degrees it became understood
that this same indispensable man would continue altogether with
the army, which he knew so well how to lead to victory. And,
indeed, they could ill have afforded to let him dally at West-
minster. The King had raised the siege of Chester, captured
Leicester by storm (May 31, 1645), and was supposed to medi-
tate the relief of Oxford. Fairfax resolved to intercept his
march, and wrote to the Parliament that Cromwell might be
sent to his assistance. How he arrived in time to win the battle
of Naseby (June 14), we have already shown.

From Naseby the King’s retreat was closely followed by
Cromwell towards Wales. The Parliamentary forces then re-
lieved Leicester, and turning southwards, reduced Taunton, while
Bristol, into which Prince Rupert had thrown himself, with a
strong garrison, capitulated after a very slight resistance. We
shall again quote Cromwell’s vigorous narrative of his excellent
services :—

“The day and hour of our storm was appointed to be on
Wednesday morning, the 10th of September, about one of the
clock. We chose to act it so early because we hoped thereby
to surprise the enemy. With this resolution also, to avoid con-
fusion and falling foul one upon another, that when “once” we
had recovered [2.¢., taken possession of] the line (or earthworks),
and forts upon it, we should not advance further till day. The
THE SIEGE OF BRISTOL. 177

General’s signal unto a storm was to be, the firing of straw,
and discharging four pieces of cannon at Pryor’s Hill Fort.

‘The signal was very well perceived of all;—and truly the
men went on with great resolution; and very presently recovered
the line, making way for the horse to enter. Colonel Montague
and Colonel Pickering, who stormed at Lawford’s Gate, where
was a double work, well filled with men and cannon, presently
entered, and with great resolution beat the enemy from their
works, and possessed their cannon. Their expedition was such,
that they forced the enemy from their advantages, without any
considerable loss to themselves. They laid down the bridges for
the horse to enter,—Major Desborow commanding the horse,—
who very gallantly seconded the foot. Then our foot advanced
to the city walls, where they possessed the gate against the
Castle Street; whereinto were put a hundred men, who made it
good. Sir Hardress Waller, with his own and the General’s
regiment, with no less resolution, entered on the other side of
Lawford’s Gate, towards Avon River, and put themselves into
immediate conjunction with the rest of the brigade.

‘During this, Colonel Rainsborough and Colonel Hammond
attempted Pryor’s Hill Fort, and the line downwards towards
Froom; and the Major-General’s regiment being to storm
towards Froom River, Colonel Hammond possessed the line
immediately, and beating the enemy from it, made way for the
horse to enter. Colonel Rainsborough, who had the hardest
task of all at Pryor’s Hill Fort, attempted it, and fought three
hours for it. And, indeed, there was great despair of carrying
the place; it being exceeding high, a ladder of thirty rounds
scarcely reaching the top thereof; but his resolution was such,
that, notwithstanding the inaccessibleness and difficulty, he would
not give it over. The enemy had four pieces of cannon upon it,
which they plied with round and case shot upon our men: his
Lieutenant-Colonel Bowen, and others, were two hours at push
of pike, standing upon the palisadoes, but could not enter. But
now, Colonel Hammond being entered the line (and here Cap-
tain Ireton, with a forlorn of Colonel Rich’s regiment, inter-
posing with his horse between the enemy’s horse and Colonel
Hammond, received a shot with two pistol-bullets, which broke

M
178 OLIVER CROMWELL.

his arm),—by means of this entrance of Colonel Hammond, they
did storm the fort on that part which was inward; “and so”
Colonel Rainsborough’s and.Colonel Hammond’s men entered
the fort, and immediately put almost all the men in it to the
sword.

‘And as this was the place of most difficulty, so “it was”
of most loss to us on that side, and of very great honour to the
undertaker. ‘The horse too did second them with great resolu-
tion: both these colonels do acknowledge that their interposition
between the enemy’s horse and their foot was a great means of
obtaining of this strong fort. Without which all the rest of the
line to Froom River would have done us little good; and, in-
deed, neither horse nor foot could have stood in all that way,
in any manner of seturity, had not the fort been taken. Major
Bethel’s were the first horse that entered the line; who did
behave himself gallantly; and was shot in the thigh, had one
or two shot more, and had his horse shot under him. Colonel
Birch, with his men, and the Major-General’s regiment, entered
with very good resolution where their post was; possessing the
enemy’s guns, and turning them upon them.

‘By this, all the line from Pryor’s Hill Foot to Avon (which
was a full mile), with all the forts, ordnance, and bulwarks, were
possessed by us ;—save one, wherein were about two hundred
and twenty men of the enemy, which the General summoned,
and all the men submitted.

‘The success on Colonel Weldon’s side did not answer with
this. And although the colonels, and other the officers and
soldiers, both horse and foot, testified as much resolution as
could be expected,—Colonel Weldon, Colonel Ingoldsby, Colonel
Herbert, and the rest of the colonels and officers, both of horse
and foot, doing what could be well looked for from men of
honour,—yet, what by reason of the height of the works, which
proved higher than report made them, and the shortness of the
ladders, they were repulsed, with the loss of about a hundred
men. Colonel Fortescue’s lieutenant-colonel was killed, and
Major Cromwell [a cousin] dangerously shot ; and two of Colonel
Ingoldsby’s brothers hurt, with some officers.

‘Being possessed of thus much as hath been related, the town
FURTHER MILITARY OPERATIONS. 179

was fired in three places by the enemy, which we could not put
out ; which begat a great trouble in the General, and us all;
fearing to see so famous a city burnt-to ashes before our faces.
Whilst we were viewing so sad a spectacle, and consulting which
way to-make further advantage of our success, the Prince sent
a trumpet to the General to desire a treaty for the surrender of
the town. To which the General agreed; and deputed Colonel
Montague, Colonel Rainsborough, and Colonel Pickering, for
that service; authorizing them with instructions to treat and
conclude the articles,which “accordingly” are these enclosed.
For performance whereof hostages were mutually given.

‘On Thursday, about two of the clock in the afternoon, the
Prince marched out, having a convoy of two regiments of horse
from us; and making election of Oxford for the place he would
go to, which he had liberty to do by his articles.

‘The cannon which we have taken are about a hundred and
forty mounted; about a hundred barrels of powder already come
to our hands; with a good quantity of shot, ammunition, and
arms. We have found already between two and three thousand
muskets. The Royal Fort had victual in it for a hundred and
fifty men, for three hundred and twenty days; the Castle vic-
tualled for nearly half so long. The Prince had, in foot, of the
garrison, as the Mayor of the city informed me, two thousand
five hundred, and about a thousand horse, besides the trained
bands of the towns, and auxiliaries a thousand, some say a
thousand five hundred. . . . We had not killed of ours in the
storm, nor in all this siege, two hundred men.’

The Parliament army now moved southwards, driving Sir
Ralph Hopton and ‘ dissolute Goring’ from one part to another,
and capturing every strong place which bore the King’s colours.
Cromwell, at the head of an independent command, poured along
with a full tide of success. On the 28th of September he took
Winchester. The height where he erected his battery is still
known as ‘ Oliver’s Battery.’ Basing House, which had with-
stood many a desperate siege, was compelled to surrender on
the 14th of October, after being reduced to a heap of cannon-
pounded ruins. ‘Cromwell,’ we are told, ‘bad spent much
time with God in prayer the night before the storm; and, in-
180 i OLIVER CROMWELL.

deed, he seldom fights without some text of Scripture to sup-
port him. This time he rested upon that blessed word of God,
written in the hundred and fifteenth Psalm, eighth verse, They
that make them are like unto them; so ts every one that trusteth in
them. Which, with some verses going before, was now accom-
plished.’

Langford House, near Salisbury, next fell before the great
Poliorcetes—or ‘Town-Compeller’ (17th October),—and Wilt-
shire was cleared of the Royalists. Meanwhile, Sir Ralph
Hopton had surrendered to Fairfax, in Cornwall. Sir William
Brereton and Colonel Morgan were equally successful in Glouces-
tershire ; where, at Stow-in-the-Wold, they broke in pieces the
last army which owned the standard of King Charles. ‘Now,’
said Sir Jacob Astley, its general, when taken prisoner, ‘ you
have done your work, and may go to play,—unless you will fall
out among yourselves.’

The year of grace 1646 found the Parliament completely
masters of England. A few isolated castles and mansions held
out here and there, but they were yielding, one after another, to
the Puritan leaders ; and with the fall of Oxford, on the 20th of
June, the war was virtually at an end. On the previous 5th of
May the King had surrendered himself to the custody of the
Scots army at Newark, and had ceased, indeed, to reign. Not
but that a large party in the Parliament was still anxious to
come to terms with their sovereign; but if to conquer him had
been ‘a difficult operation,’ it was found yet more difficult to
conclude a treaty with him. And the real power, and all but
the personal influence, of Charles perished on the day that he
rode into the Scottish camp at Newark.

The arena of the struggle was no longer to be the battle-
field, but the senate; and history shows us that Cromwell was as
prudent and sagacious in the one as he had attested himself
skilful and successful in the other. It is a portion of his career,
however, over which we must necessarily pass with extreme
rapidity. It is as the soldier rather than as the statesman that
we have, in these pages, to regard him. Something could we
have wished to say against that hypocrisy-theory with which
most of his biographers are so violently in love. How by means
TWO GREAT PARTIES. 181

of this theory they can profess to understand his career; how
they can reconcile the improbabilities and inconsistencies which
it suggests at every turn; how they can explain the credulity of
the wise and good men who acted with him, and, if he were a
hypocrite, were as easily deceived and cajoled as any child bribed
by a proffered sweetmeat,—we, at least, could never comprehend.
It is easy enough to understand our hero’s life if you will but
believe that he was honest. But if the hypocrisy-theory is to be
accepted, it follows, not that Cromwell was a very clever knave,
but that the statesmen whom he cheated were very easy dupes ;
and we must believe that he was able, through a long course of
years—under the most difficult circumstances, and in the face of
genius, statesmanship, and experience almost equal to his own—
to play out one of the most transparent farces that was ever
foisted upon human credulity !

The Parliament were no niggards in the rewards they be-
stowed upon their victorious general. Two thousand five hun-
dred pounds per annum were settled upon him and his heirs, and
an order passed the Great Seal requesting the King to bestow
upon him the title and dignity of a baron of the kingdom of
England. Both Houses voted him their thanks, and when he
entered the Commons House the Speaker and all the members
rose to receive him.

In the Commons now existed two great parties, the Indepen-
dents—to whom Cromwell was ‘a tower of strength’—and the
Presbyterians. Had the King complied with the petition of the
Scots and accepted the Covenant, the Presbyterians would have
rallied to his side, and he might have again secured his crown.
But Charles’ greatest enemies, more fatal to him than even the
steel of the Ironsides, were his insincerity and faithlessness. It
may almost be said of him, that he never took an oath which he
did not intend to break, nor made a promise which he intended
to fulfil. After the Scots surrendered him to the Parliament, he
opened negotiations with the leaders of the Independent party,
who were also the masters of the army and the virtual rulers of
the nation; but they failed through his own duplicity. Mrs
Hutchinson, who is by no means a panegyrist of Cromwell, admits
that he, at least, was sincere in his professions; that he was
182 OLIVER CROMWELL.

‘uncorruptly faithful to his trust and to the people’s interest.’?
But he dealt with a king whom no oaths could bind, to whom
even the bitter lessons of a sharp experience could nothing teach ;
who, while he was promising an earldom and the garter to
Cromwell, could write to his queen, ‘ Doubt not but that I shall
know how to deal with the rogues, who, instead of a silken
garter, shall be treated with a hempen cord!’ The intercepted
letter which contained this passage revealed to Cromwell and his
friends the full extent of their danger, and thenceforth the de-
struction of the King became for them a law of self-preservation.
Even with the army Cromwell had imperilled his safety by his
negotiations with Charles, and it was only by the exertion ol
great personal courage and presence of mind that he subdued a
mutiny which threatened to be formidable. But from these plots
and counterplots he was again called away to serve his country
on the battle-field.

A Scottish army, 40,000 in number, embracing in its ranks
Presbyterians as well as cavaliers, prepared to enter England for
the purpose of reinstating the King. Cromwell was ordered tc
march against them. But he was first compelled to advance intc
Wales, where Colonel Poyer had raised the standard of insur-
rection. Chepstow surrendered on his approach, and Pembroke
after a month’s siege. The Welsh war subdued, Cromwell hur-
ried northward, by Gloucester, Warwick, Leicester, and Not-
tingham, joining the Parliament forces, under General Lambert,
among the hills of Yorkshire, and then moving upon Preston in
Lancashire, where he came up with the Royalist army. Crom-
well’s troops were then between 8000 and 9000 in number; ‘a
fine smart army, fit for action.” The Royalists were loosely scat-
tered over a wide extent of country; their general, the Duke of
Hamilton, being as deficient in military skill as he was in resolu-

1 Take also the evidence of Ludlow :—‘ Cromwell, Ireton, and many
of their party in the House, pressed the King’s desires with great earnest-
ness; wherein, contrary to their expectations, they found a vigorous op-
position from such as had already conceived a jealousy of their private
agreement with the King, and were now confirmed in that opinion; and
the suspicions of them grew so strong, that they were accounted betrayers
of the cause, and lost almost all their friends in the Parliament.’
DESTROYS THE ROYALIST ARMY. 183

tion. The Puritan horse came up with the vanguard under
Cromwell’s old antagonist, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, on Wed-
nesday night, August 16, 1648, and the next day Cromwell
began the attack. The English cavaliers fought bravely, though
badly supported by their Scotch allies; but after three or four
hours’ fighting, were driven back in great disorder, and with
severe loss, across the Ribble. About a thousand were slain,
and four thousand taken prisoners.

During the night the Duke of Hamilton retreated upon
Wigan, with about 7500 foot and 4000 horse. Cromwell took
up the pursuit with 3000 foot and 2500 horse, ‘killing and taking
divers all the way.’ Within three miles of Wigan the Duke made
a stand, until the main body of the Parliament army coming up,
he retreated into the town, and there passed the Friday night,—
August 17th. ‘The town of Wigan, a great and poor town,
and very malignant, were plundered almost to their skins by
them.’ The following day the Scots again retreated, until at
Winwick, within three miles of Warrington, they took heart,
and once more disputed Cromwell’s advance. The fight was
both obstinate and bloody, and ended in their complete destruc-
tion. Baillie, with all the Scotch infantry, surrendered (August
20th) at Warrington ; and Major-General Lambert pursuing the
Duke as far as Uttoxeter, there took him prisoner. Sir Mar-
maduke Langdale was taken near Nottingham. “In all, about
10,000 prisoners fell into Cromwell’s hands, and probably the
number of killed was hardly less.

The General now pushed forward into Scotland. At Edin-
burgh he was welcomed by the Whig party as their deliverer.
Having re-established order, and come to a good understanding
with them, he hurried back into England, and laid siege to
Pontefract, which still held out for the King. He did not return
to London until the 7th of December, the day after the famous
‘Pride’s Purge’ had been applied to the House of Commons.
Cromwell declared that he had not been acquainted with the
design, but that, since it was done, he was glad of it ;? and, in-
deed, he could not but be conscious that only his own wonderful

1 Ludlow.
184 OLIVER CROMWELL.

successes could have emboldened his party to adopt so daring a
measure. He was now, indeed, the chief man in England, and
the army was the ruler of the Parliament. Events were swiftly
hastening on towards the end. That end came on the 29th of
January 1649, when the head of Charles Stuart fell on the scaf-
fold at Whitehall,—‘an action not done in a corner, but in sight
of all the nations.’ Cromwell’s share in the terrible deed, it is
not here our business to explain. But Lord Macaulay’s conclu-
sions, which seem to us both just and temperate, may be fitly
submitted to the reader:—‘It seems, on the whole, probable,
that he who seemed to lead was really forced to follow, and that
on this occasion, as on another great occasion a few years later,
he sacrificed his own judgment and his own inclinations to the
wishes of the army. For the power which he had called into
existence was a power which even he could not always control;
and, that he might ordinarily command, it was necessary that he
should sometimes obey. He publicly protested that he was no
mover in the matter, that the first steps had been taken without
his privity, that he could not advise’ the Parliament to strike
the blow; but that he submitted his own feelings to the force of
circumstances, which seemed to him to indicate the purposes of
Providence. It has been the fashion to consider these professions
as instances of the hypocrisy which is vulgarly imputed to him.
But even those who pronounce him a hypocrite will scarcely ven-
ture to call him a fool. They are therefore bound to show that
he had some purpose to serve by secretly stimulating the army
to take that course which he did not venture openly to recommend.
It would be absurd to suppose that he, who was never by his
respectable enemies represented as wantonly cruel or implacably
vindictive, would have taken the most important step of his life
under the influence of mere malevolence. He was far too wise a
man not to know, when he consented to shed that august blood,
that he was doing a deed which was inexpiable, and which would
move the grief and horror, not only of the Royalists, but of nine-

+ ‘If any man moved this upon design, I should think him the greatest
traitor in the world ; but since Providence and necessity have cast us upon
it, I shall pray to God to bless your counsels, though I am not provided
on the sudden to give you counsel.’
THE COMMONWEALTH. 185

tenths of those who had stood by the Parliament. Whatever
visions may have deluded others, he was assuredly dreaming
neither of a republic on the antique pattern, nor of the millennial
reign of the saints. If he already aspired to be himself the
founder of a new dynasty, it was plain that Charles the First was
a less formidable competitor than Charles the Second would be.

The truth is, that Cromwell had, at one time, meant to
mediate between the Throne and the Parliament, and to re-
organize the distracted State by the power of the sword, under
the sanction of the royal name. In this design he persisted till
he was compelled to abandon it by the refractory temper of the
soldiers, and the incurable duplicity of the King. To such an
extent, indeed, had insincerity now tainted the King’s whole na-
ture, that his most devoted friends could not refrain from com-
plaining to each other, with bitter grief and shame, of his crooked
politics. His defeats, they said, gave them less pain than his
intrigues. Since he had been a prisoner, there was no section of
the victorious party which had not been the object both of his
flatteries and machinations: but never was he more unfortunate
than when he attempted at once to cajole and undermine Crom-
well.’

On the 17th of February the Executive Government of Eng-
land was placed in the hands of a Council of State, consisting
of forty-one members, among whom were Cromwell, Fairfax,
Bradshaw, Whitlocke, Ludlow, Sir Harry Vane, and Ireton;
and on the 19th of May was issued the famous Ordinance, which
declared, *

‘That the people of England, and of all the dominions and
territories thereunto belonging, are and shall be, and are hereby
constituted, made, established, and confirmed to be, a Common-
WEALTH or Free Srate; and shall from henceforth be governed
as a Commonwealth and Free State,—by the supreme authority
of this nation, the representatives of the people in Parliament,
and by such as they shall appoint and constitute officers and
ministers under them for the good of the people; and that with-
out any King or House of Lords.’ o

England was now quiet enough ; weary with her long struggle
and hopeful for a little rest. But Ireland and Scotland were both
186 OLIVER CROMWELL.

in rebellion for the King, and Cromwell’s genius was once more
summoned to save the State. The command in Ireland was
offered to him (March 15). At first he hesitated to accept it,
but at the pressing instance of his friends, assented ; and with the
title of Lord-Lieutenant, with supreme military and civil com-
mand for three years, and an army of 12,000 men, set out on an
enterprise of no ordinary difficulty (July 10th). He had pre-
viously quelled a serious mutiny in the army, promoted by fana-
tical ‘levellers;’ which he did with his usual energy, decision,
and uncompromising straightforwardness of purpose.

Cromwell sailed from Milford Haven on the 13th of August,
and on the 15th arrived in Dublin, where he was received ‘ with
all possible demonstrations of joy; the great guns echoing forth
their welcome, and the acclamations of the people resounding in
every street.’ He found the army disorderly and dissolute, and
straightway set to work to remodel and reform, and then, after
a fortnight’s labour, moved upon Drogheda (or Tredah, as it was
anciently called), where the Duke of Ormond had placed a gar-
rison of 8000 men, under Sir Arthur Aston.

Of this Irish war we must premise, that a bloody crusade
against Protestantism had been organized by the native Irish
Catholics; that women and children had been foully abused and
murdered, their husbands and brothers buried alive, or cut to
pieces ; houses burnt to the ground, and the unfortunate inmates
roasted in the seething flames; and that all those special
cruelties which distinguish, alas! ‘a religious war,’ had exas-
perated the spirit of the English to a terrible degree of wrath.
Some historians assert that 200,000, others that 50,000 Protest-
ants perished in this prolonged massacre. With these sanguinary
Trish savages, the adherents of Charles IT. formed a temporary
alliance, and the Duke of Ormond, with patient ability, had suc.
ceeded in combining their discordant sections against the Englisk
Commonwealth. When Cromwell arrived in Ireland, only Dublit
and Derry remained in the hands of the Protestants. It has
been said that ‘revolutions are not made with rose-water.
Assuredly, an Irish war, under these circumstances, could not bi
waged upon rose-water principles; and Cromwell’s retribution
was both swift and sharp.
THE SIEGE OF DROGHEDA. 187

In some six days the batteries against Drogheda were com-
pleted. Cromwell then summoned the town to surrender. Sir
Arthur Aston, confident in the strength of his fortifications, re-
fused. The batteries opened fire, and upon that same day (the
9th September) beat down the steeple of the church on the south
side of the town, and a tower not far from it. The next day a
larger breach was effected, next a church called St Mary’s;
‘which was the rather chosen, because we did hope that if we did
enter and possess that church, we should be the better able to
keep it against their horse and foot until we could make way for
the entrance of our horse.’ Two batteries sent their shot against
this part, and meanwhile the enemy raised six ‘retrenchments’
for its defence.

After some two or three hundred charges, two ‘reasonable
good breaches’ were effected, and on Tuesday the 10th, about
five in the evening, the storm was attempted. Seven or eight
hundred stout: hearted fellows actually fought their way in; but
so gallant was the resistance, and the defensive force so superior
in number, that they were hotly compelled to retire. The second
assault was headed by Cromwell himself, and his soldiers, inspired
by his presence and example, broke down the fiercest opposition,
and drove their steel into the very hearts of their enemies. They
got possession of the entrenchments and the church, and so
effected an opening for their horse to charge; which they did
with great effect. ‘Divers of the enemy retreated into the Mill-
Mount, a place very strong and of difficult access; being exceed-
ingly high, having a good graft, and strongly palisadoed.’ The
governor, Sir Arthur Aston, and other considerable officers, being
there, the Roundheads, by Cromwell’s orders, when they swarmed
into the fort, put them all to the sword; nor were any in the
town spared if found in arms, so that upwards of 2000 were slain
during that fearful night. About a hundred of the Irish fled into
St Peter’s Church; another body occupied the West Gate; and
another, a strong round tower next St Sunday’s Gate. These
being summoned to yield to mercy, refused. Whereupon Crom-
well ordered the steeple of St Peter’s Church ¢o be fired; and one
poor wretch, writhing in the flames, was heard to say,—‘ God
damn me, God confound me; I burn, I burn.’ The next day
188 OLIVER CROMWELL.

the two other towers were summoned, and in like manner refused
tosurrender. But hunger soon compelled them ; when the officers
were all killed, and every tenth man of the soldiers, and the rest
shipped for transportation to the Barbadoes.

‘I am persuaded,’ writes Cromwell, ‘that this is a righteous
judgment of God upon these barbarous wretches, who have im-
brued their hands in so much innocent blood; and that it will
tend to prevent the effusion of blood for the future. Which are
the satisfactory grounds to such actions, which otherwise cannot
but work remorse and regret.’

Awed by this terrible example, the garrisons of Dundalk and
Trim withdrew, without even waiting for Cromwell’s approach;
and placing garrisons in the recovered towns, he returned to
Dublin ; whence he again set out with his refreshed and recruited
army, on the 23d of September, and advanced into Wicklow.
His march was a series of triumphs. Siege was laid to Wexford,
October 11, 1649. The batteries soon effected a breach, and the
terms of capitulation proposed by the governor being summarily
rejected, the town was stormed, and nearly 2000 of the enemy
slain. A garrison being placed therein, Cromwell hastened unto
Ross, ‘a walled town upon the river Barrow,’ and at the first
hearkening of his guns the Royalists surrendered (October 19).
The fall of Ross broke the neck of the Irish rebellion, and was
speedily followed by the surrender of Youghal, Cork, and the
principal towns in Munster. Lord Inchiqnin’s Royalist army
melted away by desertions to the Parliament forces; and though
the sickness of his men, and their want of provisions, induced
Cromwell to abandon the siege of Waterford, and retire into
winter quarters, a great portion of Ireland was effectually subdued.

Early in Febraary 1650 the war was renewed. Cromwell took
the field with an army recruited and refreshed; reduced several
castles; captured Kilkenny and Fethard, Cahir, and Ballinakill ;
and, on the 9th of May, stormed Clonmel. He was making pre-
parations for the reduction of Waterford, when the Parliament
urgently recalled him to England, as the only man who could
cope with the Scotch rebellion. Ireland, they said, was so far
pacified that Ireton might be trusted to complete the work; but
in Scotland was imperatively needed the Master Mind.
HE INVADES SCOTLAND. 189

At Bristol, after a rough passage, the Lord-Lieutenant was
received with due honours, with triumphant acclamations, with
the firing of great guns. He hastened up to London, where, on
the 31st of May, all its citizens came out to bid him welcome.
‘ Fairfax, and his chief officers, and members of Parliament, with
solemn salutation, on Hounslow Heath, from Hounslow Heath to
Hyde Park, where are Train-bands and Lord Mayors, on to
Whitehall and the Cockpit, where are better than these,—
it is one wide tumult of salutation, congratulation, artillery-vol-
leying, human shouting,—hero-worship after a sort, not the best
sort. It was on this occasion that Oliver said, or is reported to
have said, when some sycophantic person observed, “What a
crowd come out to see your Lordship’s triumph !”—“ Yes, but
if it were to see me hanged, how many more would there be!”’1

On the 26th of June an Act was passed, constituting Oliver
Cromwell Captain-General of all the forces raised and to be raised
within the Commonwealth of England. Scarce a month elapsed
before the Great Soldier crossed the Tweed at the head of an
army of 16,000 veterans. From thence to Edinburgh he passed
through a dreary desert; for exaggerated rumours had been
spread of the Irish retribution, and the peasants removed their
crops and cattle, and abandoned their dwellings as he approached.
The object of the Scotch general, David Lesley, an able soldier,
was to defeat the invading army by famine,—a scheme in which
he might have been successful had he not been overruled by the
confidence of the Scotch clergy. Cromwell found Lesley so
posted behind a strong entrenchment, which ran from Leith to
Edinburgh, that it was vain to attempt to dislodge him. He
withdrew to Musselburgh, where he embarked his sick on board
the Parliament ships, and thence he moved back upon Hadding-
ton and Dunbar, followed, at a prudent distance, by Lesley, who
took up a strong position upon the hills of Lammermuir, and
completely encircled and overawed his army. Here Lesley in-
tended to blockade him; but the clergy and other zealots of the
kirk, proud of their new alliance with their covenanted King—
Charles had signed the Covenant on the 16th of August—and

1 Carlyle.
190 OLIVER CROMWELL.

apprehensive that the detested enemy would yet effect his escape,
insisted that their General should give him battle.

The positions which the two armies now occupied are admir-
ably described by Carlyle :—‘ The small town of Dunbar stands,
high and windy, looking down over its herring-boats, over its
grim old castle, now much honeycombed, on one of those project-
ing rock promontories with which that shore of the Firth of Forth
is niched and vandyked, as far as the eye can reach. Seaward
St Abb’s Head bounds your horizon to the east, not very far off ;
west, close by, is the deep bay and fishing little village of Bel-
haven; the gloomy Bass, and other rock-islets ; and farther, the
hills of Fife, and foreshadows of the Highlands, are visible as
you look seaward. From the bottom of Belhaven Bay to that
of the next sea-bight, St Abb’s Ward, the town and its environs
form a peninsula: along the base of which peninsula, ‘not much
above a mile and a half from sea to sea,” Oliver Cromwell’s army,
on Monday, 2d of September 1650, stands ranked, with its tents,
and town behind it, in very forlorn circumstances. This, now, is
all the ground that Oliver is lord of in Scotland. His ships lie
in the offing, with biscuit and transport for him; but visible else-
where in the earth no help.

‘Landward as you look from the town of Dunbar, there rises,
some short mile off, a dusky continent of barren heath hills; the
Lammermuir, where only sheep can be at home. The crossing
of which, by any of its boggy passes and brawling stream-courses,
hardly a Scotch packman could attempt, in such weather. To
the edge of these Lammermuir heights David Lesley has betaken
himself; he’s now along the outmost spur of them,—a long hill of
considerable height, which the Dunbar people call the Dun,
Doon, or sometimes, for fashion’s sake, the Down. On this
Doon hill lies David Lesley with the victorious Scotch army, up-
wards of 20,000 strong, with the Committees of Kirk and Estates,
the chief dignitaries of the country, and in fact the flower of
what the pure Covenant, in this the twelfth year of its existence,
can still bring forth. There lies he since Sunday night, on the
top and slope of this Doon Hill, with the impassable heath-con-
tinents behind him; embraces, as within outspread tiger-claws,
the base-line of Oliver’s Dunbar peninsula; waiting what Oliver
THE BATTLE OF DUNBAR. 191

will do. Cockburnspath, with its ravines, has been seized on
Oliver’s left, and made impassable ; behind Oliver is the sea; in
front of him, Lesley, Doon Hill, and the heath-continent of
Lammermuir. Lesley’s force is of three and twenty thousand,
in spirits as of men chasing; Oliver’s about half as many, in
spirits as of men chased. What is to become of Oliver?’?

Belhaven Bay, we may add, was on Oliver’s right; Brocks-
mouth House (the Earl of Roxburgh’s) is occupied by his
soldiers, on the left. Here a small stream, or burn, called the
Brock, which rises from the slope of the Lammermuir, and runs
‘in a deep grassy glen,’ 40 feet deep and as many wide, across
Oliver’s position, ripples into the sea. The Roundheads occupy
the left bank of this ravine; and before sunrise, on Monday the
3d, Lesley’s horse range along the other bank. Towards even-
ing his whole army abandon their hills, and array their masses
upon its steep declivity, amid windy showers, and gusts of sea-
breezes, and shadows from hovering tempest-clouds.

There are two ‘passes’ out of Cromwell’s peninsula, and
across the barrier of the Brocksburn. One of these is near
Brocksmouth ; and a small hut stands by it, which both generals
are eager to get hold of. Pride and Major-General Lambert
place six troopers and fifteen foot soldiers in it early in the morn-
ing ; but they are driven out by Lesley’s horse, who take three
prisoners in the skirmish. Among them, a sturdy musketeer,
with a wooden arm and an iron hook at the end of it, who is
straightway taken before the Scotch General. Lesley asks him,
‘Do your soldiers intend to fight?’ Musketeer replies, —* What
do you think we come for? We come for nothing else.’
‘Soldier,’ answers the General, ‘how can you fight, when you
have shipped off half of your men, and all your great guns?’
Musketeer replies,—‘ Sir, if you please to draw down your army,
you shall find both men and great guns too.’ An officer present
dislikes this plain-speaking Roundhead,—‘ How durst thou answer
the General so saucily?’ Musketeer, nothing daunted,—‘ I only
answer the question put tome.’ Lesley is pleased with the
man’s bold frankness, and sets him free. He makes his way to

’ Carlyle, vol. ii. 178, 179.
192 OLIVER CROMWELL.

Cromwell, and relates the occurrence, adding, surlily, that he,
for one, has lost by this adventure; has lost twenty shillings—
plundered from him by the enemy. The Lord General thereupon
gives him two pieces (forty shillings), and sends him away re-
joicing.

The other ‘ pass’ is some 800 yards to the west of Brocks-
mouth House, where the ravine is beaten down and flattened into
an easy slope, now crossed by the great London Road, and from
its obvious importance became the scene of the main battle.
Cromwell has his headquarters at Brocksmouth House; and
about five o’clock, when walking in the garden with Lambert,
discerns that the enemy is in motion on the hillside opposite,—
isin fact descending the slope, and edging in a westerly direction
down to the glen of the Brocksburn, in order to seize the pass,
and get hold of Brocksmouth House. It is said that when
Cromwell perceived the movement, he exclaimed, ‘ The Lord hath
delivered them into our hands: they are coming down to us!’
Calling Lambert and Monk to his counsels, he points out that
Lesley has got the main body of his army cooped up in the
narrow sloping space between the hill and the brook, while his
right wing in its descent towards the glen is necessarily assail-
able on every side. Consequently, attack and defeat the right
wing; it falls back upon the main body, and throws the whole
into irretrievable confusion! His officers admire the ability of
the plan, and it is determined that it shall be attempted.

A cold, sleety, stormy night passes over the two wakefal and
watchful armies, for whom the morrow’s dawn shall bring such
different fortunes. Towards three in the morning, the Scots, by
command of some silly Major-General, put out the matches of
their matchlocks, all but two in each company, and seek what
rest they can under the shocks of corn which cover the hill-
slopes. Not so with Cromwell’s veterans. They ‘watch, aud
pray, and keep their powder dry.’ About four o’clock, Colonel
Hodgson’s and other regiments, some six in number, receive the
order to march and mount, and defile in silent and stately order
towards the pass over the Brock, beyond Brocksmouth House.

1 Bishop Burnet.
DEFEAT OF THE SCOTS. 193

iver is among them, impatiently awaiting the arrival of Lam-
rt, who is as yet arraying the troops on the right. The
ots’ trumpets are heard: they are themselves making ready to
tprise us. But Lambert now comes up, and with ringing shouts
‘The Lord of Hosts!’ with echoing clarions, and volleying
non all along the line, we fall upon Lesley’s right wing, while
smain battle is entertained by a sharp quick fire from such
mM as We can spare upon the Brock.

What astruggle! What a hand-to-hand, lance-to-lance en-
unter! Lambert, Fleetwood, Whalley, Pride, and the imper-
tbable Monk are verily Homeric in their sublime daring. But
e Scots resist them bravely, even drive them back a little;
1en Cromwell brings up his foot, three regiments and a half,
d his own regiment, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel
offe, who fighting under their great leader’s eye, ‘at the push of
ke did repel the stoutest regiment the enemy had there, merely
th the courage the Lord was pleased to give.’ Back bend the
otch cavalry,—dismayed, broken, overpowered; 3000 slain

the desperate shock. ‘They run! I profess, they run!’
‘claims Cromwell; and just then a gleam of sunrise crosses the
stern sea, piercing through the cold gray clouds, and lighting
> glen, stream, and hill, and the General cries aloud, ‘Now,
t God arise; let His enemies be scattered!’ The shout is
ken up by the whole army; they press in a resistless passion
‘enthusiasm upon the broken Scots, and the battle becomes—
rout !

It is now, while the cavalry gather up for the pursuit, that
e Lord General bids his army raise their voices in thankfulness
‘the God of battles, and among the echoing hills, and high
yove the din of war, rises the glorious pan :—

“O give ye praise unto the Lord,
All na-ti-ons that be;

Likewise, ye people all, accord
His name to magnify!

‘For great to us-ward ever are
His loving-kindnesses ;
His truth endures for evermore ;
The Lord O do ye bless!’
194 OLIVER CROMWELL.

And then the chase commences ; and, led on by Hacker, goes
to Belhaven, to Dunbar, to Haddington,—nine miles or more of
dead and dying; and Lesley rides away so fast as to reach
Edinburgh by nine in the morning; and altogether 10,000 prisoners
are taken, with artillery, stores, and baggage; Edinburgh and
Leith throw wide their gates; and all Scotland south of the
Forth acknowledges the Commonwealth of England.

Charles II., however, if without an army, was not without
partisans, who caused him, on New Year’s Day 1651, to be
solemnly crowned King of Scotland at Scone; and as he swore
to maintain Presbytery, and observe the two Covenants, his ad-
herents took heart of grace, and set to work to levy troops with
a will. An army of 20,000 men was collected by April, of
which Charles himself took the command, naming Lesley his
major-general, and Hamilton the Duke his lieutenant; and a
strong encampment was formed at the Torwood, near Stirling.
Cromwell, who had suffered severely from ague, now prepared
to assume the offensive. He mustered his forces at Musselburgh
Links, where they received him with great shouts and acclama-
tions; and then he moved forward to Glasgow, and afterwards
showed his strength to the west of Scotland generally, and about
the middle of July drew near to Stirling. Cromwell’s object was
to draw the Scots from their formidable position; but old David
Lesley knew how sharp was the steel of the Puritan troopers,
and resolutely held his ground. It became needful, therefore,
to cut off his supplies; and the Parliament army accordingly
penetrated into Fife, winning a great success at Inverkeithing.
The passage of the Firth was then successfully effected (July 21,
1650); Fife was soon reduced; and Perth admitted, without
resistance, the victorious General.

By these able movements the position of the Scotch General
was converted into one of extreme danger. His communications
with the north were intercepted, and his army exposed to famine,
or gradual disbandment through desertion. In this conjuncture
the King proposed a scheme, which, though daring almost tc
rashness, was not without its strategical and political recommen-
dations: it was that of a sudden and swift march into England,
After some opposition on the part of the Duke of Argyle, this
CHARLES II., WITH THE SCOTS, INVADES ENGLAND. 195

old expedient was resolved upon; and at the head of 14,000 —
1en, Charles left Stirling on the 31st of July, in anticipation of
ae brilliant movement effected a century later by his great-
randson. He entered England, by way of Carlisle, on Wednes-
ay, August 6, 1651. But he was not received as he had ex-
ected. England by no means opened to him her generous but
wrely-wounded heart. He was everywhere received with indif-
rence. None flocked to his standard; no towns surrendered at
is summons; he had marched into a cold and apathetic country,
awilling to shed more blood for the divine right of the Stuarts.
‘hrough Lancashire and Shropshire, and then southward into
Vorcestershire; and at Worcester he encamped his army, to
ide the course of events.

Meanwhile, as steadily as a sleuth-hound follows its prey,
romwell had pressed upon the track of the invaders. He left
shind him, to complete the pacification of Scotland, about 6000
en, under Lieutenant-General Monk; despatched in advance
ambert, with 3000 horse, to hang upon the Scotch rear ; ordered
‘arrison, at the head of a similar detachment, to move from
‘eweastle, and harass their flank; while he himself, with the
mmainder of his forces, marched upon York as quickly as might
3. Very different was his reception from that of Charles, King
? Scotland. The county militias sprang readily to arms, so
iat when he arrived at Worcester he found himself at the head
f 30,000 men; and 80,000 more waited but the word to rally
) his flag.

On the night of the 28th of August the vanguard of Crom-
ell’s forces, under Lambert, crossed the Severn at Upton, a few
iles below Worcester. The bridge had been partly demolished
7 the Covenanters, but Lambert’s men ‘straddled across by the
wapet,’ repaired it, seized Upton church, and prepared to
od it against all comers. Fleetwood crossed there on the even-
g of Tuesday, September 2, and advanced along the river bank
/ attack on one side, while Cromwell attacked on the other.
he city of Worcester is on Cromwell’s side; ‘ surrounded by
uitful fields and hedges, unfit for cavalry-fighting.’ Between
leetwood at Upton, and the Royalists’ outposts’ at St John’s,

suburb on the west bank of the Severn, runs the Teine,
196 OLIVER CROMWELL.

which Fleetwood has to cross by a bridge of boats. He com
menced operations early in the morning, on Thursday, September
3,—Cromwell’s ‘fortunate day,’ and the anniversary of the vic-
tory of Dunbar,—but, through various causes, it was nearly five
in the afternoon before the bridge was completed, and Fleet:
wood’s soldiers carried over the Teine. Cromwell’s troops crossec
the Severn to their assistance, and then they fell upon the Scotch
and drove them back from hedge to hedge in terrible disorder
Meanwhile, Charles and his generals, perceiving that Cromwel
and the majority of his army are on the west bank of the Severn
determine to storm out and offer him battle on the east side.
where his flank now lies exposed. But the great Puritan soldie1
effects just as rapidly a counter movement, recrosses the river,
and falls to blows. For four or five hours struggles on the des-
perate battle. The Scots, hemmed in with a belt of steel, girdled
with a ring of flame, fight with a valour worthy of a better cause.
But my Lord General does ‘ exceedingly hazard himself, riding
up and down in the midst of the fire,’ and nearer and nearer
closes the circle round King Charles’s beaten army. The battle
is carried into the streets of Worcester. Through the scathed
and riddled town sweeps the rush of fugitive and pursuer; the
gutters run red with blood; the ways are choked up with heaps
of dead and dying. ‘Three thousand of the enemy are slain, of
Cromwell’s army scarce two hundred; ten thousand Scots are
taken prisoners, including the leading nobles of the Covenanting
party. Charles, who has displayed great courage throughout
the engagement, effects his escape,—in how romantic a manner,
every reader knows.

Let us now turn to Cromwell’s own account of this remark-
able victory.

‘ For the Honourable William Lenthall, Esquire, Speaker of the
Parliament of England: These.

‘WorceEstTER, 4th September 1651.

‘Srr,—I am not able yet to give you an exact account of
the great things the Lord hath wrought for this Commonwealth,
and for His people; and yet I am unwilling to be silent, but
HIS ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER. 197

according to my duty, shall represent it to you as it comes to
hand.

‘ This battle was fought with various success for some hours,
but still hopeful on your part, and in the end became an absolute
victory,—and so full an one as proved a total defeat and ruin of
the enemy’s army; and a possession of the town, our men enter-
ing at the enemy’s heels, and fighting with them in the streets
with very great courage. We took all their baggage and artillery.
What the slain are, I can give you no account, because we have
not taken an exact view; but they are very many: and must needs
be so, because the dispute was long and very near at hand; and
often at push of pike, and from one defence to another. There
are about six or seven thousand prisoners taken here; and many
officers and noblemen of very great quality : Duke Hamilton, the
Earl of Rothes, and divers other noblemen,—I hear, the Earl of
Lauderdale ; many officers of great quality, and some that will
be fit subjects for your justice.

‘ We have sent very considerable parties after the flying
enemy: I hear they have taken considerable numbers of prisoners,
and are very close in the pursuit. Indeed, I hear the country
riseth upon them everywhere; and I believe the forces that lay,
through Providence, at Bewdley, and in Shropshire and Stafford-
shire, and those with Colonel Lilburn, were in a condition, as if
this had been foreseen, to intercept what should return.

‘A more particular account than this will be prepared for
you as we are able. I hear they had not many more than a
thousand horse in their body that fled: and I believe you have
near four thousand forces following, and interposing between
them and home ;—what fish they will catch, time will declare.
Their army was about sixteen thousand strong, and fought
ours on the Worcester side of Severn almost with their whole,
whilst we had engaged about half our army on the other side
but with parties of theirs. Indeed, it was a stiff business; yet
I do not think we have lost two hundred men. Your new raised
forces did perform singular good service; for which they deserve
a very high estimation and acknowledgment, as also for their
willingness thereunto,—forasmuch as the same hath added so
much to the reputation of your affairs. They are all despatched
198 OLIVER CROMWELL.

home again; which, I hope, will be much for the ease and satis-
faction of the country, which is a great fruit of these successes.

‘The dimensions of this mercy are above my thoughts. It
is, for aught I know, a crowning mercy. Surely, if it be not,
such a one we shall have, if this provoke those that are concerned
in it to thankfulness, and the Parliament to do the will of Him
who hath done His will for it, and for the nation, whose good
pleasure it is to establish the nation and the charge of the
Government, by making the people so willing to the defence
thereof, and so signally blessing the endeavours of your servants
in this late great work. Iam bold humbly to beg, that all
thoughts may tend to the promoting of His honour who hath
wrought so great salvation; and that the fatness of these con-
tinued mercies may not occasion pride and wantonness, as
formerly the like hath done to a chosen nation [alluding to
Deuteronomy xxxii. 15]; but that the fear of the Lord, even
for His mercies, may keep an authority and a people so pros-
pered, and blessed, and witnessed unto, humble and faithful; and
that justice and righteousness, mercy and truth, may flow from
you, as a thankful return to our gracious God. This shall be
the prayer of, Sir, your most humble and obedient servant,

‘ OLIvER CROMWELL.

‘Your officers behaved themselves with much honour in this
service ; and the person who is the bearer hereof was equal, in
the performance of his duty, to most that served you that day,’

With the victory of Worcester closed the military career of
the great soldier; but it opened up for him a yet more illus-
trious and splendid drama, whose principal scenes we, unhappily,
have here no business to dilate upon. Cromwell the statesman,
however, was—so to speak—the necessary sequence and supple-
ment of Cromwell the soldier, and equally merits the reverent
gratitude of Protestant England. And it is noticeable that the
people at large have done readier and fuller justice to him than
his biographers or historians, because less affected by the bigotries
of creed and the prejudices of party. Deep in the nation’s
heart is shrined the memory of that ‘ chief of men,’ who scattered
the hot chivalry of Rupert on the fatal field of Naseby, and
CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY. 199

ught all Europe to respect the might of England. And as
e ages pass, and

, ‘The thoughts of men are widen’d with the process of the suns,’

e fame of our great Englishman shall also widen; and the
orld, in studying his career, will come to understand the true
ilue of earnest piety, straightforward purpose, devoutness of
sart, and enthusiasm of soul.

Our notice of Cromwell the soldier may fitly conclude with
chronological summary of the events that marked the years of
s Protectorate.

A.D. 1651.

A commission appointed to investigate the affairs of Scot-
nd, with the view of incorporating that country with England.
‘eland completely subdued by Ireton. Limerick’ captured,
ctober 27. Ireton dies of the plague, November 25; is hon-
ired with a splendid funeral and a tomb in Westminster Abbey
lake defeats Van Tromp, May 19; is repulsed by Van Tromp
ith a force double in number, in the Downs, November 30.

A.D. 1652.

Fleetwood appointed to the command of the forces in Ire-
nd. Lands forfeited by the Irish Royalists divided among
uritan soldiers. War with Portugal. Through Cromwell’s
fluence, the Act of Oblivion had been passed, and the Long
arliament forced to set a term to their own duration (Nov.
7, 1651), which they fixed at the 4th November 1654. They
‘opose to reduce the army; but the soldiers present a petition
\ugust 13), inviting their attention to certain important re-
rms, and the House is compelled to desist.

A.D. 1653.

Dissensions between the army and the Parliament. The
ition shows itself indifferent to the fortune of the latter, and a
aneral feeling prevails that it is necessary the government of
1e State should be placed in one firm hand. Cromwell expels
1e members of the Commons, April 20th, and thus dissolves the
200 OLIVER CROMWELL.

famous Long Parliament, which had outlived its own vigour,
patriotism, and reputation. Hallam justly says, that ‘scarce two
or three public acts of justice, humanity, or generosity, and very
few of political wisdom or courage, are recorded of them from
their quarrel with the King to their expulsion by Cromwell.’ A
Council of State (nine military and four civil members) is ap-
pointed to administer the affairs of the Commonwealth, by whom
anew Parliament is summoned to meet on the 4th of July.
The writs are signed by Cromwell. This Parliament is some-
times called the Little Parliament (155 members), and sometimes,
from the name of a prominent member, Barebone’s Parliament.
On Monday, the 12th of December, it ceases to exist, and a new
constitution is prepared, by which Cromwell rises to supreme
power as Lord Protector of the Commonwealth (December
16th). This ‘usurpation’ is generally acceded to by the nation,
which now looks forward to a period of repose. Great victory
over the Dutch, June 2 and 3; and another, won by Monk,
July 81.

A.D. 1654.

Sundry Royalist plots are summarily put down. Don
Pantaleon Sa, brother of the Portuguese ambassador, is exe-
cuted for murder (July 10), much to the terror and confusion
of diplomatic authorities. Peace with the Dutch, April 5.
Commercial treaties concluded with Sweden, Denmark, and
Portugal. New Parliament meets, September 4; disputes the
title of the Lord Protector, and is effectually silenced, September
12th. Cromwell is flung out of his carriage, in which he was
driving six Friesland horses, presented to him by the Duke of
Oldenburg, in Hyde Park, and narrowly escapes, October 5.

A.D. 1655-6.

Parliament dissolved. Penruddock’s Royalist. conspiracy in
the west of England discovered and put down, March to April.
War with Spain. Blake astonishes the Duke of Tuscany by
appearing before Leghorn, and demanding L.60,000 as compen-
sation for injuries inflicted upon English commerce by Medi-
terranean pirates; attacks Tunis; destroys its fortifications,
CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY. 201

d burns nine ships of war; obtains from Tunis, Tripoli, and
Igiers compliance with all the Protector’s commands. Admiral
nn and General Venables conquer Jamaica (May 10), but
il in a descent upon Cuba. Cromwell interferes on behalf of
e persecuted Protestants of the Vaudois, and obtains for them
mplete religious freedom. Admiral Stayner attacks the
vanish fleet from the Havannah, and captures silver valued at
2,000,000 (September 10). A new Parliament is summoned,
ptember 17th.

A.D. 1657.

Discovery of Syndercomb’s plot. Cromwell is requested by
e Parliament to assume the title of ‘King’ (March 25 to May
, and commits the one blunder of his career by rejecting it;
solemnly inaugurated Protector, and authorized to name his
ecessor. A House of Peers is constituted. Blake attacks
mta Cruz, in the island of Teneriffe, April 20; destroys the
tteries; and captures the plate-fleet from Mexico. Blake
es on his return home, as his ship enters Plymouth harbour
wugust 17). Treaty of alliance concluded with Louis XIV
n English contingent of 6000 men captures Mardyke.

A.D. 1658.

The Houses of Peers and Commons meet, January 20; but a
stious opposition being promoted by the Republicans, Parlia-
ant is suddenly dissolved, February 4. Dunkirk delivered up
the English, June 17. The Protector’s health fails. Death
his daughter, Mrs Claypole, on the 6th of August, seriously
‘ects him. Takes to his bed, August 24. Dies of a tertian
‘ue, on his ‘fortunate day,’ the 8d of September, in his 60th
ar. ‘It has often been affirmed, but with little reason, that
iver died at a time fortunate for his renown; and that, if his
2 had been prolonged, it would probably have closed amidst
sgraces and disasters. It is certain that he was, to the last,
noured by his soldiers, obeyed by the whole population of the
itish Islands, and dreaded by all foreign powers; that he was
d among the ancient sovereigns of England with funeral pomp
ch as London had never before seen; and that he was suc-
202 . OLIVER CROMWELL.

ceeded by his son Richard as quietly as any king had ever been
succeeded by any Prince of Wales.’

CROMWELL’S CHILDREN.

1. Robert, baptized 13th October 1621; date of death uncertain.

2. Oliver, baptized 6th February 1623; killed in the civil war,
about 1643-4. .

. Bridget, baptized 4th August 1624; married Ireton, 15th
June 1646; married to Fleetwood, 1652; died, Septem-
ber 1681.

4, Richard, born 4th October 1626; married in 1649; Lord
Protector, 1658 ; died at Cheshunt, 12th July 1712.

5. Henry, baptized 20th January 1628; Lord Deputy in Ireland,
1657; died at Spinney Abbey, Cambridgeshire, 23d March
1674.

6. Elizabeth, baptized 2d July 1629; married to Mr Claypole
in 1645-6; died at Hampton Court, 6th August 1658.

7. James, baptized 8th January; died 9th January 1632.

8. Mary, baptized 9th February 1637; married Lord Faucon-
berg, 18th November 1657; died 14th March 1712.

9. Frances, baptized 6th December 1638; married Mr Rich,
the Earl of Warwick’s grandson, 11th November 1657; a
widow in three months; married Sir John Russel,—date
uncertain; died 27th January 1721.

The Protector’s widow died at Norborough, in Northampton-

shire, the residence of her son-in-law Claypole, 8th October, 1672.

eo

AUTHORITIES.

[It is impossible to indicate the numerous writers who have
treated of Cromwell and his times, and we must content ourselves

Macaulay’s History of England. Compare Dryden :—
‘Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less,
But when fresh laurels courted him to live:
He seem’d but to prevent some new success,
As if above what triumphs earth could give.’
AUTHORITIES QUOTED. 203

‘ith naming the principal authorities to whom we have ourselves
»ferred :—Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion; Memoirs of
[erbert, and Sir Philip Warwick; Whitelock’s Memorials; Rush-
‘orth’s Historical Collections; Thurloe’s State Papers; Peck’s
Yesiderata Curiosa; Letters of Royal and Noble Personages ;
[eath’s Flagellum ; Guizot’s Revolution of 1640; Lingard’s and
[allam’s Histories ; D’Aubigne’s The Protector, a Vindication ;
‘orster’s Statesmen of the Commonwealth (Cab. Cyclop.), and
issays ; Sandford’s Historical Essays ; Dr Vaughan’s History of
1e Protectorate ; Milton’s Prose Works; Rev. Mark Noble’s
ife of Cromwell; and Carlyle’s Letters and Speeches of Oliver
romvell elucidated. In the news-sheets and pamphlets of the
me (of which there is an admirable collection in the British
fuseum), are numerous interesting details. See, especially, for
laseby, ‘A more Perfect and Exact Relation of the Great Victory
yy God’s Providence) obtained on the 14th of June, etc.,’ Lon-
on, 1645; and ‘The Journal of Every Day’s March of the
wmy under Fairfax,’ given in Sprigge’s Anglia Rediviva.
‘or Marston Moor, compare Rushworth, and the contemporary
‘riters in the ‘King’s Pamphlets,’ No. 164.]
CHAPTER VI.

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM; AND JOHN, DUKE OF
MARLBOROUGH.

Twas then great Marlborough’s mighty soul was prov’d,
That in the shock of charging hosts unmov’d,
Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,
Examin’d all the dreadful scenes of war :
In peaceful thought the field of death survey’d,
To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid ;
Inspir’d repuls’d battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage.
So when an angel, by Divine command,
With rising tempests shakes a guilty land,
Such as of late o’er pale Britannia past,
Calm and serene he drives the furious blast;
And, pleas’d the Almighty’s orders to perform,
Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
Appvison, The Campaign.'

AuaGust 13, 1704.

Wuen the eighteenth Christian century opened upon the world,
Louis XIV. was at the zenith of his power, and it seemed as if
under him the Franks were to repeat their old successes under
Charlemagne, and include three-fourths of Europe within the
boundaries of the French empire. His strategical genius, aided
by the skill of his generals and the valour of his troops, had
dictated a series of successful campaigns which prostrated the
House of Austria in the dust, and endangered the life and liber-

1 The poem was written at the request of Lord Godolphin, the Whig
Secretary of State, to celebrate the victory of Blenheim. The allusion in
the last line but three is to the terrible storm of November 1703.
STATE OF EUROPE. 205

s of the States of Holland. His grandson sat upon the throne
Spain and the Indies, and placed at his disposal the wealth
1 resources of the American colonies—of the Spanish Nether-
ids, bristling with fortresses—of Sardinia, and the Milanese,
mice, Sicily, and Naples. A close alliance with Bavaria opened
him an easy entrance into the very heart of Germany. In
't, Austria, Holland, and England, found themselves menaced
an overwhelming danger; by the united forces of Italy,
ance, Spain, Flanders, and Germany, directed by vast ability,
1 recruited by the gold and silver of the New World.! They
re compelled to arm against a preponderance which threatened
crush them ; and while thus combined by a mutual peril, each
wer, moreover, had its own private injuries to avenge. Eng-
id had been duped and cajoled ; Austria had been deprived of
> succession to the Spanish crown; Holland felt that her ex-
ence depended on the issue of the struggle. The war com-
need by William III., whose sagacity fully comprehended the
tent of the peril in which Europe might be involved,—had not,
wever, brought much glory to the allied arms, or inflicted any
‘jous reverses upon Louis’ power. The English troops had,
leed, shown themselves possessed of a matchless intrepidity,
t they were as yet uniuspired by the enthusiasm of success.
ie allied forces had fought many battles, but gained no vic-
‘ies; though it is true that they had sustained few discredit-
le defeats. The French, on the contrary, were animated with
> recollections of a long series of triumphs; were supported
their own prestige; were led by generals of surpassing mili-
‘y genius. They had the advantage, too, of fighting, as it
re, on their own ground—in the admirable arena afforded by
Spanish Netherlands, where they could employ the numerous
tified towns which stretched across that country either as a
sis for offensive operations, or as impregnable asylums in cases
disaster.2 But the allies, whether they began their campaigns
the side of Germany or that of Holland, were met by the
crier of the Rhine, and by that formidable cordon of fortresses

1 For a vivid sketch of Spanish power at this period, see the last
ume of Macaulay’s History.
2 Alison.
206 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

with which the genius of Louis and the wonderful science of
Vauban had girdled the frontiers of the French monarchy.

It was not unlikely, therefore, but that at the death of
William III. (March 8, 1702), the Grand League against France
which he had projected, sustained, and animated, but which had
apparently been attended with no successful results, would fall to
pieces; and such was undoubtedly the conviction of the French
monarch. But happily for Europe, Queen Anne was surrounded
by sagacious counsellors, and but three days after her accession,
she announced her intention of carrying out those measures which
her predecessor—‘ the great support, not only of these kingdoms,
but of all Europe’—had projected. And with equal good for-
tune for European liberty, she selected as the general of her
forces, a man whose military abilities were already respected,
though the full extent and unbounded resources of his genius
were not yet understood—Joun Cuurcum1, Hart of Mart-
BoroucH. But he was not only appointed to the command of
the English contingent. Such, at this time, was the influence of
England in the allied councils, and such, too, the marvellous
address and conduct of this great man, that it was with rapturous
exultation Austria and Holland agreed he should have the leader-
ship of all the allied armies.

War was formally declared against France on the 4th of
May 1702. In Flanders, where Marlborough commanded, the
allied forces, in their first campaign, met with no disaster, and
obtained some slight successes; but on the Upper Rhine and
the Moselle the French were everywhere triumphant, captured
Augsburg and Parrau, Landau and Tréves, and bore their vic-
torious swords swift into the heart of Germany. In Bavaria
the Imperialists had been terribly beaten by Marshal Villars, and
the campaign of 1703 closed, on the whole, ominously for the
Allied Powers.

Louis now sketched out for the campaign of 1704 a plan of
brilliant strategical ability, which has been deservedly praised by
the greatest military theorists. He resolved to act on the defen-
sive in the Netherlands, whose numerous and strongly-fortified
towns would, he considered, effectually protect his frontier from
any attacks adventured by the allies in that quarter. The bulk
LOUIS XIV.’S PLAN OF OPERATIONS. 207

his forces, therefore, under Marshal Villeroy, would be tree to
t onthe Moselle. Marshal Tallard, meanwhile, was to cross the
ack Forest, advance into Suabia, and unite with the army of
e Elector of Bavaria,—a movement which he accomplished with
ecess at Donauwerth, early in July. Villeroy’s forces would
us form his left wing, and the army of Italy under Vendéme,
metrating the Tyrol and advancing upon Salzburg, his right.
he united armies, some 80,000 in number, thus concentrated
‘tween the Danube and the Inn, would be able to pour through
e valley of the Danube upon Vienna, and there dictate what-
er terms Louis might choose to inflict upon the Emperor ot
ustria. As a further embarrassment, a large body of troops
as to move into Hungary, to strengthen and organize the in-
rection which had broken out in that unhappy land, and which
as already assuming formidable proportions. ‘The plan was
randly conceived: it extended from Vienna to Brussels, and
‘ought the forces over that vast extent to converge to the deci-
ve point in the valley of the Danube. The genius of Louis
‘IV. had outstripped the march of time; a war of sieges was
) be turned into one of strategy, and 1704 promised the triumphs
hich were realized on the same ground, and by following the
ume plan, by Napoleon in 1805.”
But the genius of Marlborough penetrated the French King’s
itentions, and comprehended the vastness of the results which
reir success would induce. He determined, therefore, to abandon
‘landers and its fortresses; to collect what troops he could ; and
) strike a decisive blow at France upon the Danube. Not only,
owever, was the enterprise in itself a difficult one, but he had
rst to obtain the consent of the Dutch to a plan which deprived
great part of Holland of military protection, and to secure the
eneral co-operation of the Allied Powers. In Heinsius, the
Jutch pensionary, a statesman of large and liberal views, and in
’rince Eugene, the Imperialist general, an able and experienced
oldier, he fortunately found two sincere and vigorous supporters.
‘hrough their influence, and by the magic of his own address and
ngaging manners, he secured the consent of the Hague to so

1 Alison.
208 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

much of his daring plan as he ventured to reveal. It was, there-
fore, agreed that while a defensive war was kept. up in the Nether-
lands by General Auverquerque at the head of the Dutch army,
Marlborough, with the great body of the allied forces, should
march against Villeroy, and compel him to withdraw upon the
Moselle or the Rhine. He was then to penetrate through Ger-
many into Bavaria, and effecting a junction with Prince Hugene
and the Imperialists, or intercepting the communications of the
French with Suabia, to force them to retire. In either case
Vienna was saved, and the strategy of Louis effectually neu-
tralized.

Marlborough commenced his march on the 19th of May
1704. His army, assembled at Bedburg by his brother General
Churchill, consisted of 51 battalions of foot, and 92 squadrons
of horse, of whom 16,000 men were English—English veterans,
trained and disciplined under his own eye. Reinforcements from
Prussia, Luneberg, and Hesse, were to reach him on the Rhine.
On the 28th of May he arrived at Bonn; advanced along the
right bank of the Rhine; crossed the Neckar, near Ladenbourg,
on the 8d of June; and pressed forward to Mundelsheim, where
he joined Prince Eugene. Villeroy retired before him as he
advanced, and successfully avoided every attempt to bring him
to battle. Strong reinforcements, meanwhile, were despatched
by Louis to reinforce Marshal Tallard and the Elector of
Bavaria. But Marlborough’s persevering advance had com-
pletely checkmated Villeroy, and prevented that union of the three
great French armies which Louis had contemplated. Though
his march lay through a difficult country, he pressed forward
with the utmost rapidity, and on the 2d of July came in collision
with the Bavarians at Schullenberg, near Donauwerth. Storm-
ing their formidable intrenchments, with a loss to the allies of
1500 killed and 4000 wounded, while the enemy lost 7000 men,
all their ordnance, and 13 standards, he crossed the Danube,
and overran the whole of Bavaria, capturing all its fortresses
but those of Munich and Augsburg. Still the Elector proved
faithful to the French alliance, and rejected the overtures made
to him by Marlborough. His army, despite of its defeat, was
strong and in good order; and Marshal Tallard, with 45,000
STRENGTH OF THE HOSTILE ARMIES. 209°

o, was rapidly advancing to his support. They united at
erach, near Augsburg, and, further strengthened by the
ival of Marshal Marsin’s detachment, assumed, in their turn,
: Offensive, and menaced Prince Eugene with an immediate
ack. Apprised of his danger, Marlborough despatched to sup-
‘t him the Duke of Wurtemburg, with 27 squadrons of horse,
the 10th of August; and, on the following day, General
urchill was ordered to move up with 20 battalions of foot.
e rest of the army speedily followed; and the whole joined
: Prince near Hochstadt, a little higher up the left bank of
: Danube than Donauwerth, the scene of Marlborough’s late
tory.

The strength of the two hostile armies, now in such close
ghbourhood, is thus computed by the best authorities :'—

A.—TuE ALLIES.

1. Right Wing, under Prince Eugene.

 

Battalions of Foot. Squadrons of Horse. Total.
Prussians, Il 15
Danes, 7 oe
Austrians, oa 24
{mperialists, ae 35
18 74 20,000

2. Centre, and Left Wing, under Duke of Marlborough,

English, 14 14
Dutch, 14 22
Hessians, i 7
Hanoverians, 13 25
Danes, ees 22

 

48 86 36,000

Total—66 Battalions, and 160 Squadrons; or, 56,000 men.
Guns, 52.

 

*Kausler. Coxe’s numbers slightly differ.
oO
210 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

B.—Tue FRENCH AND BAvaRIANs.

1. Left Wing, under Marshal Marsin.

 

Battalions of Foot. Squadrons of Horse. Total,

French, 29 50 18,000
Bavarians, 138 37 12,000
42 87 30,000

2. Centre, and Right Wing, under Marshal Tallard.
French, 42 60 30,000
Total—s4 Battalions, and 147 Squadrons; or, 60,000 men.

This disparity of numbers, however, was increased by various
circumstances. ‘Four-fifths of the French army were national
troops, speaking the same language, animated by the same feel-
ings, accustomed to the same discipline, and the most of whom
had been accustomed to act together. The allies, on the other
hand, were a motley assemblage, like Hannibal’s at Canne, or
Wellington’s at Waterloo, composed of the troops of many dif-
ferent nations, speaking different languages, trained to different
discipline, but recently assembled together, and under the orders
of a stranger general, one of those haughty islanders, little in
general inured to war, but whose cold or supercilious manners
had so often caused jealousies to arise in the best cemented con-
federacies. English, Prussians, Danes, Wurtemburgers, Dutch,
Hanoverians, and Hessians, were blended in such nearly equal
proportions, that the army of no one state could be said by its
numerical preponderance to be entitled to the precedence. But
the consummate address, splendid talents, and conciliatory man-
ners of Marlborough, as well as the brilliant valour which the
English auxiliary force had displayed on many occasions, had
won for them the lead, as they had formerly done when in no
greater force among the confederates, under Richard Cceur-
de-Lion, in the Holy War. It was universally felt that upon
them, as on the Tenth Legion of Cesar, or the Old Guard of
Napoleon, the weight of the contest at the decisive moment would
fall”! The importance of a battle at this conjuncture, to check

1 Alison.
POSITION OF THE FRENCH ARMY. 211

progress of the French arms and encourage the spirit of
allied armies, was entirely comprehended by Marlborough.
ien his officers pointed out the formidable position occupied
the enemy, he replied,—‘I know the danger, yet a battle is
olutely necessary; and I rely on the bravery and discipline of
troops, which will make amends for our disadvantages.” It
; in this spirit that he made his dispositions, and prepared
h a force inferior in numbers to meet the well-trained veterans
Callard and Marsin, flushed with a long series of brilliant suc-
ses, and inspired by the glory of ‘Le Grand Monarque.’ He
oted part of the night to prayer, and towards morning
aived the sacrament from the hands of his chaplain, Mr Hare,
h devout reverence. He then reposed for a while, and em-
yed the remainder of the interval in concerting with Prince
zene the various movements of a battle, on whose issue ap-
red to depend the fate of the Christian world.

A small stream, called the Nebel, runs in the direction of
W. to 8.E., into the Danube, which it joins just beyond the
age of Blindheim or Blenheim. It has its source in the heights
Hichberg, and flows from Oberglau to Blenheim through a
umpy and irregular country. Near its source it waters the
age of Lutzingen. Behind this stream was drawn up the
mch army: its right flank protected by the Danube, its left
the rugged hills of Goldberg and Kichberg. Its right was
ther supported by the village of Blenheim, which was strongly
isadoed and entrenched, and occupied by twenty-six battalions
infantry and twelve squadrons of cavalry. Here Tallard had
ced his headquarters. The left was in like manner strengthened
Lutzingen, where Marsin and the Elector of Bavaria posted
mty-two battalions and thirty-six squadrons. The centre
3 occupied by fourteen battalions, including the famous Krish
gade, and rested upon the hamlet of Oberglau. From thence
Blenheim extended eighty squadrons of cavalry in two lines,
1 seven battalions of foot. Ninety guns were variously dis-
xed along the line, which, strong at each extremity, was some-
at feeble in its centre, so that, should that centre be forced, it

1 Coxe.
212 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

was possible that the victors might wheel round on the right
wing, and drive it into the Danube, which was nowhere fordable
at this point, even for horsemen.

Marlborough’s forces were admirably disposed. The right
wing was under Prince Eugene; the left and centre were led by
Marlborough in person. At three o’clock on the morning of the
13th of August, both divisions crossed the Kessel, and advanced
towards the enemy; each formed into two columns of infantry,
and two of cavalry—the artillery placed between them. Eugene
filed off to the right, and Marlborough to the left. The morn-
ing was dull and cheerless, and so thick a haze fell upon the
marshy plain, that Tallard was unaware of their advance until
the allied right and centre had arrived within cannon-shot.
Then he made his dispositions with all the baste in the world,
expecting apparently that the villages of Blenheim and Lutzingen
would be the chief points of attack.

The artillery on both sides soon grew rapid in their fire; and
the allied infantry pressed forward to the brink of the rivulets
which separated them from the French position, with a full con-
fidence in the genius and resources of their great leader. But
the ground which Prince Eugene had to traverse was of a diffi-
cult and dangerous character ; swampy, uneven, and crossed by
numerous rivulets, it offered serious impediments to the passage
of his heavy ordnance. During the interval thus occupied,
divine service was celebrated by the chaplains at the head of each
regiment of Marlborough’s division, and the chief rode through
the ranks to judge of their array, and encourage the spirits of
his men. He was received everywhere with the heartiest accla-
mations. As he passed along the front, a ball from one ofthe
enemy’s batteries glanced under his horse, and covered him with
earth. A shudder thrilled the bosoms of all who witnessed the
incident ; but, with his wonted imperturbability, he continued his
survey, and having completed his preparations, sat down to take
refreshment while he waited for Prince Eugene. It was about
twelve o’clock when his aide-de-camp brought him the wished-for
intelligence. ‘ Now, gentlemen, to your posts,’ he cried to his
staff, and, mounting his horse, he gave the signal to advance.
Firmly and steadily, as if on a peaceful parade, the English
THE ATTACK ON BLENHEIM. 213

infantry strode forward to the field of death. Lord Cutts, a
brave soldier, whose biography ought long ago to have been
written, led the column destined for an attack on Blenheim.
Marlborough advanced with the main body to the Nebel, where
his pontooners had thrown across five bridges.

At one the attack on Blenheim commenced. Lord Cutts and
his division crossed the Nebel, and, sheltered by a rising ground,
coolly advanced towards the palisades erected by the French at
the entrances to the village, receiving their first fire at a distance
of thirty paces only. Many brave fellows fell before this mur-
derous discharge; but their comrades, under Brigadier Rowe,
pressed boldly forward, and Rowe actually struck the palisades
with his sword before he gave the word to fire. Ina few minutes
one-third of his brigade was put hors de combat; Rowe himself
fell, dangerously wounded, at the foot of the palisades, and his
lieutenant-colonel and major were killed in a courageous attempt
to remove his body. The assailants, unable to force their way
by the bayonet, and loth to retreat, grappled the pales with lusty
hands, and attempted, but in vain, to break them down. At
length, when sheer superiority of numbers forced them to retire,
some squadrons of French horse charged on their flank, broke
them into disorder, and seized their colours. They retreated
hastily upon the Hessian cavalry, who, with brilliant dash,
spurred against the French squadrons, regained the captured
standards, and drove the assailants back upon their defences.

A reinforcement of cavalry was now brought up, and effected
another successful charge; but the French, with increased num-
bers, poured in a fire so destructive from their enclosures at Blen-
heim, that the allies, after a terrible loss, were compelled to retire.’

Marlborough, who had witnessed this affair from the bank of
the Nebel, perceiving that Blenheim was too strongly garrisoned
to be easily carried, now ordered Lord Cutts to keep up a feigned
attack, ‘by firing in platoons over the crest of the rising ground,’
while he prepared to carry out his grand design against the
enemy’s centre. ; :

The passage of the Nebel was effected by the main body with

1 Coxe.
21+ THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

some difficulty. The French brought down some of their guns
from Blenheim, and hurled a destructive storm of shot among the
crowded ranks. General Churchill pushed across a column of
infantry to occupy the little village of Unterytan; but finding
that it had been set on fire, pressed through the burning
houses, traversed the Nebel by a bridge of stone, and deployed in
excellent array on the other bank. Marlborough immediately
ordered the whole strength of his cavalry to advance. They
struggled through the marshy meadow-land, and across the
branches of the Nebel, to receive, while still unformed, and
slightly disorganized, a tremendous charge from the masses of
the French horse, who came down in perfect order, with clarions
ringing and banners flying, and supported by a fierce enfilade of
musketry and artillery from Blenheim. But, fortunately, some
battalions had now formed sufficiently to check their onset bya
close and steady fire. The Danish and Hanoverian squadrons
having also got across, were brought up to the rescue; and finally,
the allied line was formed in good order beyond the Nebel.

Marlborough was now called away to retrieve the disaster
which had befallen his right. The Prince of Holstein, with eleven
Hanoverian battalions, having passed the Nebel opposite Ober-
glau, was faced by the famous brigade of Irish veterans, which
had won repute in many a hard-fought field, and suffered a total
discomfiture. He himself was mortally wounded and taken pri-
soner; and his men, panic-smitten, flung back into the swampy
morasses of the Nebel. The allied centre was shivered into frag-
ments. Galloping thither, Marlborough led a brigade across the
stream, posted it himself a little below Oberglau, protected their left
by some Danish and Hanoverian squadrons, and supported them
with heavy guns which he brought down from Weilheim. Charg-
ing the Irish, whom the ardour of their success had thrown into
confusion, he forced them back upon Oberglau; and repelling
Marshal Marsin’s cavalry by an assault of Imperial horse, re-
established his communications with Prince Eugene, and had the
satisfaction of perceiving that the whole of his division was now
safely posted beyond the river.

Meanwhile, Prince Eugene had also crossed the Nebel oppo-
site Lutzingen. His infantry suffered severely from a hostile
PRINCE EUGENE. 215

battery placed in front of that village; but the Prussian bat-
talions, with admirable valour, hurled themselves upon it, and
carried it, after a desperate encounter. The Imperial horse then
rode right against the cavalry of Bavaria, and broke the first
line. Dashing upon the second, however, they, in their turn,
were scattered and disordered, and gladly took refuge across the
Nebel, and on the slopes of the wooded Eichberg. The Bava-
Tian troopers pursued their advantage ; spurred into the press of
the Prussian infantry ; recaptured the battery; and drove them
into flight. ‘ Ata distance of 200 paces,” however, these intrepid
battalions rallied; nor did they again retire until compelled by
the advance of ever-increasing numbers. Prince Eugene once
more led his cavalry to the charge. Again they were driven
back. Reinforced by a Dutch brigade, the heroic Eugene moved
them for a third time against their foes. ‘ But this time the on-
set was feeble; the men were daunted by their double repulse ;
their line was speedily broken; and they again fled, completely
routed, across the Nebel. In utter despair, Eugene left the
Prince of Hanover and Duke of Wurtemberg to rally the horse,
and himself galloped off to put himself at the head of the in-
fantry, which had also advanced with the cavalry. That brave
body of men, admirably disciplined, and encouraged by the pre-
sence of their general, stood their ground with heroic resolution.
But they were charged with desperate hardihood by the enemy.
Eugene himself was in the most imminent danger of being shot by
a Bavarian dragoon, who was cut down while deliberately taking
aim at him within a few paces. The admirable steadiness of the
Prussians, who on this occasion gave tokens of what they were
to become under the great Frederick, prevented a total defeat in
this quarter. Immovable, they stood their ground amidst the
thundering charges of horse, the front rank kneeling, and the rear
maintaining a ceaseless rolling fire, till at length the enemy,
wearied with fruitless efforts, drew off, leaving the ground covered
with their wounded and dying.”

We must now return to Marlborough, the hero whose direct-
ing genius was to resolve these discordant elements of battle into

1 Coxe. 2 Alison.
216 THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

one surpassing victory. Hight thousand cavalry, unbroken and
undismayed, were arranged in two strong lines, facing the enemy,
and supported in the rear, but chiefly to the left, by battalions
of infantry, with intervals between them, which were intended to
admit of the retreat of repulsed or broken squadrons. Tallard
now disposed nine battalions of infantry among his cavairy, be-
tween Blenheim and Oberglan, so as to strengthen his centre ; and
Marlborough, by an equally skilful movement, brought up three
Hessian battalions to check them, supporting them by several
pieces of artillery.

The allies, headed by their great leader, now moved up the
acclivity on which the French had gathered ; steadily at first, as
on a parade ground, but more quickly as they approached their
foe. So terrible was the fire with which they were received, that
they fell back sixty paces, still maintaining themselves on the
ridge they had ascended. The great guns renewed their havoc,
and the infantry poured in a quick and destructive fire. Gra-
dually the artillery of the allies overpowered that of the French,
and Marlborough, observing that their fire had slackened, again
ordered his cavalry to advance. They rode forward with tre-
mendous vigour ; shattered into fragments the French horse ; and
turning upon the unprotected infantry, cut the nine battalions to
pieces, or took them prisoners. Bravely did those unfortunates
withstand the onset ; and it was noticed, after the battle, that the
dead lay in ranks as they had stood upon the field.

This success on the right involved the ultimate discomfiture
of the whole line. For Marsin, afraid that Marlborough would
turn on the exposed flank of his cavalry, withdrew them from
the front, and by this movement necessarily uncovered the in-
fantry then contending with Eugene. The Prince immediately
led his troops, for the fourth time, to the charge; and they,
animated by the success of their comrades, pushed forward with
such tenacity and resolution, that the French and Bavarians were
forced to retire upon Oberglau and Lutzingen. Then Marsin,
abandoning further resistance as hopeless, ordered the general
retreat of the division he commanded.!

? Coxe; Kausler; Military History.
DEFEAT AND SURRENDER OF TALLARD. 217

Tallard, meanwhile, had vainly attempted to retrieve his
misfortunes. He drew up the remains of his cavalry behind the
tents of his camp, with their right extending to Blenheim, in
order to secure the infantry posted in that village, to whom he
despatched orders for immediate retreat. At the same time he
sent his aides-de-camp to solicit succour from Marsin, unaware
that he was so hotly beset by Eugene as to be no longer able to
hold his own. Marlborough’s eagle eye detected the weakness of
Tallard’s line, and the exposed nature of its right. He perceived
that the decisive moment had arrived. Sounding his trumpets,
he hurled 7000 veteran horsemen, flushed with success and con-
fident of victory, upon the dispirited and weakened foe. The
French did not stand to meet the shock. They fired off their
carbines in disorder, and galloped off the field, the left towards
Hochstadt, and the right in the direction of Sonderheim. Marl-
borough despatched Hompesch with 30 squadrons in pursuit
of the former, and himself followed up the latter with the re-
mainder of his cavalry, driving the unfortunate fugitives down the
hill-slope, and into the Danube and the Schwanbach. Numbers
were drowned in attempting to cross the rivers; numbers ‘were
taken prisoners upon their banks. Tallard himself, with his
chief officers, and a squadron or two of cavalry, took refuge
in the village of Sonderheim; but, surrounded by the allied
horse, were compelled to surrender, or meet certain death in the
rolling waters of the Danube. They gave up their swords to
the Prince of Hesse’s aide-de-camp, and were immediately con-
ducted to Marlborough, who received them with that winning
courtesy which was no less conspicuous in his character than his
brilliant courage. And tearing a leaf out of an attendant’s memo-
randum-book, he rested it on the parapet of an adjacent bridge,
and wrote in pencil an intimation of his victory to the Duchess :—

¢ August 13, 1704.—I have not time to say more, but to
beg you will give my duty to the Queen, and let her know her
army has had a glorious victory. M. Tallard and two other
generals are in my coach, and I am following the rest. The
bearer, my aide-de-camp, Colonel Parke, will give her an ac-
count of what has passed. I shall do it in a day or two, by
another, more at large.—MarLsorovucuH.’
Z1d THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

The infantry posted in Blenheim found their retreat cut off
by the vigorous movements of the Scots Greys, under Lord
John Hay, on the one side, and General Webb’s battalions oz
the other. Surrounded by an overwhelming force, they were
therefore compelled to surrender; and after a brief but fierce
resistance, submitted sullenly to their ill fortune. One regi-
ment, the regiment of Navarre, actually burnt their colours anc
buried their arms, that such honourable trophies might not fal
into the hands of the enemy.

The French left was only saved from total ruin by an acci-
dent. Prince Eugene closely followed them in the direction 0}
Morselingen, and the Duke was preparing to lead his cavalry
against their flank, as it defiled along the borders of the woods
of Eichberg, when a report was raised that the troops so dimly
seen through the mists of evening and the smoke-clouds of battle.
were really Eugene’s men in hot pursuit. The order to advance
was countermanded, and before the mistake was discovered, the
enemy made good their retreat.

The allied army was now drawn up in full array; its lefi
extending to Souderen, its right to Morselingen; and the vic-
torious soldiers lay all night, under arms, on the red battle-field
Of the enemy’s tents and provisions, including a hundred oxer
which had been designed for Tallard’s troops, they readily pos:
sessed themselves. The wounded were duly provided for, anc
placed under shelter; the prisoners disarmed, divided betweer
the allied divisions, and properly guarded. The immediat
results of the victory then appeared to be :—13,000 prisoners
including 1200 officers, almost all captured by Marlborough’
wing ; besides 34 guns, 25 standards, and 90 colours. Eugen
took 13 cannon. The killed and wounded numbered 14,000. Thi
total loss to the enemy, however, before they reached the Rhine
was not less than 40,000 men.

So decisive a triumph had not been lightly won. Marl.
borough’s wing lost 5000 killed and wounded ; Prince Eugene’s
6000,—in all, 11,000; or, according to Hare, 4500 killed anc
7500 wounded. ‘These losses were in some measure supplied b:
the desertion from the enemy of two entire regiments of Germans
numbering nearly 3000 men.
MARLBOROUGH’S ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE. 219

Our account of this great battle would be incomplete without
au extract from the Duke’s private correspondence, which shows
his excellent feeling towards his coadjutor Prince Eugene,
though he had every reason to be dissatisfied with the conduct
of the Imperialist cavalry. To Godolphin, the Secretary of
State, he wrote :—

‘If Prince Hugene could have succeeded equal to his great
merit, we should that day have gone a great way in making an
end of the war.’

His letter to the Duchess is full of interesting details :—
‘August 14.—Before the battle was quite done yesterday, I
writ to my dearest soul to let her know that I was well, and that
God had blessed her Majesty’s arms with as great a victory as
has ever been known. For prisoners, I have the Marshal de
Tallard, and the greatest part of his general officers, above
8000 men, and near 1500 officers. In short, the army of M. de
Tallard, which was that which I fought with, is quite ruined;
that of the Elector of Bavaria and the Marshal de Marsin, which
Prince Eugene fought against, I am afraid, has not had much
loss, for I cannot find that he has many prisoners. As soon as
the Elector knew that Monsieur de Tallard was likely to be
beaten, he marched off, so that I only came time enough to see-
him retire. As all these prisoners are taken by the troops I
command, it is in my power to send as many of them to England
as her Majesty shall think for her honour and service. My own
opinion in this matter is, that the Marshal de Tallard and the
general officers should be sent or brought to her Majesty when
I come to England; but should all the officers be brought, it
would be a very great expense, and I think the honour is in
having the Marshal, and such other officers as her Majesty
pleases. But I shall do in this, as in all things, that which shall
be most agreeable to her. JI am so very much out of order with
having been seventeen hours on horseback yesterday, and not
having been able to sleep above three hours last night, that I
can write to none of my friends. - However, I am so pleased with
this action, that I can’t end my letter without being so vain as
to tell my dearest soul, that within the memory of man there has
been no victory so great as this; and, as I am sure you love me
44 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

entirely well, you will be infinitely pleased with what has bee
done upon my account, as well as the great benefit the publi
will have. For, had the success of Prince Eugene been equal t
his merit, we should in that day’s action have made an end ¢
the war.’

We can but permit ourselves a glance at the political cor
sequences of the battle of Blenheim. Yet, in importance, the
have scarcely been exceeded by those of any other victory, sav
Waterloo. The prestige of the French arms was irretrievabl
lost, Louis’ schemes of universal empire were rudely broker
and Europe delivered from an oppressive and arbitrary prepor
derance. It saved Austria, and released Germany. ‘ The de
cisive blow struck at Blenheim resounded through every pal
of Europe; it at once destroyed the vast fabric of power whic
it had taken Louis XIV., aided by the talents of Turenne an
the genius of Vauban, so long to construct.’ The militar
reputation of England, for centuries obscured, was sudden]
raised to the highest pitch; for men acknowledged that it we
by the valour of English troops, and the genius of an Englis
chief, the victory of Blenheim had been won. These islander,
it was said, are really the same in spirit, in courage, aud intr
pidity as the bowmen of Azincourt, Crecy, and Poitiers. An
for Marlborough himself, had he never fought another batt)
this victory must have entitled him to rank among the mo:
illustrious of military commanders.

Joun, Duxr or Mariporouen.

A Briocrapay.

‘I take with pleasure this opportunity of doing justice to that gre
man, whose faults I knew, whose virtues I admired; and whose memor
as the greatest general and as the greatest minister that our country,
perhaps any other, has produced, I honour.’

Lorp Borinaproxe.

‘He had, to a degree above all other generals of his time, that cal
courage in the midst of tumult, that serenity of soul in danger, which t.
English call a cool head; and it was, perhaps, this quality, the greate
gift of nature for command, which formerly gave the English so mai
HIS BIRTH AND EARLY HISTORY. 221

advantages over the French on the plains of Crecy, Poitiers, and Azin-
court.’ VOLTAIRE.

§ 1. From 1650 to the Accession of Queen Anne.

John Churchill, afterwards known in history as ‘The Great
Duke of Marlborough,’ was born at Ashe, in the county of
Devon, on the 24th of June 1650, O.S., or 5th of July N.S.,
and was the second son of Sir Winston Churchill, a cavalier,
who had suffered much for Charles I., even to the confiscation
of his estates. His father was a descendant of the Courcils of
Poitou, one of whom followed the banner of the Conqueror into
England. His mother, Elizabeth Drake, boasted of her con-
nection with the family which Sir Francis, the great navigator,
raised into repute. Nevertheless, Churchill’s family was very
poor; and the fortunes of the youthful hero had their rise in
the infamy of his sister Arabella, who, as maid of honour to the
first Duchess of York, had attracted the attention of James,
and become his avowed mistress. Her influence procured for
her handsome brother—who, after a scanty course of tuition from
a Devonshire clergyman, had been removed to St Paul’s School,
London—a pair of colours in a regiment of Foot Guards, at the
early age of sixteen. His education was, indeed, imperfect, but
his strong natural genius supplied every deficiency ; and he was
already distinguished for the elegance of his address and the
grace of his manners. In Charles’ dissolute court, such recom-
mendations were duly appreciated. The Duchess of Cleveland,
Charles the Second’s most abandoned mistress, was among the
frail beauties whom the personal graces of the handsome Ensign
attracted. On one occasion the King nearly surprised him in
her company. ‘To avoid detection, he leapt out of the window;
a hazardous feat, which the lady rewarded with a gift of L.5000.
With that love of money which characterized him through life,
he (it is said) disposed of the present in the purchase of an
annuity of L.500, secured on the estates of the Harl of Halifax.

Churchill’s first military service was at Tangiers, than a de-
pendency of the British Crown, and besieged by the Moors
(a.p. 1666). The campaign brought into display the cool intre-
pidity and skilful conduct, which were his distinguishing qualities.
del bal hed YVUILIN, VU UP IMAWLDULUU ULL

Returning to England, he received his appointment to a con
pany, and joined a detachment of 6000 men, under the Duke «
Monmouth, which England, in 1672, contributed to Louis XIV
to assist in the subjugation of Holland. No better school for
soldier than the army which was led by Turenne, Condé, an
Vauban! His courage and ability did not escape the notice «
the great Turenne, who signalized him, after the siege of Nime
guen, by the title of ‘The Handsome Englishman ;’ and fre
quently prophesied his future greatness. A lieutcnant-colon
having shamefully yielded up a post which he had been ordere
to maintain to the last, Turenne exclaimed, ‘I will bet a suppe
and a dozen of claret, that my handsome Englishman will regai
the post with half the number of men that the officer commande:
who has lost it. The wager was accepted; and the issue full:
justified the great general’s confidence.?

At Maestricht, by his valour, he saved the life of Monmouth
and so splendidly distinguished himself, that Louis XIV. thankec
him in public, at the head of the army, and promised him hi
recommendation. He was accordingly promoted to a lieutenant
coloneley, and continued to serve with the English forces re
tained under the colours of France, until the return of his regi:
ment to England in 1677. ‘ Beyond all doubt,’ as Alison justly
remarks, ‘it was these five years’ service under the great master:
of the military art, who then sustained the power, and cast ¢
halo round the crown, of Louis XIV., which rendered Marl.
borough the consummate commander that he showed himself t«
have become, from the moment he was placed at the head of th
allied armies. One of the most interesting and instructive lesson:
to be learned from biography, is derived from observing the long
steps, the vast amount of previous preparation, the numerous
changes, some prosperous, others adverse, by which the powers
of a great man are formed, and he is prepared for playing thc
part which it is intended he should perform on the theatre of the
world. Providence does nothing in vain; and when it has
selected a particular mind for a great achievement, the events
which happen to it all seem to conspire in a mysterious way fo1

1 Lediard; Coxe.
HIS MARRIAGE. 223

its development. Were any one omitted, some essential quality
in the character of the future hero, statesman, or philosopher
would be found awanting.’?

Upon his return to England, Churchill flung himself, with all
the ardent activity of his character, into the dissipations which
then disgraced the court of Charles II. He was happily rescued
from them, after a brief career, by the passionate attachment
which he formed for a lady of great beauty and considerable
talents, Sarah Jennings, the favourite attendant of the Princess
Anne, who had maintained her reputation unsullied in an atmo-
sphere by no means favourable to woman’s virtue; and, at the
age of sixteen, was distinguished by her prudence and ability,
by the animation of her countenance and the gracefulness of her
manners. The lady fully reciprocated her lover’s attachment,
but family considerations threw obstacles in their way; and
they were at length privately married, in the presence of the
Duchess of York, early in 1678. Through nearly half a cen-
tury of married life their attachment appears to have lasted un-
‘impaired.

Soon after his marriage, Colonel Churchill was presented with
a regiment of foot, and attached to the private service of the
Duke of York, who employed him on several delicate and confi-
dential missions. He accompanied him to the Hague and Brus-
sels, and afterwards to Scotland. In the course of the voyage,
they were both nearly shipwrecked on the coast of Norfolk. The
Duke, on this occasion, strenuously exerted himself to preserve
the Colonel’s life, though many of the Scotch nobles in attend-
ance upon him were iu greater peril. On his return to Lon-
don, he was created Baron Churchill of Aymouth, in Scotland;
and, in 1683, appointed colonel of the new royal regiment
of dragoons, a promotion which inspired numerous ludicrous
pasquinades :—

‘ Let’s cut our meat with spoons:
The sense is as good,

As that Churchill should
Be put to command the dragoons.’ ?

 

1 Alison’s Military Life of the Duke of Marlborough.
2 Quoted by Macaulay.
Lady Churchill, on the marriage of the Princess Anne to Princ
George of Denmark, was made lady of her Royal Highness’ bed
chamber; and the mistress and her confidante, as Mrs Morle
and Mrs Freeman, commenced that intimate correspondence whic
silently, but effectively, influenced the political history of the times
In 1685, the Duke of York ascended the throne as James II
and the fortunes of the Churchills received an additional im
petus. The favourite was raised to the rank of brigadier-genera
created an English peer, by the title of Baron Churchill of Sand
ridge,! and despatched to the French court to notify the acces
sion of the new monarch.

Though he had already announced his intention of quittin;
the King’s service, if he should attempt to impose a new religio
or fresh constitution upon the kingdom, he was not unwilling t
assist in quelling the insurrection raised by Monmouth. Hi
skill and energy were indeed the greatest obstacles to that un
fortunate adventurer’s success, and signally checked the pro
gress of the rebel army. Appointed major-general, he serve
under Feversham as second in command; saved the royal arm:
from a surprise on the eve of the battle of Sedgmoor, and con
tributed largely to the victory won upon that bloody field. Fo
his services he was appointed to the colonelcy of the 3d Regimen
of Horse Guards.

During the three following years Churchill makes little figur.
on the page of history. It is known that he strongly disapprove:
of the reckless course by which James was alienating the loyalt;
of his people, and endangering the safety of his crown; and, in
deed, his attachment to the Protestant religion cannot justly b
doubted. But he did not do what, as an honest man, he shoul
have done,—retire from the personal service of a monarch whos
unconstitutional actions he disapproved of. He has, therefore
incurred the shame of treachery, which the world is always slov
to forgive, and loaded his glorious reputation with an odiun
which his warmest panegyrists cannot deny. While he wrote ti
William of Orange, and promised him his warmest support, h
accepted the command of a corps of 5000 men, destined b:

' The estate of Sandridge was the dowry of his wife.
HIS TREACHERY. 225

James II. to oppose his progress. He received, moreover, from the
King he had determined to betray, the rank of lieutenant-gencral
in an army which he intended to deliver over to his rival. His influ-
ence, joined to that of his wife, induced the King’s own daughter
to desert her father’s cause ; a desertion which wrung from the un-
happy King the piteous ery,—‘ My God! my very children have
forsaken me!’ Ilis example encouraged and incited others ; and
it is scarcely too much to say, that the heaviest blows inflicted upon
James fell from the hand of the man he had loaded with favours.

For such treachery there can be no palliation. We believe
that Churchill was sincere in his advocacy of the Protestant
cause, and his reprobation of James’s tyrannical innovations. It
was open to him to endeavour, by his personal exertions, to save
his country from the dangers which threatened her. THe was
justified in promoting the cause of constitutional monarchy, by
giving his support to ‘ William the Deliverer.’ History does not
reproach him for adopting a course which was followed by the great
bulk of his fellow-countrymen, but for doing so while professing
the most ardent loyalty and sincere devotion to the monarch
whose throne he was labouring to overthrow. The truth is,
that he was unwilling to part with the offices he held, while he
was equally unwilling to apostatize from the religion which he
had learned as a boy. ‘A terrible alternative,’ says Macaulay,
‘was before him. The earthly evil which he most dreaded was
poverty. The one crime from which his heart recoiled was apos-
tasy. And if the designs of the court succeeded, he could not
doubt that between poverty and apostasy he must soon make his
choice. Ile therefore determined to cross those designs; and it
soon appeared that there was no guilt, and no disgrace, which he
was not ready to incur, in order to escape from the necessity of
parting either with his places or his religion.’?

The letter which Marlborough addressed to James II., when
he betrayed him, must not be omitted :—

* November 12, 1688.

‘ Sir,—Since men are seldom suspected of sincerity when

1 Hist, England, c. 7.
P
4220 JOUN, DUK OF MAKLBOROUGH.

they act contrary to their interests, and though my dutiful beha-
viour to your Majesty in the worst of times (for which T acknow-
ledge my poor services much overpaid) may not be sufficient te
incline you to n charitablo interpretation of my actions, yet I hope
the great advantage I enjoy under your Majesty, which T cannot
expect to enjoy under any other government, may reasonably
convince your Majesty and the world that Iam actuated by o
higher principle, when TI offer that violence to my inclination anc
interest as to desert your Majesty at a time when your affairs
seem to challenge the strictest obedionce from all your subjects.
much more from one who lics under such obligations to your
Majesty. This, Sir, could proceed from nothing but the inviolable
dictates of my conscience, and a necessary concern for my religion
(which no good man can oppose), and with which, Iam instructed,
nothing can come in competition. Ieaven knows with what
partiality my dutiful regard for your Majexty has hitherto repre-
sented those unhappy dangers which inconsiderate and self-inter-
ested men have framed against your Majesty’s true interest and the
Protestant religion ; but as I can no longer join with such, to give
a pretence by conduct to bring them to effect, so I will always,
with the hazard of my life and fortune (so much your Majesty’s
due), endeavonr to preserve your royal person and lawful rights,
with all the tender concern and dutiful respect that becomes me,’
Marlborough’s treachery was of too much importance to
William HI. not to be duly rewarded. Te was named Licutenant-
General of the army, and immediately took steps to remove all
disaffected or untrustworthy officers. An carldom was also he-
stowed upon him, and as Karl of Marlhorough he assisted at the
coronation of William and Mary. IJlis new master was an ex-
perienced judge of military merit, and quickly detected the VWarl’s
surpassing genius as a soldier. The command of the British
auxiliary force in the Netherlands was, thercfore, conferred upon
him; and his conduct at the battle of Walcourt amply justified
the royal confidence. ‘Iam very happy,’ King William wrote
to him, ‘that my troops behaved go well in the affair of Wal-
court. It is to you that this advantage is principally owing.’!

1 Coxe.
HIS CLANDESTINE CORRESPONDENCE WITH JAMES. 22%

With equal distinction he served in the following year (a.p
1690) in Ireland; but he was so far sensible of the claims whict
James II. might advance to his gratitude, that he deferred hi
arrival in that country until the hopes of the Stuarts had beer
crushed by the battle of the Boyne. He remained in Irelan
only thirty-seven days ; but in that brief period reduced Cork anc
Kinsale, and pent up the war within the province of Ulster
achievements which won from William the eulogium, ‘No office:
living, who has seen so little service, is so fit for great commands.

Yet at this very time he was maintaining a clandestine anc
treasonable correspondence with the deposed monarch; and hi
has been accused, upon not insufficient evidence, of having joinec
an association to effect his restoration to the throne. But b:
the Jacobites themselves he was suspected of plotting for th
accession of Anne, in whose court he would necessarily occup:
the most distinguished position. They therefore informed Ben
tinck, William’s faithful councillor, of his machinations; anc
Marlborough was arrested in Flanders, where he had arrived ti
act under William, deprived of all his commands, removed t
England, and imprisoned in the Tower. By the public his dis
grace was attributed to one of various causes: to the indignan
contempt with which he had inveighed against King William’
partiality for Dutch troops, or his clandestine exertions, successfu
in their issue, to obtain a larger pension for the Princess Anni
than the King was willing to allow her. His popularity, there
fore, did not suffer either with the army or the people. It wa:
not then known that, in May 1694, he had communicated to King
James intelligence of the formidable expedition fitting out t«
destroy the shipping in Brest Harbour, and thus, by preparing
the enemy for the attack, had brought a signal disgrace upon the
British arms, and caused a terrible slaughter of British troops
It is said that, anticipating the restoration of James to the
throne, he hoped by this base and vulgar treachery to secure
pardon for his demerits; but surely it is difficult to find an ex-
cuse for a crime which betrayed both his sovereign and his
country, and impartial posterity will brand with a just and in.
effaceable opprobrium the double treason.

The evidence against the crafty intriguer was, however,
228 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

imperfect, and he was shortly liberated from the Tower. For
some years he remained in privacy, and abstained from any share
in the parliamentary disputes which followed the death of Queen
Mary. By degrees he received a place in William’s favour; was
restored to his seat in the Privy Council; and, on the same day
(June 19, 1698), appointed preceptor of the young Duke of
Gloucester, the son of the Princess Anne, and heir-presumptive to
the throne. The King, in announcing the appointment, said to
him, with delicate eulogium, ‘My Lord, make my nephew to re-
semble yourself, and he will be everything which I can desire.’

In 1700-1701 broke out the War of Succession, which
arrayed Holland, England, and the Empire against the power
and resources of victorious France, Spain, Bavaria, and the
Spanish Netherlands, and effectually checked the progress of the
ambitious designs of Louis XIV. On the Ist of June 1701,
Marlborough was named Ambassador-Extraordinary for England
at the Hague, and Commander-in-Chief of the Allied Forces in
Flanders ; an appointment which virtually entrusted him, as far
as related to England, with the general superintendence of all
affairs, military and civil, and strikingly showed the extent of the
confidence which the King now reposed in his genius as a diplo-
matist anda general. William was making vigorous prepara-
tions for the conduct of the war, when an unfortunate accident
suddenly terminated his career. He had long suffered from ill
health ; and a fall from his horse, while hunting in the park at
Hampton Court, completely overthrew his shattered frame.
After languishing for a few weeks, he expired, on the 8th of
March 1702, in the fifty-second year of his age, and the four-
teenth of his reign. His last advice to his successor was to con-
tinue Marlborough in the direction of her armies.

§ 2. Campaign of 1703.

Three days after the accession of Queen Anne, the Earl was
appointed Captain-General of the English Forces at home and
abroad, and Master of the Ordnance. He also received the
Order of the Garter. His countess was made Groom of the
Stole, Mistress of the Robes, and entrusted with the manage-
ment of the privy purse. No two subjects in England held so
TAKES COMMAND OF THE ALLIED ARMY. 229

distinguished a place in the royal favour, or enjoyed positions
of such honour and influence. The next ten years form the
brightest period in Marlborough’s career; and ‘one unbroken
series of efforts, victories, and glory’ raised him to the highest
pitch of renown, both as a soldier and a statesman.

War was declared on the 15th of May 1702; and on the 2d
of July, Marlborough arrived at the camp at Nimeguen, to take
the command of the allied army. At first, he was somewhat
disturbed by the pretensions which the Prince of Nassan-Saar-
bruck, and Ginkel, Earl of Athlone, advanced; but through the
exertions of the pensionary Heinsius, they were induced to with-
draw their claims. In estimating the successes achieved by
Marlborough, we must not forget the constant embarrassments
he was involved in. ‘Instead of the advantages,’ says Mr Coxe,
‘which King William derived from his exalted rank and an-
thority as Stadtholder, Marlborough, as a subject, was exposed
to rivalry, and reduced to depend on his own personal interest.
His means of directing or influencing the factions in the Dutch
Republic depended chiefly on the credit of Heinsius and the other
partisans of the war, who themselves shrunk from responsibility.
At the army, he was subjected to the control of the field depu-
ties, who, though vested with great powers, were yet ignorant
of military affairs; and, consequently, were either led by the
opinions of their own generals, or wasted the most decisive
moments in fruitless deliberation, and in soliciting instructions
from the Hague. Among the generals he found also more rivals
than coadjutors. By them he was often thwarted from personal
jealousy or prejudice; and at the time when vigour and promp-
titude were necessary, he found them as timid and indecisive as
the deputies. From Athlone, in particular, he experienced
constant opposition, though cloaked with the affectation of
deference. Indeed, it would have been difficult to unite two com-
manders more discordant in character: Marlborough, active,
enterprising, and decisive ; Athlone, naturally cold and circum-
spect, and rendered still more unaccommodating and captious
by the effects of age and jealousy. From these observations,’
concludes his biographer, ‘it will be easy to conceive the
embarrassments which the Generalissino was destined to en-
ZOU JOHN, DUKE OF MAKLBUKOUGH.

counter, the mortifications he endured, the obstructions against
which he sometimes struggled in vain, and the frequent and
favourable opportunities by which he was unable to profit.’

Marlborough was now at the head of 60,000 men. After
some vexatious delays, caused by the Dutch generals, he crossed
the Meuse on the 26th; and continuing his advance, broke ur
the communications of the French, and invested Venloo on the
5th of September. Cohorn, the celebrated engineer, directed
the operations of the siege, which were conducted with so much
success that an assault upon Fort St Michael, its principal out-
work, was made as early as the 18th. The attack was led by
the English grenadiers, under Lord Cutts, whose bravery had
procured for him the appellation of ‘The Fighting Salamander,
and resulted in the capture of the fort, with great loss to the
enemy. The town surrendered on the 23d.

Stevenswaert was taken on the 5th of October, after a feeble
defence of five days; and Ruremond on the 7th, after a scarcely
more spirited resistance. The victorious general immediately
moved upon Liege, a town of great importance, and strongly
fortified.. Bouftlers, the French leader, retired, on the night oi
the 13th, before his approach, and abandoned Liege to its fate
The city at once surrendered; the citadel was invested; anc
Cohorn declared the breaches practicable on the 23d of October,
The storming party was again led by Lord Cutts, and the
English soldiers were the first that got upon the breach. No-
thing could resist the impetuosity of their attack. The governol
and upwards of 3000 men were taken prisoners, and the fortress,
terrified into submission, at once capitulated. Thus, in the short
space of four months, Marlborough had captured, in the face o:
the French army, the fortified towns of Venloo, Stevenswaert.
Ruremond, and Liege; and, by these successes, had opened uy
the navigation of the Meuse as far as Maestricht, driven back
the enemy from the frontiers of Holland, and placed the winter-
quarters of his troops in the heart of a hostile territory.

On the 3d of November he quitted Maestricht, and dropped
down the Meuse, accompanied by the Dutch deputies, and «
small escort of 25 men. Below Ruremond he was suddenly sur.
prised by a French partisan and some 35 marauders, who hac
HIS VICTORIOUS RETURN. 231

moade an incursion from Guelder, and, concealed by the reeds and
sedge, poured a volley into the boat, cut the tow-rope, rushed
on board, and overpowered the guard. The Dutch commis-
sioners were furnished with French passes, but Marlborough had
thought it degrading to solicit one. He was saved from cap-
ture, however, by the presence of mind of an attendant, named
Gill, who slipped into his hand, unperceived, an old passport
which had belonged to General Churchill. He presented it with
such cool confidence, that the plunderers did not suspect the
date had expired, and, retaining the escort as prisoners, per-
mitted him and his companions to proceed.

Marlborough safely arrived at the Hague, where the people
had been disturbed by a rumour of his having been taken
prisoner. They received him with an enthusiastic welcome.
Nor was his reception from his own countrymen less cordial. It
was, indeed, with no common joy that they saw amongst them
the general whose victorious arms had gloriously retrieved the
ancient honour of the nation, and gilded its banners with that
lustre of triumph which had so long deserted them. <A public
thanksgiving was celebrated at St Paul’s, and the Queen be-
stowed upon him the titles of Duke of Marlborough and Marquis
of Blandford. She also sent a message to the House of Com-
mons, desiring them to secure to him a yearly pension of L.5000
on the post office returns; but the House, while acknowledging
the Duke’s great services, would not consent to such an appro-
priation of a portion of the public revenue. Liberal supplies,
however, were voted for the prosecution of the war, and the
English army on the Continent received an augmentation of
10,000 troops.

§. 3. Campaign of 1704.—Blenheim.

In the midst of his active preparations for his second cam-
paign, Marlborough was stricken by a domestic calamity which
afflicted him sorely: the death of his eldest, and only surviving
son, the Marquis of Blandford,—a youth of great promise and
courageous spirit,—in his 17th year (February 20, 1703.) His

»
1 Coxe.
232 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

grief was at first very violent, and throughout his career he
continued to feel deeply the loss he had sustained; but the
necessity of constant exertion soon roused him from the
vehemence of his sorrow, and he was enabled to depart for
Holland in the following month. The army welcomed him with
enthusiastic acclamations. And it is noticeable that, despite of
his avarice, a quality in a great general which is signally dis-
tasteful to his soldiers, Marlborough never lost their affection,
and to the end of his career continued their idol.

The campaign of 1703 was a succession of attempts on the
part of Marlborough to force Marshal Boufflers to a general
action. But the French leader remained on the defensive, and
skilfully avoided the movements of the allied army. He had the
mortification, nevertheless, of witnessing the fall of Bonn (16th
May 1703), which freed the communications of the forces in
Bavaria with those in the Netherlands; of Huys (August 23);
and of Limbourg (September 27). Marlborough had proposed
forcing the French lines between the Mehaigne and the Meuse,
and bringing on a general engagement, which would probably
have placed Antwerp and the whole of Flanders in his hands,
but he was thwarted and overruled by the Dutch Govern-
ment. Three years later, on that very scene, he won the battle
of Ramillies.

All Spanish Guelderland was now reduced, and Holland re-
lieved from that fear of invasion which had paralyzed the move-
ments of its government. The campaign, then, if not brilliant,
had been, as far as Marlborough was concerned, successful. But
in other quarters the armies of the allies had met with such serious
disasters, that, ou the whole, its result had been highly favour-
able to the French. Landau was taken by Marshal Tallard in
October, and the Prince of Hesse’s army defeated with consider-
able loss. The French and Bavarians, under Marshal Villars,
inflicted a total defeat on the Imperialists and General Sturm,
on the 20th of September. An insurrection had broken out in
Hungary, and Austria was menaced by French armies on the side
both of Bavaria and the Upper Rhine. The Elector of Bavaria,
with 40,000 men, was in the neighbourhood of Ulm; Tallard,
and 45,000, were posted on the Upper Rhine; and Villeroy was
CAMPAIGN OF 1704. 233

at the head of a considerable army in the Netherlands. The
position of the allies was, therefore, one of extreme peril; and the
French King might justly indulge the hope, that another cam-
paign would reduce them to entire submission.?

The year 1704 opened very gloomily for the Allied Powers.
Marlborough alone appears to have comprehended the full ex-
tent of the grandeur of Louis’ schemes, and to have prepared to
checkmate that illustrious player. He saw that the French in-
tended to assume the defensive in Holland, and then, concen-
trating at a given point an overwhelming force, to pour an
avalanche of war through the valley of the Danube, and dictate
the roin of the Austrian Empire at Vienna. By how brilliant and
daring a series of movements the design was frustrated, we hvae
already shown in our account of the victory of Blenheim.

The day after that great and decisive battle, Marlborough en-
camped between Wittisling and Steinheim, and for four days
rested and refreshed his troops, and made a fair division of his
prisoners, —5678 being assigned to the English, and 5514 to their
allies. Early in September the army passed the Rhine, driving
Villeroy before them, and moved upon Landau, which, with other
fortified ports on the Moselle, Marlborough was anxious to re-
duce, in order that in his next campaign the war might be carried
into the French territory. Landau capitulated in December.
Tréves and Traerbach were captured by Marlborough, in person,
who defeated an attempt of the enemy to relieve Tréves by his
wonderful vigilance and energy. The Electress of Bavaria, who
had been left regent during her husband’s absence in Flanders,
was now compelled to conclude a treaty with the allies, by which
she agreed to disband her army and militia, restore her husband’s
conquests in the Tyrol, and surrender all the fortresses and
magazines in Bavaria.

The victorious general left the camp for Berlin on the 15th or
November, and reached that city on the 22d. During the last
campaign, the Duke of Savoy, in Italy, had striven in vain to
resist the superior forces of the French, inspired by the genius and
the courage of Vendéme; and it became evident, that to enable

1Coxe; Alison: Lediard.
234 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

him to protract the struggle for another year, reinforcements mus!
be supplied. Marlborough succeeded in obtaining the King o:
Prussia’s promise to send to his aid 8000 Prussian troops ; anc
this concession his admirable address obtained in four days, anc
in the midst of the festivities which celebrated his arrival.

From Berlin the Duke repaired to England, where he wai
received with a truly national welcome. The envy and hatrec
which misrepresented him during his absence, and gave the mos
odious colouring to his actions and designs, were fain to be dumk
awhile in the chorus of acclamations which greeted him on ever}
side. ‘The honour of these glorious victories, great as they are,
said the Lord Keeper, in announcing to him the thanks of th
House of Peers, ‘is, under the immediate blessing of Almighty
God, chiefly, if not alone, owing to your Grace’s conduct anc
valour.’ To which Marlborough, in a speech of dignified mode.
ration, replied :—‘I am extremely sensible of the great honou:
your Lordships are pleased to do me; but I must beg, on this oc
casion, to do right to all the officers and soldiers I had the honou:
to command. Next to the blessing of God, the good success o
this campaign is owing to their extraordinary courage.’ An Ac
received the Royal assent for bestowing upon the Victor of Blen
heim the royal demesnes of Woodstock and Wootton, and it wa:
ordered that a splendid palace should be erected at the nationa
expense, worthy both of Marlborough and of England. To th
genius of Vanbragh was entrusted the task ; and it cannot be saic
that it was unsatisfactorily performed.

Evelyn, who at this time had an interview with the fortunat:
hero, does full justice to his gracious affability :—* I went to wait.
he says, ‘on my Lord Treasurer, where was the victorious Duk
of Marlborough, who came to me and took me by the hand wit!
extraordinary familiarity and civility, as formerly he used to dc
without any alteration of his good nature: I had not seen hir
for some years, and believed he might have forgotten me.’? Bu
it was the characteristic of this extraordinary man, never, to ex
hibit any signs either of elation or chagrin; never for one momen
to ruffle or discompose that splendid dignity in which he envelope

Diary, February 9, 1705,
PARSIMONY OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 235

himself. Always bland and gentle in his address; as courteous
to his inferiors as his equals; serene in the press of the battle, or
the heat of the council-chamber; apparently a man above men,
and unmoved by aught that influenced other men. Eheu! The
hero would surely have been perfect, but for the avarice that
tobbed a courtezan or a private soldier, and the cold calculating
heart, that betrayed with equal indifference a woman or a king!
Notwithstanding the applauses which greeted him, the House
of Commons granted the supplies necessary for the prosecution
of the war with a grudging caution, and voted but 40,000 men for
the land forces.! It is to this parsimony that its duration must
be attributed ; for Marlborough had seldom the means of follow-
ing out to their full extent the brilliant successes he achieved.
His army never exceeded 80,000 men, and out of this quota large
garrisons were often required in important fortresses. Had it
been otherwise, he might, in 1703 and 1705, have anticipated
Wellington, and planted the standard of England on the walls of
Paris. But with so small a force, an enterprise so daring, though
consonant to his genius and character, could never have been
successfully attempted. It is true that Napoleon, with not su-
perior numbers, was wont to fling himself into the heart of an
enemy’s country, and, by seizing its capital, conclude at one blow
the war; but he had not to run the gauntlet of such a chain of
border-fortresses as protected, in the days of Louis Quatorze,
France and the Spanish Netherlands. His warlike appliances
and means of transit were more effective; and, moreover, if he
lost one army, a stamp of his foot created another; while Marl-
borough could with difficulty obtain the smallest reinforcements.

§ 4. Campaign of 1705.—Attack on the French Lines.

The important movements of the campaign of 1705 com-
menced with the siege of Liege, which was invested by the French
under Villeroy. Marlborough at this time was watching Marshal
Villars,—who had strongly entrenched himself at Koningsma-
cheren,—and was endeavouring to bring him to action. On
the news reaching him that Villeroy and the Elector of Bavaria,

1 Rapin, continued by Tindal.
236 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

having compelled the Dutch General Auverquerque to fall back
had invested Liege, Marlborough threw some garrisons int:
Triers and other fortresses, and proceeded, by rapid marches, t
the relief of that city. This the mere announcement of hi
approach effected. Joining his forces with those under the Dutel
general, he endeavoured to draw Villeroy into an engagement
but the French marshal continued his retreat until he reache
the lines he had constructed upon the Meuse. Marlborough
therefore, attacked and recaptured Huys on the 11th of July.*
Meanwhile, D’Aubach, with 11 battalions and 12 squadrons
had been ordered to protect the magazines and stores which, witl
the view of crossing the Moselle and penetrating into France
Marlborough had collected at Tréves and Saarbruck. But, eithe
through treachery or cowardice, on the approach of a smal
French battalion, he burnt the stores and took to flight. Thi
disaster was a severe blow to Marlborough, and compelled hin
to abandon the original plan of the campaign. He even contem:
plated the resignation of a command in which, through the tardi
ness of some governments, the obstinacy of others, and the folh
or treachery of his lieutenants, he found himself so constanth
thwarted. ‘Through these mischances,’ he wrote to Prine
Eugene, ‘all our projects on this side have been baffled, at least for
the present ; but I hope your Highness will do me the justice to be
lieve that I did all which was in my power to ensure their success
If I had the honour of an interview with your Highness but for
one hour, I could tell you of things which would show you how
much I have to complain of. I had 94 squadrons and 72 bat:
talions, all English or Dutch; so that, had I been properly
seconded, we should have had one of the most glorious cam
paigns that could be desired. After such treatment, your High.
ness, J am sure, would not have blamed me if I had taken the
resolution not to serve again (de ne jamais plus servir) ; which, :
assure you, I shall not do after this campaign, unless I can come
to such arrangements with the Emperor as I can fully rely upon.’:
Marlborough now formed a bold ‘and brilliant design, tc
force the strong entrenchments which the French had erected or

1 Letters and Despatches, vol. ii. 2 Tbid.
FORCES THE FRENCH ENTRENCHMENTS ON THE MEUSE. 237

the Meuse, and so carry the war into the country of the Brabant.
Upon the formation of this almost impregnable barrier, the labour
of three years had been expended. It commenced at Marché
aux Dames, on the Meuse, to the east of Namur, passed by Ger-
bise to Wasseigne, on the Mehaigne, and from thence stretching
to the Little Gheet, followed the left bank to Leuwe, leaving
Stanut on the east, and Tirlemont on the west. Between Leuwe
and Aerschot, the Great Gheet and the Demer formed a natural
defence, and from Aerschot ran a new series of entrenchments to
Antwerp. The two fortresses of Namur and Antwerp protected
the flanks, and numerous fortified posts the rear ; and behind these
formidable defences were drawn up, with great skill and ability,
some 70,000 men. At the head of a far inferior force, 36,000
foot and 14,000 horse, Marlborough determined to assail the
French position.'

It was with some difficulty he obtained permission from the
Dutch authorities to carry out his daring scheme; and it was
with greater difficulty he conquered the objections of several of
his own generals. But that consummate address, which was
almost as necessary to him in his peculiar position as his military
skill, removed every obstacle; and spreading a report, in order
to deceive the enemy, that the army was about to march on the
Moselle, he prepared with the utmost secrecy for his attempt.
The point which he had chosen for attack was between Leuwe
and Heilixheim, where the steep banks of the Little Gheet, added
to the defences coustructed by the enemy, seemed to bid defiance
to the most desperate antagonist. Detaching Auverquerque to
the extreme left, towards Bourdine, he quickly followed, with a
large force, as if to his support. The movement had its intended
effect, in deceiving Villeroy into the belief that his right was
threatened ; and the French general drew immense reinforcements
from his centre in order to protect it. Marlborough immediately
brought up all his disposable forces, and, placing himself at the
head of his English and German troops, began his march at
eight at night, on the 17th of July,—a march whose objects or
direction none but the chief and his confidential officers under-

1 Coxe.
238 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

stood. Each trooper carried a small truss of hay at his saddle.
bow. The collection of fascines would have indicated the rea
object of attack; and Marlborough, therefore, resolved to fill uy
the ditch which protected the French lines with hay alone.

The march was directed towards the Little Gheet, at a poin
between Heilixheim and Neer-Hespen, which the General had dis.
covered to be weakly guarded.’ Auverquerque’s troops repassec
the Mehaigne in the deep darkness, and fell into the line of marct
in the rear of Marlborough’s army. At four in the morning
coucealed by a thick fog, they found themselves opposite thi
French lines. MHeilixheim and its bridge, and the neighbouring
villages, were speedily occupied ; bridges were thrown across th
Little Gheet; the river was passed; its marshy banks wer
gained; the castle of Wange was captured; into the fosse fel
truss upon truss of hay; with ardent and enthusiastic shouts, the
adventurers crossed by means of these novel fascines, scaled the
ramparts, and broke in three formidable columns upon th
startled enemy.

The alarm was now given, and a corps of 15,000 men, unde!
the Marquis d’Allegre, appeared on the ridge beyond, deployec
into line, and opened a heavy cannonade on the allied troops
Marlborough perceived the importance of immediate success, anc
leading bis English cavalry in person against the enemy, crashec
through their ranks, but not without a momentary repulse. Ti
the contest, he was separated from his men, with only a trumpete:
and a servant at his side. A Bavarian officer attacked him witl
his sword, but, falling from his horse, was seized by the Duke’
trumpeter. The French now gave way; the allies presse
heavily upon them, and soon the whole centre of the French en
trenchments was in their possession. At this moment Auver
querque came up ; too late to share in the victory, but in time ti
ensure its results.

Great was the dismay of Villeroy when he learned that th
very part of the lines which he had deemed impregnable, fron
the assistance nature rendered art, was forced by Marlborough
Expecting an attack from Auverquerque, he had remained al

Letters and Despatches, vol. ii.
HIS PLAN THWARTED BY THE DUTCH GENERALS. 239

night under arms. The heavy firing in the morning attracted
him to the scene of action. At the head of his cavalry, he
arrived, to find his position untenable, and to order a retreat of
his whole army. He fell back rapidly upon a new basis of
operations, stretching from Heilixheim towards Tirlemont, with
the Dyle as his defence, and his left protected by the forts of
Louvain.

The Duke’s original plan comprehended the interception of
Villeroy’s retreat, which he had anticipated and allowed for, and
was intended to prevent him from sheltering his army behind the
Dyle. But despite of his eager entreaties, and Auverquerque’s
remonstrances, the Dutch generals refused to move. They
seemed alarmed at what had already been accomplished, and
complained of the fatigue which their soldiers had undergone.
Marlborough at last yielded to their obstinacy, and several days
were wasted in supinely regarding the movements of the enemy.
In vain he attempted—to use his own expression—‘to cheat
them into victory.’' Dutch generals and Dutch deputies alike
refused to hazard any offensive movement. THeavy rains fell
from the 19th to the 23d of July; and Villeroy, an able and
energetic commander, made the best use of the breathing-time
thus afforded him, by throwing up formidable defensive works,
which rendered his position almost unassailable. In vain the
English General complained to the States-General, and pointed
out that their cause was being ruined by the divided responsi-
bility on which they insisted. Auverquerque, indeed, wrote to
them in admirable language :—‘It is a justice I owe to the
Duke of Marlborough, to state that the honour of the enterprise,
executed with so much skill and courage, is entirely due to him.’
But the other Dutch generals had the audacity to accuse their
chief of the very want of success which their cowardice or
malignity had ensured; and actually complained that he had
not followed up with vigour those operations against the French
which they themselves had embarrassed and rendered useless.
Nor have some of his biographers hesitated to repeat these
calumnies, though a cursory perusal of his correspondence would

1 J was forced to cheat them into this action,—a phrase employed by
Marlborough in his letter to Lord Godolphin, July 2-18, 1705.
nn

240 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

have shown their gross absurdity. In a letter to Lord Godol-
phin, he clearly points out the obstacles by which he was
impeded :—

‘Near Louvain, July 29, 1705.

‘T am now almost in despair of having that advantage we
ought to expect from our last success; for we have now been
here nine days in sight of the enemy, the river Dyle only between
us. On Wednesday last, it was unanimously resolved we should
pass it the next morning ; but that afternoon there fell so much
rain, that made it impracticable. But the fair weather has made
it as it was, so that I resolved to have passed it this morning.
Upon which the deputies held a council with all the generals
of Monsieur Auverquerque’s army, who have unanimously
retracted their opinion, and declared the passage of the river to
be of too dangerous a consequence; which resolution, in my
opinion, will spoil the whole campaign. They have, at the same
time, proposed to me to attack the French on their left; but I
know they will let that fall also, as soon as they shall see the
ground; for that has much more difficulties in it than what I
was desirous they should do. In short, these generals are so
cautious, that we shall be able to do nothing, unless an occasion
offers, which must be put in execution before they can have a
council of war. It is very mortifying to find much more ob-
structions from friends than from enemies; but that is now the
case with me, and yet I dare not show my resentment, for fear
of too much alarming the Dutch, and indeed encouraging the
enemy.’

The light in which these transactions were regarded in Eng-
land will best be understood from the strong expressions made
use of in a letter to the Duke from his distinguished antagonist,
Mr St John, afterwards Lord Bolingbroke:—‘It was very
melancholy,’ he writes, ‘to find the malice of Stangenberg, the
fears of Dopf, and the ignorance of the deputies, to mention no
more, prevail so as to disappoint your Grace, to their prejudice
as well as ours. We hope the Dutch have agreed to what your
Grace desires of them, without which the war becomes a jest to
our enemies, and can end in nothing but an ill peace, which is
certain ruin to us. I attribute the quelling of that spirit of
PROPOSES ATTACKING THE FRENCH LINES. 241

ction which appeared at Nimeguen, and is in other parts of
olland, to nothing so much as your Grace’s return and glorious
.ecess ; and hope this will keep down the ferment here, which
ses apace, and promises a stormy winter.’

Marlborough, at last, resolved, since he could not persuade
s coadjutors to force the passage of the Dyle, to inveigle
lem, as it were, into an action with the enemy, by moving
vund the sources of that river. Leaving garrisons in Diest
ad Tirlemont, he commenced his march by way of Corbais,
hile Auverquerque advanced to Nill St Martin. On the 16th
f August they united at Genappe; and, resuming their enter-
rise, approached the borders of the Forest of Soignies. Mean-
hile, the enemy, apprised of their movements, withdrew from
ie Dyle, and took up a position covering Brussels, and deriving
dvantages from the forest on the right and in the rear. Hav-
1g acquainted himself with the situation and character of the
ifferent fords, he resolved to force the passage of the Ische.
Vith remarkable skill he led his troops, in three columns,
hrough the wooded defiles of Soignies, and brought them face
9 face with the French; the French, with their rear on Brussels,
ecupying nearly the same position as Wellington and the Eng-
sh occupied on the memorable day of Waterloo, while the allies
vere posted on the ground which Napoleon’s masses covered.

Marlborough intended the attack on the French lines to be
nade at four points: at Over-Ische, between Over-Ische and
Tolberg, beyond Holberg, and at Neu-Ische. While recon-
\oitring these positions, he was fired at from a point which was
yarticularly weak, and remarked, ‘ These gentlemen do not choose
o have this spot too narrowly inspected.’? Auverquerque fully
‘oincided with Marlborough in the conclusions he had formed ;
ind orders were, therefore, given to commence the cannonade.
3ut, to the extreme disgust of the English general, he found
hat the artillery had not arrived. Its progress had been im-
yeded by ‘the insolence,’ if not ‘the malice, of Slangenberg,—
me of Marlborough’s most obstinate opponents,—‘ who, not-
yithstanding the strictest injunctions, that the baggage should

1 Lediard.
242 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

not be suffered to intermingle with the column, overbore the
commanding officer, and compelled him to admit his own baggage
into the train.’!

About mid-day the artillery arrived. The battle-array was
completed, and the Duke rode along the front to issue his final
orders. It was this moment of expectancy that his Dutch
coadjutors selected as an opportune time for canvassing his
designs. Before they would consent to the advance of the
troops, these blunderers protested they must obtain the opinions
of their own generals. An impromptu council of war was held
on the heights of Over-Ische, about three o’clock, and Marl-
borough thus addressed them :—‘ Gentlemen, I have recon-
noitred the ground, and made dispositions for an attack. Iam
convinced that, conscientiously, and as men of honour, we cannot
now retire without an action. Should we neglect this oppor-
tunity, we must be responsible before God and man. You see
the confusion which pervades the ranks of the enemy, and their
embarrassment at our manceuvres. I leave you to judge whether
we should attack to-day, or wait till to-morrow. It is indeed
late; but you must consider that, by throwing up entrenchments
during the night, the enemy will render their position far more
difficult to force.’

The Dutch generals murmured disapprovingly, and Slangen-
berg, notoriously hostile to the English Commander-in-Chief,
impatiently exclaimed, ‘Since I have been led to this place
without any previous communication of the design, I will give
no other opinion than that the passage at Over-Ische is im-
practicable. However, I am ready to obey the orders which I
may receive.’ The Duke blandly replied, ‘I am happy to have
under my command an officer of your courage and skill; and I
flatter myself that, in a situation which requires instant decision,
you will start no difficulties.” To this, Slangenberg rudely re-
torted, ‘Murder and massacre!’ Marlborough then offered him,
for the attack, two English battalions to every Dutch one;
and on Slangenberg’s replying that he did not understand
English, proposed to give him the German regiments. But

! Coxe.
THE DUTCH GENERALS. 243

ry proposition was audaciously rejected; and the Dutch still
itended that the attack was impracticable. Then the Duke
‘laimed, ‘I disdain to send troops to dangers which I will
‘myself encounter. I will lead them where the peril is most
ninent. I adjure you, gentlemen, for the love of God and
ir country, do not let us neglect so favourable an opportunity.’
’ passionate appeal was totally disregarded; and the Dutch
ierals and deputies continued their meaningless consultations
three hours, to end, as might have been anticipated, in re-
sing the plans he had proposed. When their decision was
amunicated to him, his annoyance was excessive, and he ex-
imed, ‘I am, at this moment, ten years older than I was four
rs ago.’ And retiring to Lower Wavre, he wrote to the
tes-General, ‘My heart is so full that I cannot forbear repre-
ting to your High Mightinesses, that I find my authority here
be much less than when I had the honour to command your
ops in Germany.’ His mortification was the greater, when
learned that, if he had made his proposed attack on the 18th,
enemy, instead of risking a battle, would have fallen back on
assels. To Lord Godolphin he expressed himself strongly :—
‘ August 19.—After four days’ march, I found the enemy
‘amped as I expected, so that I thought we should have had
rery glorious day. But as the deputies would not consent
hout first consulting the generals, who were all against it,
cept M. Overkirk (Auverquerque), we have been obliged to
ire from the enemy, notwithstanding we were at least one-third
onger than they, which I take to be very prejudicial to the
omon cause, and scandalous for the army. I think this will
ww very plainly, that it is next to impossible to act offensively
hh this army, so governed as they are; for when their general
1 I agree, as we did in this, that it shall be in the power of
yaltern generals to hinder the execution, is against all discipline.
is last action of the Dutch generals has given us great morti-
ition; for the enemy will see very plainly that they have
ching to fear on this side. Nor can I ever serve with them with-
; losing the little reputation I have; for in most countries they
nk I have power in this army to do what I please. I beg you
1 give my duty to the Queen, and assure her, that if I had had
244 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

the same power I had last year, I should have had a greater
victory than that of Blenheim, in my opinion ; for the French were
so posted, that if we had beat them they could not have got ta
Brussels.’

The campaign was now closed, and Marlborough retired tc
Tirlemont to drink the mineral waters. Great indignation was
felt in England at the unworthy treatment its great general had
received, and the Government were only prevented by his own
pressing entreaties from addressing a strong remonstrance to the
Dutch authorities. But his moderation had its effect. The
States-General were compelled, by the voice of public opinion, to
dismiss their incompetent commanders; and the generosity with
which he had abstained from inflaming the popular indignation,
by a full exposure of his embarrassments, increased the confidence
which the leading men of the patriotic party entertained in his
genius and prudence.

New troubles, however, quickly arose in another quarter. The
Austrian cabinet was not only jealous of the protection afforded in
the late campaign to Holland, but being perplexed by the Hun-
garian insurrection, doubted its power of carrying on the war at
the same time in Germany, Italy, Spain, and the Low Countries.
The Imperialist authorities, therefore, made pressing applications
to the Queen, and to Marlborough, to hasten his return to the
Moselle, which might effect the liberation of Lorraine and the
Austrian provinces on the Rhine. But Marlborough knew how
little dependence could be placed on the assistance of the Mar-
grave of Baden, or the lesser German princes; and before he
consented to the Emperor’s proposition, resolved to visit Vienna
and ascertain the extent of the co-operation on which he might
rely.

At Vienna he was received with all the honours of a triumph,
and, with his usual address, he soon secured himself a high place
in the Emperor's confidence.) He was raised to the rank of a

) Heir of my father’s throne,’ said the Emperor on one occasion, ‘I
inherit also his gratitude towards the conqueror of Blenheim. Your High-
ness’ services to the common cause in general, and to my family in parti-
cular, can never be erased from my memory, nor ever be forgotten by my
family or posterity..—LEp1aRD, i. 525.
VISITS PRUSSIA, AND RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 245

nee of the Empire, and Mildenheim, on the Rhine, was be-
wed upon him as his principality. The nobles entertained him
h costly banquets, and the common people with enthusiastic
lamations. His diplomacy was again a success; and having
‘ened down imperial jealousy and soothed imperial fears, he
ook himself to Berlin, to exert his influence at the court of
issia. (November 30). There he was equally fortunate. He
suaded the King to abandon his jealous hatred of Austria,
| to renew his treaty for the supply of a contingent of 8000
1 to the allied armies,—a concession which the Prussian
vernment themselves described as ‘a mark of respect to the
een, and of particular friendship to the Duke.’
From Berlin he proceeded to Hanover, where he had fresh
iculties to encounter and subdue, arising from the suspicions
srtained by the Elector, that the Whigs were desirous to over-
ow the principle of ‘ Protestant Succession,’ which secured to
or his heirs the English throne. He succeeded in dispelling
apprehensions both of the Electress-Dowager and her son,
| the fascination of his manners exerted its usual influence.
At the Hague Marlborough arrived on the 11th of December,
_ remained a fortnight, involved in preparations for the ensuing
ypaign, stimulating Dutch apathy into a show of energetic
vement, and procuring the rejection of a separate treaty of
ce, which France had clandestinely proposed. He embarked
England eatly in January 1705, and on the 7th received
person the thanks of the Commons, which, as warrior and
‘esman, he had equally deserved. During his stay in England
was not idle on behalf of the common cause, and the result of
exertions has been well summed up by his biographer, Arch-
con Coxe :—‘ Marlborough quitted England,’ he says, ‘ with
highest gratification he had ever yet experienced. The col-
yn of political sentiments between the Queen and Duchess had
sided; the majority of the Parliament and nation appeared to
inspired with his own ardour for the prosecution of the war ;
lolphin and the Whigs were, for the first time, in unison ; his
rediate dependants and friends had vanquished their fears and
ousies; and all parties looked up to him as the moderator of
ir feuds, and the depositary of their confidence, who had
246 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

equally subdued the factions at home, and vanquished the enemy
abroad.’

§ 5. Campaign of 1706.—Ramillies.

If such was the state of affairs at home, Marlborough, on his
arrival at the Hague, 20th April 1706, found his prospects
abroad of a far less brilliant character. The jealousies which he
had laboured to pacify had again broken out. Neither from
Prussia nor Denmark could he obtain any aid. The Elector of
Hanover had revived his hostility against Queen Anne; the
Dutch had relapsed into their wonted apathy ; and the Margrave
of Baden was as idle and impracticable as usual on the Upper
Rhine. It was Marlborough’s desire to transfer the seat of war
into Italy, where the cause of the allies had suffered serious dis-
asters, and the Imperialists had been thoroughly beaten by
Vendéme; but the States-General stoutly refused to allow
any portion of their troops to cross the Alps. He resolved,
therefore, to move to the succour of the Emperor, and set out
for the army on the 9th of May. Sixty thousand troops—English
and Dutch—composed his forces,! and were assembled between
Borchloen and Tongres. The French, under Villeroy, remained
in their lines behind the river Dyle, and mustered 74 battalions
of foot, and 128 squadrons of horse ; in all, 62,000 men.

Marlborough, from the beginning of the year, had succeeded
in carrying on a private correspondence with Pasquier, an in-
habitant of Namur; and, from the information thus obtained,
conceived the project of seizing that important fortress by a
sudden attack. He had two objects in view: if he captured
Namur, he would be enabled to turn the right flank of the French
lines ; or, if the French attempted to oppose him, he would gain
an opportunity of bringing them to an engagement. Accord-
ingly, he ordered his army to move upon Tirlemont. Villeroy,
at this conjuncture, received orders to hazard a battle, if neces-
sary, in order to protect Namur, and consequently marched out
of his camp, and threw himself across the liné of Marlborough’s
advance. It was at daybreak on the 23d that General Cadogan,

1 Marlborough’s own statement supplies these numbers :—74 battalions
of foot, and 122 squadrons of horse.
THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIES. 247

th an advanced guard of 600 horse, came in sight of the French
sition. Villeroy, with considerable skill, had anticipated the
entions of his opponent, and occupied the ground which
arlborough, if his infantry had not been retarded by heavy
ins, would himself have taken possession of. His right ex-
aded by Ramillies towards the Mehaigne, while his centre and
‘t were posted in heavy masses on the hills of St André.

The arena on which was fought the celebrated Battle of
unillies—a battle which decided the fortune of the Nether-
ads—deserves the completest illustration.

Imagine, then, a considerable tract of elevated table-land,
aose boundary, from 8.E. to 8.W., is the broad river
ehaigne, and from N.W. to N.E., the Great Gheet. Between
e Great Gheet and the Mehaigne lies the village of Rawmuillies,
id north of that village rises the Little Gheet, flowing in a
wth-easterly direction through a marshy and swampy ground,
id dividing into two parts the undulating and partially wooded
ateau that rises suddenly above these rivers. The eastern part
called the plain of Jandrinciul; the western, the position of _
‘cont St André. With respect to the latter, let the reader
iagine a diamond-shaped figure, whose south-western angle
iall be represented by the tomb of the German hero Ottomond,
tuated on a lofty hill; its north-western will be shown in Mont
t André, elevated above the much-meandering stream of the
reat Gheet ; its north-eastern rests upon Anderkirk (the Autre
glise of the French) and the Little Gheet ; and its south-eastern
yvuches Ramillies.

The French army, then, was thus disposed:—Its extreme
ght occupied the uplands which overhang the Mehaigne, whose
yurse is followed in an almost parallel line by an aucient Roman
yad, which, after the lapse of centuries, preserves the name of
meen Brunehault. A body of foot-soldiers garrisoned the vil-
ge of Taviéres, on the banks of the Mehaigne. Thence the
rray extended in the form of a crescent, and in two lines, right
way to Anderkirk,—the villages in its front being occupied by
wong detachments. In Ramillies itself. 20 battalions were
cationed. The cavalry was chiefly arranged in two lines on the
ight, between Ramillies and the Mehaigne, so as to command
248 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

the chaussée of Brunehault, and intercept the advance of the
allies. In its rear, on the loftiest point of the uplands, and in
such a position as to dominate the entire field of battle, rose the
tomb of Ottomond, which occupied, in reference to the victory of
Ramillies, the place that Hougoumont did, a century later, with
respect to that of Waterloo.

Marlborough, on arriving in front of the enemy, immediately
arranged his plan of attack. He perceived that the left wing of
ihe French was placed in disadvantageous ground, because its
offensive movements must necessarily be impeded by the morasses
of the Little Gheet. He saw, too, that the occupation of
Taviéres was of no use to Villeroy, on account of its distance
from his right wing, while the village itself could receive but little
assistance from him. His design, then, was to seize Tavieres,
turn the flank of the French cavalry, and carry the tomb of
Ottomond, which would enable him to take the French in the
rear, and enfilade their whole position; and he resolved to mask
his attempt by a formidable false attack upon their left, so as to
compel Villeroy to weaken his right by sending up reinforcements.

Accordingly, he made a demonstration against the villages of
Offuz and Anderkirk with his right, composed of British, Dutch,
and German infantry, supported by cavalry. Villeroy immedi-
ately drew several bodies of foot from his centre, and marched
with the utmost rapidity to the succour of his left wing. Marl-
borough, having thus effected his object, directed his own troops
to face about and reascend the hilly ground; and when only his
first line could be perceived by the enemy, he withdrew his second
through the hollows to the support of his left, and prepared his
masses for the grand attack. Twenty squadrons of Danes formed
a third line behind the cavalry of the left wing. Four battalions
and two pieces of cannon were formed near Boneffe, and destined
to drive the enemy out of Franguinay and Taviéres ; and twelve
battalions, under General Schultz, were destined for the assault
of Ramillies.

About one o’clock the artillery on both sides commenced their
fire ; and that of the French poured ina very destructive charge
upon the ranks of the allies as they advanced to the attack.
Their first movements were successful. With irresistible fury
HIS NARROW ESCAPE FROM FRENCH DRAGOONS. 249

rerquerque’s division poured into Taviéres, despite of the
ant resistance with which the French opposed them. Ville-
perceiving that Marlborough’s real design was to turn his
4 flank, ordered fourteen squadrons of dragoons to dismount,
leaving their horses on the hill, to hasten, with two battalions
wiss infantry, to the support of their comrades at Taviéres ;
before they arrived the allies had won the position, and the
lish horse, under the Duke of Wirtemburg, skilfully wheeling
1d, intercepted their advance, broke against their flank, and
er cut them to pieces, or drove them into the Mehaigne.
Auverquerque was not the man to rest idle upon his laurels.
nuch attained, so much more was yet to be won. In com-
; masses, therefore, he hurled his troops upon the French
ilry, and broke through their foremost line. But the second
was prepared for him, and forced him to retire in confusion ;
it was fortunate that the return of the Danes from their vic-
ous pursuit, with the arrival of a reinforcement of seventeen
adrons led by Marlborough in person, enabled the allies to
2k the French advance. As the English general rode at the
d of his troops, under a terrible fire from the batteries which
wned the ridge of hills in the rear of Ramillies, his person
recognised by some French dragoons. They broke from
r ranks, and closed around him. Fighting his way through
press, he attempted to escape by leaping his horse across a
h. His horse fell, and flung him. While mounting another,
1 which his aide-de-camp, Captain Molesworth, supplied him,
wunnon-ball struck off the head of Colonel Bingham, his equery,
» held the stirrup. So imminent was the peril which involved
hero Duke! but surely a special fate, or providence, watches
¢ the leaders of men, the rulers of the world. Marlborough
tped without a wound ; and his soldiers, alarmed at the dan-
to which their beloved chief had been exposed, spurred with
neible daring against their antagonists.
At this opportune moment arrived twenty squadrons, whom
rlborough had ordered up from the right, and formed in ad-
able order in the rear of the allied attack. In three lines the
ile of the cavalry now pressed forward for a final charge, and
1 shouts of exultation, which betokened the confidence of their
250 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

courage, flung themselves upon the dismayed and dispirited
French. Over the plain they galloped—across brook, and
ditch, and swamp—up the difficult and irregular hill-slope—
driving the enemy before them, and marking their line of advance
by heaps of the dead and dying, until the height crested by the
tomb of Ottomond seemed alive with helmet, and sword, and
banner, with all the pomp of victorious chivalry !* ~

Meanwhile, the village of Ramillies was the centre of a hot and
desperate struggle. The artillery of the allies had covered the
advance of General Schultz by a storm of shot and shell, but
nevertheless the French opposed to him an admirable intrepidity
and courage. Foot by foot the ground was lost and won. At
length the village fell into the hands of the allies. Two bat-
talions of Cologne Guards were then brought up in the road lead-
ing from Ramillies to Ottomond; and their resistance was so noble,
that the allied advance was checked for a while, and a part of the
village regained. Marlborough’s eagle eye detected the failure,
and provided for it. Twenty battalions from the centre reinforced
his infantry, and, bearing heavily upon their opponents, drove
them into irretrievable confusion. At the same time the cavalry
rushed upon their flank, took Maffei prisoner, and captured or
destroyed almost all his men.

Thus the attacks by the left and centre of Marlborough’s
army had been wholly successful ; but for three hours and a half,
so great had been the fury of the contest, that the allied ranks
were almost as much in disorder as the enemy they had beaten.
Marlborough, therefore, now halted his troops to re-form them,
occupying the very ground which his antagonists had occupied
at the commencement of the action. Villeroy in like manner
availed himself of the pause, and endeavoured to protect the re-
forming battalions by taking up a new line from Geest-a-Gerrom-
pont on his right, through Offuz to Anderkirk on his left. But
in effecting this movement, his men became embarrassed by their
guns and baggage, and fell into great confusion.

It was that moment, that crisis, which, in all great battles,
decides the victory ; and Marlborough instantly availed himself of

1 Coxe; Alison; Kausler; Lediard.
FINAL CHARGE, AND COMPLETE VICTORY. 251

it. The trumpets sounded the charge, and the entire masses of
his left and centre advanced in imposing order. The French felt
cold at heart as those victorious battalions, those indomitable
squadrons, led by the terrible ‘ Marlbrook,’ and confident of suc-
cess, surged down upon them. They could not withstand the
onset. Offuz was immediately abandoned. Anderkirk and its
hills swarmed with the battalions of the allied right. In vain the
Spanish and Bavarian Horse Guards attempted to check the on-
set. They were charged through and through by the regiments
of Wood and Wyndham, and literally cut to pieces. The rout
was complete, the battle was won, and the victory of Ramillies
added to the long list of Marlborough’s triumphs.

The pursuit of the enemy was kept up by Lord Orkney and
his cavalry as far as Louvain, or 18 miles from the battle-field.
Marlborough and Auverquerque, with the main army, halted at
Mildest, 13 miles from Ramillies, and five from Louvain. The loss
of the French in killed and wounded amounted to 7000 men; in
prisoners, 6000. They lost their baggage and pontoon trains,
80 standards, and 52 guns. The Princes of Soubise and Rohan
were among the prisoners. The allies had 1066 killed, and 2567
wounded,—in all, 3633.

The splendid courage displayed by the Duke in this despe-
rately-fought action was equal to the admirable skill with which he
conducted it. Nor was he ill-seconded by his colleague, the faith-
ful and valiant Auverquerque, who ensured the success of the first
attack by his unquailing intrepidity. The veteran led his troops
into action with all the fire of a youthful soldier, and remained on
horseback until one in the morning. When the fight was done,
he narrowly escaped death from the treachery of a Bavarian cap-
tain of horse, whom he had made prisoner. He returned to him
his sword with the gallant compliment, ‘You are a gentleman,
sir, and may keep it;’ but the traitor attempted to abuse the
courtesy shown him by stabbing the old soldier in the back.
Fortunately, the intention was detected by Auverquerque’s ser-
yant, who rode up hastily and shot the rascal dead.

The news of the victory was received in England with en-
thusiasm. The Queen attended in person a public thanksgiving
at St Paul’s. Party-spirit for a while was silent, and every
252 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Englishman felt himself a sharer in the renown and glory of
England’s greatest general. As Bolingbroke wrote to him,—
‘France and Faction are the only enemies England has reason to
fear, and your Grace will conquer both; at least, while you beat
the French, you give a strength to the Government which the
other dares not contend with.’ In the outburst of popular joy,
the hiss of calumny, if not silenced, was at least overpowered.
Nor was Holland less exuberant in her gratitude to her pro-
tector. And, indeed, she might well light up her cities in his
honour! By the victory of Ramillies he had won from the
hard gripe of France almost the whole of Austrian Flanders.
Brussels, Louvain, Mechlin, Alort, Leusi, Ghent, Bruges, Daun,
Oudenarde, joyfully opened their gates to their deliverer. Only
Dunkirk and Nieuport, Ostend and Antwerp, belonged to the
French, and these were reduced before the end of the campaign.
Holland, by one single blow, was delivered from all apprehension
of hostile forces on her frontier. Marlborough himself was
astonished at the results which it induced. ‘It is not to be ex-
pressed,’ he wrote to Lord Godolphin, ‘ the great success it has
pleased God to give us, by putting a consternation in the enemy’s
army; for they had not only a greater number than we, but all
the best troops of France.’ It is ‘with the blessing of God,’ as
he devoutly and, we believe, sincerely expresses himself.*

If during battle Marlborough was an able general, after
battle he was no less the sagacious politician. His conduct to-
wards the people of Brabant was marked by consummate policy.
The Dutch had proposed to levy upon them immediate contribu-
tions ; but Marlborough forcibly pointed out the imprudence of
disgusting such recent allies by pecuniary exactions, which were
as unjust as they were impolitic. ‘ At the same time, he preserved
the strictest discipline on the part of his troops, and took every
imaginable precaution to secure the affections and allay the ap-
prehensions of the inhabitants of the ceded provinces. The good
effects of this wise and conciliatory policy were soon apparent.
Without firing a shot, the allies gained greater advantages,
during the remainder of the campaign, than they could have

' Coxe.
THE SIEGE OF MENIN. 253

ne by a series of bloody sieges, and the sacrifice of 30,000
in}

On the 6th of June, Antwerp, that splendid fortress, the key
the Netherlands, which Napoleon declared was itself ‘ worth
cingdom,’ surrendered to the allies. Oudenarde yielded on the
; the day before, Ghent had opened its gates, and received
: allied troops with enthusiastic demonstrations (June 2d).
wlborough now made preparations for the reduction of Ostend.
considerable siege-train was brought up-from Antwerp and
ussels, and a fleet of nine sail-of-the-line lay off its harbour. The
sleging force was covered by the main army of 50 battalions of
‘se, and 99 squadrons of foot, under Marlborough in person.
desperate resistance was anticipated from a fortress rendered
strong both by art and nature,—a fortress which, in the pre-
ling century, had withstood all the skill, and exhausted all the
ources, of Spinosa, until after a lapse of three years and the
3 of 80,000 men; but it was taken within ten days, and the
jegers had but to regret 500 killed and wounded (July 7th).
The allied forces next laid siege to Menin, whose occupation
3 necessary to secure the line of the Lys, and effect a consoli-
ion of their previous conquests. Menin was strongly fortified,
lamply garrisoned. The surrounding plains could easily be
1 under water. Its governor was ordered to resist to the last,
a powerful force would be assembled for his relief. Marl-
‘ough could spare but 32 battalions for the besieging army, ©
| for their protection had but 72 battalions and 80 squadrons.
the other hand, the French were gathering together Marshal
tsin’s division, of 18 battalions and 14 squadrons; a detach-
it of 30 battalions and 40 squadrons from Alsace; 14 batta-
is from the Dyle; and the remains of the army of Ramillies,—
whole amounting to 110 battalions and 140 squadrons, or
vards of 90,000 men: the whole to be placed under the com-
id-of the Duc de Vendéme, one of the most illustrious of the
nch leaders. Nevertheless, Marlborough determined on the
secution of the siege.

A drought which set in prevented the governor from inun-

1 Alison.
254 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

dating the plains ; and, on the 4th of August, the artillery of the
allies opened fire against the fortress, while Marlborough’s army,
stretching from Helchin to Lauwe, prepared to resist the advance
of Vendéme to its relief. On the 18th, the breaches were so far
practicable, that an attack was made upon the covered way,
which Marlborough himself superintended. The explosion of
two mines, at seven in the evening, was the signal agreed upon;
and the troops, with the English in the van, rushed to the assault.
They broke down the palisades, flung grenades into the covered
way, and bursting in, amid the disorder thus produced, swept all
before them. For two hours, indeed, they underwent a severe
enfilading fire from the ravelins while erecting their defences, and
lost in all some 1400 men. But at length the success was com-
plete ; and so dispirited were the garrison, although still 4300
strong, that on the 23d they capitulated, and Marlborough had
the satisfaction of having reduced a powerful fortress in the pre-
sence of a superior army.

Vendéme now gathered his forces upon a line behind the Lys
and the Dyle, with the view of covering Lille, against which im-
portant city he supposed that his opponent’s blows would next
be directed. But Marlborough, on the contrary, set down be-
fore Dendermonde, still retaining his own position at Helchin, as
a barrier to the approach of any relieving force. Dendermonde
was situated on the Scheldt, and the governor was consequently
enabled to flood the surrounding country at pleasure. Relying
upon this powerful defence, Louis XIV. sneeringly exclaimed,
when he heard that the allies had commenced the siege,—‘ They
will want an army of ducks to take it!’ But an extraordinary
drought, which lasted seven weeks, came to the assistance of the
besiegers, and the place unconditionally surrendered on the 5th
of September. Ath, a small but important town on the Dender,
was taken on the 4th of October. The allies then passed the
Dender, and pitched their camp at Cambron, in the hope of provok-
ing Vendéme into a general engagement; but, finding the French
had had enough of defeat and disaster for one campaign, the army,
early in November, was distributed into winter-quarters; and
Marlborough repaired to the Hague, to resume those diplomatic
labours which were only second in importance to his military duties.
RECEIVES THE THANKS OF PARLIAMENT. 255

In this rapid review of the campaign of 1706 we have neces-
ily omitted all reference to the offer, made by the Emperor,
the government of the Netherlands as viceroy, with a salary
£.60,000 per annum. The Queen and the English Admini-
ution authorized Marlborough to accept this splendid proof
the Emperor’s confidence; but the Dutch Government, not-
‘easonably, objected to an appointment which virtually placed
rule of the Netherlands in the hands of England and Austria;
| Marlborough, unwilling to dissolve an alliance he considered
ful to the peace of Europe, respectfully declined the prof-
2d honour. A jealousy, however, now sprung up between
stria and Holland, and rapidly increased in depth and bitter-
s, which menaced the immediate dissolution of the confederacy.
ance seized the opportunity to attempt a separate peace with
Dutch authorities, offering to recognise Anne as Queen of
sland, to renounce the claim of the Duke of Anjou to the
cession of the crown of Spain upon receiving Milan and the
‘o Sicilies, and to assist Holland in securing the frontier-
‘rier in the Netherlands, which she so much desired. These
yposals were not altogether disrelished by the Dutch. ‘It is
dlicly said at the Hague,’ writes Marlborough, ‘that France
‘educed to what it ought to be, and that if the war should be
tied further, it would serve only to make England greater
nit ought to be. In short, I am afraid our best allies are
y fond of a peace, and that they would engage England to
urel with the Emperor, to have a pretext to come at a peace.’
Marlborough, however, succeeded in composing for a time
jealousies which subsisted between Holland and Austria, and
snitting together once more the frayed threads of the Grand
jance. He then returned to England, where he was received
h a splendid welcome. All classes joined in testifying the
ional gratitude. The city of London entertained him at a
iquet at Vintners’ Hall. The Commons voted him an address
thanks. In the House of Lords, the Lord Keeper addressed
1 in Janguage of unusual emphasis, which merits repetition
m the stateliness and dignified sincerity of its style :—

‘My Lorp Duxz or Martzorover,—I am commanded by
s House to give your Grace their acknowledgment and thanks
256 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

for the eminent services you have done, since the last session of
Parliament, to Her Majesty and your country, together with
their confederates, in this just and necessary war. Though some
former successes against the power of France, while it remained
unbroken, gave most reasonable expectation that you would not
fail to improve them ; yet what your Grace has performed this
last campaign has far exceeded all hopes, even of such as were
most affectionate and partial to their country’s interest and your
glory. The advantages you have gained against the enemy are
of such a nature, so conspicuous in themselves, so sensibly and
universally beneficial in their consequences to the whole con-
federacy, that to attempt to adorn them with the colouring of
words would be vain and inexcusable; and therefore I decline
it, the rather because I should certainly offend that great
modesty which alone can and does add lustre to your actions,
and which, in your Grace’s example, has successfully withstood
as great trials as that virtue has met with in any instance what-
soever. AndI beg leave to say, that if anything could move
your Grace to reflect with much satisfaction on your own merit,
it would be this, that so angust an assembly does, with one voice,
praise and thank you; an honour which a judgment so sure as
that of your Grace’s to think rightly of everything, cannot but
prefer to the ostentation of a public triumph.’

The Duke replied :—

‘T esteem this a very particular honour which your Lord-
ships are pleased to do me. Nobody in the world can be more
sensible of it than I am, nor more desirous to deserve the counte-
nance of your favour and good opinion.’

More substantial honours followed. The annual sum of
L.5000 was secured to him and his heirs in perpetuity out of
the post-office revenues. His dukedom, previously limited to
heirs-male, was, at the same time, extended to heirs-female, ‘in
order that England might never be without a title which might
recall the remembrance of so much glory.’

§ 6. Campaign of 1707.

‘The campaign of 1707,’ says Alison, ‘opened under aus-
pices very different to the allies from any which had preceded it: »
CHARLES XII. OF SWEDEN. 257

nheim had saved Germany ; Ramillies had delivered Brabant.
e power of the Grand Monarque no longer made Europe
mble. The immense advantage which he had gained, in the
set of the contest, by the declaration of the Governor of
mders for the cause of the Bourbons, and the consequent
asferenee of the Flemish fortresses into his hands, had been
t. It was more than lost; it had been won to the enemy.
issels, Antwerp, Menin, Ath, Ostend, Ghent, Dendermond,
uvain, now acknowledged the Archduke Charles for their so-
eign ; the States of Brabant had sent in their adhesion to the
and Alliance. Italy had been lost as rapidly as it had been
n; the stroke of Marlborough at Ramillies had been re-echoed
Turin; and Eugene had expelled the French arms from
»dmont as effectually as Marlborough had from Flanders.
duced on all sides to his own resources, wakened from his
‘am of foreign conquests, Louis XIV. now sought to defend
y his own frontiers ; and the arms which had formerly reached
: gates of Amsterdam, and recently carried terror into the
itre of Germany, were now reduced to a painful defensive on
: Scheldt and the Rhine.’*

But in this prosperous and triumphant hour a novel and
midable danger suddenly menaced the allies. It arose from
» ambition of Charles XII. of Sweden,—the ‘Alexander’ of
ydern Europe,—the half-hero, half-savage, who, by his own
nius and valour, had raised, in a few short years, his small and
poverished kingdom to the rank of a first-rate European power.

The character of this extraordinary leader was a singular
mbination of heterogeneous qualities. His bravery was that
a man who could not comprehend the existence of fear. His
litary skill was distinguished in an age of military heroes.
is frame was capable of enduring hunger or thirst, the extremes
cold or heat. He never felt fatigue, and was insensible to the
sire of repose. Prompt to conceive, and quick to execute;
sxhaustible in his resources, and resolute in the development of
s conceptions ; he was literally, in himself ‘a host,’ and supplied
‘his genius the paucity of his army and the scantiness of his

1 Military Life of Marlborough, c. iv.
R
258 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

means. His sole idea in life was ‘military glory;’ the fame of
a great commander, the renown of an invincible conqueror.
Hence he was superior, or rather indifferent, to the attractions
which could enervate even Alexander of Macedon, and enslave
the remarkable capacities of Julius Cesar. Neither wine nor
woman ever spell-bound his dauntless will. None of the luxuries,
the graces, or even the conveniences of civilisation, softened his
rugged life. The simplest fare, the rudest bed, the plainest garb,
contented him. He loved best ‘the tented plain ;’ the shock and
tumult of the battle-field had an inexpressible charm for his
restless, seething heart. But his self-confidence, augmented by
a long career of success, often degenerated into a wild temerity ;
and he plunged into dangers for the sake of showing with what
facility he could afterwards extricate himself. Like the gods of
the old Norse creed, the Odins and Balders of the Scalds, he was
passionate in his revenge, enduring in his hate, and barbarous
in his cruelty. Such was Charles of Sweden, as Voltaire has
painted him in lucid prose, and Johnson in the sounding cadences
of his stately rhyme:—
‘A frame of adamant, a soul of fire,
No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ;
O’er love, o’er fear, extends his wide domain,
Unconquer’d lord of pleasure and of pain.
No joys to him pacific sceptres yield ;
War sounds the trump, he rushes to the field:
Behold surrounding kings their power combine,
And one capitulate, and one resign!
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain,
“Think nothing gained,” he cries, “ till nought remain,
On Moscow’s walls till Gothic standards fly,
And all be mine beneath the Polar sky.”
His fall was destined to a barren strand,
A pretty fortress, and a dubious hand; /
He left the name, at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale.’

The Swedish monarch was now at Dresden, at the head of
58,000 hardy veterans, whom he had accustomed to victory
against the most formidable odds; and it became the object of
Louis XIV. to attach him to his cause. If he succeeded, the
provinces of Germany and the rear of Marlborough’s forces
HIS MISSION TO CHARLES XII. 259

ald be menaced by a terrible danger. No art, therefore, was
lected which might ‘dazzle his imagination, or convince his
gment.’ His ministers were tempted with heavy bribes. He
iself was assailed through his passion for military glory, and
animosity against the Emperor. At length, the allies grew
rmed. It was evident that Charles only waited to see which
‘ty would most readily assist him in the fulfilment of his
serest ambition—the subjugation of Russia. It was accord-
ly resolved to despatch Marlborough to his court. For that
1eral he was known to entertain considerable admiration, and
vas thought that he could not but be influenced by the charms
an address and a manner which had subdued the most rigid,
1 convinced the most astute of European diplomatists.

Marlborough accepted the difficult embassy, and reached the
ng of Sweden’s camp, at Alt-Raustadt, on the 28th of April.
» was received with every mark of attention and regard. To
arles he immediately addressed himself with a compliment
mirably adapted to give him satisfaction :—‘I present to your
ajesty,’ he said, ‘a letter, not from the Chancery, but from the
art of the Queen, my mistress, afid written with her own hand.
id not her sex prevented it, she would have crossed the sea, to
a prince admired by the whole universe. I am in this par-
ular more happy than the Queen; and I wish I could serve
me campaigns under so great a general as your Majesty, that
night learn what I yet want to know in the art of war.’

The King’s answer evidenced his gratification :—‘ The Queen
Great Britain’s letter,’ he said, ‘and your person, are both
ry acceptable to me; and I shall always have the utmost re-
rd for the interposition of her Britannic Majesty and the
‘erests of the Grand Alliance. It is much against my will
at I have been obliged to give umbrage to any of the parties
gaged in it. T have had just cause to come into this country
th my troops; but you may assure the Queen, my sister, that
y design is to depart from hence as soon as I have obtained
e satisfaction I demand, but not till then. However, I shall
) nothing that can tend to the prejudice of the common cause
general, or of the Protestant religion, of which I shall always
ory to be a zealous protector.’
260 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Over the details of this negotiation we need not linger. Marl-
borough soon discovered that Charles was bent upon hurling his
victorious hosts into the heart of detested Muscovy, rather than
upon marching to the support of Louis Quatorze. He even
extorted from the Swedish monarch the admission, that the
power of France was not yet sufficiently reduced; and that the
peace of Europe required she should be humbled to make further
concessions. He returned, therefore, to the Hague, with the
assurance that no danger was to be apprehended by the allies
from the future movements of the King of Sweden, and that it
was to Moscow that extraordinary hero would next direct his
victorious veterans.

He naturally anticipated that the removal of so great a peril
would incite the allies to a vigorous prosecution of the war.
His sanguine hopes were destined to be disappointed. Disasters
in Spain—where the French army, under the Duke of Berwick,
had inflicted a total defeat on the allied forces, commanded by
Lord Galway, at the battle of Almanza—had resuscitated the
fears of Holland; and the allied powers fell back into all their
ancient jealousies of each other, and indifference to the interests
of the common cause. Marlborough once more found himself
hampered by the interference of the Dutch field-deputies, which
condemned him throughout the campaign to a loathsome inac-
tivity. ‘Not that the Duke himself” says an anonymous bio-
grapher, ‘was for sitting still; but the States were so frightened .
with the invasion of Germany, and the battle of Almanza, that
they would not let him stir. Thus his Grace was not permitted
to make fresh conquests, or to act with his accustomed vigour.’
Every aggressive operation which he proposed was negatived
by the Dutch deputies, and, especially, a bold movement upon
Nivelle (May 27), which would have forced the French into a
general action, and resulted, we cannot doubt, in a splendid
victory. The difficulties with which he contended were fully
understood by his former colleague, the illustrious Eugene, who
wrote to him, ‘What your Highness has done since you had
the power of marching against the enemy, evidently proves that
this campaign would have been as glorious as the last, if you
had not been restrained by the great circumspection of the Dutch
STATE OF PARTIES IN ENGLAND. 261

puties, who, ignorant of our profession, follow the opinion of
eir generals, who know nothing but defensive warfare.’

In October, this campaign of inaction came to a close, and
e army went into winter-quarters. The skilful caution of
endéme, and the panics of the Dutch, had ‘effectually prevented
arlborough from distinguishing it by any brilliant operation ;
id on his return to England (November 7), he found his in-
lence weakened, and his popularity impaired, by that want of
ecess which he himself had the greatest reason to complain of.

It is not within the scope of this work to narrate the political
story of the reign of Queen Anne, or to expose the intrigues
‘tween Whigs and Tories, between ladies of the bed-chamber
id secretaries of state, Jacobins and Hanoverians, war parties
id peace parties, which perplexed the narrow mind and grieved
e woman’s heart of that unfortunate sovereign. It is known
yw low was then the standard of public morality, how mean and
ugar the craft of English statesmanship. It is known that the
inisters who sat at the royal council-board were actively plot-
ag the subversion of the Acts of Parliament, which gave the
istress they served her title to the throne. It is known, too,
iat the influence of the crown was wielded by a favourite of
msiderable talents and unscrupulous character, the famous Mrs
[asham, who had supplanted in the Queen’s favour the place
merly occupied by her patron, the Duchess of Marlborough.
[rs Masham was in the confidence of Harley, the Secretary of
tate; and both Mrs Masham and Harley were the bitter ene-
ies of the Duke of Marlborough. Upon this sickening page
English history it is not, happily, our province to linger.
[arlborough’s presence checked for a while the plots and pro-
iets of his enemies, and he even succeeded in procuring the
ismissal of his inveterate opponent, Harley. But to an im-
artial observer it was evident that his influence was on the
acline. ‘Che Queen was cold and distant, and provoked by the
solence of the Duchess to throw herself more and more into »
1e arms of the Duke’s enemies. In the House of Commons,
ie war was loudly condemned ; and it was hinted that its
uration was protracted by Marlborough to further his own
iterests. His brother, Admiral Churchill, who was at the head
262 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

of the Admiralty, was overwhelmed with censures. It was at
this conjuncture that fresh services, rendered by Marlborough to
the cause of the Protestant Succession, renewed for a time his
popularity and power. Louis XIV. had prepared a formidable
expedition, with the view of invading Scotland, and restoring
the Chevalier St George, the heir of James II., to his ancestral
throne. Hight sail-of-the-line, 24 frigates, 61 long boats, and
numerous transports were collected; and 12 battalions of in-
fantry, fully equipped, were placed under the command of
experienced officers. But now the Duke’s energy of character
was strikingly displayed. All the forces he could collect were
despatched into the north. Edinburgh Castle was garrisoned.
Large reinforcements were brought over from Holland. A
powerful English squadron sailed for the North Seas; and the
invading flotilla was soon compelled to return, without striking
a blow, to Dunkirk.

As soou as the country was free from the danger of invasion,
the Duke prepared for a new campaign; and on the 2d of April
arrived at the Hague, where his appearance was warmly wel-
comed. ;

§. 7. Campaign of 1708.—Oudenard.

It was felt by both parties that the campaign of 1708 would
be more vigorous than the last. Vendéme’s army had been ,
recruited to the number of 100,000 men; and that able general,
with the Duke of Burgundy as his nominal commander-in-chief,
had received instructions to act on the offensive, but with pru-
dence and caution, so as to win back, foot by foot, the ground
which had been lost in preceding campaigns. The allies, having
driven the French out of Italy, were able to’ throw the bulk of
their armies into the Low Countries, and Prince Eugene received
instructions to unite his forces with those of Marlborough. The
Elector of Hanover, at the head of 20,000 men, acted on the
defensive on the Rhine. Reinforcements, under General Starem-
berg, were despatched into Catalonia. Everything betokened a
desperate and protracted struggle.

Meanwhile, at home, political dissensions grew daily in
violence and acrimony ; and Godolphin earnestly besought Marl-
CAMPAIGN OF 1708. 263

borough to pay a temporary visit to England, and exert his
influence upon the malcontents. But the Dutch Government
objected to his departure ; and the Duke, sacrificing his private
interests to the public necessities, arranged with Eugene for an
early co-operation, and joined his army at Ghent on the 9th of
May.

The French projects embraced a design to recover the prin-
cipal fortresses of the Netherlands by the treachery of their
inhabitants, whom the tyranny and exactions of the Dutch had
completely disgusted. An intercepted letter revealed to Marl-
borough a plan for the surprise of Antwerp by the admission of
French troops into its citadel. He immediately took measures
to prevent its success, and so disconcerted Vendome that he
moved upon Soignies, and halted his immense masses in its
vicinity, at a distance of only three leagues from Marlborough’s
camp. The allied forces were so inferior, that their general was
unable to act upon the offensive, and waited impatiently the ar-
rival of Prince Eugene, whom the tardy apathy of the German
princes unwillingly delayed. Vendome, however, declined to
avail himself of his superiority, and, breaking up his cantonments,
moved to the right upon Brain Allien, near the field of Water-
loo, where he took up a position which equally menaced Brussels
and Louvain. To cover Brussels, Marlborough fell back upon
Anderlecht ; but discovering that the French continued their
march towards the Dyle, he at once comprehended that their
real designs were against Louvain, and pressed forward through
a storm of rain and the darkness of the night to Parc, which he
reached after a forced march of twenty-four hours. Here he
took up so strong a position that Venddme, in dudgeon, and
without firing a shot, retired upon Brain l’Allien.

It was early in July when the French general, one of the
finest tacticians France ever gave birth to, resolved upon a plan
of equal boldness and skill, by which he hoped to deprive the
allies of all their recent conquests. In carrying, it out, he ex-
pected, not unreasonably, the support of the inhabitants of the
Low Countries, who were notoriously disaffected towards their
Dutch masters. He proposed, with the aid of certain citizens,
to surprise Ghent, which would give him the command of the
264 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Lys and the Scheldt ; and Bruges, which would place him in the
centre of Marlborough’s water-communications. The reduction
of Oudenard would naturally follow, and the allies be compelled
to fall back upon Antwerp and abandon Brahant.

Vendome executed the first part of his well-meditated design
with an energy which ensured success. He suddenly decamped
from Brain Allien on the evening of the 4th of July, and rapidly
marched towards the Senne, throwing out detachments as he
advanced, to seize upon the towns where his partisans were pre-
pared for him. In this manner Ghent and Bruges fell into the
hands of the French.

Marlborough, as soon as he was apprised of Venddme’s
movements, broke up from Torbank, on the morning of the 5th,
and by forced marches reached the Senne, but only in time to
witness the passage of the enemy. He hoped, however, to bring
them to action before they could reach the Dender ; and at one
in the morning, riding to the right of his lines, ordered his troops
to form, and prepare for battle on the first appearance of the dawn.
But Vendéme, anticipating his intentions, and fearing to risk the
chances of a general engagement, made his men continue their
weary march throughout the night, and succeeded, with the loss
of 300 prisoners, in crossing the Dender, near Ninove, in several
columns, before the main battle of the allies came up. Then he
descended the river, and took up a position between Alost and
Oerdegun, which covered Ghent and threatened Brussels. The
allies followed him as far as Asch, about four miles from Alost.

Marlborough was sorely dispirited by these unfortunate events;
and eagerly welcomed, therefore, the arrival of his old colleague,
the gallant Eugene, who, finding it impossible to bring up his
reinforcements in time, had left his cavalry at Maestricht, and
hastened to serve as a volunteer in the expected conflict. ‘I am
not without hope,’ said the Duke, ‘ of congratulating your High-
ness.on a great victory ; for my troops will be animated by the
presence of so illustrious a commander.’

As it was surmised that Oudenard would be the next place
of attack selected by the French, large detachments were col-
lected from the neighbouring garrisons and despatched to its
succour. Venddme, nevertheless, determined to attempt its re-
HE THROWS HIMSELF ON THE FRENCH COMMUNICATIONS. 265

uction ; and ordering up a train of artillery from Tournay, com-
leted its investment on the evening of the 9th of July. He
imself, with his covering army, took up a strong position at
iessines, on the river Dender.

So great was Marlborough’s anxiety at these ‘ untoward
vents,’ that it wrought him into a violent fever. His physician
esought him to quit the camp; but he was not to be induced
) retire from his post at such a conjuncture. He continued his
reparations for the approaching struggle, though, being con-
ned to his tent, the regular orders were issued from Marshal
-uverquerque’s quarters. The plan which he meditated was
aaracterized by felicitous boldness: instead of attacking Ven-
dme in front, he resolved to fling himself on his communications,
nd interpose between him and the French frontier. ‘It was
recisely a repetition of what Marlborough had already done in
ae campaign of 1705, when the results which would have arisen
‘om such a plan were frustrated by the Dutch deputies.’?

The army broke up from Asch at two in the morning of the
th of July, and moved forward with such rapidity, that by noon-
de they had reached Herfelingen, five leagues distant. Here
1¢ Duke halted, and detached General (afterwards Earl) Cado-
an, with eight battalions, and as many squadrons, to throw
ridges across the Dender, and take up his position at Lessines.
luring the night the main army resumed their march, and on the
lowing morning discovered that Cadogan had effected his task
ith admirable promptitude, and, occupying Lessines with 800
ien, had carried the remainder of his troops across the river.

These bold and vigorous operations completely checkmated
1e French generals, who, descrying in the distance the vanguard
? the allies, immediately fell back towards Gavre, intending there
)» cross the Scheldt, and take refuge behind the river. But their
asign was anticipated by Marlborough, who pushed forward his
irces with the utmost rapidity, in the hope of coming up with
1e enemy as they attempted the passage of the Scheldt.

And here it is necessary that we should describe the scene of
iese interesting operations, and the locality wherein was fought

Alison.
266 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

the important Battle of Oudenard. We shall borrow the graphic
description with which Major Smith has enriched the pages of
Archdeacon Coxe.

‘ At the distance of a mile north of Oudenard is the village
of Eyne(s). Here the ground rises into a species of low, but
capacious, amphitheatre. It sweeps along a moderately sized
plain southward, to near the glacis of Oudenard, where it is
crowned by the village of Bevere and numerous windmills.
Turning westward, it then rises into another broad hill, under
the name of the Boser Couter, and the highest point is near a
linden or lime-tree, and a windmill overlooking the village of
Oycke. From thence the ground curves towards Marolen; and
the eye, glancing over the narrow valley watered by the Norken,
is arrested by another upland plain, which trends by Huyse,
gradually sinking till it terminates near Asper. Within this
space, two scanty rivulets, gushing from the base of the hill of
Oycke, at a small distance asunder, embrace a low tongue of
land, the middle of which rises into a gentle elevation. The bor-
ders of these rivulets, and a part of the intervening surface, are
intersected with enclosures, surrounding the farms and hamlets
of Barwaen, Chobon, and Diepenbeck. At the source of one is
the castellated mansion of Bevere or Brian; at that of the other,
the hamlet of Retelhoeck, situated in a woody and steep recess.
These streams, uniting near the village of Schaerken, proceed
partly in a double channel along a marshy bed to the Scheldt,
near Hynes. The Norken, rising near Morlehem, beyond Oycke,
runs for some distance almost parallel to the Scheldt ; then pass-
ing by Ledge, Mullem, and Asper, it meets another streamlet
from the west, and terminates in a species of canal, skirting the
Scheldt to a considerable distance below Gavre. The borders
of the Norken, like those of the other rivulets, are fringed with
underwood, coppices, and thickets ; and from Mullem to Herle-
hem, the roads are skirted with avenues. Behind, are enclosures
skirting a small plain, which terminates beyond the mill of Roye-
gem. Between these is a hollow road which leads up to the hill
of Oycke.’

In the gray light of the early morning (July 11th), Marl-
borough despatched Colonel Cadogan, with an advanced guard
THE BATTLE OF OUDENARD. 267

16 battalions, 8 squadrons, and 82 pieces of artillery, towards
2 Scheldt. The Colonel reached the river about eleven, threw
idges over it, and carried across his cavalry and most of his
ot. At the same time, but at Gavre, two leagues lower down,
2 French advanced guard crossed over without suspecting the
oximity of the allies. Cadogan now advanced to the crest of
2 plateau between Eynes and Bevere, and formed there, in
mirable order, with the infantry opposite Eynes, and the
valry extending towards Schaerken. In this array, he slowly
iehed forwards on the left bank of the river, and had a sharp
lision with the rear-guard of the French army, under Marshal
> Biron.

Marlborough, hearing the firing, became alarmed for the
‘ety of his advance ; and throwing out cavalry on his flank to
ard against any interruptions of his line of march, brought up
; second column (the Prussian horse) at full gallop, and reached
2 Scheldt at the time that De Biron had pressed forward to
onnoitre the assailants with whom his rear-guard had been
rmishing. A panic seized the French commanders, except,
leed, the gallant Vendome, who, from the clouds of dust in
2 distance, judged that the main body of the allies was yet
If a league from the river, and hoped, therefore, to overwhelm
sir advanced guard with his masses before relief could be
ought up. He therefore hastily drew up his forces in order
battle; their left resting upon the hill of Asper; their right
on Warreghem, and the Norken sweeping through the low
junds in their front. As the allies crossed the river, Marl-
rough formed them upon the elevated plateau which extends
m Bevere to Moreghem. Observing that the village of Eynes
s occupied by a brigade of infantry and some cavalry, under
effer, he ordered Cadogan to drive them out. The infantry,
| by Brigadier Sabine, immediately advanced, descended the
pe, and forded the rivulet; while the cavalry crossed higher
, and took the French in the rear. A sharp contest ensued ;
t the enemy were soon overpowered, and three entire bat-
ions were made prisoners. The allied horse, elate with their
.cess, continued their advance; charged the cavalry, who were
iring into the enclosures of Heurne; and before they could
268 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

effect their purpose, broke upon them like a thunder-clond,
routed them entirely, and drove them across the Norken, where
they fell in confusion among the columns of their own army.
In this very brilliant affair the Electoral Prince of Hanover,
afterwards George II., displayed great gallantry, and had a
horse shot under him.

Alarmed at this heavy blow, and perceiving that his design
of cutting off the advanced guard of the allies was frustrated,
Vendome now wished to retire his army ; but he was overruled
by the Duke of Burgundy and his colleagues, who insisted upon
risking a general engagement. It was now four in the after-
noon, and the numerical strength of the two opponents stood as
follows :-—

The Allies.

Battalions, 112

Squadrons, 180 In all, 80,000 men.
The French.

Battalions, 121

Squadrons, 198 In all, 85,000 men.

The action commenced by a movement of the Duke of
Burgundy, who, desirous apparently of ascertaining whether his
right wing could safely advance, ordered General Grimaldi, with
16 squadrons, to cross the Norken. Grimaldi moved forward as
far as the first rivulet; but observing the steady formation of
the Prussian cavalry, and the rapid advance of the British in-
fantry, made no attempt to pass it. Vendéme, who disapproved
of the movement, had meanwhile directed his left wing to ad-
vance ; but the Duke of Burgundy, in hostility to the illustrious
marshal, countermanded the order, alleging that an impassable
morass separated the two armies on that side, though Venddme
himself had crossed it but an hour before. Thus, for an hour
or more, the left wing remained in position ; and an opportunity
was afforded to Marlborough, of which he did not neglect to
avail himself. Judging that the real attack of the enemy would
be made by their right wing upon his left, in front of the castle
of Bevere, he ordered up to its support the 12 battalions of
Cadogan; posted skirmishers in the woods which lined the
THE BATTLE OF OUDENARD. 269

Norken, and strong guards to defend its bridges. He then,
with the Prussian horse, advanced by the plain of Heurne, and
deployed them in front of the enemy. A reserve of 20 battalions
of British infantry, and a few guns, was posted near Schaerken,
under the command of the Duke of Argyle. And here it may be
noted, as a peculiarity of the action, that scarcely any artillery
was used on either side. The rapidity of the movements of
each army had outstripped the sluggish pace at which ‘those
ponderous implements of destruction’ were then conveyed.

It was now that the whole French right wing, including the
picked soldiers of their army, the very élite of France, debouched,
as had been expected ; and, attacking four battalions posted at
Groenvelde, gradually extended their line so as to outflank some
Prussian infantry on the allied left, and made themselves masters
of the villages of Barwaen and Barlancy, after a desperate and
well-sustained resistance. Each hedge blazed with musketry.
Men fought hand to hand in every enclosure, and stoutly dis-
puted every insignificant watercourse. About six o’clock, how-
ever, Count Lottum moved up the second column of Prussians
and Hanoverians, succeeded in checking the dangerous advance
of the enemy, drove them back in their turn across the rivulet,
and recovered the ground already lost.

Marlborough and Eugene now separated. ‘The latter was
complimented with the command of the right wing, consisting
almost entirely of British troops; the former hastened to the
direction of the left, and despatched Count Lottum with twenty
battalions to reinforce the Prince’s division, upon which he fore-
saw the brunt of the battle would fall. About twenty battalions
only now composed the allied left, while Eugene found himself
at the head of sixty.

When Count Lottum arrived, the Prince was hardly pressed,
for the superior force opposed to them had driven Cadogan’s
men out of their wooded enclosures; but he now returned to the
assault, and broke the first line of the enemy in excellent style.
General Natzmer took advantage of their disorder to charge
through the second line into the small plain, near the chapel of

1 Alison.
270 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Royeghem; but his saddles were soon half-emptied by the
terrible blaze of musketry which rattled along every hedge.
After losing half his men, and receiving several severe wounds,
the gallant leader was forced to retire, and only escaped capture
by leaping a broad ditch.

Meanwhile, Marlborough and his Dutch and Hanoverian bat-
talions had pressed forward against the French right, contesting
every hedge, every field, every enclosure,.and at the point of the
bayonet driving back their foes, who met them with a stubborn-
ness worthy of French veterans. Barlancy and Barwaen were
retaken, though the houses which they could no longer hold the
French set on fire; and the allies continued their advance as
far as the hamlet of Diepenbeck, where, however, they were
compelled to pause. But their general’s vigilant eye discovered
that the steep hill of Oycke, which commanded the French
right, was unoccupied ; and concluding, therefore, that their flank
could be turned, he directed Marshal Auverquerque, with the re-
serve cavalry, and twenty Dutch and Danish battalions, to seize
upon the important position. This bold, and, as it proved, decisive
manceuvre, was executed by the Dutch veteran with brilliant
success. His masses poured down the declivity, threaded the
defiles, drove pell-mell before them foot and horse, and soon
planted their colours on the hill of Oycke. Then they changed
front to the right, and wheeling inwards, drew round the French
right wing in a sort of semicircle, interrupting their communi-
cations with their centre, and pressing them into the little plain
of Diepenbeck. Marlborough now ordered Overkirk to extend
his left still further, and, seizing the passes of Marolen and the
mill of Royeghem, to cut off entirely the French right wing
from the rest of their army. The young Prince of Orange and
General Oxenstiern executed this movement with successful
impetuosity. Seven regiments of French dragoons bravely
attempted to cover the escape of the household troops, but in
the gallant enterprise were cut to pieces or taken prisoners, and
the thunder of battle fell with disastrous effect upon the French
rear.

‘ Seeing his right wing,’ says Alison, ‘ on the verge of destruc-
tion, Vendéme made a gallant effort to rescue it. Dismounting
DEFEAT OF THE FRENCH. 271

ym his horse, he led the infantry of his left, near Marolen, to the
1 of their devoted comrades. But the thick and frequent en-
ysures broke their array ; the soldiers were dismayed by the
ud shouts of victory from their right ; and when they emerged
ym the enclosures, and approached the plain of Diepenbeck, the
m countenance of the British horse, drawn up on its ledge, and
e sturdy array of their infantry under Hugene, which advanced

meet them, rendered the effort abortive. Meanwhile, darkness
t in, though the battle raged on all sides. The frequent flashes

the musketry on the heights around, intermingled with the
outs of the victors, showed but too clearly how nearly the ex-
emity of danger was approaching to the whole French army.
> completely were they enveloped, that the advanced guard of
e right under Eugene, and the left under the Prince of Orange,
et on the heights in the French rear, when they exchanged
veral volleys; and it was only after great exertions had been
ade by the respective commanders that their error was dis-
ered, and a stop was put to such useless butchery. To pre-
mt a repetition of such disasters, orders were given to the whole
oops to halt where they stood; and to this precaution many
ved their safety, as it was impossible in the darkness to dis-
nguish friend from foe. But it enabled great part of the centre
1d left of the French to escape unobserved, which, had daylight
yntinued for two hours longer, would have been all taken or
astroyed. Their gallant right was left to its fate; while Eugene,
y directing the drums of his regiments to beat the French
ssemblé, made great numbers of their left and centre prisoners.
ome thousands of the right, by slipping unobserved to the west-
ard, near the castle of Bevere, made their way in a confused
ody, in the interval between the allied left and centre, towards
rance, but the greater part of that wing were killed or taken.
‘endome, with characteristic presence of mind, formed a rear-
uard of a few battalions and twenty-five squadrons, with which
2 covered the retreat of the centre and left; but the remainder
E those parts of the army fell into total confusion, and fled head-
mg in wild disorder towards Ghent.”

1 Alison’s Military Life of the Duke of Marlborough.
272 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

The loss of the allies in this decisive fight is variously esti-
mated, but may, perhaps, be put at 3000 killed and wounded.
The French had 6000 killed and wounded, and 9000 made pri-
soners, including 700 stragglers. Night alone saved their army
from complete destruction. ‘If we had been so happy,’ wrote
Marlborough, ‘as to have had two more hours of daylight, I
believe we should have made an end of this war.’

The two commanders of the allied forces did not sleep upon
their laurels. Marlborough was aware that large reinforcements
under the Duke of Berwick were hastening to Vendéme’s assist-
ance, and he, therefore, despatched Count Lottum, with 50 bat-
talions and 30 squadrons, to capture the lines which the enemy
had constructed from Ypres to Warneton, with the view of pro-
tecting the country between the Lys and the Scheldt. This
operation was successfully executed at the very moment that
Berwick was marching with the utmost possible speed to assist in
the defence of the lines; and Marlborough, pressing forward,
crossed the Lys, and took up a position between Comines and
Menin, which exposed all France to his incursions. Prince
Hugene’s division now augmented the allied forces with an oppor-
tune accession of strength; while Berwick’s troops, uniting with
those whom Vendéme had brought off from the disastrous field
of Oudenard, once more swelled the French army to the number
of 100,000 men. With these masses the French commander
fortified a strong camp behind the canal of Bruges, in the neigh-
bourhood of Ghent, which completely commanded the naviga-
tion of the Lys and the Scheldt. It is evident, therefore, that
between the French and Paris interposed the victorious army of
the allies.

Marlborough now conceived a bold design, which anticipated
the movements of Wellington and Blucher in 1814. He pro-
posed to carry his troops right into the heart of France, disre-
garding the fortresses on the frontier, and aiming directly at
Paris. In all probability his daring enterprise would have been
crowned with brilliant success; but it seemed too hazardous
even for the courage of Eugene, and was, of course, deemed im-
practicable by the apathetic timidity of the Dutch administra-
tion. The confederate generals finally determined upon striking
THE SIEGE OF LILLE. 273

eir first blow upon French territory by the siege of Lille. The
tempt was thought so impracticable, however, that it became

France the theme of lively ridicule; and Vendome asserted
tat a skilful general like Prince Eugene would never implicate
self in an undertaking which became absurd from its extreme
ishness.

Lille had been conquered by Louis XIV. in 1667, and was
ded to him by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle. It occupied the
sotre of aswampy plain, watered by the windings of the Deule and
ie Marque. The former river skirted it on three sides; on the
marth, it was protected by its citadel,—a pentagonal stronghold.
signed by Vauban, surrounded by two ditches and a double
ries of outworks. Vauban’s nephew, a skilful engineer, super-
tended its defence. The command was placed in the hands
> Marshal Boufilers, Governor of Flanders, renowned for his
oility and courage: and the garrison consisted of 15,000 veteran
oidiers.

The theatre of operations was remarkable; the actors were
1e greatest generals of the age; and among the spectators
ight be found illustrious princes and able soldiers. Augustus,
‘ing of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse, arrived in the
onfederate camp on the 19th of July ; and was speedily joined
y his natural son, Maurice, afterwards the famous Marshal
axe, but then a boy of twelve years old, who had secretly left
’resden, eluded the vigilance of his guardians, and walked on
yot to reach the allied army. Here, too, Munich and Schwerin.
wo generals who, in due time, arrived at a high pitch of military
ime, and the young Elector of Hanover, afterwards George II.
f Great Britain, underwent their apprenticeship in the art of
rar. As Vendome commanded the water-communication, the
Ilies were forced to collect their siege-guns, mortars, and ammu-
ition at Brussels, and thence to bring them by land, a distance
f 25 leagues, through @ hostile army amounting to 100,000
ren. -A bold attempt was made by the Duke of Berwick to cut
ff the convoy; but the consummate skill of Marlborough and
he indefatigable vigilance of Eugene baffled all the enemy’s
iovements; and on the 14th of August, it arrived in safety,
rithout the loss of a single carriage,—an achievement which the

=

5
274 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

French themselves were compelled to speak of as unequalled for
conduct and strategical ability. ‘ Posterity,’ says the French
historian, Feuqueres, ‘ will scarcely believe the fact, though it is
an undoubted truth. Never was a great enterprise conducted
with more skill and circumspection.’

The investment of the place by Prince Eugene commenced on
the 13th of August, and Marlborough took the command of the
covering army, which was stationed at Helchin. He had under
him 69 battalions and 140 squadrons, or nearly 60,000 men.
Eugene’s force consisted of 53 battalions and 90 squadrons, or
40,000 men. The siege-train included 120 heavy guns, 40 mor-
tars, 20 howitzers, and 400 ammunition-waggons. Berwick and
Vendéme, when with their united armies they advanced towards
Lille, on the 2d of September, mustered 100,000 combatants ;
while 20,000 men, under Count de la Motte, covered Ghent and
Bruges. The two enemies attempted to out-manceuvre one
another, but Marlborough’s admirable strategy anticipated and
baffled every movement. He at last took up a strong position
between Peronne and Noyelles, which he fortified with a broad
ditch and stout entrenchments, and rendered comparatively im-
pregnable.

Meanwhile the siege was prosecuted with vigour. Engene
opened his trenches on the 22d, and hurled upon the unfortunate
city a storm of fire. The second parallel was completed on the
27th, and the principal batteries then augmented the few denjer.
One hundred and twenty cannons and eighty mortars were
brought into play on the 3d of September. On the 6th, the
trenches were advanced to the glacis of the two horn-works
against which the approaches had been directed. The next
evening, at seven o'clock, Hugene resolved to attack the salient
angles of the counterscarp on both sides of the Dyle, and suc-
ceeded, though with terrible slanghter, in effecting a lodgment.
The garrison made a sortie on the 10th, but it had only a tem-
porary success; and fresh works were pushed forward against
the place. Marlborough, however, condemned the slowness of
the siege, and severely reprimanded the misconduct of the engi-
neers. His censures infused new energy into the movements of
the assailants, and on the night of the 20th another assault was
THE SIEGE OF LILLE. 275

tempted. Eugene led his soldiers to the attack with his wonted
trepidity, and they rushed with eager courage into a fearful
aelstrom of fire. A demi-bastion, and some adjoining works,
sre occupied by the allies, but with the loss of 2000 men, and
e yet greater loss of the services of Prince Eugene, who was
verely wounded in the thick of the fight. Upon Marlborough
us now thrown the whole burden of directing the operations of
e siege, and watching the movements of the enemy. The
antal and physical exertion demanded by this double labour
ade him seriously ill; but he attended to his duties with un-
mitting vigour, and infused so much of his own energy into his
utenants, that on the 23d September a considerable portion
the covered way, and a great part of the tenaillons, were
reed. His presence, too, was a source of so much terror to
e French, and his defensive measures were conceived with such
nsummate skill, that no attempt was made by Vendéme to
rass the covering army. The French general, however, suc-
eded in conveying a supply of powder to the besieged. A
idy of horsemen, each carrying before him a sack of powder,
t their way through the assailants; and though many were
iin, enough escaped to replenish the stores of the garrison with
‘ceptable resources.

The besiegers now found themselves, in turn, in urgent need
ammunition ; and as the enemy covered the road to Brussels,
e allies were compelled to briug it up from Ostend. A large
uvoy was formed there by General Erle, and 700 waggons,
corted by General Webb and 10,000 men, set out for the allied
mp on the 27th September. The French resolved to attempt
; destruction, in the hope of forcing Marlborough to raise the
we; and Count de la Motte, with 12,000 men, was appointed
this important service. He came up with Webb in the wooded
files of Wynendaels. But the English general had disposed
3 small force with so much skill, that the result of M. de la
otte’s gasconading attack was a total defeat, and the loss of
100 men. The convoy reached the English camp in safety on
e 30th of September, much to the chagrin of the French, and
ually to the exultation of the allies. Marlborough was much
eased with Webb’s success, and warmly recommended him to
276 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

the notice of the Queen. At home it was exalted by Marl-
borough’s enemies into a most glorious victory, and Webb was
placed above all living generals. It was even insinuated that
the victor of Blenheim and Ramillies was jealous of the success
of his lieutenant, and would have been secretly pleased to have
witnessed his discomfiture. So shameless is the malice of party ;
so unscrupulous the conscience of faction.

The arrival of the convoy infused new spirit into the army ;
and the recovery of Hugene relieved his colleague from a part of
his overwhelming labours. On the 3d of October the tenaillon
was carried, and the troops effected a lodgment directly opposite
the breaches in the ramparts. Vendéme now made a new effort
to raise the siege by opening the sluicé& and inundating all the
surrounding country, even to the very border of the Dyke, thus
interrupting Marlborough’s communication with Ostend. But
the English commander’s resources were not yet exhausted. The
ammunition was placed in stout skins, and carried in flat-bottomed
boats from Ostend to Leffinghen, whence it was conveyed to
the camp in waggons mounted on very high wheels. General
Cadogan specially distinguished himself in arranging and guard-
ing these novel but important convoys. It was about this time
that General Auverquerque died,—a veteran in arms, old in fame
and years, and worn out with incessant fatigue and the trials of a
score of battles. Marlborough deeply regretted the loss of so
able and loyal a comrade. But the siege was prosecuted with
unabated vigour ; and Boufflers, finding that no relief could be
expected from Vendome’s army, and knowing himself too weak
to withstand the assault of the allies, which might hourly be
attempted, on the 22d of October beat a parley, and capitulated,
after a sixty days’ defence, sustained with unequalled resolution.
The allies, admiring his valour, granted him very favourable terms.
Prisoners were exchanged; the sick and wounded conveyed to
Douay ; and the remains of the garrison, 5000 men, retired into
the citadel, which Boufflers defended for six weeks longer.

To save the citadel, Vendome made a diversion against Brus-
sels. Fifteen thousand men, under the Elector of Bavaria, were
despatched for that purpose ; while Vendome remained in his en-
trenched camp on the Scheldt, to watch and interrupt Marl-
GHENT TAKEN BY THE ALLIES. 277

borough’s movements. But he underrated or misunderstood the
military resources of his antagonist ; who gave out that the army
was going into winter-quarters, and set out with his staff openly for
Courtrai. Having thus deceived the enemy, he suddenly wheeled
round, and hurled the whole weight of his forces against Ven-
déme’s defences at a point whose weakness he had detected. The
passage of the Scheldt was triumphantly effected, and the com-
munication with Brussels opened. Then Marlborough sent back
Prince Eugene to resume the siege of the citadel of Lille, while he
himself, with the greater part of his army, marched upon Brussels,
where he was received with triumphant exultations on the 29th of
November. The Elector of Bavaria only effected his escape by
sacrificing his guns, and abandoning his sick and wounded.

The citadel of Lille surrendered on the 11th of December.
But Marlborough did not yet consider his work accomplished.
To fill up the measure of his success, it was necessary that the
standards of the allies should once more float upon the walls of
Ghent. With Marlborough, to conceive was to execute. The
enemy had retired into winter-quarters ; but the allied army was
suddenly assembled, and marched upon Ghent, which was invested
on the 18th. ‘The garrison was very strong, consisting of no
less than 30 battalions and 19 squadrons, mustering 18,000 com-
batants. The governor had been instructed by Vendéme to
defend this important stronghold to the last extremity; but he
was inadequately supplied with provisions and forage, and the
result, signally belied the expectations formed of his resistance.
The approaches were vigorously pushed. On the 24th, the
trenches were opened; on the 25th, a sortie was repulsed ; on
the 28th December, the fire began with great vigour from the
breaching and mortar batteries ; and at noon the governor sent
a flag of truce, offering to capitulate if not relieved before the
2d of January. This was agreed to; and on the latter day, as
no friendly force approached, the garrison opened their gates, and
marched out in such strength that they were defiling incessantly
from ten in the morning till seven at night.”

Bruges, and the minor towns of Plassendail and Leffinghen,

1 Alison.
278 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

now fell into the hands of the allies, and their capture completed
the most glorious campaign that Marlborough ever waged.
Consummate skill, inexhaustible fecundity of invention, matchless
self-possession, vigour, prudence, promptitude,—all the greatest
qualities of the greatest generals he had exhibited in its course.
A pitched battle, in which he had overthrown a largely superior
force, and the capture of a strongly-garrisoned city in the pre-
sence of an immense army—Oudenard and Lille—were title-deeds
to immortality which not even Faction could dispute !

§ 8. Campaign of 1709.—Malplaquet.

The successful campaign of 1708 had so far restored, and even
increased, the Duke’s influence at the Hague, that he was able to
check the machinations of the French party, and extort the con-
sent of the Government to an augmentation of their army by 6000
additional troops. With the court of Vienna he was equally
successful ; and, aided by Prince Eugene, succeeded in obtaining
the Emperor’s permission for his contingent to winter in the
Netherlands, and his promise that it should be recruited in the
spring. With the Duke of Savoy he experienced greater diffi-
culty. His pretensions were exorbitant, and his military projects
contemptible. Nevertheless, he was too important a member of
the Grand Alliance to be utterly disregarded, and assistance was
promised him in carrying out his favourite plan of invading
France on the side of Lyons. Equally stubborn at first was the
King of Prussia, who protested he could not give more than three
battalions for the ensuing campaign, and querulously complained
of the treatment he had received from his allies. But the won-
derful address of Marlborough had its usual effect, and the King
not only consented to continue his usual supplies, but agreed to
furnish an augmentation of 14 squadrons.

Having overcome these difficulties, formidable enough to have
daunted a less intrepid spirit, and to have foiled a less ingenious
statesman, Marlborough repaired to London, and was received
with the usual acclamations. But his influence with the Queen,
as he speedily discovered, had been undermined by the subtlety
of Harley and Mrs Masham; while he found that he was as much
an object of jealousy to the Government, which his fame had so
NEGOTIATIONS FOR PEACE. 279

ong supported, as of hatred to the Opposition, which his power
iad so long subdued. The battle of Wynendaels furnished his
nemies with an inexhaustible theme for malignant slander, and
t was openly asserted, that Marlborough was envious of the su-
erior capacity of Webb!

From these political intrigues the hero of Oudenard was glad
9 escape, and he accordingly undertook the conduct of the nego-
‘ations then pending with Louis XIV. The instructions with
‘hich he was furnished stipulated,—‘ That no negotiation for
eace should be concluded with France, until the preliminaries
‘ere adjusted between England and the States. That no peace
ould be safe or honourable, unless the whole Spanish monarchy
‘as restored to the House of Austria. That the French King should
e obliged to acknowledge the Queen’s title and the Protestant
uccession to the crown; the Pretender to be removed from
‘rance, and the fortifications and harbour of Dunkirk destroyed.
‘hat a barrier should be provided for the security of the
tates against the attacks of France.’ This barrier was to be
wmed by the cession of Furnes, Ypres, Menin, Lille, Tournay,
ondé, Valenciennes, and Maubeuge. France, terribly weakened
y a long series of defeats, was really anxious for peace; and,
iough she could not agree to such rigorous terms, made, through
ar ambassador, M. de Torcy, very liberal concessions. ‘M. de
‘orey,’ said Marlborough, ‘has offered so much, that I have no
oubt it will end in a good peace.’ That the Duke himself was
axious for the repose which his age and services had deserved,
is letters to the Duchess abundantly testify. ‘Everything goes
1 so well here,’ he wrote, ‘that there is no doubt of its ending
_ a good peace; but for some little time it must not be spoken

You must have in readiness the sideboard of plate, and you
ust let the Lord-Treasurer know, that since the Queen came to
ie crown, I have not had either a canopy or chair of state,
hich now, of necessity, I must have; so the wardrobe should
ave immediate orders; and I beg you will take care to have it
ade so as that it may serve for part of a bed when I have done
ith it here, which I hope will be by the end of this summer, so

1 See Coxe’s Life; Sir George Murray's Letters and Despatches ;
istory of Queen Anne’s Reign, etc.
280 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

that I may enjoy your dear company in quiet, which is the great-
est satisfaction I am capable of having.’

The Dutch, however, grew exorbitant in their demands when
they perceived an inclination to yield upon the part of France.
They required that the Austrian fortresses of Ghent and Dender-
monde should be included in their barrier against France. To
this both Eugene and Marlborough objected; and the Dutch,
in return, refused to insist upon the demolition of Dunkirk. The
moment seemed a favourable one to the French ambassador, M. de
Torcy, for attempting to bribe Marlborough to throw his vast
influence on the side of France. He was offered 2,000,000 livres
(L.80,000) if he secured Naples and Sicily, or, as an ultimatum,
Naples alone, for the grandson of Louis Quatorze; and 40,000,000
livres (160,000), if, in addition, he saved to France the for-
tresses of Landau, Dunkirk, and Strasburg. Marlborough, how-
ever, was proof against the bribe, and contemptuously put aside
the dishonourable proposition; while, at the same time, he
earnestly exhorted the French monarch to accept the terms
proffered by the allies, if he hoped to save his kingdom from
destruction.

The ultimatum of the allies was finally delivered to the Grand
Monarque by the pensionary Heinsius. Among other conditions,
it provided that the Duke of Anjou, his grandson, was to sur-
render the kingdoms of Spain and Sicily in two months, and that,
if he neglected to comply, Louis was to join the allies for his
expulsion. This was a stipulation which Marlborough highly
disapproved of, as insulting and dishonourable to the French
monarch, and calculated, therefore, to terminate the negotiation.
His views were correct. Louis at once refused to accept so de-
grading a condition. ‘IfI must continue the war,’ he said, ‘it
is better to contend with my enemies than my own family.’ He
addressed a vigorous manifesto to his subjects, detailing the con-
cessions he had been willing to make to obtain peace, and the
insulting terms which the allies were desirous of enforcing. The
national spirit was aroused. Soldiers, peasants, nobles, all felt
that one last effort must be made to preserve the honour of
France. Every sacrifice was willingly submitted to, every fresh
burthen cheerfully borne. And never does a nation assume a
TaN

COMMENCEMENT OF CAMPAIGN OF 1709. 281

nobler aspect than when it rises with one heart and soul to defend
its glories and assert its dignity.

The allied forces, at the commencement of the campaign of
1710, amounted to 110,000 men. The French, by vigorous exer-
tions, and calling out the entire reserve of the empire, had got
under arms nearly 115,000. Their command was entrusted by
Louis to the famous Marshal Villars, the most eminent of the
military chiefs of France. Marlborough had beaten Tallard,
Villeroy, Boufflers, Vendéme: it was hoped that French arms
would retrieve their honour under a new leader, who as yet had
not measured swords with the victor of Blenheim. The position
he took up was strong by nature, and doubly strong through art.
His right rested upon the canal of Douay ; his left upon Bethune
and its marshes; the village of La Bassée covered his centre; and
formidable redoubts and partial inundations protected the entire
line.

It was on the 23d of June that the allied commanders as-
sumed the direction of their forces. They divided the army into
two great divisions: the right, under Eugene, consisted of Im-
perialists and Germans; the left, under Marlborough, of British,
Dutch, and auxiliaries. It was Marlborough’s object to begin
the campaign with a general battle, or, by capturing Tournay,
to break through the formidable chain of barrier-fortresses which
still protected the borders of France. He commenced, there-
fore, by strong demonstrations against Villars’ encampment; but
finding an attack impracticable, on account of its surprising
strength, decided finally upon laying siege to Tournay. Eugene’s
division crossed the Lower Dyle below Lille, while Marlborough’s
crossed the Marque, and concentrated upon Lenze. The accu-
mulation of these masses in front of his position deceived Villars
into a belief that the allies had determined upon an attack, and
he accordingly drew reinforcements from Tournay and all the
other garrisons in his neighbourhood. But, on the evening of the
27th, Marlborough suddenly broke up his camp, reunited with
Eugene, and silently advanced part of the night in the enemy’s
direction; but about two in the morning, he ordered his troops
to form into two columns and wheel to the left, one advancing
upon Tournay, by way of Pont 4 Bovines, the other by Pont
282 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

a Tressin. By the following evening, so rapid and skilfully con-
ducted had been the movements of the allies, the investment of
Tournay was completed, while a portion of its garrison was in
Villars’ entrenchments, and the attack had been so little fore-
seen, that the town was ill supplied with provisions and forage.
Marlborough undertook the direction of the siege, and fixed his
headquarters at Villemeau. The covering army, under Prince
Eugene, extended from Pout & Tressin, on the Marque, to St
Amand, on the Scarpe.

Tournay,—to adopt Mr Coxe’s words,—which was thus ren-
dered the object of general solicitude, is most advantageously
situated on the frontier of France. Its circuit was large; the
interior walls were of ancient construction, but Vauban had
added some formidable advanced works; and the citadel, a re-
gular pentagon, was regarded by the great Condé as the most
perfect of its kind. It was additionally strengthened by a re-
markable series of mines and underground galleries, and by the
French was looked upon as almost impregnable ; so that Villars
wrote in his despatches,—‘ It is a great relief to me that the
enemy have fixed on the siege of Tournay, which ought to oc-
cupy the whole of the campaign.’?

The battering-train from Ghent did not arrive until the 10th
of July. The siege was then sustained with vigour, and the
allies gradually advanced their approaches. On the 27th, the
strong horn-work of the Gate of the Seven Fountains, near the
left bank of the Lower Scheldt, was carried by assault; and, on
the 29th, M. de Surville, the governor, despairing of relief, sur-
rendered the town. The remains of the garrison, 4000 in num-
ber, retired into the citadel, which was next invested. The dif-
ficulties which beset this operation were much greater than those
attending the siege of the town, for the garrison was fully ade-
quate to the defence of so small a circuit, and the underground
works were of immense strength and extent. Some delay was
caused by a proposal from the governor to surrender if not re-
lieved in one month’s time. Marlborough and Eugene assented,
and a messenger was despatched to Louis, at Versailles, to ob-

1 Mémoires de M. Villars, ii. 63.
THE SIEGE OF TOURNAY. 283

tain his consent; but the King refused, unless a cessation of
arms was made general throughout the whole of the Netherlands.
To this condition the allied commanders, in their turn, were un-
willing to accede.

The works, therefore, were vigorously prosecuted ; but from
the numerous mines and galleries which defended the citadel, and
the necessity of meeting them by counter-mines, the operations of
the siege became exceedingly distasteful to the allied soldiers.
Many of these, who bravely faced their foes in open fight, shrank
with evident horror from these subterraneous attacks, in which
they also contended with doubt and darkness. To encourage
and inspirit them, Marlborough and Eugene frequently visited
the trenches in person, and liberal rewards were bestowed upon
the intrepid and persevering. The miners, in carrying on their
works, often encountered the enemy, and sometimes, mistaking
friend for foe, would engage with their fellow-soldiers in deadly
combat. Explosions, at times, blew entire battalions into the
air; at others, the galleries were suddenly inundated, and hun-
dreds were drowned or suffocated. An officer, in command of a
small detachment, was ordered by Lord Albemarle to occupy a
lunette which had been captured from the enemy ; but was pri-
vately warned by the general, that the post was undermined, and
that the whole party would probably be blown up. He, never-
theless, proceeded to perform his duty: and having entered the
mine, served out wine and provisions to his men. Then he
pledged them,—‘ A health to those who die the death of the
brave!’ Soon afterwards the mine was sprung ; but the explo-
sion, happily, was unsuccessful, and the officer lived to be re-
warded for his courage.

At length, the spirit of the besieged quailed before the
energetic perseverance of the allies; and the citadel capitulated
on the 31st of August. On the 3d of September, the gates were
given up; and on the 5th, the garrison was conducted to Condé,
not to serve again until an equal number of prisoners taken from
the allies had been restored in exchange.

The road to Paris was now only protected by the strong-
holds of Mons and Valenciennes; and Marlborough, without
delay, resolved upon the attack of the former. Its defensive
284 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

strength was considerable; but the difficulty of the enterprise
was increased by the formidable lines which, during the siege of
Tournay, Villars had occupied his army in extending from
Douay, along the Scarpe, to the Scheldt, near Condé, and which
was garrisoned by 122 battalions of infantry. To attack that
portion of the lines which covered the Scheldt and Scarpe, was
impossible even for Marlborough’s soldiers, with any prospect
of success; but the confederate generals perceived that on the
Trouille they were less perfectly fortified; and they hoped,
therefore, by a combination of rapid movements, to force their
passage, invest Mons, and perhaps engage Villars in a pitched
battle.

On the 31st of August, Lord Orkney, with the grenadier
battalions and 20 squadrons of cavalry, was despatched to sur-
prise St Ghislain, and secure the passage of the Haine; but, on
his arrival at that river, he found it so strongly guarded, that he
contented himself with interrupting all communication across it.
The Prince of Hesse Cassel was ordered, September 3, with
4000 foot and 60 squadrons, to follow Lord Orkney ; but if he
found St Ghislain still occupied by the enemy, he was ordered to
wind round by Nuiry and Obourg, and force the weakly-guarded
defences of the Trouille. The Prince carried out his directions
with equal skill and vigour, and executed a march of 52 English
miles in 56 successive hours. At noon, on the 6th, he entered
the French lines of the Trouille, and displayed his forces along
its valley,—his right resting upon the plateau of Jemappes,
where, in 1792, Dumourier and the French Republicans defeated
the Duke of Brunswick and the allies. Thus, Marlborough had
succeeded in turning, without loss, the formidable lines con-
structed by Marshal Villars,—had passed Mons, and invested it
on the side of France.

The allied commanders had rapidly brought up their army
in the same direction, and joined the Prince at his headquarters,
at the Abbey of Belian. Both from Marlborough and Eugene
he received the compliments due to his energy, but replied, with
the modesty of true courage, ‘ The French have deprived me of
the glory due to such a compliment, since they have not even
waited my arrival.’ In fact, the superior skill and activity of
COMPOSITION OF THE FRENCH ARMY. 285

the allied generals had completely baffled the manceuvres of the
French marshal, whom Louis loved to call ‘ The Invincible.’

Villars could no longer mistake the object of Marlborough’s
movements, and now prepared to throw reinforcements into the
town, which was weakly garrisoned, or to compel the allies to
raise the siege, even at the risk of a battle. The enthusiasm of
the French had been raised to a high pitch by the arrival in
their camp, on the 7th, of Marshal Boufflers, who, although
senior in rank to Villars, had come to serve under him as a
volunteer.t They were sanguine of success; confident in the
genius of their leaders; animated by a spirit of patriotism ; and
unwearied by any previous operations. Never did an army enter
battle with fairer prospects of victory. ‘In its camp were col-
lected the choicest troops in the French service,—the Gardes du
Corps, mousquetaires, light horse, horse-grenadiers, and gens
darmes. Among the cavalry of the line were the Carbineers;
among the infantry, the French and Swiss Guards, the Bavarian
and Cologne Guards, and the Irish brigade. Villars was assisted
by the matured experience of Marshal Boufflers, and under him
served Lieutenaut-Generals D’Artagnan, Legal, Chemerault,
Puysegur, Guebriant ; Counts Villars, Albergotti, and Palavicini.
The names of St Hilaire and Tolard adorn the page of history
and the annals of science. With these were young Coigny, the
Duke de Guiche, and, let us add, the youthful Pretender, under
the name of the Chevalier de St George, combining the graces
of person with the valour hereditary in the Stuart race.’?

The allies, on the other hand, if weakened and fatigued by a
long siege and a succession of rapid marches, were encouraged
by the remembrance of a hundred victories, and reposed a just
confidence in the surpassing abilities of their great leaders. It
is true that they were drawn from different nations, and were
not, like the French, united by 2 common language and a com-
mon creed; but they were bound together by the ties of discipline,
and by the memories of battles and successes in which they had
taken part. Marlborough and Eugene were their leaders; and

 

1 As Lord Hardinge did under Lord Gough at Ferozepore and Sobraon,
and Outram under Havelock at Cawnpore.
2 Alison.
286 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

under them served lieutenants of heroic mould: the Princes of
Orange and Hesse Cassel, the daring Cadogan, the gallant
Lumley, Oxenstiern, and’ Stair, Ratzaty, Spaar, and Argyle.
And youthful but apt scholars in the art of war were the future
Marshal Saxe, Munich, and Schwerin.

The relative strength of the two hostile armies is thus com-
puted by the most reliable authorities :—

The Allies: under Marlborough and Eugene.

Battalions, 129
Squadrons, 252 In all, 93,000 men.
Guns, 105.

The French: under Villars and Boufflers.

Battalions, 130
Squadrons, 260 In all, 95,000 men.
Guns, 80.

The allies were superior in artillery, but the French had the
advantage in numerical force.

We must now cast a glance at the arena where these two
vast hosts were to contend for victory. A wooded plateau, of
considerable elevation, rising from 100 to 200 feet above the
rich meadows of the Trouille, and chequered by numerous water-
courses, lies between Mons, N.W.; Quivrain, S.W.; Bavay,
S.E.; and Givry, N.E. Near Malplaquet, which is situated on
the line of hills from Bavay to Givry, forming the eastern
boundary of this plateau, stretches a small heath, and south of
it the ground slopes rapidly towards the Hon, a much-winding
tributary of the Trouille. North of Malplaquet, several streams
flow through abrupt and well-wooded banks into the Trouille,
near Mons. Behind Malplaquet, that is, to the east, flourishes
the wood of Laniére, traversed by the famous old road, the
Chaussée Brunehault. In front of Malplaquet, that is, to the
west, expands the hilly and densely-wooded tract of the Forest of
Taisniére. Malplaquet, therefore, may be roughly described as
occupying a height between two woods, and as approachable
only by two defiles or glades, called, in local nomenclature,
Trouées,—the Trouée de la Louviere, on the west, and the
Trouée d’ Aulnoit, on the east. As Malplaquet was the key of
STRONG POSITION OF THE FRENCH. 287

the French position, these approaches—each of which, from the
nature of the ground, was easily defensible—naturally became
the object of eager contention. The French army, then, may be
considered as concentrated upon Malplaquet, guarding these
approaches, and extending its left along the skirts of the Forest
of Taisniére. The hilly and wooded ground, which stretches
‘across the plateau, from S.E. to N.W., from Bleron to Framieres,
was occupied by the allies, who thus covered the great road
from Mons to Bavay. Were they defeated, Mons, of course, was
rescued ; were the French repulsed, Mons must fall into Marl-
borough’s hands, and the road to France be left. unprotected.

Early in the morning of the 9th of August, Marlborough
and Eugene met at the Mill of Sart to reconnoitre the enemy’s
position, and some prisoners being taken in a cavalry skirmish,
discovered that the French army was in full march towards the
plain of Malplaquet, and that Villars himself was occupying the
woods of Lanicre and Taisniére. His headquarters were fixed
at Blaugnies, in the rear of his centre. At this time the out-
posts of the two armies were not more than a league and a half
apart ; and about two in the afternoon the allied left approached
so near to Villars’ right, that a smart cannonade commenced.
Marlborough and Eugene were, therefore, of opinion that the
attack should be made at once, though all their troops had not
yet come up; but the Dutch field-deputies overruled them, and
it was finally determined not to engage until the detachment from
Tournay was within reach. But, as the allied commanders had
foreseen, the time thus given to Villars he employed in surround-
ing his position with the most formidable entrenchments. The
wooded heights where his army was posted formed a semicircle
which completely brought the plain of Malplaquet under fire,
and bristled with redoubts and palisades, stockades and abattis.
Cross-batteries flanked the trouces, or approaches already alluded
to, in such a manner as to render them almost inaccessible. A
battery of 20 heavy guns crowned an eminence near the centre
of the plain, and other batteries were disposed at favourable
points, so that the position seemed impregnable, and was really
a masterpiece of military science.

The 9th and 10th were passed by the allies in patient expec-
288 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH,

tation of the reinforcement from Tournay. ‘ Meanwhile,’ says
Sir Archibald Alison, ‘ Marlborough and Eugene had repeatedly
recounoitred the enemy’s position, and were fully aware of its
growing strength. Despairing of openly forcing such formidable
lines, defended by an army so numerous and gallant, they re-
solved to combine their first attack with a powerful demonstra-
tion in rear. With this view, the rear-guard, of 19 battalions
and 10 squadrons, which was coming up from Tournay under
General Withers, received orders not to join the main body
of the army, but, stopping short at St Ghislain, to cross the
Haine there, and, traversing the wood of Blangris by a country
road, assail the extreme left of the enemy at the farm of La
Folie, when the combat had been seriously begun in the front.
Baron Schulemberg was to attack the wood of Taisniére with
40 of Eugene’s battalions, supported by 40 pieces of cannon,
so placed that their shot reached every part of the wood. To
distract the enemy’s attention, other attacks were directed along
the whole line; but the main effort was to be made by Eugene’s
corps on the wood of Taisniere ; and it was from the co-opera-
tion of the attack of Schulemberg on its flank that decisive
success was expected. All the corps had reached their respective
points of destination on the evening of the 10th. Schulemberg
was near La Folie; Eugene was grouped, in four lines, in front
of Taisniére; and the men lay down to sleep, anxiously awaiting
the dawn of the eventful morrow.’

A thick mist rested on the woods, and hung heavily and
chillily over the plains. At three in the morning, divine service
was solemnly performed in the camp of the allies, and the troops,
with silent regularity, advanced to their appointed stations.
They were well aware of the importance of the stake for which
they played, and of the desperate character of the conflict in
which they were about to become involved. They marched,
therefore, with solemn stateliness, like men who had undertaken
to discharge an important duty, sarcastically complaining, as
they came in view of the French defences, ‘We have again to
make war upon moles.’ The French, on the other hand, flew to
arms with lively alacrity, with shouts and snatches of song; for
they knew the strength of the fortifications which protected their
THE BATTLE OF MALPLAQUET. 289

position, and anticipated at last a victory over their often-vic-
torious foes which should repay them for long years of disaster.
When their commander mounted his horse, at seven in the
morning, they greeted him with cries of ‘Vive le Roi! Vive le
Maréchal de Villars!’ He took his post on the left, and, with
generous courtesy, entrusted to Marshal Boufflers the post of
honour on the right. As they rode along the ranks, the im-
petuous soldiery redoubled their joyous acclamations.?

It was about half-past seven in the morning that the sun
rose through the mists which swirled over the woody defiles of
Malplaquet, and enabled the gunners to point their ordnance
with precision. A roar of artillery then broke forth that literally
shook the earth. Not an angle of the plain but was searched
by the fatal balls. Under cover of this terrible cannonade,
Marlborough ordered up two dense columns of infantry, under
the Prince of Orange and Count Lottum, against the right and
centre of the French. After advancing a certain distance, the
Dutch, according to orders, halted, and formed in line out of
fire; while Lottum still pressed forward, and when close up with
the enemy, deployed in three lines, and directed his attack
against the wood of Taisniére, on the right. At the same time,
Schulemberg, with 40 battalions, covering the right flank of
Lottum’s column, advanced against the wood of Taisniére, zn
front; while Lord Orkney, with 15 battalions, covered Lottum’s
left, and poured his fire into the defences which protected the
Trouée de la Louviére. Meanwhile, three battalions, under
Gauvain, silently occupied the wood of Sart. Prince Eugene,
at this moment, joined Schulemberg’s battalions, and, advancing
with them, crossed several watercourses, and plunged into the
leafy depths of Taisnitre. They were within pistol-shot of the
enemy when they received his fire, and so terrible was the dis-
charge, that several battalions fell back upwards of 200 yards.
A fierce struggle ensued; and at length the French brigade,
under Charost, withdrew deeper into the wood, where it was

1 Dumont’s Military History, ii.; Lediard’s Life of Marlborough, ii. ;
Coxe’s Life, c. 72; Marlborough’s Letters and Despatches ; Kausler, 760-
792; Mémoire de M. Villars, ii. ; Alison’s Military Life, c. 5; Mémoires
de Fraquiéres ; Vie du Prince Eugene, ii., ete. @
290 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

met by Gauvain’s three battalions, and again brought to the
attack.

During this spirited conflict, Marlborough, in person, led up
D’Auvergne’s cavalry to Count Lottum’s support. His infantry
had coolly faced the hot fire of the French brigade Du Roi, waded
across a troublesome swamp, and reaching, unbroken, the foot of
their defences, swarmed with glittering steel upon the breastwork,
and for a moment had held it. Then Villars brought up a second
brigade in admirable order. Bayonets crossed, and the allies
were forced to yield. The Duke of Argyle now ordered some
fresh battalions to their support, and the cavalry charging with
dauntless resolution, a fresh effort was made against the enemy,
who retired in considerable disorder. Meanwhile, Withers had
executed, with celerity and success, the projected movement
against La Folie, in Villars’ rear, and, piercing the wood of
Taisniére on that side, completely outflanked him. Taken as it
were between a double fire, Villars was compelled to abandon his
first line of defences, and draw back in confusion upon his second.

We must now direct our attention to the movements of the
Prince of Orange, who had been ordered to pause for half an
hour, and then, supported by Withers and his infantry, to charge
the right flank of the French. The heat of the battle inflamed
the martial spirit of the young warrior. He waited with impa-
tience the passage of the appointed half hour, and then, though
Withers had not arrived, and without the consent of his superior,
Marshal Tilly, he ordered the trumpets to sound the advance.
The left, chiefly composed of the Scotch brigade, was led by
Major-General Hamilton and the Marquis of Tullibardine; the
Dutch, ou the right, by Spaar and Oxenstiern. The reserve, 21
squadrons, under the Prince of Hesse Cassel, was formed in two
lines, and preceded by its cannon. They moved forward with
irrepressible ardour, but were met by an awful storm of grape
and musketry. The gallant Oxenstiern fell dead by the Prince’s
side, and his aides-de-camp were either killed or wounded. . His
own horse was shot under him, but he then pressed forward
a-foot, and with a wild shout his men clambered up the breast-
work, and carried it at the point of the bayonet. But before
they could deploy, Marshal Boufflers hurled his fresh battalions
\

THE BATTLE OF MALPLAQUET. 291

é

upon their front; a powerful battery swept their flank; their
general, Spaar, was killed ; Hamilton severely wounded; they
lost their footing, and were driven out of the intrenchments. In
vain did the Prince of Orange seize a standard, and flinging him-
self before them, ery aloud, ‘ Follow me, follow me, my friends ;
here is your post.’ Invain did the gallant Tullibardine lead up
his faithful Highlanders to'the charge. The French defences
shone with an immense mass of deadly steel, and blazed with a
ceaseless rolling fire. The Prince was compelled to-retire his
men, with the loss of several colours, an advanced battery, and
2000 killed, and twice that number wounded. The French
poured out of their entrenchments with furious shouts, but were
gallantly met by the Prince of Hesse Cassel’s cavalry, and driven
back, after a brief but spirited struggle.

The Dutch deputy, Goslinga, who had mingled in the fight,
and displayed the most heroic valour, now hastened in search of
Marlborough, whom he met on his way from the successful attack
upon Taisniére. As the great general rode along, he perceived,
with mingled admiration and regret, the wounded Dutch and
Hanoverians returning from the hands of the surgeons, though
pale and bleeding, to take again their places in the ranks, and
support their gallant comrades. He was soon joined by Eugene.
The two chiefs brought up their reserves, and re-formed the dis-
ordered battalions of the Prince of Orange, to whom they endea-
voured to explain, that his attack upon the French right had
been only designed as a demonstration, and that the real brunt
of the battle was directed against their left. They were speedily
recalled to that quarter by the news that the French had there
renewed the attack. Villars had despatched messengers to
Bonfilers, requesting reinforcements from hisright. But Boufflers
being too closely pressed to spare them, the French marshal was
compelled to obtain the necessary support from his centre, which,
by this means, was seriously weakened. He had then led them
again upon the allied infantry, whom he drove back a consider-
able distance, and with whom he maintained a furious conflict.
Marlborough immediately detected the weakness of the enemy’s
centre, and directed against it Lord Orkney’s unbroken battalions,
supported by immense columns of cavalry. Withers, meanwhile
292 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

renewed, with great success, his attack upon the French rear at
La Folie. Villars hastened to his repulse, but was wounded
above the knee, and carried senseless off the field. Schulemberg’s
men were now led by Eugene to the charge upon their extreme
left. As the heroic Prince advanced, he was wounded in the
head. His attendants besought him to retire. ‘If Iam fated
to die here,’ he replied, ‘to what purpose dress the wound? If
I survive, it will be time enough in the evening.’ With blood-
bedabbled face he again pressed forward, and his soldiers, inspired
by an example so glorious, flung themselves upon their foes with
such desperate impetuosity, that the works were carried at the
first rush, and the depths of the wood blazed with their fatal
bayonets.

The attack upon the French centre was neither less desperate
nor less successful. Lord Orkney’s men advanced in one line,
and immediately took possession of all the redans. The great
central 40-gun battery of the allies was brought up, and a can-
nonade of grape poured into the confused masses of the enemy,
which did fearful execution. Then the cavalry rode up at the
gallop, and plunged among the disordered troops. Boufflers saw
that the battle was lost, and at once prepared to effect a secure
retreat. Bringing up the household cavalry of France, its best
and bravest troops, he addressed them in a short but stirring
speech, and led them, 2000 in number, to the charge. With a
fearful rush, that splendid body fell upon the allies, already wea-
tied by their arduous services. They broke through the cavalry
as a storm crashes through the pine-wood, and rode with brilliant
valour against Lord Orkney’s infantry. But here they were
checked by a swift and steady fire; and soon the horsemen of
Prince Eugene arrived upon the spot; and back, far back into
the rear of the French position, rolled the waves of the resistless
battle. The Prince of Orange and the Prince of Hesse Cassel
seized the movement to fling their whole strength against the
French right. They carried the entrenchments, and with a tre-
mendous shout broke in upon the retreating foe. There was no
more to be done. Boufflers, without delay, formed his broken
troops into three great columns, and covering their rear with his
cavalry, retired upon Bavai. The allies were so wearied with
RESULTS OF THE BATTLE OF MALPLAQUET. 293

the long-drawn fight, and weakened by their losses, that they
suffered him to continue his retreat without molestation, and took
up their quarters on the plain of Malplaquet, which had been so
bloodily won. The French crossed the Honeau in tolerable order,
and reunited at a camp between Quesnoy and Valenciennes,
twelve miles from the field of battle. But had Marlborough’s
Tequests, at the commencement of the campaign, been complied
with, and his forces augmented by an additional 10,000 men,
Malplaquet would have been as fatal to the French as Blenheim
or Ramillies.

Considering the strength of the French fortifications, and the
formidable advantages of their position, it is not to be wondered
at that the allies, though victorious, suffered the severest loss.
In the infantry alone, 5544 were killed, and 12,706 wounded or
missing —making a total of 18,250 put hors de combat. Among
these were 286 officers killed, and 762 wounded. Including the
cavalry, the total loss of the allies cannot be estimated at less
than 20,000.1 The French estimated their own loss at from
6000 to 8000; but from a comparison of various authorities,
it may more correctly be placed at 14,000. Not above 500
prisoners were made, but 3000 wounded were left on the field,
whom Marlborough proposed to Villars to remove to the French
quarters, on condition that they should be considered prisoners
of war.

This sanguinary battle was attended with small results ; for
the capture of Mons (October 26th) concluded the campaign, and
both armies gladly retired into winter-quarters. Yet as a dis-
play, both of valour on the part of the troops, and of conduct on
the part of the generals, it is almost unequalled, and the victory
was entirely due to the astonishing ‘solidarity’ of the allied
soldiers, and the consummate ability of their commander. It
was the more remarkable from the wonderful courage and in-
trepidity with which the French fought,—a courage and an
intrepidity worthy of their national fame. ‘The Eugenes and

1'The comparative loss at Waterloo was, however, greater. Out of
69,686 men (Wellington’s force), 22,469 were killed and wounded, or
nearly one in three. At Talavera, the loss was one in four; at Malpla-
quet, one in five.
294 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Marlboroughs,’ wrote a French officer of distinction,! ‘ ought to
be well satisfied with us during that day; since till then they had
not met with a resistance worthy of them. They may say, with
justice, that nothing can stand before them; and, indeed, what
shall be able to stem the rapid course of these two heroes, if an
army of 100,000 of the best troops, posted between two woods
trebly entrenched, and performing their duty as well as any brave
men could do, were not able to stop them one day? Will you
not then own with me, that they surpass all the heroes of former
ages?’

The slaughter, however, which had marked the day of
Malplaquet affected Marlborough himself with profound regret.
‘JT am so tired,’ he wrote to the Duchess, after the battle, ‘ that
IT have but strength enough to tell you that we have had this day
a very bloody battle; the first part of the day we beat their foot,
and afterwards their horse. God Almighty be praised, it is now
in our power to have what peace we please, and I may be pretty
well assured of never being in another battle; but that, nor
nothing in this world, can make me happy if you are not kind.’
To Godolphin he wrote of it as ‘a very murdering battle.’ In
England it afforded his enemies a fresh source of calumny; and
Harley, whose influence over the Queen had rapidly increased,
did not hesitate to decry it as ‘wanton carnage.’ It was even
insinuated that he had simply fought it in the hope that a fresh
victory would restore his declining popularity, and had pur-
posely exposed his officers’ lives that he might fill his purse by
the sale of their commissions. An imprudent step of his own
lent greater vigour to these hostile attacks. Recognising the
rapid decline of his power at court, and apprehending that the
approaching triumph of the Tories would be signalized by his
immediate dismissal from his command, he took the unconstitu-
tional step of soliciting from the Queen a patent, constituting
him Captain-General for life. In vain his own friends, and
especially the Lord Chancellor Cowper, advised him that such
an appointment was new and unprecedented; he persisted in his
application, and had the mortification of receiving a decided re-

1 Quoted by Coxe, chap. 72.
RECEIVES THE THANKS OF PARLIAMENT. 295

fusal. The Queen, already afraid of his power, now trembled
at his ambition; and her indignation was still further excited
by ‘the querulous letter’ which, in the heat of disappointment,
he addressed to her, reproaching her for disregard of his ser-
vices, and complaining of the favour with which she treated
Mrs Masham.

On his return to England, however, the political horizon
became less clouded. He received the thanks of both Houses of
Parliament ; and the Lord Chancellor, in addressing him on
behalf of the Peers, was especially eulogistic:—‘I am com-
manded by the Lords,’ he said, ‘to give your Grace the thanks
of this House, for your continued and eminent services to her
Majesty and the public during the last campaign, of which
nothing greater can be said, than what her Majesty (who always
speaks with the utmost certainty and exactness) has declared
from the throne, that it has been, at least, as glorious as any
which have preceded it. But this repetition of the thanks of
this august assembly has this advantage over the former, that
it must be looked upon as added to, and standing on, the foun-
dations already laid in the records of this House, for preserving
your memory fresh to all future times; so that your Grace has
also the satisfaction of seeing this everlasting monument of your
glory rise every year much higher. I conclude with wishing
that God may continue in a wonderful manner to preserve so in-
valuable a life; and that you may not only add to that structure,
but finish all with the beauties and ornaments of a lasting peace.’
Liberal supplies for the prosecution of the ensuing campaign,
and an augmentation of the British forces on the Continent,
were also voted by the Commons.

But ‘the hollowness of the base’ was apparent to Marl-
borough himself; and he felt that the power which he had so long
exercised was slipping from his grasp. So many mottifications
were heaped upon him at court,—even to an interference with his
military patronage by the appointment of Colonel Hill, brother
of the detested Mrs Masham, to the command of a vacant regi-
ment,—that he determined to forward a letter to the Queen,
insisting upon Mrs Masham’s dismissal, or his own. This bold
step, which might, perhaps, have replaced him in power, as the
296 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

Queen could not, at that time, have dispensed with his services,
was overruled by the timidity of Godolphin and the pusillanimity
of Lord Somers. They felt that the stability of their administra-
tion depended upon the great general’s continuance in office, and
succeeded in patching up a temporary peace between him and
the Queen. Anne no longer insisted upon Colonel Hill’s ap-
pointment; and the Duke withdrew his threat of resignation.
The victory, however, was evidently with the Queen; and, from
that moment, Marlborough’s fall became but an affair of days.
His departure for the Continent was expedited, that he might
no longer be a check upon the designs of the court party, though
the Queen, in announcing to Parliament her intention of imme-
diately despatching him to Holland, concealed her real object by
a courtly compliment: ‘I shall always esteem him,’ she said,
‘the chief instrument of my glory, and of my people’s happi-
ness.’

§. 9. Campaign of 1710.—Passage of the French Lines.

Marlborough arrived at the Hague on the 18th of March
1710, to find himself implicated in negotiations which, from the
rigorous terms insisted upon by the allies, and the prudent ob-
stinacy of Louis, were evidently destined to have no successful
result. He was now 60; and seven years of unremitting exertion,
added to the mortification he experienced from his treatment by
the English court, had predisposed him to long for rest. He saw
that the French were not sincere in their negotiations, and he
resolved, therefore, upon a vigorous resumption of hostilities, in
order to compel them to make peace. ‘I am very sorry to tell
you,’ he wrote to the Duchess, ‘that the behaviour of the French
looks as if they had no other desire than that of carrying on the
war. I hope God will bless this campaign, for I see nothing
else that can give us peace either at home or abroad. JI am so
discouraged by everything I see, that I have never, during this
war, gone into the field with so heavy a heart as at this time.’

Eugene and Marlborough met at Tournay on the 28th of
April, and decided upon their plan of operations; namely, to
reduce the few strongholds which still defended the frontiers of
France, and then to pour their masses upon Paris. Douay was
CAMPAIGN OF 1710. 297

selected to receive the first shock of the allied arms. Its forti-
fications, both by nature and art, were of considerable strength.
But it was further protected by the French lines, which were
guarded by Marshal Montesquieu and 20,000 men. Marl-
borough determined on an immediate attack, before the enemy
could assemble larger forces. The Prince of Wurtemberg and
15,000 men marched by way of Pont & Tressin upon Pont &
Vendin, and there effected a passage across the Dyle, without
resistance; while Count Fels traversed the canal of Douay at
Saub and Couriéres, with insignificant loss. The whole army
followed in four columns, the right under Eugene, and the left
under Marlborough, reuniting in the rear of the French defences,
and compelling Montesquieu to retire in haste behind the Scarpe,
in the neighbourhood of Vitry. The next day (April 24), Marl-
borough again advanced, and the French withdrew upon the
Seuzet. The investment of Douay was then commenced, and
the lines of circumvallation, begun on the 20th, were completed
on the 28th.

Douay was a stronghold of importance in the second line of
defence which covered Artois. It embraced a larger circuit,
though it was less populous, than Lille. A wide plain, watered
by the Scarpe, surrounded it. In the rainy season the river over-
flowed, and inundated the plain until it became an almost impass-
able morass. Between the river Scarpe and the canal stood a
fort of great strength, Fort Scarpe, which completely covered
the principal approach. The garrison consisted of 8000 men,
under the Marquis Albergotti. The engineering operations were
directed by the famous Valory, and the artillery were under the
command of the Chevalier de Vancourt. A desperate resistance
was, therefore, apprehended by the allies, and hoped for by the
French.

The trenches were opened on the 5th of May. On the night
of the 7th, a sortie was made by 1200 men, in which two English
regiments were nearly cut to pieces. On the 11th, the batteries
were fully armed, moved up to the covered way, and directed
against the ramparts with equal skill and effect. Marshal
Villars accordingly received orders to march to the relief of the
endangered stronghold; and as his army numbered nearly
298 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

100,000 men, while that of the allies did not exceed 80,000, a
battle and a victory were impatiently expected.

On the 20th of May, Villars assembled his army at Cambray ;
and on the 30th, after various manceuvres, intended to mislead
the allies, he traversed the Scarpe, and encamped on the plain of
Lens, with the view of throwing reinforcements into beleaguered
Douay. The allied commanders were ready to receive him. To
30 battalions was committed the prosecution of the siege; 12
squadrons were posted at Pont 4 Rache ; numerous bridges were
thrown over the Upper Scarpe; and the army, crossing that
river, collected between Vitry aud Pont & Vendin. Entrench-
ments were here constructed of remarkable strength. All the
guns were mounted on batteries 400 paces distant from each
other. The infantry was posted in a single line along the
encampment, and the cavalry by brigades, in two lines, 700
paces behind. Villars, on the 1st of June, reconnoitred the
position, but found it little to his liking; and, after manceuvring
for four days in front of the allies, fell back without any attempt
at fighting. Marlborough’s feelings at this time are vividly ex-
pressed in his letter to Lord Godolphin:

‘You will have seen,’ he writes, ‘that the Marshal de Villars
has not been able to keep his word to the King of France, in
giving a battle. Iftheir resolution holds of venturing one, this
country being all plains, it must be very decisive. I long for an
end of the war, so God’s will be done. Whatever the event may
be, I shall have nothing to reproach myself, having with all
my heart done my duty, and being hitherto blessed with more
success than was ever known before. My wishes and duty are
the same; but I can’t say that I have the same sanguine pro-
phetic spirit I did use to have; for in all the former actions I
did never doubt of success, we having had constantly the great
blessing of being of one mind. I cannot say that it is so now;
for I fear some are run so far into villanous faction, that it
would give us more content to see them beaten; but if I live, I
will be watchful that it shall not be in their power to do much
hurt. The discourse of the Duke of Argyle is, that when I
please there will then be peace. I suppose his friends speak the
same language in England; so that I must every summer venture
OVERTHROW OF THE WHIG ADMINISTRATION. 299

my life ina battle, and be found fault with in winter for not bring-
ing home peace. No, I wish for it with all my heart and soul.’
Douay, obtaining no relief from the manceuvres of Marshal
Villars, capitulated on the 26th of June, after a gallant re-
sistance, which had reduced its garrison to 4500 men. Arras,
‘ the Jast of the triple line of fortresses which on that side covered
France, and between which and Paris no fortified place remained
to arrest the march of an invader,’ became next the object of
the allies. Eugene and Marlborough, at the head of 90,000
men, directed their formidable battle towards it; but were
checked by the bristling entrenchments rapidly and skilfully
constructed by Villars, on a line stretching from Arras to the
Somme ; entrenchments which nearly 100,000 sabres and bayonets
defended, and 130 pieces of cannon armed. Compelled to turn
aside from the direct route to Paris,—for it was impossible to
lay siege to Arras with such an enemy on their flank,—the two
generals suddenly wheeled round towards the coast, and invested
the strong town of Bethune. It was defended by a garrison of
8000 men, and governed by a skilful officer.—Puy Vauban, a
nephew of the great engineer,—but was scantily supplied with
provisions. It surrendered to the allies on the 28th of August.
During the siege, Villars had broken up his cantonments at
Arras, and by an able series of movements concentrated his
forces upon Avesnes le Comte, where he raised a line of works
of no less strength than those which had already defeated the
advance of the allies. Thus he had again erected a protection
for his country, when its last defences were nearly swept away.
‘By simply holding them, the interior of France was covered
from incursion; time was gained not only for raising fresh arma-
ments in the interior for its defence, but, what was of more
importance to Louis, for waiting the issue of the intrigues in
England, which were soon expected to overthrow the Whig
cabinet.’! These intrigues, indeed, were on the point of success.
As M. de Torcy, the French ambassador, declared, ‘ What
the French lost in Flanders, they gained in England.’ The
Jacobite, or ‘peace-at-any-price party,’ had at last succeeded

Alison.
300 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

in overthrowing the renowned administration of which Godol-
phin had so long been the ornament, and Marlborough the
powerful support. Harley and St John (Bolingbroke) had
attained office and influence, and the effect of the change upon
the conduct of the war soon became apparent. It sensibly af-
fected the energies of England’s hero, who could not but feel that,
in attempting a hazardous enterprise, he ran the risk of ruin from
the slightest failure. ‘I am of opinion,’ he wrote to Godolphin
(August 11, 1710), ‘that, after the siege of Aire, I shall have it
in my power to attack Calais. This is a conquest which would
very much prejudice France, and ought to have a good effect
for the Queen’s service in England; but I see so much malice
levelled at me, that I am afraid it is not safe for me to make any
proposition, lest, if it should not succeed, my enemies should
turn it to my disadvantage.’

The siege of Aire was commenced simultaneously with that
of St Venant on the 6th of September. Venant was garrisoned
by 2700 men; Aire, a far stronger fortress, by 8000, under the
Count de Guebriant. Both places were of importance, as cover-
ing the road to Calais ; and both were defended by inundations,~
which the rain-swollen Lys abundantly supplied. Aire was sur-
rounded by ditches, half-moons, horn-works, and bastions. St
Venant capitulated on the 29th. Aire held out more stoutly,
and the progress of the allies was much retarded by the loss of a
convoy of ammunition from Ghent,—the first disaster which
Marlborough had experienced for nine years. To abandon the
siege, however, was impossible, though the besiegers worked up
to their knees in the trenches in mud and water. The cannon
could not be drawn from the batteries: so the allies fought on,
under every disadvantage, and had the satisfaction of finding
their indefatigability rewarded by success. The town capitu-
lated on the 12th of November, when the garrison was reduced
to 8428, and the sick and wounded in the town numbered 1600.
The loss of the allies was not far short of 7000 killed and
wounded, exclusive of the sick.

Thus, in one campaign, Marlborough had captured four im-
portant fortresses, with garrisons amounting to 30,000 men.
The English public, however, missed the éclat of a great victory,
LIBELS AGAINST HIS CHARACTER AND CONDUCT. 301

and, wearying of the war and the heavy burthens which it entailed,
grew clamorous for peace. Amongst the leading members of
the party for which he had sacrificed so much, he was met by
unworthy jealousies and an unreasonable distrust. The Tories,
indeed, were anxious to enlist his name and influence on their
side; but he refused to apostatize. Neither promises of place
could cajole, nor threats of impeachment terrify, him into an
abandonment of Whig principles.

The storm, therefore, that was ready to burst over the hero’s
head, arose in many quarters, and menaced his utter ruin. Par-
liament was dissolved on the 25th of November. The elections
for the new Parliament showed a great majority against the
war-party ; and, on the Duke’s return to England, the Queen
informed him that her ministers would certainly oppose his
friends if they should move a vote of thanks for the late cam-
paign. Three officers were deprived of their commissions for
drinking his health. Libels against his conduct, his courage,
his capacity,—coarse invectives against the Duchess,—issued
daily from the press, unchecked, or rather encouraged, by the
ministry. It was thus that England rewarded the great soldier
who had crowned her standards with laurels on so many victo-
rious fields, and bridled the lust of France for unbounded empire.
It was thus that she recompensed the statesman who had sup-
ported, almost unaided, the Grand Alliance, and out-manceuvred
the keenest diplomatists of Europe. The biographer can only
regret that Marlborough’s love of power induced him to cling so
long to office; that he did not retire while he might have retired
with dignity ; that the hero of Blenheim humiliated himself by
back-stair intrigues, for the preservation of a position which he
could not hold with honour. To every great man, however,
some failings must be allowed. They are the links which bind
him to our common humanity. We should be dazzled into a
dangerous blindness by Marlborough’s serene courage and won-
derful capacity, were it not for the dark spots upon his renown,
which arose from his greed of gold and love of power.

On the Duchess’ resignation of the positions she had held so
long, as Keeper of the Privy Purse and Mistress of the Robes,
the Duke at first desired to throw up his commands and retire
302 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

into private life. But his resolve was soon shaken by the coun-
sels of Godolphin and the Whigs,—by the influence of Prince
Heinsius and Prince Hugene,—and perhaps by his own secret
inclinations. For Marlborough’s fame, we regret that he yielded.
Libelled, mortified, and ridiculed, he should have courted the
dignity of privacy, until his country was again prepared to do
justice to his services. But, however bitter may have been the
indignation or contempt that seethed in his heart, the hero’s
countenance was as impassible, and his address as graceful, as in
the flush of his power and prosperity. ‘ Notwithstanding,’ says
Archdeacon Coxe, ‘ his multiplied causes of disgust and disquie-
tude, he took leave of the Queen with every testimony of respect
and duty, and of the ministers with every external mark of
courtesy and complacency.’

§ 10. Campaign of 1711.—Second Passage of the French Lines.

The Duke arrived at the Hague on the 4th of March. The
position he now occupied was, however, very different from his
former influential and potent office. He was no longer the sol-
dier and the statesman, the general and the diplomatist, who
conducted negotiations with the enemy, or planned the military
operations for his discomfiture. It was only through secret
channels that he obtained any knowledge of those clandestine
communications with the French court which the Tory admini-
stration had already commenced, and which were destined to rob
England and her allies of all the fruits of their hundred victories.
He possessed neither the regard of the Queen, nor the confidence
of the Government. Nor could he hope for compensation in the
favour of his countrymen, with whom the keenest wits of England
had done their utmost to render him unpopular and suspected.

His military operations, however, lacked none of his wonted
vigour, and in this, his last campaign, his genius as a general
shone out with undiminished brilliancy. THis effective force in
the field amounted to 80,000 men; but he had ‘lost a host’ in
Prince Eugene, whom the new Emperor of Austria, Charles VI,
recalled to Ratisbon to assume the command of the army of the
empire. He took the field on the 1st of May, and collected his
masses in the vicinity of Douay. Villars immediately concen-
CAMPAIGN OF 1711. 303

trated all his disposable force between Bouchain and Moncy Le
Preux. The latter part of the preceding campaign, and the
whole of the winter, had been employed by this great leader in
constructing a line of defence of consummate art, which he styled,
with justifiable exultation, Marlborough’s ‘ne plus ultra.’ It
stretched from Namur, on the Meuse, to the coast of Picardy.
Running along the swamps of the Canche, it rested upon the
posts of Montreuil, Hesdin, and Frevent, while it was protected
in front by the famous fortresses of Ypres, Calais, Gravelines,
and St Omer, from whose walls still fluttered the fleur-de-lis. A
series of redans crossed the plain which extends between the
Canche and the Gy. The Gy to its junction with the Scarpe,
and the Scarpe as far as Biache, were cunningly dammed up so
as to cause inundationus, and further defended by outworks and
tétes-de-pont. Every elevation bristled with a battery; every
open space was covered with formidable redoubts. From the
Scarpe to Bouchain, and thence to Valenciennes, ran these won- |
derful works. From Valenciennes swept a series of entrench-
ments to the Sambre, supported by Quesnoi and Landrecies ; and
along the Sambre, Maubeuge and Charleroi completed the line
of defence as far as Namur. The force collected behind these
works was not less than 156 battalions and 227 squadrons,—
that is, 70,000 infantry, and 20,000 horse. The artillery in-
cluded ninety heavy guns and twelve howitzers. In the fortresses
were detached thirty-five battalions and eighty squadrons.

Villars, as we have said, collected all his disposable troops in
an immense mass between Bouchain on the right, and Moncy Le
Preux—a position which he not unreasonably considered im-
pregnable. It formed a concave semicircle; and the flanks, or
horns, were supported by two strong fortresses. But Marl-
borough was not disposed to hurl his troops at such a line of
fire and steel. He was contemplating a grand design, a masterly
enterprise, by which he hoped to neutralize all the enemy’s
defences, and reduce him to the necessity of fighting a decisive
battle, or losing his last frontier-fortresses.’

On the 23d of May was celebrated the anniversary of the

1 Alison.
304 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

victory of Ramillies, and the Duke’s festivities were graced by
the presence of Prince Eugene, whom he still hoped to have at
his side as his friend and colleague. They decided together the
plan of the campaign, but were not allowed to carry it out to-
gether. Early in June, the Prince was directed to lead his forces
to the Rhine to oppose a threatened movement of the French; and
on the 13th, he separated from Marlborough, ‘ with the deep-
est sentiments of regret and anxious forebodings for the future.’
On the following day, the English commander, with his army
divided into six columns, and numbering about 75,000 men,
moved to the right, debouched on the open plain of Lens, and
offered battle to Villars. The French marshal was anxious to
measure swords with his great opponent; but Louis sent him
positive instructions not to fight, relying with justice on the rapid
rise of the peace party in England for a speedy and profitable
conclusion of the war. Marlborough, therefore, resolved to
break through the French lines, and beleaguer Bouchain; and
the manner in which he accomplished this brilliant achievement
would alone have stamped him as a general of the highest genius,
had he never won at Blenheim, or captured Lille. The army was
then to winter on the French frontier; and being rejoined by the
Imperialists in the spring, to anticipate the enemy in the field.
From these operations the fall of Arras or Cambray was ex-
pected ; and the allied armies, no longer impeded by any fortress,
might pierce into the heart of France, and dictate terms of peace
under the walls of Paris.

During his encampment at Lewarde, in front of Villars, the
Duke had observed that a small triangular nook of ground, lying
between Cambray, Aubanchail, and the junction of the Scheldt
and Sauzet, could easily be converted into a strong position,
defensible by a small force. He decided upon making it the
starting-point from whence to effect the passage of the French
lines. A redoubt at Aubigny was accordingly carried by storm,
and Arleux, by a night surprise, was taken, with 120 prisoners.
Villars, alarmed that a fortified post so close to his lines, and one
which Marlborough had feigned to value highly, should be oc-

* Lediard.
MANCUVRES BEFORE THE FRENCH LINES. 305

cupied by the allies, resolved to attempt its recapture (July 9th) ;
and though he was unsuccessful in the attack, he captured 200
prisoners. The English commander pretended that he was sorely
annoyed by this check to his arms, though, indeed, it had been
his object to fix the attention of the Marshal upon Arleux.
Having succeeded, he now moved upon his right towards Bethune,
which induced a parallel movement on the part of the French ;
while a detachment, under Marshal Montesquiou, attacked Arleux
on the 23d, took it by storm, and captured 500 prisoners.

At this second disaster, the Duke affected still greater morti-
fication, and gave out everywhere that he would revenge the
insult by an attack on the enemy at all hazards. He shut him-
self up in his tent, and appeared overwhelmed with spleen and
moroseness. Villars felt so confident of his success over his for-
midable opponent, that he addressed an exultant letter to Louis
XIV., boasting that at last he had brought Marlborough to his
ne plus ultra. Meanwhile, the English general despatched all his
baggage to Douay, and his artillery to the rear, and with the
utmost secrecy brought up from Lille supplies of bread for his
whole army for six days. ‘Thus disencumbered, he raised his
camp at four in the morning of the Ist of August, and marched
in eight columns to the front. The next three days were con-
sumed in various manceuvres, which all tended to induce in the
enemy a belief that an attack upon their lines was contemplated,
and compelled Villars to concentrate his masses opposite the
allies. The French, confident in the strength of their entrench-
ments, exultingly looked forward to an easy victory, which should
retrieve the disgrace of seven unsuccessful campaigns. The allied
soldiers, on the other hand, while relying on the genius of their
chief, could not but fear that the mortifications he had experienced
were driving him to an act of madness, in an attack upon a
superior force, defended by formidable entrenchments, and well
supplied with heavy ordnance. But these were the feelings that
Marlborough had wished to excite; and now, judging that his
opportunity had arrived, at dusk on the 4th he ordered the
drums to beat, and before their ruffle had ceased, issued direc-
tions along his whole line to strike the tents. Cadogan, with 40
hussars, had already left the camp, and galloped to meet 23

U
306 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

battalions and 17 squadrons, drawn from Lille, Tournay, and
other garrisons in the rear; and with these, continuing his march
all night, he crossed the French lines at Aubancheeil, about three
in the morning, without molestation.

A little before nine, the allied main army defiled to the left in
four columns, and pushed rapidly forward through the woods of
Villers, Neuville, and Gaverelle. About five o’clock they reached
the bank of the Scarpe, near Vitry, where they found pontoons
already prepared for their passage. Here, too, they were joined
by the field-artillery. Tidings now arrived of Cadogan’s success-
ful movement, and Marlborough immediately ordered the whole
of his troops to move forward with all imaginable rapidity; and
they, comprehending the brilliant manceuvre by which their leader
had deceived the enemy, advanced with a wonderful degree of
ardour and enthusiasm. By ten o’clock the next morning the
entire army had passed the French lines at Aubancheeil, without
firing a single shot, having marched thirty-six miles in sixteen
hours, over a country of considerable difficulty. And before
evening, on the 5th, the allied forces were concentrated in the
plain which extends from Oisg to Abancourt, towards the Scheldt.

Villars had received intelligence of Marlborough’s march at
eleven at night, but was utterly at a loss to comprehend the object
of so sudden a movement. Anticipating an attack upon some
part of his lines, he kept his troops under arms, in readiness for
marching. About two in the morning, receiving further intelli-
gence, he put himself at the head of the household troops, and,
ordering his infantry to follow without delay, pushed on at full
speed. He soon outstripped his cavalry, and, with an escort of
scarce one hundred horsemen, rode into the defile of Saulchy,
where he was nearly surrounded and made prisoner by the allied
outposts. His forces gradually coming up, he halted them in the
rear of the defile; and on the morning of the 6th, turned off the
great road towards Bourlon, and drew up his troops in order of
battle, under cover of the fortress of Cambray, in the hope ot
tempting Marlborough into a general engagement.

The splendid manceuvre by which the English general had so
completely foiled the French ne plus ultra, and without firing a
shot turned their strong lines of defence, excited the admiration
BESIEGES AND TAKES BOUCHAIN. 307

of all Europe; and even his detractors were forced to acknow-
ledge the brilliancy of the achievement. His loyal friend, Prince
Eugene, hastened to offer his congratulations. Bolingbroke
wrote in a strain of candid eulogy :—‘ My Lord Stair opened to
us the general steps which your Grace intended to take, in order
to pass the lines in one part or another. It was, however, hard
to imagine, and too much to hope, that a plan, which consisted
of so many parts, wherein so many different corps were to co-
operate personally together, should entirely succeed, and no one
article fail of what your Grace had projected. I most heartily
congratulate your Grace on this great event, of which I think
no more needs be said, than that you have obtained, without
losing a man, such an advantage as we should have been glad to
have purchased with the loss of several thousand lives”? And
again :—‘J look upon the progress which the Duke of Marl-
borough has lately made to he really honourable to him, and
mortifying to the enemy. The event cannot be ascribed to
superior numbers, or to any accident; it is owing to genius and
conduct.’

Marlborough next, by an admirable movement, baffled the
enemy in his design of crossing the Scheldt, and commenced the
sieve of Bouchain,—an enterprise of exceeding difficulty, ‘as it
was to be accomplished amidst local obstacles of no ordinary kind,
and in face of an army superior in force.’ The investment was
commenced on the 7th, and the siege, despite of numerous bold
attempts by Villars to interrupt it, was prosecuted with the
utmost vigour. The trenches were opened on the 21st. On the
12th of September the allies had been so successful in their ap-
proaches, that the governor agreed to capitulate, and the garri-
son, still 3100 strong, surrendered as prisoners of war. The two
armies remained in their respective positions: the allies in their
lines, supported by Bouchain; the French under cover of ‘the
guns of Cambray. The estates of the great Féndlon, the illus-
trious Archbishop of Cambray, lying exposed to the incursions ot
the allied troops, Marlborough afforded a signal proof of his
courteous respect for men of piety and virtue, by posting a de-

* Marlborough Despatches, v.
308 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

tachment of his troops for their protection, and to escort the
convoys of grain which passed from thence to the Archbishop’s
residence in Cambray. So,

‘The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground.’—MI.ton.

Marlborough’s long career of victories was now rapidly ap-
proaching its termination. While he was engaged in vigorous
preparations for the prosecution of the campaign, the English
ministers were clandestinely negotiating terms of peace with the
French cabinet; and on the 27th of September, the preliminaries,
afterwards developed in the famous treaty of Utrecht, were signed
by the representatives of France and England. That treaty
has been loaded by historians with an opprobrium which we
think undeserved, while we fully agree in condemning the decep-
tion, the falsehood, and the treachery with which its conclusion
was accompanied. It acknowledged the title of Queen Anne,
and the Protestant Succession to the English throne; it provided
a sufficient barrier for Holland, Austria, and Germany ; it se-
cured the demolition of Dunkirk; but it did not provide against
the union of Spain and France under the crown of the Bour-
bons. But the dangers to be apprehended from the latter event
were at least chimerical, while the substantial advantages to be
gained from peace were evident. Spain had never shown a
disposition to become the vassal or dependant of France; while,
on the other hand, England was weary of a war in which she
appeared to have no direct interest, and which had cost her so
much both in blood and treasure. At all events, whatever the
opinion which posterity may have passed upon this celebrated
treaty, there can be no doubt but that to the vast majority of
the nation it was highly acceptable.

After dismissing his army into winter-quarters, Marlborough
returned to Greenwich, and on the 17th of November landed at
Greenwich. A storm of obloquy was immediately poured upon
him. Ministers, in the Queen’s speech, introduced the shameful
insinuation, ‘I am glad to tell you that, notwithstanding the
arts of those who delight in war, both place and time are ap-
HIS DEFENSIVE SPEECH IN THE HOUSE OF LorDS. 309

pointed for opening the treaty of a general peace.’ In the
debates which followed, Lord Anglesea declared that the
country might have enjoyed the blessing of peace soon after the
battle of Ramillies, if it had not been deferred by some persons
whose interest it was to prolong the war. At this direct attack,
the Duke rose, and, bowing towards the throne where the Queen
was seated, replied with dignified ardour, and in words whose
sincerity we see no reason for questioning :—

‘I appeal to the Queen,’ he said, ‘ whether I did not con-
stantly, while I was plenipotentiary, give her Majesty and her
Council an account of all the propositions that were made; and
whether I did not desire instructions for my conduct on this
subject. I can declare, with a good conscience, in the presence
of her Majesty, of this illustrious assembly, and of God Himself,
who is infinitely superior to all the powers of this earth, and
before whom, by the ordinary course of nature, I shall soon
appear, to render an account of my actions, that I was very
desirous of a safe, lasting, and honourable peace; and was
always very far from prolonging the war for my own private
advantage, as several libels and discourses have most falsely
insinuated. My great age, and my numerous fatigues in war,
make me ardently wish for the power to enjoy a quiet repose, in
order to think of eternity. As to other matters, I had not the
least inducement, on any account, to desire the continuance of
the war for my own particular interest, since my services have
been so generously rewarded by her Majesty and her Parliament;
but I think myself obliged to make such an acknowledgment to
her Majesty and my country, that I am always ready to serve
them, whenever my duty may require, to obtain an honourable
and a lasting peace. Yet Ican by no means acquiesce in the
measures that have been taken to enter into a negotiation of
peace with France, upon the footing of some pretended prelimi-
naries, which are now circulated; since my opinion is the same
as that of most of the allies, that to leave Spain and the West
Indies to the House of Bourbon, will be the entire ruin of Kurope,
which I have, with all fidelity and humility, declared to her
Majesty when I had the honour to wait on her after my arrival

from Holland.’
310 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

The address in the House of Lords embodied these senti-
ments, and was carried against ministers by a majority of 12.
In the Commons, on the other hand, an address, approving of
the proposed peace, and indirectly censuring Marlborough, was
carried by 232 voices against 106.

§ 11. Fall of Marlborough.

The ministry now resolved upon open hostilities against the
Duke, whose influence in the Upper House was, they perceived,
sufficiently powerful to endanger their position. They accordingly
charged him with fraud and peculation in the distribution of the
public monies entrusted to him during the Flemish campaign ;—
of having appropriated to his personal advantage L.63,319, 3s.
7d. out of the sums set apart for the use of the English army,
and L.282,366 as a per-centage of 2 per cent. on the sum paid
to foreign ambassadors during the 10 years of the war. They
followed up this blow by dismissing him, on the 31st of Decem-
ber, from all his appointments, and by summoning 12 new peers
to the Upper House to neutralize the majority in the Duke’s
favour. There was great joy in France when the news of his
fall arrived, and Louis triumphantly exclaimed,—‘ The dismis-
sion of Marlborough will do all we can desire !’

To the charges brought against him, the Duke returned an
answer which was conclusively satisfactory. He proved that
the per-centage alluded to was a voluntary gift from the foreign
princes who had furnished auxiliary troops; that it had never
exceeded L.30,000 per annum; and had been employed in
obtaining secret intelligence,—a service on which William III.
had expended annually L.50,000. He also showed that the
perquisite received from the contractors of bread for the army
was always allowed to the commander of the British forces in
the Netherlands, and that the same privilere was granted to
the general of the Dutch army. Party malice, however, is deaf
to reason, and inaccessible to argument. The Commons passed
a resolution condemning the Duke of illegal appropriation of the
public monies ; but the ministry shrank from the next legitimate
step,—an impeachment, and the country in general was convinced
of his innocence. It may be added, that the very perquisite
HIS FALL. 311

which was condemned as illegal, was received, without any
scruples, by the Duke of Ormond, the new commander-in-chief
appointed by this very administration.

The treaty of Utrecht was signed on the 6th of June, andon
the 16th of July the British troops separated from the allied
army,—from the comrades with whom they had triumphed at
Blenheim and Ramillies, Oudenard and Malplaquet, Lille, Tour-
nay, Mons, and Bouchain. The scene was aremarkable one, and
has been vividly described by a contemporary historian :'—
‘The British soldiers were so enraged, that they were observed
tearing their hair, and rending their clothes, with furious excla-
mations and execrable curses against the Duke of Ormond, as a
stupid tool, and general of straw. The colonels, captains, and
other brave officers, were so overwhelmed with vexation, that
they sat apart in their tents, looking on the ground, through
very shame, with downcast eyes; and for several days shrank
from the sight even of their fellow-soldiers. For it grieved them
to the heart, to submit to the disgrace of laying down their arms
after so many splendid victories. Some left their colours to
serve among the allies, and others afterwards withdrew; and
whenever they recollected the Duke of Marlborough, and the
late glorious times, their eyes flowed with tears.’

The death of his old and tried friend, Lord Godolphin,
sundered the last tie which bound Marlborough to England, and
it was with no inconsiderable pleasure that he quitted a scene
of constant persecution and unmerited disgrace. He landed at
Brille on the 24th of November 17138, and was received with an
honourable welcome which strongly contrasted with the conduct
of his own countrymen. ‘At Maestricht he was welcomed with
the honours usually reserved for foreign princes; and although
he did his utmost, on the journey to Aix-la-Chapelle, to avoid
attracting the public attention, and to slip unobserved through
by-ways, yet the eagerness of the public, or the gratitude of his
old soldiers, discovered him wherever he went. Wherever he
passed, crowds of all ranks were waiting to see him, were it only
to get a glimpse of the hero who had saved the empire, and

1 Cunningham, vol. ii., p. 431-2.
312 JOHN, DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH.

filled the world with his renown. All were struck with his noble
air and demeanour, softened, though not weakened, by the
‘ approach of age. They declared that his appearance was not
less overpowering than his sword. Many burst into tears when
they recollected what he had been, and what he was, and how
unaccountably the great nation to which he belonged had fallen
from the height of glory to such degradation. Yet was the
manner of Marlborough so courteous and yet animated, his con-
versation so simple and yet cheerful, that it was commonly said
at the time, “‘ that the only things he had forgotten were his own
deeds, and the only things he remembered were the misfortunes
of others.” Crowds of all ranks, from the highest to the lowest,
hastened to attend his levée at Aix-la-Chapelle on the 17th
January 1713, and the Duke de Ledeguires, on leaving it, said
with equal justice and felicity, —“ I can now say that I have seen
the man who is equal to the Marechal de Turenne in conduct,
to the Prince of Condé in courage, and superior to the Marechal
de Luxembourg in success.”’ +

Marlborough’s influence, during the last sad months of Queen
Aune’s reign, was directed against the machinations of the Ja-
cobite party, and he cordially supported the Elector of Hanover’s
right of succession to the English throne. On the death of Queen
Anne (August 1, 1714), he returned to England, and received
from George I. the appointments of Captain-General of the Army,
and Master of the Ordnance. He entered no more, however,
into political or active life. He planned the details of the cam-
paign of 1715 against the rebels, but did not in person take the
field. The deaths, at short intervals, of his daughters, Lady
Bridgewater, and the beautiful Countess of Sunderland, were
severe blows to his already weakened frame. On the 28th of
May 1716, he was seized with a severe paralytic fit; but re-
covered to a certain extent, and visited Blenheim, where he ex-
amined the palatial building, designed to perpetuate his fame,
with a lively interest. He was observed, however, to pause a
while before a portrait of himself in his splendid manhood, and,
turning aside, to murmur, with a sigh,—‘ Something then; but
now be

 

1 Coxe.
AUTHORITIES QUOTED. 313

A second and a severe attack, on the 18th of November, still
further prostrated him; but again he partially recovered, to
linger on for a few most weary years. THis last appearance in
the House of Lords was made on the 27th of November 1721.
In the June of the following year, he was seized, for a third time,
with paralysis, and lay several days motionless, but in full per-
ception of his approaching dissolution, and in the entire enjoy-
ment of his senses. On the evening of his decease, he listened
attentively to the prayers which were usually read to him, and
replied to a question of the Duchess,— Whether he had heard
them? ‘ Yes; and I joined in them.’ On the following morn-
ing, June 16, 1722, and at about four o’clock, he died. Four
days more, and the victor of Blenheim, the most illustrious of the
military heroes of England, would have completed his seventy-
second year.

AUTHORITIES.

[Coxe’s Life of the Duke of Marlborough ; Lediard’s Life ;
Alison’s Military Life; Mrs Thomson’s Memoirs of the Duchess
Sarah ; Sir George Murray’s Letters and Despatches; Macau-
lay’s History of England; Earl Stanhope’s (Lord Mahon’s) His-
tory; Dumont’s Military History; Boyer’s History of Queen
Anne; Milner’s Journal of Marlborough’s Campaigns; Cape-
figue’s Histoire de Louis XIV.; Voltaire’s Siecle de Louis
Quatorze; Vie du Prince Eugene, ete. The volumes by Coxe,
Alison, and Sir George Murray, will furnish the general reader
with almost all the information he can require. ]
CHAPTER VII.

THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY ; AND LORD CLIVE.

‘ The day broke, the day which was to decide the fate of India” . .
‘ Clive, like most men who are born with strong passions and tried by
strong temptations, committed great faults. But every person who takes
a fair and enlightened view of his whole career, must admit that our
island, so fertile in heroes and statesmen, has scarcely ever produced a
man more truly great either in arms or in council.’
Lorp Macavtay.

June 23, A.D. 1757.

In examining the memorable battle-fields which are associated
with the changes of English history, or narrating the lives of
those great English soldiers whose genius, courage, and self-
sacrifice have built up the fair superstructure of English fame, it
is impossible to forget the victory of Plassey, or to omit the name
of Clive.

And yet to few English readers are they familiar. Until of
late years, British India and its annals have been, for them, a
terra incognita. Mysterious visions of nabobs and rupees, of
golden pagodas and jewelled thrones, have floated across the
mind of the true-born Englishman like the dreams of childhood,
or the poetical reminiscences of a fairy tale. But of the labour
and suffering which have secured for the isles of the West a
nobler conquest than Alexander ever accofuplished,—of the
heroes, whose ready brains and stout arms shattered the power of
the Moguls and the Nizams,—few but the hermits of the library
have cared to inquire. ‘Every schoolboy knows,’ says Lord
Macaulay, ‘who imprisoned Montezuma, and who strangled
Atahualpa. But we doubt whether one in ten, even among
Englishmen of highly cultivated minds, can tell who won the
EARLY HISTORY OF THE BRITISH IN INDIA. 315

battle of Buxar, who perpetrated the massacre of Patna, whether
Surajah Dowlah ruled in Oude or in Travancore, or whether
Holkar was a Hindoo or a Mussulman. . . . It might have
been expected, that every Englishman who takes any interest in
any part of history would be curious to know how a handful of
his countrymen, separated from their home by an immense ocean,
subjugated, in the course of a few years, one of the greatest
empires in the world.’ It can scarcely be the remoteness of the
subject; for surely the victories of Cortes and Pizarro are still
more alien to English sympathies. It cannot arise from any
lack of interest ; for the history of British India is as a romance
—alive with action and energy, with hairbreadth escapes, with
deeds of wonderful daring, with brilliant and unprecedented
successes. In some wise, the reproach is less glaring now than
it was when Macaulay’s facile pen embellished the biography of
Clive. The great disaster which, a few years ago, menaced the
overthrow of the British raj in the land of the Moslem and the
Brahmin, awakened public attention, and aroused the national
mind from its lengthened apathy. And yet, even at the present

, day, the memory of Clive and Plassey is faint and feeble; and
scant is the gratitude which England yields to the hero who
first established on a sure basis the vast and glorious fabric of
her Indian Empire.

The battle of Plassey decided the important question, whether
India was to fall into the hands of England or France. For
years a succession of able adventurers had silently endea-
voured to extend French influence over that vast Oriental
empire, falling so rapidly to pieces through the vices and follies
of its native rulers. A small settlement at Madras represented
by itself the power and majesty of England; while Dupleix was
slowly but surely toiling at the establishment of a French empire
upon the debris of the shattered monarchy of the Moguls. This
sagacious statesman was the first to perceive that India might
easily be ruled by an European, through the agency of her
Nabobs and Nizams. When, therefore, the great Nizam al
Mulk, Viceroy of the Deccan, died, in 1748, and numerous pre-
tenders laid claim to the vacant throne, Dupleix resolved to
espouse the cause of his grandson, Mirzapha Jung, in opposi-
316 THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY.

tion to that of his son, Nazir Jung. French arms and French
counsels prevailed. Nazir Jung was slain, and Mirzapha became
the Viceroy. In return, he bestowed upon Dupleix the govern-
ment of that fertile and sunny region which extends from Cape
Comorin to the river Kristna, distinguished him with honours,
and loaded him with largesses. Great, indeed, was Allah, and
great was the French adventurer, Dupleix.

The English recognised, as Nabob of the Carnatic, one Ma-
hommed Ali, afterwards infamous in English ears as the Nabob
of Arcot, while the French lent their support to his competitor,
Chunda Sahib. The latter now invested Trichinopoly, the sole
possession remaining in the hands of Mahommed Ali; and to the
feeble authorities at Madras it seemed impossible to stem the tide
of French conquest, or succour the beleaguered city of their ally.
It was at this conjuncture that a Deus ex machind appeared in a
young civilian, but five and twenty years of age,—haughty, re-
served, and melancholy, without military education or experience,
—Robert Clive. He saw the peril of the hour, and he saw how
it was to be averted. He saw that the fall of Trichinopoly ensured
the expulsion of the English from India. To assist Trichinopoly
might be impossible ; but why not strike a blow at Arcot, the opu-
lent capital of the Carnatic, the favourite residence of the Nabobs?
With two hundred English soldiers, and three hundred sepoys—
as we shall hereafter relate,—Clive made the attempt, and suc-
ceeded. He did not rest content withthis. He pushed on, victorious
and irresistible. The besiegers of Trichinopoly were themselves
besieged, and compelled to surrender; and as French influence
began to decline, English influence rose in the ascendant.

We pass over an interval of a few years, and come to the
second act of this great historical drama. In 1756, the vice-
royalty of the rich province of Bengal descended to a young
man, Surajah Dowlah,—weak, tyrannical, and debauched to an
extraordinary degree, and animated by a singular hatred to the
English. On slight pretexts he came to an open rupture with
them, and marched an immense army against Fort-William and
Calcutta. The resistance opposed to him was inconsiderable, and
numbers of the English fell prisoners into his hands. They were
secured for the night in the prison of the garrison, a small cham-.
‘THE BLACK HOLE’ OF CALCUTTA. 317

ber, twenty feet square, known as ‘The Black Hole,’ and venti-
lated but by a few small and partly obstructed air-holes.

‘It was the summer solstice, the season when the fierce heat
of Bengal can scarcely be rendered tolerable to natives of Eng-
land by lofty halls, and by the constant waving of fans. The
number of the prisoners was 146. When they were ordered to
enter the cell, they imagined that the soldiers were joking ; and,
being in high spirits on account of the promise of the Nabob to
spare their lives, they laughed and jested at the absurdity of the
notion. They soon discovered their mistake. They expostu-
lated; they entreated; but in vain. The guards threatened to
cut down all who hesitated. The captives were driven into the
cell at the point of the sword, and the door was instantly shut
and locked upon them.

‘ Nothing in history or fiction, not even the story which Ugo-
lino told in the sea of everlasting ice, after he had wiped his
bloody lips on the scalp of his murderer, approaches the horrors
which were recounted by the few survivors of that night. They
cried for mercy. They strove to burst the door. Holwell (the
governor), who even in that extremity retained some presence of
mind, offered large bribes to his gaolers. But the answer was,
that nothing could be done without the Nabob’s orders; that the
Nabob was asleep, and would be angry if anybody woke him.
Then the prisoners went mad with despair. They trampled each
other down, fought for the places at the windows, fought for the
pittance of water with which the cruel mercy of the murderers
mocked their agonies, raved, prayed, blasphemed, implored the
guards to fire among them. The gaolers meantime held lights
to the bars, and shouted with laughter at the frantic struggles of
their victims. At length the tumult died away in low gaspings
and moanings. The day broke. The Nabob had slept off his
debauch, and permitted the door to be opened. But it was some
time before the soldiers could make a lane for the survivors, by
piling up on each side the heaps of corpses, on which the burning
climate had already begun to do its loathsome work. When at
length a passage was made, twenty-three ghastly figures, such as
their own mothers would not have known, staggered, one by one,
out of the charnel-house. A pit was instantly dug. The dead
318 THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY.

bodies, a hundred and twenty-three in number, were flung into it
promiscuously, and covered up.’

When tidings of the fall of Calcutta, and of the bloody
massacre which followed it, reached Madras, there arose an eager
cry for vengeance. An expedition was rapidly fitted out and
despatched against the murderer. To Clive was entrusted the
command of the land forces; to Admiral Watson, that of the
naval armament. It reached Bengal in December, and sailed into
the broad waters of the Hooghly. The news of its arrival dis-
turbed Surajah Dowlah in his debauches at Moorshedabad. He
collected a large army and marched upon Calcutta; but, mean-
while, the English flag once more floated on its walls, and Fort-
William had been recaptured. The Nabob, alarmed at these indi-
cations of a power and a vigour to which he was unaccustomed,
made overtures of peace, which, unacceptable enough to Clive,
were eagerly grasped at by the civil officers of the East India
Company. But while the negotiations flickered feebly to and
fro, the impetuous soldier was not idle. He knew that the Nabob
was secretly intriguing with the French authorities at Chander-
nagore to drive the English out of India. A blow must be
struck, and a decisive one. He did not hesitate. In conjunction
with Admiral Watson, he threw himself suddenly upon Chander-
nagore, captured it, and a vast quantity of military stores.

The more the Nabob learnt to fear English power, the more
intensely he hated the English. Between fear and hatred, he
wavered for some time; and one day solicited help from the
French in the Deccan; the next, humbled himself before the
English. A conspiracy was formed against him amongst his
own subjects, whom his vacillations, his follies, and his tyrannies
disgusted. Of this conspiracy the brain and heart was Meer
Jaffier, his principal general, who hastened to open communica-
cations with Clive.

It was soon determined that the English should assist in the
deposition of Surajah Dowlah, and the elevation of Meer Jaffier
to the vacant throne. ‘Tell Meer Jaffier,’ wrote Clive, ‘to
fear nothing ; I will join him with 5000 men who never turned
their backs. Assure him I will march night and day to his assist-
ance, and stand by him as long as I have a man left.’ War was
COOTE CAPTURES THE MUD-FORT OF CUTWAH. 319

openly proclaimed against the Nabob, and Clive put his little
army in motion. Surajah Dowlah, in like manner, assembled his
forces, and encamped at Plassey, to await the arrival of M.
Bussy and his troops from Golconda. Here he accumulated all
the elephants, muskets, and firelocks he possessed, and prepared
to overwhelm the English by one tremendous blow.

Clive arrived at Patna on the 16th of June, and detached
Captain Eyre Coote—afterwards so celebrated in Indian war-
fare—against Cutwah, a small mud-fort, twelve miles higher up,
which commanded the passage of the Cossimbuzar, the most
sacred branch of the sacred Ganges. The garrison offered a
mere show of resistance. Coote captured the fort, and immense
stores of rice, sufficient, it is said, for the supply of 10,000 men
throughout a campaign. The army came up and encamped on
the surrounding plain; but, on the 19th, were driven by a fear-
ful storm into the huts and villages which stood near.

Clive’s army consisted but of 8000 men, of whom not more
than 900 were Europeans, and his artillery-train consisted only
of eight six-pounders and a howitzer. With so insignificant a
force, it appeared madness to advance against the innumerable
hosts of the Nabob, unless Meer Jaffier fully carried out his
treachery and brought over his Mohammedan troops to support
the English. ‘I feel the greatest anxiety,’ he wrote to the Com-
mittee of Government,—date, June 19, 1757,—‘ at the little in-
telligence I receive from Meer Jaffier; and, if he is not treach-
erous, his sang froid, or want of strength, will, I fear, overset the
expedition. J am trying a last effort, by means of a Brahmin,
to prevail upon him to march out and join us. I have appointed
Plassey as the place of rendezvous, and have told him, at the
same time, that unless he gives this, or some other sufficient
proof of the sincerity of his intentions, I will not cross the river.
This, I hope, will meet with your approbation. I shall act with
such caution as not to risk the loss of our forces ; and whilst we
have them, we may always have it in our power to bring about
a revolution, should the present not succeed. They say there is
a considerable quantity of grain in and about this place. If we
can collect eight or ten thousand maunds (eight hundred thou-
sand or a million pounds), we may maintain our situation during
320 THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY.

the rains, which will greatly distress the Nabob, and either re-
duce him to terms which may be depended upon, or give us time
to bring in the Beer-Boom Rajah, the Mahrattas, or Ghazee-u-
Deen’! Such language from a man like Clive, whose heart sel-
dom quailed before a peril, whose brain was seldom deficient in
contrivances, better describes the danger of his position than the
most elaborate periods of the historian.

But to maintain himself in his present situation, Clive knew—
though he might affect not to know—to be impossible; and it
was while perplexed with these difficulties that, for the first and
last time in his life, he summoned a council of war. On the
previous day (June 20) two messengers from Meer Jaffier had
found their way into his camp, and brought him an assurance
that the traitor would join him with at least 83000 of the Nabob’s
cavalry ; but Clive hardly dared to trust him. He, therefore,
proposed to his officers the following questions :—‘1. Whether,
in their present situation, they should at once, and without as-
sistance, attack the Nabob? 2. Or, whether, as they had con-
siderable stores of rice in their camp, they should remain as they
were during the wet season, and endeavour to obtain the assist-
ance of some native power?’ Of the fifteen officers who formed
the council, eight pronounced against fighting, and Clive declared
his concurrence with them. But Captain Eyre Coote, and six
other officers, were for an immediate attack upon the enemy
before the French came up to his support, and while their own
troops were sanguine of success. The majority, of course, over-
ruled them; but Clive, on further consideration, was dissatisfied
with the timidity of their decision. He wandered out of the
camp, and in the solitude and shadow of a clump of mango-trees,
remained for an hour in deep thought. He returned to the army,
collected and resolved, and issued immediate orders for the troops
to prepare to cross the river on the following morning. Feeling
that the whole responsibility of the expedition rested with him-
self, and that any appearance of indecision would be fatal to his
success, he quietly disregarded the recommendations of the
council, and acted upon his own motion.

1 Life of Lord Clive, by Maleolm.
THE BIVOUAC NEAR PLASSEY. 321

At sunrise the next morning (June 22d), the army began to
cross the river, and by four in the afternoon the last division was
securely placed on the other bank. The march was instantly
resumed. The boats, loaded with stores, were towed against
the stream, despite the toil; and the infantry and guns advanced
along the banks with incredible ardour. It was nearly three in
the morning before their bivouac was formed in the shelter of a
small wood near Plassey, and in such vicinity to the enemy’s
camp that the sounds of his cymbals and clarions were dis-
tinctly heard. To guard against a sudden surprise, Clive ad-
vanced his pickets and posted sentries in available positions.

The night passed for the two leaders—the young English
adventurer and the Oriental despot—with anxious gloom. Clive
was fully aware of the vast stake for which he played, and of the
scanty force with which he had to play it. Surajah Dowlah was
tortured with apprehensions. His timid imagination invested
the crisis, which was so rapidly approaching, with unutterable
horrors. And, notwithstanding his superiority of numbers, he
had cause for the darkest fears. He had already learned to
tremble before European courage, strengthened by European dis-
cipline; and he knew, moreover, that he was surrounded by
traitors—by lieutenants who longed to betray him, by favourites
who would rejoice in his downfall.

The camp which he occupied had been erected by Roydullub
during the siege of Chandernagore. The river waters, deep and
broad, rolled around it on three sides; on the fourth, it was
partly defended by an artificial trench. Wooded knolls and
tangled thickets everywhere offered the means of easy resistance
to an enemy. But of these advantages Surajah Dowlah knew
not how to avail himself. He poured his masses out upon the
plain as soon as the rosy sunrise broke over the glowing heavens,
and advanced with reckless impetuosity against the mango grove
which sheltered the small army of the English. Forty thousand
infantry, armed with pike and firelock, with sword and musket,
with bow and arrow, mustered under his standard. Fifteen
thousand horsemen, well mounted and well equipped—and drawn
from those northern provinces of India which furnish a hardier

race of men and horses than the soft and enervating climate of
x
322 THE BATTLE OF PLASSEY.

Bengal or the Carnatic—rode forward, enveloped in a cloud of
dust. Fifty pieces of cannon accompanied these hosts—which,
to the eyes of the English, appeared as innumerable as ‘the
leaves of Vallombrosa,’—each cannon drawn by a long train of
white oxen, and impelled in the rear by a powerful elephant.
Some smaller pieces, of a far more manageable character, were
managed by a few active and skilful French artillerists.

Against this enormous army Clive could muster but 3000
men, and of these only 1000 were English. But his sepoys were
admirably disciplined ; and both sepoys and English were ani-
raated by an eager confidence in their leader and an enthusiastic
conviction of success. Among the English was that famous
regiment, the 39th, which has covered itself with glory in Spain
and France, but none of whose splendid achievements surpasses
that which is immortalized in the name and the motto it still
bears upon its colours,—PLassey, and Primus 1n Inpis. The
artillery numbered only eight field-pieces, which were skilfully
placed in the coverts of the wood, and admirably served by
some English artillerymen and a few sailors supplied by Admiral
Watson. ,

The battle commenced at daybreak. A rolling fire issued
from the numerous guns of the enemy ; but far more destructive
were the sharp and quick discharges of the English artillery,
which plunged their deadly shot full into the thronged ranks of
Surajah Dowlah. Clive’s men, by his orders, lay upon the
ground, and the cannon-balls whistled harmlessly over them, and
struck against the mango-trees. For some hours this can-
nonade was continued, with a most dispiriting effect upon the
enemy. Clive resolved to keep it up until night, and then, in
the deep darkness, to attack the Oriental camp. Satisfied, mean-
while, that his own troops were well protected, and worn out
with excessive fatigue, he lay down to sleep, directing his
officers to rouse him immediately if any movement was attempted
by the enemy. About noon, he was wakened with the news
that Surajah Dowlah was retiring. A cannon-shot had killed
Meer Murdeen, one of his best officers ; and the Nabob, alarmed
for his own safety, and suspicious of Meer Jaffier’s treachery,
sent for him, removed his turban from his head, flung it at his
DEFEAT OF THE NABOB’S ARMY. 323

general’s feet, and besought him to defend it. In reply to this
act of humiliation, the last proof of confidence in another that
a Mussulman can give, the traitor crossed his arms upon his
breast, and swore to do his duty. The oath, however, was
instantly broken. Roydullub, another conspirator, next visited
the Nabob’s presence, and, affecting the tenderest concern for
his safety, implored him to order the retreat of the army, and
take shelter in his capital. The coward was only too anxious to
escape from the field, and gave the necessary orders. A heavy
shower of rain at noon had damaged the powder of the Indian
artillerists, and compelled them to slacken their fire ; but Clive’s
guns had been posted under cover, and never relaxed from their
terrible cannonade.

It was about two o’clock when the Nabob gave the signal of
retreat. The guns ceased firing. The oxen were again har-
nessed to their cumbrous carriages, and began to draw them oft
the field. Horse and foot followed in disorderly masses ; and only
a small knot of French artillerymen, who had placed their four
guns in the rear of an embankment, maintained their ground.

Clive now gave the word to advance; and his whole army,
with joyous alacrity, moved forward. An attack was first made
upon the French redoubt, which was carried after a desperate
struggle. A large body of Meer Jaffier’s cavalry rode up as if
to support their allies. At all events, they did not hoist the
preconcerted signal,—a white flag,—and Clive chose to consider
them as enemies. He sent forward Major Grant with a field-
piece and a small body of infantry to check their movements.
They fired upon the mass, and Jaffier instantly halted; and fell
back. Meanwhile, Clive, from the redoubt .which the French
had occupied, and from a neighbouring hill, poured a rattling
fire into the disordered ranks of the retreating foe. Jaffier’s
cavalry now began to move off the field, and separate themselves
from the Nabob’s army. When Clive perceived that this
treachery was effected, he pushed on his advance with greater
vigour, and drove the enemy before him like a disorderly rabble.
In one hour from his advance beyond the sheltering grove, he
had won a victory which secured India to the British empire.
And this he had accomplished with a loss of only 22 killed and
324 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

50 wounded; while of the enemy the slain and wounded num-
bered about 500. The Nabob’s army, indeed, was utterly and
irretrievably shattered, and never again made head in the battle-
field. Moorshedabad féll into the hands of the Hnglish ;, large
payments in money and considerable accessions of territory were
granted to the Company ; and the actual sovereignty of Bengal
passed away from its Moslem rulers. After the victory of
Plassey, moreover, the influence of France rapidly declined,
and the destinies of India were committed to the guardianship
of England, by whom may the solemn trust be righteously dis-
charged !

Rosert, Lorp Ciive.
A BroGrapPHy.

Rosert, afterwards Lorp Cuive, the eldest son of Richard
Clive, an attorney, of Styche, near Market Drayton, and Rebecca
Gaskill, of the Gaskills of Manchester, was born in the manor-
house of Styche, on the 29th of September 1725.

He was scarcely three years old when he was remitted to one
of his uncles-in-law,—a Mr Bayley, of Hope Hill, near Manches-
ter,—who treated him with kindness, and did not press upon him
too severely the rudiments of education. While under his care,
the young scholar was afflicted with a dangerous illness, which
he bore patiently and good-temperedly ; but when in vigorous
health, there was no danger from which he flinched, no adventure
in which he did not engage. He was in his seventh year when
Mr Bayley complained of his ward’s obstinate disposition. ‘I
am satisfied,’ he writes, ‘that his fighting (to which he is out of
measure addicted) gives his temper such a fierceness and im-
periousness, that he flies out upon every trifling occasion: for
this reason I do what I can to suppress the hero, that I may help
forward the more valuable qualities of meekness, benevolence, and
patience.’ He was removed from school to school, on account,
perhaps, of his impetuous disposition ; but in each displayed an
extraordinary contempt of danger, and a love of forbidden ex-
citement. Yet in each he distinguished himself as a youth of
HIS BOYHOOD AND YOUTH. 325

promise ; and one of his masters, Dr Eaton, so highly appreciated
his genius, that he prophesied of him—‘If my scholar live to be
a man, and opportunity for the exertion of his talents be afforded,
he will win for himself a name second to few in history.’

From Lostock, in Cheshire, he was removed to Market Dray-
ton; from thence to Merchant Taylor’s School, in London; and
finally, to a Mr Sterling’s at Hemel-Hampstead. On each arena
his intrepidity and love of perilous excitement were strikingly ex-
hibited. At Market Drayton, for the sake of removing a smooth
stone from a water-spout, with which to play at ‘ducks and
drakes,’ he clambered to the summit of the church-tower, and
lowered himself over the parapet to a distance of at least three
feet. At another time, he and his juvenile corps of brigands at-
tempted to turn a watercourse into the shop of an antagonistic
tradesman ; and the mound of turf giving way with which they
dammed the stream, he flung himself into the gutter, and stopped
up the breach with his body until the damage could be repaired.

His father found it impossible to tame such a spirit to the
drudgery of a lawyer’s office ; and, instead of combating a dis-
position which it would have been impossible to have conquered,
wisely directed it into a proper channel, by procuring for him a
writership in the East India Company’s service. That remark-
able confederation of ‘merchant adventurers’ was then in its
early youth,—a mere trading company, with a few factories at
different points, protected by badly-constructed and weakly-
garrisoned forts,—and not even the boldest imagination had
dared to dream of its future accession to the sovereignty of India.
Of India itself the English knew but little. Gorgeous visions of
gold and jewels, of Oriental pomp and magnificence, of burning
skies and rolling rivers, of princes whose splendour far exceeded
the luxuries of European sovereignty, of cities which teemed with
life and ran over with wealth,—such dreams, indeed, fired the
fancy of youth, and stimulated the cupidity of age; but an ac-
curate knowledge of that vast and distant empire was enjoyed by
a very small number either of savans or statesmen. A handful
of troops, a hundred or s0 of ill-paid clerks, a few factories, and
some small strips of land,—from such small beginnings arose the
splendid fabric of British India!
326 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

Clive was in his 18th year when he sailed for the land of
promise; but a twelvemonth was consumed in a weary and un-
profitable voyage, and a long detention at Brazil,—where, by the
way, he occupied himself in gaining some acquaintance with the
Portuguese language,—and he did not reach Madras until the
autumn of 1744. During his protracted voyage he expended all
his money ; and, as a further misfortune, a gentleman to whom he
bore letters of introduction had quitted India, and returned to
Europe. Friendless and penniless, his first experiences of Indian
life were by no means agreeable; and the discomforts he endured
probably increased that stern reserve and irritable pride of which
his colleacues and superiors complained. Having quarrelled with
one of his officers in such a manner as to involve a serious breach
of discipline, the Governor commanded him to apologize. Clive
was forced to obey, or quit the service. Having made his apo-
logy, the Secretary, good-humouredly, desirous of showing how
completely his resentment was appeased, invited Clive to dinner.
‘No, sir,’ replied the haughty stripling, ‘the Governor desired me
to apologize, and I have done so; but he did not command me
to dine with you.’

He already suffered from those singular paroxysms of melan-
choly which in later life became so sore and fatal a burthen. He
had none of the buoyancy of youth. His spirit craved a constant
excitement, or it sank into the lowest abyss of sullen apathy.
His mind lost all its strength and vigour, unless continually
braced by action. It was like a fire, glowing and terrible, only
so long as its depths were searched by the full, free wind. A
longing for home often occupied his heart and aroused his feel-
ings, and his letters were full of phrases of tender regret :—‘ I
have not enjoyed one happy day since I left my native country.’
‘I must confess, at intervals, when I think of my dear native Eng-
land, it affects me in a very particular manner.’ ‘If I should be
so far blessed as to revisit again my own country, but more espe-
cially Manchester, the centre of all my wishes, all that I could
hope for or desire would be presented before me in one view.’
In one of these hours of gloom he withdrew to his own chamber,
and shut himself in. After a while, one of his most trusted friends
knocked at the door, and obtained admission. Clive was seated
CAPTURE OF MADRAS BY THE FRENCH. 327

at a table, upon which was placed a pistol. ‘Take that pistol,’
he said to his friend, ‘ and fire it out of the window.’ His friend
complied. As soon as he heard the.report, Clive sprang from
his seat, exclaiming, ‘I feel, then, that I am reserved for some
end or other. Twice I have snapped that pistol at my own head,
and twice it has missed fire.’

But an event now occurred, which, disastrous as it seemed in
itself, proved, for Clive, the stepping-stone to fortune and fame.
The war which had broken out between England and France in
reference to the Austrian succession to the throne of Spain, ex-
tended from Europe to Asia, and involved India in its ravages.
It appeared to Labourdonnais, the French governor of the Mau-
ritius,—a man of great ability and enterprising spirit,—a fit
opportunity to establish in Hindostan the surpremacy of French
arms. He conducted an expedition against Madras (1745),
landed his troops, laid siege to the town, and captured it, after a
feeble resistance on the part of the English garrison. The terms
of capitulation provided, that the town should be spared from
plunder, and, on payment of a moderate ransom, restored to the
inhabitants, who, meanwhile, were to be free from molestation,
and remain peaceably in their dwellings.

At this time the important settlement of Pondicherry, the
chief town of the French possessions in India, was under the go-
vernment of an ambitious, unscrupulous, and able soldier, Dupleix.
His jealousy of Labourdonnais was aggravated by the success of
the enterprise against Madras ; and asserting that Labourdonnais
had exceeded his powers, that conquests made by the French
on the continent of India could only be disposed of by the gover-
nor of Pondicherry, he refused to ratify the capitulation, and
declared that Madras should be razed to the ground. This
unwarrantable breach of faith naturally excited the indignation
of the English; and their anger was further heightened by the
French governor’s treatment of the principal servants of the
Company. The governor and leading employés at Fort St
George were removed under a guard to Pondicherry, and paraded
through the town in a triumphal procession, under the eyes of
Europeans and Hindoos. The English inhabitants of Madras
considered, not unreasonably, that they were absolved from their
828 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

engagements by conduct so dishonourable and ungenerous; and
Clive, among others, escaped from the town in the disguise of
a Mussulman, and fled to Fort St David.

Under this change of circumstances, ‘ our hero’—as romance-
writers say—was enabled to quit the lethargy of civilian life.
He solicited and obtained a commission as Ensign in the Com-
pany’s army (1747). His career at Fort St David was strikingly
illustrative of his resolute and courageous spirit. It happened,
on one occasion, when engaged at play with two of his brother
officers, he detected them in cheating. He refused at once to
pay the sums he had lost. A quarrel ensued, and as a satis-
faction for his wounded honour, one of the cheats demanded his
acceptance of a challenge. The two combatants met, without
seconds, and Clive gaining the first fire, discharged his pistol
without effect. His opponent, walking up, presented his weapon
at Clive’s head, and desired him to ask his life. Clive complied
without hesitation; but when the bully insisted that he should
also apologize, and retract the charge he had made, he peremp-
torily refused. ‘Then I will shoot you,’ exclaimed his anta-
gonist. ‘Shoot, and be d , rejoined Clive: ‘I said that you
cheated—I say so still, and I will never pay you.’ The officer,
astonished, flung his weapon away, protesting that the young
man was mad. His generosity was not lost upon Clive, who,
when urged to denounce his fraud to the proper authorities, de-
clined any further proceedings. ‘I will not do him,’ he said,
‘any injury on my account. I will never pay him what he did
not fairly win; but he gave me my life, and shall take no hurt
from me under any circumstances.’

In 1748, he was attached to Admiral Boscawen’s ill-advised
and unsuccessful expedition against Pondicherry, and displayed
a cool and collected courage, which won signal commendation.
Both his remarkable intrepidity and his hot spirit were further illus-
trated in a new quarrel with a brother officer. Clive commanded
one of the advanced batteries against the works of Pondicherry.
During the fire he found his ammunition expended, and eager to
continue the fight, he ran to the rear for a fresh supply. It is not
customary for officers to discharge such duties, and accordingly
one of his comrades insinuated that he had abandoned his post,

 
HIS GALLANT CONDUCT AT DOVECOTTA. 329

and had done so for an unworthy reason. Clive instantly de-
manded. an explanation, and, not obtaining one which he con-
sidered satisfactory, insisted upon fighting his opponent. As
they moved to their ground, some fresh contention arose; and
Clive’s antagonist, in the heat of his irritation, struck him.
Clive drew his sword at once; but the place being public,
further proceedings were, for the time, prevented. An inquiry
was instituted by the authorities, and the person who had struck
the blow, being found guilty of unbecoming conduct, was com-
pelled to offer Clive a public apology. But with this our im-
petuous adventurer was not content. He had received no satis-
faction on the first ground of quarrel. His opponent, however,
refused to meet him; and Clive, seizing his opportunity, shook
his cane over his head, and branded him as a coward.

From these details, which, if illustrative of his courage and
self-possession, are also characteristic of his irregular disposi-
tion, we turn with pleasure to the bolder incidents of his splendid
career. In April 1749, he joined, as a volunteer, an expedition
despatched to restore Sahujee, the exiled Rajah of Tanjore, to
his throne. The little army, fitted out for this purpose, consisted
of 480 Europeans and 1000 Sepoys, under the command of
Major Lawrence. In due time the siege of Dovecotta, an im-
portant post at the mouth of the Coleroon, was undertaken. A
practicable breach was soon effected, and Clive—now Lieutenant
Clive—requested, and obtained permission to lead the Forlorn
Hope. While moving forward to the breach, his little band
was charged by a press of cavalry, and 30 out of 34 Europeans
were cut down. But his sepoys gallantly stood their ground,
and afforded time for Major Lawrence to bring up his reserves.
The place was entered sword in hand, and Dovecotta became a
possession of the English.

At the close of this expedition, Clive returned to the Civil
Service, under a persuasion that his services would not again be
required in the field; and it is a proof of the high estimation
in which his conduct and abilities were held, that the same
rank was conferred upon him which he would have arrived at,
had he never drawn the sword and flung aside the pen. A
severe nervous fever, however, prevented him from commencing
330 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

his duties, and forced him to retire, during the cold season, to
Bengal.

It was during this interval that the hostilities broke out
which finally resulted in the establishment of British India. As
we have already shown, Dupleix, the governor of Pondicherry,
had fully established the ascendancy of the French in the Carnatic,
by a series of able and ambitious movements. His protegé,
Mirzapha Jung, had been raised by French arms to the sove-
reignty of the Deccan, and both for himself and his countrymen
had obtained a liberal recompense. To adopt the brilliant
language of Lord Macaulay: ‘At Pondicherry all was exulta-
tion and festivity. Salutes were fired from the batteries, and
Te Deums sung in the churches. The new.Nizam came thither
to visit his allies; and the ceremony of his installation was per-
formed there with great pomp. Dupleix, dressed in the garb
worn by Mohammedans of the highest rank, entered the town in
the same palanquin with the Nizam, and, in the pageant which
followed, took precedence of all the court. He was declared
Governor of India from the river Kristna to Cape Comorin, a
country about as large as France, with authority superior even
to that of Chunda Sahib. He was entrusted with the command
of 7000 cavalry. It was announced that no mint would be
suffered to exist in the Carnatic, except that at Pondicherry. A
large portion of the treasures which former viceroys of the
Deccan had accumulated, found its way into the coffers of the
French governor. It was rumoured that he had received
L.200,000 sterling in money, besides many valuable jewels. In
fact, there could scarcely be any limit to his gains. He now
tuled 30,000,000 of people with almost absolute power. No
honour or emolument could be obtained from the government
bat by his intervention. No petition, unless signed by him, was
perused by the Nizam.’

To commemorate his successes, Dupleix erected a pompous
column, on whose pedestal was inscribed, in four different lan-
guages, his own glory and the glory of France. Around it was
built a town, which promised to be even a more durable monu-
ment, and to which he boastingly gave the name of Dupleix
Fatihabad, that is, the city of the victory of Dupleix. When
THE SIEGE OF TRICHINOPOLY. 801

Mirzapha Jung died, he elevated to the throne a prince of the
same house, and ruled with a still greater degree of authority,
so that from north to south, and east to west, the name of
Dupleix was famous.

While such was the progress of French ascendancy, the
English made but few and feeble attempts to extend or establish
their power. They, indeed, supported the claims of Mahommed
Ali as Nabob of the Carnatic, in opposition to those of the French
protegé, Chunda Sahib; but Mahommed’s rule was now confined
to the single city of Trichinopoly, and Trichinopoly itself was
besieged by Chunda Sahib and his French allies. Even at this
juncture the English authorities were irresolute and inert, and
Mahommed in vain entreated the assistance which they had
pledged themselves to afford. It was not until the arrival of
Mr Saunders, an energetic and sagacious man, who assumed the
governorship of Madras, that any action was attempted. The
new governor saw, as Clive had already pointed out, that if the
French were successful against Trichinopoly, there was an end
to English influence in India; and accordingly, upon Mahommed
Ali’s consenting to cede a considerable portion of territory, he
assembled an expeditionary force of 500 Europeans, 1000
sepoys, and 100 Caffres. Clive accompanied this little army as
commissary, but took no share in the ill-concerted operations
which terminated in its inglorious repulse. He soon afterwards
distinguished himself, however, by gallantly and skilfully con-
ducting two important convoys to the beleaguered city,—escap-
ing, on the first occasion, from a French detachment oniy through
the swiftness of his horse. His courage and ability became
generally recognised, and he was, therefore, entrusted with the
conduct of an enterprise which he had himself suggested.

It was obvious to Clive that the English force was insufficient
to raise the siege of Trichinopoly, and that relief could only be
afforded to that city by a diversion in some other quarter, which
should distract the enemy’s attention. This diversion, it appeared
to him, could best be attempted by an attack upon the capital of
the Carnatic,—the seat of the Nabob’s government,—the town
which enshrined his palace and seraglio,—the opulent and glit-
tering Arcot. The hazard of the adventure was not to be con-
332 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

cealed ; but as the English governor perceived that the fall of
Trichinopoly would be immediately followed by the siege and
fall of Madras, he resolved upon adopting Clive’s bold scheme,
and naturally placed in his hands its development.

With 200 English soldiers, and 300 sepoys, armed and dis-
ciplined after the English fashion,—with eight officers, only two
of whom had ever been in action, and four of whom were
civilians,—Clive, now in his 25th year, set out upon his daring
enterprise. How wondrous is the influence of a great mind
upon other minds,—of an heroic soul upon other souls! Clive’s
vigour and energy seemed to infuse itself into each one of his
little troop, and every soldier became a hero, because animated,
guided, and encouraged by a hero. They marched from Madras
on the 26th of August 1751; by the 29th, they had reached
Conjeveram ; through a storm of rain, broken by bursts of
thunder and lurid gleams of lightning, they advanced, until on
the 31st he halted within 10 miles of Arcot. Its garrison, con-
sisting of 1100 men, was ill disposed to face an enemy that had
feared neither rain, nor lightning, nor thunder, and on the news
of Clive’s approach, incontinently betook themselves from the
city. Two or three hours afterwards, the little English band of
heroes marched through the crowded streets of Arcot, and took
possession of its citadel, which they found to be armed with eight
guns of different calibres. With these, and two 18-pounders
which he expected to receive from Madras, he immediately set
to work to prepare for an effort on the enemy’s part to recover
their city. A store of provisions was laid in; a quantity of cun-
powder collected; shot were rapidly cast; and the defences
strengthened in the best manner possible. By treating the
inhabitants with careful kindness and scrupulous justice, he won
their affection, as his courage had already commanded their
respect, and they willingly assisted his men in repairing the fort,
and supplied him liberally with provisions.

Always prompt to execute, Clive now resolved to strike the
fugitive garrison, who had encamped about six miles from the
town, a heavy blow, that they might not recover from their fears,
and advance against him. On the 4th of September, leaving a
small body of troops in the fort, he marched out, and discovered
HIS DEFENCE OF THE CITADEL OF ARCOT. 333

the foe drawn up in battle-array. They received him with a brisk
cannonade, but did not dare to withstand his onset, and, on his
men advancing to their entrenchments, took to flight, and escaped
to the hills with considerable loss.

A still smarter affair took place on the 14th. The enemy
had got together some 3000 men, and encamped within three
miles of Arcot. During the night they were startled from their
slumbers by the onslaught of Clive and his soldiers, who, without
the loss of a single man, completely put them to the rout, and
slew a considerable number.

It was now that Clive learned that the two 18-pounders he
had ordered up from Madras were on their way, and that the
Mussulmans, having raised a force of 4000 men, had occupied
Conjeveram with the design of intercepting them. Retaining, to
guard the fort at Arcot, only 30 Europeans and 40 sepoys, he
despatched the rest of his garrison to succour and protect the
convoy. The enemy were apprised by their spies of this daring
movement, and immediately breaking up their camp, advanced
upon Arcot. During the night they completely invested the
citadel, and on the following morning attempted an assault.
Vain were their hopes! Clive and his braves offered a resistance
so desperate that the enemy, alarmed and dispirited, fell into the
greatest disorder; and the convoy from Madras, with the rest of
the garrison, rapidly coming up, they retreated iu a state of the
utmost alarm. The gates of the citadel were thrown open, and
the English entered with all the coolness and precision of a move-
ment on parade.

Chunda Sahib had by this time discovered that the English
commander had fixed his grasp tightly upon Arcot, and that to
dislodge him a great effort must be attempted. He accordingly
despatched his son, Rajah Sahib, with 4000 horse and foot, and
150 Europeans, from the force before Pondicherry. He was
soon joined by 2000 men from Vellore,. and by the scattered
bands whom Clive had defeated. With an army numbering in
all 10,000 men, he occupied the town of Arcot, fixing his head-
quarters at the Nabob’s palace, and commenced the siege of the
citadel, whose walls, be it remembered, were sadly dilapidated,
‘the ditches dry, the ramparts too narrow to admit the guns,
334 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

the battlements too low to protect the soldiers.’ The little garri-
son, weakened by disease and casualty, consisted now of 120
Englishmen and 200 sepoys. The officers were reduced to four,
and the store of provisions was considerably diminished.

Rajah Sahib, deeming himself sure of success, pushed on the
siege with the utmost vigour; but the defence was conducted by
Clive with a greater degree of energy and a vastly greater degree
of resolute ability. Ifa breach was effected by the enemy’s bat-
tering-guns, it was repaired; if, in spite of all his efforts, the
breach grew wider, he was always ready to defend it and repulse
the assailants. The courage and fidelity of his small garrison
were admirable. They were scantily fed, but they never mur-
mured. They were harassed by want of repose, but their hearts
never quailed. When the stock of rice began to fail, the sepoys
repaired to Clive, and begged of him to preserve what remained
for the sole use of their European comrades. ‘Give to us,’ they
said, ‘the conja—the water in which the rice is boiled. It will
suffice for us; but the Huropeans require a stronger diet.’ ‘ His-
tory,’ says Macaulay, ‘ affords no more touching instance of mili-
tary fidelity, or of the influence of a commanding mind.’

An attempt had been made from Madras to relieve the heroic
garrison, but it had failed; and there seemed no prospect of safety
except in their own desperate courage. But at last Clive suc-
ceeded in communicating with Morari Row, a Mahratta chief,
who, with 6000 men, was hovering on the borders of the Carnatic.
This remarkable man had watched, with admiration, the gallant
defence which Clive had conducted, and declaring that he had
never before believed that Englishmen could fight, eagerly pro-
mised to come to their assistance. When Rajah Sahib was
apprised that the Mahrattas were in motion, his anxiety became
intense. He endeavoured to bribe Clive into a surrender. His
bribes were rejected with contempt. He sought to terrify him
with threats. They were regarded with haughty indifference.?
Determined to regain the fort, and reassert his father’s sove-
reignty, he resolved upon a general assault.

The day he selected was well calculated to inflame the minds

1 Sir J. Malcolm ; Orme ; Macaulay’s Essay on Lord Clive.
RAJAH SAHIB ATTEMPTS TO STORM THE CITADEL. 335

and excite the enthusiasm of his Mussulmans. It was the 14th
of November,—a day kept holy by the followers of Mohammed
in memory of the murder of Hoseen, the son of the Caliph Ali,
and a saint of imperishable renown. ‘The history of Islam,’ again
to adopt Macaulay’s brilliant periods, ‘contains nothing more
touching than the event which gave rise to that solemnity. The
mournful legend relates how the chief of the Fatimites, when all
his brave followers had perished around him, drank his latest
draught of water, and uttered his latest prayer; how the assas-
sins carried his head in triumph ; how the tyrant smote the lifeless
lips with his staff; and how a few old men recollected with tears
that they had seen those lips pressed to the lips of the Prophet
of God. After the lapse of near twelve centuries, the recurrence
of this solemn season excites the fiercest and saddest emotions
in the bosom of the devout Moslem of India. They work them-
selves up to such agonies of rage and lamentation, that some, it
is said, have given up the ghost from the mere effect of mental
excitement. They believe that whoever, during this festival,
falls in arms against the infidels, atones by his death for all the
sins of his life, and passes at once to the Garden of the Houris.’

It was upon this memorable day that Rajah Sahib resolved
to storm the citadel of Arcot. His soldiers, maddened with
stimulating drugs and religious frenzy, rushed to the attack.
Before them pressed a heavy troop of ponderous elephants,
whose foreheads were armed with plates of iron, that they might
dash through the gates and open an easy path for the troops.
Clive having been secretly apprised that an attack was intended,
had effected what preparations he could, and, worn out with toil
and anxiety, had flung himself upon his bed. Aroused by the
din and the clamour, he repaired to his post. The morning was
just dawning over the eastern hills, and threw an uncertain light
upon the spears, and the sabres, and the matchlocks of the on-
sweeping masses, who, in four columns—two directed against
each of the practicable breaches, and two against the gates—
rushed furiously to the attack. The bravest of the besieged
hold their breath for a while; and then, a ringing deadly charge
of musketry mows down the advancing columns. The fire is
renewed, is kept up with admirable vigour. It galls and alarms
336 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

the elephants, which turn round upon,the soldiery behind them,
trample them to the earth, and madly rush away. Meanwhile,
an attempt is made against the breach in the north-western wall.
The ditch at that part is fordable; and the assailants, drunk
with opium and ‘bang,’ and frantic with zealot fury, pour across
it, and clamber over the shattered walls. They reach the pali-
sade, and not a shot is fired against them. But now, Clive
opens upon them with his musketry, and two pieces of cannon,
which he has skilfully planted for the purpose, plunge a storm of
bullets into the howling and shrieking crowd. It is a rare festival
for death! The ground is heaped with dead and dying. The
muddy waters of the ditch redden luridly with blood. Thrice the
Moslems advance with breasts open to the deadly fire. Thrice
they are driven back, and finally compelled to retire beyond the
moat.

~ At the other breach the struggle was equally furious. The
water there was too deep to be forded, and the assailants at-
tempted to cross upon a raft. Clive hastened to the spot, and,
observing that the fire of his gunners was ill-directed, took the
management of a field-piece into his own hands, and cleared the
raft in a moment. Nearly 70 men were killed by the discharge.
Dispirited and dismayed, the enemy could no longer be brought
up to the attack, and, with a loss of 400 dead, retired into their
own camp. The besieged had had but four English killed and
two sepoys wounded.

Throughout the day, and until late in the following night,
the enemy maintained a partial fire, and then, in sore discourage-
ment, retired from the town. It was well that they did so; for
Clive’s force consisted now of but 80 Europeans and 120 sepoys
fit for service, and could scarcely have resisted another general
assault. During the attack, this small body had expended
12,000 cartridges, besides keeping up the fire of five pieces of
cannon. Four guns, four mortars, and a very desirable supply
of ammunition were found in the enemy’s quarters, and other
treasure rewarded the gallant exertions of the besieged.

A considerable reinforcement, at this juncture, reached Clive ;
and being also joined by a body of Morari Row’s Mahrattas,
he immediately resumed offensive operations. He captured the
HE DEFEATS THE ARMY OF RAJAH SAHIB. 337

fort of Timery, and intercepting a corps despatched from Trichi-
nopoly to Rajah Sahib’s assistance, cut them to pieces. Then he
attacked Arnee, which at once surrendered, and with it 700 dis-
ciplined sepoys, whom he enlisted into the English service. Con-
jeveram capitulated without firing a shot. Thus successful, the
young soldier returned in triumph to Fort St David, where he
was received with such a welcome as his important services and
brilliant achievements deserved.

But if success attended the British arms where Clive himself
commanded, it was otherwise where the genius of that master
mind no longer overcame obstacles, directed efforts, and retrieved
defeats. Mohammed Ali was still beleaguered in Trichinopoly ;
and Rajah Sahib, assembling a new army, and strengthening it
with 400 French auxiliaries, had ravaged a wide district with
impunity, and destroyed Poonamalee. Clive, therefore, was again
despatched to encounter the enemy, and fulfilled his task with his
usual success. With 300 English, 1300 sepoys, and six field
pieces, he encountered Rajah Sahib’s army (some 5000 strong)
at Coverpauk, and totally defeated them. The battle was a des-
perate one, and cost Clive 40 Europeans and 30 sepoys killed ;
but Rajah Sahib had 50 Europeans and 300 sepoys slain, and
lost 9 pieces of cannon and 60 Kuropean prisoners.

The victorious Clive now marched towards Fort St David,
and passing on his road the vainglorious column erected by
Dupleix, and the town which he had christened Dupleix Fatiha-
bad, ordered both to be levelled to the earth. He knew that it
would be impolitic for an English army to pass by untouched
such boastful memorials of French ascendancy. Dupleix had
laboured to impress upon the Indian princes that France was the
chief power in Europe. The destruction of his proudest monu-
ments was the best and surest means of teaching the natives the
power of England.

Clive’s successes infused a fresh spirit into the government at
Madras, and they determined to reinforce the garrison at Tri-
chinopoly. Clive was at first selected to command the detach-
ment ; but the arrival of Major Lawrence from England deprived
him of the honour. He served, however, very willingly under

his old friend and commander, whose abilities he appreciated, and
Y
338 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

who, in his turn, did full justice to the superior genius of his subor-
dinate. ‘Some people,’ he wrote, ‘ are pleased to term Captain
Clive fortunate and lucky ; but, in my opinion, from the know-
ledge I have of the gentleman, he deserved and might expect
from his conduct everything as it fell out;—a man of an un-
daunted resolution, of a cool temper, and of a presence of mind
which never left him in the greatest danger—born a soldier:
for, without a military education of any sort, or much conversing
with any of the profession, from his judgment and good sense, he
led on an army like an experienced officer and a brave soldier,
with a prudence that certainly warranted success.’

Under Clive and Lawrence the English everywhere triumphed.
Chunda Sahib fell into the hands of the Tanjorians, and was put
to death. The French army, under M. Law, were beaten in
action after action, and finally compelled to lay down their arms
and surrender as prisoners of war. In spite of the intrigues of
Dupleix, who, with indomitable spirit, stirred up all the elements
of Indian confusion, the French influence declined, and the ascend-
ancy of the British continued to increase. A gallant enterprise,
undertaken by the indefatigable Clive, contributed to impress the
native mind with a vivid idea of their spirit and daring. This
was the reduction of the two strong fortresses of Covelong and
Chingliput, garrisoned by the French. The force with which
Clive performed this service was probably such as no officer had
ever before ventured to lead against a brave and powerful enemy.
Two hundred recruits just imported from the gaols of England,
and five hundred sepoys, newly raised, and therefore imperfectly
disciplined, were the raw material out of which the ardent genius
of Clive made true and steady soldiers. At first, indeed, they
ran away at the sound of shot, and one of them was actually
found ensconced at the bottom of a well; but by setting them
an example of the most daring courage, and by gradually accus-
toming them to stand steady under fire, by judicious encourage-
ment and careful discipline, he succeeded in training them to act
with vigour and bravery, and Covelong fell into his hands. A
detachment was sent from Chingliput to relieve it; but Clive,
hearing of its march, formed an ambuscade, slew a hundred at
one fire, captured 300 prisoners, and followed the flying remains
HIS ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND. 339

of the force close upon their heels to Chingliput, which he imme-
diately invested. Notwithstanding the strength of the fortress,
it capitulated before the terror of Clive’s name; and the victori-
ous soldier returned in triumph to Madras.

Towards the close of the year (1752), Clive married an excel-
lent and attractive young lady, Miss Neville Maskelyne, the sister
of the eminent mathematician, Dr Maskelyne, afterwards Astro-
nomer-Royal. His health, however, had been much injured by
the excessive fatigues, both of mind and body, which he had un-
dergone ; and, to seek that repose and relaxation which change
of scene usually affords, he returned with his wife to England in
February 1753.

In England the youthful hero—he was then but twenty-
seven—was welcomed with a noble welcome. He was known at
the India House by the pet sobriquet of ‘ General Clive,’ and
received from the Hast India Company a vote of thanks, couched
in the most flattering terms, and a sword of honour, set with
diamonds. His family were naturally prepared to overwhelm
him with praises and congratulations. '‘ Bobby,’ formerly re-
garded as the dunce of the family, was now its pride and boast.
His father, who had obstinately adhered to an unfavourable
opinion of his abilities, until the siege of Arcot convinced him of
its futility, was extravagantly proud of him; and his mother,
more prudent and reserved, nevertheless displayed all the fervour
of amother’s loving admiration. Clive liberally shared his fortune
with these dear relatives. He redeemed the mortgage upon his
father’s estate, and set by such a sum as secured to him and his
mother a comfortable income for the remainder of their lives.
Then he began to indulge his natural taste for extravagant dis-
play. He dressed splendidly, though his figure was not adapted
to such ostentation; kept up a brilliant equipage, and attired
his servants in gorgeous liveries; gave costly banquets to
men and women, who repaid him for his efforts by ill-disguised
scorn; and, lastly, indulged in the fatal luxury of a contested
election.

In 1754, when a new Parliament was summoned, there
scarcely existed that opposition between Whig and Tory which
has since rendered general elections so exciting. The antagon-
340 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

ism was rather between different members of the same party,—
between Whigs and ultra-Whigs, between the adherents of the
Duke of Newcastle, the Prime Minister, and Henry Fox, the Secre-
tary at War. This antagonism broke out in various boroughs,
but in none more vehemently than at St Michael, a Cornish rotten
borough, disfranchised by the Reform Act of 1832. Here Fox
and Lord Sandwich opposed the nominees of the Duke of New-
castle, and Clive was induced by them to come forward as a can-
didate. He was returned; but a petition was presented against
his return, and the Duke brought the whole weight of his par-
liamentary influence to support it. The struggle was long and
desperate; but Newcastle prevailed, and Clive was declared to
have been unduly elected.

The losses he had sustained in the contest, and the disap-
pointment he felt at its result, induced him to turn his eyes once
more to that land of romance, where his reputation had been
made. Both the Government and the India Company were pre-
pared to accept his services, and gladly testified their apprecia-
tion of their value. It was felt that hostilities would soon break
out between England and France, and the necessity was apparent
of an able commander in the English settlements in India. Clive’s
offer, therefore, was eagerly accepted. The Company appointed
him governor of Fort St David, and the Government compli-
mented him with a lieutenant-colonel’s commission in the regular
army.

Early in 1755 Clive quitted England, for the second time,
carrying with him three companies of royal artillery and 300
infantry. On his arrival at Bombay he found in the harbour a
powerful English squadron, and, in conjunction with its com-
mander, brave old Admiral Watson, resolved upon the reduction
of Gherial, the formidable stronghold of the pirate Angria, whose
sea-corsairs had long ravaged with impunity the Malabar coast.
The expedition was entirely successful. Clive stormed the rocky
fastness, and levelled it to the ground. Admiral Watson burnt
the whole of Angria’s piratical fleet. A booty, valued at
L.150,000, fell to the share of the fortunate adventurers, and
Bombay was relieved from a source of continual apprehension.
The capture of some smaller fortresses followed, and Clive then
HIS RETURN TO INDIA. 341

proceeded to his government at Fort St David, where he arrived
on the 20th of June 1756.

Two months elapsed, and Clive was summoned to Madras, to
consult on the adoption of measures for the recovery of the Com-
pany’s territory at Calcutta, and the punishment of the massacre
of ‘The Black Hole.’ To Clive was entrusted the command of the
troops to be employed upon this enterprise, and Admiral Watson,
with his squadron, was ordered to co-operate. With 900 Huro-
pean infantry and 1500 sepoys, and a squadron of five ships of
war and five transports, Clive sailed from Madras on the 11th of
October. On the 2d of January 1757, Fort William was retaken.
Hooghly next fell into the hands of the English, and the army
was soon established in the vicinity of Calcutta; while the Nabob,
Surajah Dowlah, concentrating his masses between Clive and the
city, formed there an encampment of considerable strength.
Being informed that the Nabob’s train of artillery was established
in an enclosure in the camp, called Omichund’s Garden, Clive
resolved to attempt its capture (February 5). The exploit was
a daring one, and has been well described by Mr Gleig :—

‘ About three or four o’clock in the morning,’ he says, ‘ the
English army, consisting of 650 European soldiers of the line,
100 artillerymen, 800 sepoys, and 600 seamen, formed in a single
column, facing towards the south. One wing of the sepoy bat-
talion led; this was followed by the European infantry; the
other sepoy wing came next; the artillery, six field-pieces,
drawn partly by seamen, partly by Lascars, succeeded; and the
rear was brought up by a party of small-armed men from the
fleet: their especial duty was to guard a party of coolies, on
whose shoulders loads of spare ammunition were laid. Clive him-
self took post beside the European battalion, and, like the rest of
the European officers, marched that day on foot.

It was yet dark when the head of the column fell upon the
enemy’s outposts, which, after discharging a few matchlocks and
rockets, retreated ; though not till, by the explosion of a sepoy’s
cartouch-box, on which one of these missiles fell, some confusion
had been created in the English ranks. Order, however, was
soon restored, and the column passed on, a fog overspreading
them like a canopy as the day broke, and rendering objects quite
342 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

invisible at a yard’s distance from the eye. By-and-bye they came
opposite to Omichund’s Garden, where, in the interior of the
Mahratta ditch, the Nabob had fixed his head-quarters; and
here, for the first time since the advance began, they became
aware of a threatened attack. The sound of horses in movement
was heard. It approached rapidly from the direction of the
ditch; and the fog opening, as it were, for an instant, a well-
mounted line of horsemen was seen within twenty yards of their
flank. The column halted, gave its fire with terrible effect, and
swept the enemy away, as dust is swept aside by the wind when it
suddenly rises. Once more the men resumed their march, mov-
ing slowly, and firing at random by platoons; while the artillery,
from time to time, discharged round shot obliquely, as if’
with a view to clear the course of the column, and protect its
progress.

‘The troops had now reached a causeway, which, being ele-
vated by several feet above the level of the surrounding country,
led through some swampy rice-fields, across the Mahratta ditch,
and so into the Company's territory. The causeway was under-
stood to be entrenched, and it formed part of Clive’s plan first
to carry this barricade by assault, and then, countermarching on
the inner side of the Mahratta ditch, to double back upon Omi-
chund’s garden, andenter it from therear. The leading sections
accordingly clambered up the ascent, and, facing to the right,
prepared to make the rush. But the artillery, now in the rear,
not being aware of this change of front, continued to fire as
heretofore ; and the shot, striking full among their own people,
forced them to seek shelter by leaping down into a ditch on the
opposite side of the causeway. Great confusion ensued. Each
new company, as it arrived, followed the example of that which
went before, till by-and-bye the whole were thrown into a shape-
less mass together, quite out of the direction which their leader
had proposed to follow. Nor did the mischief end here. A
couple of heavy guns from a small bastion on the ditch opened
with canister-shot at a short distance, and the first discharge
killed or disabled twenty-two Europeans. Clive saw that it was
useless to think of rallying in such a position. He therefore gave
the word to push on, and made for another elevated mound or
TREATY OF PEACE WITH SURAJAH DOWLAH. 343

causeway @ full mile and a quarter to the south, and by so much
out of the line of his proposed attack.

‘The execution of this movement was much retarded by the
damp nature of the soil, over which, interrupted by numerous
gaps or channels of irrigation, it was necessary to drag the guns.
By nine o’clock, moreover, the fog dispersed, and the false
position of the English becoming evident, the enemy’s horse re-
peatedly endeavoured to charge. And now was seen the obsti-
nate courage of the men, who kept up such a steady and well-
directed fire that not a horseman ventured to face it. On, there-
fore, they marched, till, having reached the second causeway,
they made a face to the right, and were by-and-bye carried be-
yond the Mahratta ditch. Clive had it now in his power either
to attempt, at a palpable disadvantage, his original design, by
marching upon Omichund’s Garden, or to avail himself of the
communication with Calcutta which he had opened, and to lead
his people into the town. He preferred the latter course, to
which, indeed, the exhausted condition of his people strongly
urged him: and about noon, or a little later, jaded and footsore,
though not disgraced, the column penetrated within the walls.’

Clive’s loss on this occasion amounted to 120 Europeans,
100 sepoys, and two pieces of cannon. The attempt, however,
though unsuccessful, was so bold in conception and in execution,
that it impressed the Nabob with a potent idea of English superi-
ority, and retiring to some distance from the town, he endea-
voured to open negotiations for peace. A treaty was accord-
ingly concluded, to which neither party intended to adhere any
longer than suited his convenience. The Nabob ceded some’
territory, made compensation for losses, and sanctioned the
establishment of a mint in Calcutta. The English agreed to
regard the Nabob’s enemies as their enemies, and to furnish him,
when needful, with a small contingent of European troops.

No sooner was the treaty signed than the Nabob began to
intrigue with M. Bussy, the French general in the Deccan; and
Clive, on his part, meditated a great blow at the interests of
France in Bengal. The English had always regarded with not
unreasonable apprehension the French settlement at Chanderna-
gore, which, from its position on the Hooghly, absorbed the best
344 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

portion of the inland trade, and from the strength of its garrison
was a permanent menace to Calcutta. Clive, who, as he became
fully aware of the resources of his own genius, became less re-
gardful of the orders of his superiors, and more prone to the
assertion of an independent authority, resolved upon the reduc-
tion of Chandernagore ; in this, consulting the true interests of
the East India Company, but absolutely disobeying the orders
of the Government of Madras. Clive, however, was well aware
that Surajah Dowlah was corresponding with the French autho-
rities at Chandernagore, and urging M. Bussy to advance from
the Deccan, descend the Hooghly, and drive the English out of
Bengal. His resolution was promptly taken, and promptly
earried out. Admiral Watson, with his squadron, ascended the
river; Clive took the command of the land forces; and on the
12th March, Chandernagore was invested. The operations of the
siege were pushed on with the utmost vigour, and on the 23d
the town capitulated, and its European garrison surrendered as
prisoners of war.

The effect of this success on the mind of Surajah Dowlah was
twofold: it taught him a greater fear, and yet inspired him with
an intenser hatred of the English. He threw himself completely
into the hands of the French, and earnestly besought them to
hasten to his assistance. But he was not the man to compete
with Clive—with Sabut Jung, ‘the Daring in War,’ as the
natives admiringly called him—who now showed himself equally
the astute incouncil. He thoroughly comprehended the Nabob’s
schemes, and their results, if carried out, upon the interests of
England; and he determined to meet intrigue by intrigue, and
duplicity by duplicity.

That an English gentleman and an English soldier should
stoop to the trickeries which we are now about to narrate, we
cannot but deplore; and though we do not agree with Mr Mill,
that ‘Clive was a man to whom deception, when it suited his
purpose, never cost a pang,’ we fear that he did not regard it as
either dishonourable or criminal to meet an Asiatic with his own
weapons, and lie because he lied, or cheat because he cheated.
Like all men who are resolute in accomplishing the object upon
which they have directed their strongest energies, he was not
A CONSPIRACY AGAINST SURAJAH DOWLAH. 345

sufficiently scrupulous in his choice of the means. To gain his
end he was ready to wade through considerable mire, and travel
by a very circuitous route. ‘His letters show,’ says Lord
Macaulay,’ that the great difference between Asiatic and
European morality was constantly in his thoughts. He seems to
have imagined, most erroneously in our opinion, that he could
effect nothing against such adversaries, if he was content to be
bound by ties from which they were free; if he went on telling
truth, and hearing none; if he fulfilled, to his own hurt, all his
engagements with confederates who never kept an engagement
that was not to their advantage. Accordingly, this man, in the
other parts of his life an honourable English gentleman and a
soldier, was no sooner matched against an Indian intriguer, than
he became himself an Indian intriguer, and descended, without
scruple, to falsehood, to hypocritical caresses, to the substitution
of documents, and to the counterfeiting of hands.’

At this time a powerful conspiracy against Surajah Dowlah
was formed by his leading subjects, Roydallub, his minister of
finance,—Meer Jaffier, the principal commander of his troops,—
and Sugget Seit, the richest banker in India. The conspirators
soon contrived to open communications with the English, and
entreated their assistance in compassing the downfal of Surajah
Dowlah, and the elevation of Meer Jaffier to the throne; in return
for which the Company was to receive a liberal cession of terri-
tory, and its officers were to be rewarded with splendid gifts.
Clive eagerly accepted the overtures, for he felt that Surajah
Dowlah had no claims on the compassion of the English; but
alarmed lest the Nabob should become apprised of the plot
against him, he descended to the most artful dissimulation, and
wrote to the unfortunate prince in terms of affectionate en-
couragement, while he was arranging with Meer Jaffier the
details of his overthrow. The Nabob at length grew sus-
picious that some design was meditated against him; and, to
soothe his fears, Clive employed a wealthy Calcutta merchant,
—a Bengalee, named Omichund,—whose plastic intellect readily
conceived such a series of fictions as completely blinded the
Nabob’s eyes. But Omichund, in his turn, became troublesome.
He was dissatisfied with the reward he had been promised ; and as
346 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

the entire intrigue was known to him,—as with a word he could
overthrow it, and place the lives of Meer Jaffier and the other
conspirators at the merey of Surajah Dowlah,—he felt himself
in a position to dictate his own terms. These terms were,
L.300,000. Clive was forced to accede; but he determined that
artifice should be met by artifice. He represented to his coad-
jutors that when the plot was fully carried out, Omichund could
no longer be dangerous; but that, meanwhile, it was necessary
to deceive him, and secure his aid. Omichund demanded that
an article respecting his claims should be inserted in the treaty
between Meer Jaffier and the English, and declared that, unless
he saw it with his own eyes, he would not be satisfied. Well :
what so easy as to draw up two treaties, a false one and a
genuine one? Clive’s plan was adopted. The real treaty was
written upon white paper, and contained no allusion to Omichund.
The false was drawn up on red paper, and included the article
which secured to him the terms he demanded. This treaty alone
was shown to him; and as Admiral Watson, like an honest
sailor, declined to sign it, while the absence of so well-known and
important a name would assuredly have aroused Omichund’s sus-
picions, Clive forged it ;—to our thinking a disgraceful act, from
whose obloquy the great soldier’s fame will never be free!

All things being thus prepared, the English army suddenly
advanced upon Cossimbuzar, while the Nabob gathered his forces
in the plain of Plassey. The details of the great battle which
followed, of the victory which established the ascendancy of
the English in India, have already been given; and we have,
therefore, but to proceed with a narrative of the events of which
it was the significant forerunner.

Meer Jaffier had taken no decisive part in the battle, fearing,
probably, that his English allies might be overwhelmed by the
Nabob’s superiority of numbers ; but when victory declared itself
for the arms of England, he retired, with his division, from the
field of battle, and despatched a messenger to offer his congratu-
lations to the English commander. On the following morning
he repaired to Clive’s quarters, but in much anxiety respecting
the reception he should meet with. It was not, however, the
policy of the English to quarrel with him; and Clive stepped
HE IS GUILTY OF DECEIT. 347

forward, embraced him, and saluted him as Nabob of Bengal,
Bahar, and Orissa. He also counselled him to proceed with
as little delay as possible to Moorshedabad, whither Surajah
Dowlah had retired.

Meer Jaffier adopted Clive’s advice. On the news of his
arrival, the hapless Surajah lowered himself at night from a
window of his palace, and escaped to Patna. Soon afterwards,
the victorious Clive, escorted by 200 English and 800 sepoys,
entered Moorshedabad, and attended the installation of the new
Nabob, who was straightway called upon to fulfil the conditions
he had accepted as the price of the English alliance. These
included payments to the amount of L.2,700,000; the cession
of a zemindary and other lands to the Company; and the ex-
clusion of the French from the three provinces of Bengal, Bahar,
and Orissa. Clive received, in addition, L.160,000 as a gift
from Meer Jaffier, besides sharing in the splendid sums presented
to the army and navy. A conference to determine upon these
delicate arrangements was held at Sugget Seit’s house, and
attended by all the persons interested. The treaty upon white
paper was duly produced and read; and Omichund eagerly
awaited the moment for the production of the red treaty. Clive
felt that the delusion could no longer be maintained. ‘It is
now proper,’ he said, in English, to Mr Scrafton, one of the
Company’s servants, ‘to undeceive Omichund. You may tell
him how the case stands.’ Mr Scrafton turned to the Indian
merchant, and said to him quietly, ‘Omichund, the red treaty is
a sham; you are to have nothing.’ He fell back insensible into
the arms of an attendant, and was immediately removed. The
cold air revived him; but it was found that his intellect was
completely prostrated, and he rapidly sank into hopeless idiocy.
It must be confessed, to Clive’s credit, that he regretted the
severity of the blow which Omichund had received, and even
entertained some thoughts of employing him again, if he re-
covered, in the public service; but no apology can be offered
for the flagrant dishonesty and gross cruelty of the whole trans-
action.

Clive returned to Calcutta triumphant. He had saved
British India, and won immense wealth for the Hast India Com-
348 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

pany. Its European inhabitants looked to him as the only man
who could compel Meer Jaffier to carry out his promises. Meer
Jaffier regarded him as the only man who could sustain him on
his newly-acquired throne. Great, therefore, was the conster-
nation when despatches arrived from the India House appointing
a new administration on a singularly absurd and antiquated
model, and leaving out of that administration the hero who had
saved British India. The persons named by the India House
had, however, the sense to appreciate the folly of these orders,
and the courage to disobey them, and unanimously requested
Clive to exercise the supreme authority. Meanwhile, the news
of the victory of Plassey reached London; and then fresh orders
were transmitted to India which appointed Clive to his proper
place—the government of the British possessions in Bengal.

‘His power was now boundless, and far surpassed even that
which Dupleix had attained in the south of India. Meer Jaffer
regarded him with slavish awe. On one occasion, the Nabob
spoke with severity to a native chief of high rank, whose fol-
lowers had been engaged in a brawl with some of the Company’s
sepoys. ‘Are you yet to learn,” he said, “who that Colonel
Clive is, and in what station God has placed him?” The chief,
who, as a famous jester and an old friend of Meer Jaffier, could
venture to take liberties, answered, “J affront the Colonel! J,
who never get up in the morning without making three low bows
to his jackass!” This was hardly an exaggeration. Europeans
and natives were alike at Clive’s feet.’

Our great English soldier was vigorous enough in the exer-
cise of his power. The English possessions in the Carnatic
being threatened by the French, he despatched an expedition
against their territory in the Northern Circars. He entrusted
the command to Lieutenant-Colonel Forde, an officer whose
military ability his quick eye had detected, and placed under
him 500 infantry, 2000 sepoys, and 12 pieces of cannon. The
force retained at Calcutta was, therefore, reduced to some 450
Europeans and 2000 sepoys, at a time when danger-clouds were
rapidly gathering in every quarter of the horizon.

The Great Mogul, who now occupied the splendid throne of
Aurungzebe,—Alumjeer the Second,—was merely a tool in the
THE RELIEF OF PATNA. 349

hands of his vizier, Ghazu-u-Deen, who had persuaded him into
@ severe and arbitrary treatment of his eldest son, Shah Alum.
The young prince, escaping from Delhi, became the rallying
point of adventurers from all parts of India, and soon formed the
design of invading Bengal, and expelling Meer Jaffier from his
throne. He was encouraged by many of the native princes,
particularly by the powerful Viceroy of Oude; and it was not
long before an army of 40,000 men followed his standard. Meer
Jaffier fell into a state of unreasoning alarm, and proposed to
bribe his adversary with a large sum of money to accept terms
of peace. But Clive replied, ‘If you do this, you will have the
Nabob of Oude, the Mahrattas, and many more, come from all
parts of the confines of your country, who will bully you out
of money till you have none left in your treasury. I beg your
Excellency will rely on the fidelity of the English, and of those
troops which are attached to you.’ Following up his words, as
he was wont, by deeds, he proceeded without delay to the relief
of Patna, which Shah Alum had invested, and was on the point
of assaulting. Such was the dread of Clive which pervaded all
India, that, on the approach of his advanced guard, the mighty
hosts of Shah Alum retired from the city, and in a few days
had scattered far and wide in hopeless disorder over the whole
country! Meer Jafifer marked his sense of the greatness of
Clive’s service, by bestowing upon him a noble donation,—the
jaghire, or quit-rent, which the Company was bound to pay
annually to the Nabobs of Bengal upon the zemindarry, granted
to them by the treaty of Plassey,—a yearly sum of about
L.30,000. Clive accepted the gift, which Meer Jaffier had a
perfect right to bestow, without hesitation, and the Company
acquiesced in the arrangement. He was thus endowed with an
estate worthy of an English peer, in addition to the large sums
of money he had already accumulated.

The favour of an Oriental is fickle as the wind, and Meer
Jaffier soon wearied of being grateful. He felt that he was in
some measure the puppet of the English ; and he feared that the
hand which had set him up might as easily overthrow him. He
became anxious to secure himself by another alliance; not with
the French, for the French power no longer had any weight in
350 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

Bengal; not with one of the native princes, for he knew that
none dared oppose Clive’s veteran army; but with the Dutch,
of whose resources he had formed an exaggerated idea. The
Dutch, whose chief settlement was at Chinsurah, eagerly accepted
his overtures, and sent messengers to the authorities of Batavia,
urging them to fit out an expedition which should check the
further progress of British ascendancy in Bengal. Their repre-
sentations produced an immediate impression, and seven ships,
with 1500 troops on board, suddenly made their appearance in
the Hooghly. Clive had obtained information of Meer Jaffier’s
treachery, and resolved upon the line of action to be adopted ;
but, nevertheless, his position was an embarrassing one. England
and Holland were then at peace; and he felt how terrible a re-
sponsibility would fall upon him if he involved the two countries
in war. On the other hand, if the Batavian expedition were
allowed to reinforce the garrison of Chinsurah, he knew that
Meer Jaffier would at once break through his treaty with the
English, and accept the support of the new ally. He therefore
refused to allow the Dutch a passage. They attempted to force
it. The troops at his command only numbered 320 English and
1200 sepoys, and but three of the Company’s ships were in the
river. But he did not hesitate. The direction of the attack he
confided to Colonel Forde, who proved himself worthy of the
trust reposed in him. Both by land and water the English were
entirely successful (November 25, 1757). It is said that, before
the Colonel ordered his troops to advance, he felt a momentary
alarm at the risk he might incur, and despatched a messenger to
Clive, saying that ‘if he had the order of council, he could
attack the Dutch, with a fair prospect of destroying them.’
Clive was at cards when the message reached him; and taking
out his pencil he quietly wrote on the back of Colonel Forde’s
letter, ‘Dear Forde, fight them immediately. I will send you
the order of council to-morrow. Forde fought them, and beat
them, at a place called Bedaira, four miles from Chinsurah. His
loss was small, while that of the enemy amounted to 320 killed,
150 wounded, and nearly 600 taken prisoners. The authorities
at Chinsurah, baffled by this total defeat, agreed to whatever
terms Clive thought proper to propose; and engaged, upon
HE AGAIN RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 351

penalty of instant expulsion from Bengal, to build no fortifica-
tions, and levy no troops beyond the number necessary (125) for
the police of their factories. Thus the energy and daring of
Clive saved a second time the British settlements in India.

Having now established affairs upon a secure basis, and freed
the British from all apprehension of hostile attacks, Clive, who
had formed certain projects in relation to the future government
of Bengal, and the extension of the power and influence of the
Company, resolved to return to England. He was enthusiasti-
cally welcomed by his countrymen, and honourably received by
the Company and the Government. An Irish peerage was be-
stowed upon him, and it was hinted that he might reasonably
aspire, at an early period, to an English one. The great Pitt
pronounced a splendid eulogy upon his genius. George ITI.
received him with marked distinction. So immense was his

‘ wealth—yielding him a yearly income of between L.40,000 and
L.50,000—that he was able to sustain the luxurious burthen of
the highest position. And yet he was but 34! Surely the life
of Clive, up to this period, was as gorgeous a romance as was
ever dreamed of by an Oriental poet !

Clive’s energies were now directed to the furtherance of the
projects of Indian government he had formed, and he devoted a
portion of his wealth to the purchase of a formidable interest in
Parliament and in the Company. After the general election of
1761, he found himself at the head of a parliamentary following
which no ministry could afford to disregard, and had purchased
stock in the East India Company which secured to him an im-
portant degree of influence. But on the board of direction of
the Company were men who avowed an open animosity against
their powerful servant. Mr Sullivan, the chairman, was notori-
ously Clive’s enemy, though he had formerly been his friend, until
the splendour of Clive’s successes had aroused his fears and ex-
cited his jealousy. A war, therefore, broke out between the two
parties, and Clive resolved to strike at Sullivan’s authority. He
accordingly set himself to oppose the return of that gentleman to
the directory at the election in 1763. He bought up L.100,000
worth of stock, and distributed it in 500 shares on friends on whom
he could rely. But though he gained the victory at the show of
352 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

hands, he was defeated at the balloting, and Sullivan was re-
elected. He hastened to avenge himself upon Clive by disputing
his right to the jaghire which Meer Jaffier had presented to him.
Notwithstanding the opinion of the most eminent English lawyers
was against Sullivan and his party, they determined to confiscate
this jaghire, and Clive was forced to file a billin Chancery to re-
strain them.

But his revenge was close at hand. The most disastrous
news arrived from Bengal, where misgovernment had reached its
climax, and oppression and peculation ran riot. The Company’s
servants had but one aim—to make money,— ‘

‘Rem,
Si possis, recte ; si non, quomodo possis.’

‘They forced the natives to buy dear and sell cheap. They in-
sulted with impunity the tribunals, the police, and the fiscal
authorities of the country. They covered with their protection
a set of native dependants, who ranged through the provinces,
spreading desolation and terror wherever they appeared. Every
servant of a British factor was armed with all the power of his
master; and his master was armed with all the power of the
Company. Enormous fortunes were thus rapidly accumulated at
Calcutta, while thirty millions of human beings were reduced to
the extremity of wretchedness.’ Meer Jaffier had been deposed,
and Meer Cossim reigned in his stead. But Meer Cossim ‘had
parts and a will,’ and determined that nobody should oppress his
subjects but himself. He was therefore pulled down by the
English, and Meer Jaffier restored to his nominal sovereignty.
War hovered upon the frontiers of Bengal; disorder reigned in
its centre; and it was apparent to the most superficial observer,
that ruin threatened the empire which had been founded at such
cost of blood, and by so much intellect and valour.

The opinion in England became universal that Clive was ‘the
man’ for ‘the hour,’—the Hercules who alone could cleanse the
Augean stable; and at a full meeting of the Court of Proprietors,
it was loudly protested that the unjust proceedings adopted
against him should be abandoned, and that he should be urged
to return to India. Clive intimated his willingness to undertake
HE IS APPOINTED GOVERNOR. 353

once more the settlement of the empire, but that it was impos-
sible he could do so while Sullivan, his enemy, was chairman of
the Company. How, he said, could he discharge his duties as
Governor and Commander-in-Chief when his measures would
assuredly be thwarted and condemned by the home authorities ?
In vain Sullivan attempted a defence. The urgency of the peril
was understood, and it was also understood that the genius of
Clive alone could cope withit. At the general election of Direc-
tors (April 25, 1764), Sullivan, indeed, retained his place at the
Board, but Clive’s friends were in the majority ; Mr Rous, one of
his adherents, was appointed, and Mr Bolton, another adherent,
deputy. Clive now accepted the office of Governor and Com-
mander-in-Chief of the British possessions in Bengal, with almost
unlimited powers ; embarked on board the ‘Kent’ on the 4th of
June 1764, and arrived at Calcutta on the morning of the 3d
of May 1765,—the voyage having occupied just eleven months.

It is not within our province to detail the civil operations of
Lord Clive’s government. The reader will find them elaborately
detailed in Sir John Malcolm’s biography, and in Mill’s and
Orme’s valuable histories; while a brief but glowing sketch is
presented in Macaulay’s admirable memoir. The reforms he
instituted were of the most searching character; and every
movement exhibited the daring, the self-reliance, the uncontrol-
lable will of this remarkable man. ‘At first,’ says Macaulay,
“success seemed hopeless ; but soon all obstacles began to bend
before that iron courage and that vehement will. The receiving
of presents from the natives was rigidly prohibited. The private
trade of the servants of the Company was put down. The
whole settlement seemed to be set, as one man, against these
measures. But the inexorable Governor declared that, if he
could not find support at Fort William, he would procure it
elsewhere, and sent for some civil servants from Madras to assist
him in carrying on the administration. The most factious of
his opponents he turned out of their offices. The rest submitted
to what was inevitable; and in a very short time all resistance
was quelled.’

He had subdued the opposition of the civil service; he found

that of the army more formidable. ‘Some of the retrenchments
Z
354 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

which had been ordered by the Directors affected the interests
of the military service; and a storm arose, such as even Czesar
would not willingly have faced. It was no light thing to en-
counter the resistance of those who held the power of the sword,
in a country governed by the sword. Two hundred English
officers engaged in a conspiracy against the Government, and
determined to resign their commissions on the same day, not
doubting that Clive would grant any terms rather than see the
army, on which alone the British empire in the east rested, left
without commanders. They little knew the unconquerable spirit
with which they had to deal. Clive had still a few officers round
his person on whom he could rely. He sent to Fort St George
for a fresh supply. He gave commissions even to mercantile
agents, who were disposed to support him at this crisis; and he
sent orders that every officer who resigned should instantly be
brought up to Calcutta. The conspirators found that they had
miscalculated. The Governor was inexorable. The troops
were steady. The sepoys, over whom Clive had always pos-
sessed extraordinary influence, stood by him with unshaken
fidelity. The leaders in the plot were arrested, tried, and
eashiered. The rest, humbled and dispirited, begged to be per-
mitted to withdraw their resignations. Many of them declared
their repentance even with tears. The younger offenders Clive
treated with lenity. othe ringleaders he was inflexibly severe;
but his severity was pure from all taint of private malevolence.
While he sternly upheld the just authority of his office, he passed
by personal insults and injuries with magnanimous disdain. One
of the conspirators was accused of having planned the assassina-
tion of the Governor ; but Clive would not listen to the charge.
“The officers,” he said, “‘are Englishmen, not assassins.” ’
Having done the work he had to do as no other living man
could have done it, he was compelled, by the state of his health,
to return to England (July 14, 1767). His reception differed
vastly from that which had been accorded to the hero of Arcot
and the victor of Plassey, though it can hardly be said that his
services, if less brilliantly conspicuous, had been less eminently
useful. But ‘the whole crew of pilferers and oppressors’ from
whom he had rescued Bengal were ready to hunt him down with
HIS DEATH. 355

unscrupulous malignity. In the India House, in the House of
Commons, in the press, they unrelentingly persecuted him. ‘They
charged him with the foulest crimes. They ridiculed his love
of display, his ostentatious attire, his ungainly person. His
wealth, they said, was the produce of barbarous extortion ; his
fame should be shared by the officers whom he had employed
and then neglected. In 1772, these charges made themselves
heard in the House of Commons; but were exposed by Clive in
a long and powerful speech, which displayed his extraordinary
natural eloquence. A committee, however, was appointed to
inquire into the affairs of India; and its members, hostile to
Clive, commenced by a malignant investigation into the cireum-
stances which had attended the deposition of Surajah Dowlah
and the elevation of Meer Jaffier. Clive’s defence was frank,
bold, and resolute, but availed him little. Burgoyne moved
certain resolutions condemnatory of his conduct in the House of
Commons, and a long and fierce debate ensued. Wedderburne
defended the accused in a speech of remarkable force and acumen,
and Clive himself addressed the House with powerful pathos and
excellent taste. Finally, Wedderburne moved that it was true
Lord Clive had acquired certain monies (as imputed to him in
the resolutions proposed by Burgoyne), but that ‘Robert, Lord
Clive, did, at the same time, render great and meritorious services
to his country.’ Clive and his friends triumphed. The motion
was adopted by 155 voices against 95.

Clive now retired from public life, wounded to the heart by
the ingratitude of the country for which he had saved British
India. Those terrible fits of melancholy which had beset him
from early youth returned with significant frequency, and his in-
tellect was gradually weakened by their insidious influence. To
procure relief from the anguish of disease, he had recourse to
opium, and he fell gradually, but surely, a victim to its subtle
power. In darkness and in shadow the great soldier passed to
the grave, dying by his own hand, on the 22d of November 1774,
when he had just completed his forty-ninth year. He was buried
in the church of Moreton Say, the parish in which he was born,
and left two sons and three daughters to inherit his name and
fortune.
356 ROBERT, LORD CLIVE.

Our memoir of this extraordinary man may fitly close with
Macaulay’s summary of his splendid achievements; and a na-
tional monument to the hero of Plassey could bear no grander
eulogium: ‘ From his first visit to India dates the renown of the
English arms in the East... . From his second, dates the politi-
cal ascendancy of the English in that country. . . . From his third,
dates the purity of the administration of our Eastern Empire.’
That empire he founded, saved, and solidly established. He
was not only a daring soldier, but a bold reformer; he was not
only brilliant on the battle-field, but supreme in the council.
First on the roll of those immortal names which are associated
with our triumphs and successes in Hindostan, the impartial his-
torian will assuredly place that of

Rosert, Lorp Crivez.

AUTHORITIES.

[Sir John Malcolm’s Life of Lord Clive; Rev. G. R. Gleig’s
Life; Niell’s History of British India; Macaulay’s Critical
Essays; Orme’s History of British India; Macfarlane’s Our
Indian Empire ; Major Lawrence’s Narrative ; Pictorial History
of England ; Contemporary Newspapers, etc. ]
CHAPTER VIII.

THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM; AND GENERAL WOLFE.

‘ Be there join’d
Patience and temperance with this high reserve,—
Honour that knows the path and will not swerve ;
Affections which, if put to proof, are kind;
And piety towards God.—Such men of old
Were England’s native growth.’
Worpswortu.

SEPTEMBER 13, 1759.

THE accession to power, 4.p. 1756, of Mr Pitt, better known
by his countrymen as ‘ the great Karl of Chatham,’ infused a
fresh vigour and a surprising force into the councils of the admi-
nistration and the spirit of the people. It is thus, indeed, that a
hero’s heart always quickens and stimulates the sleeping energies
of his country ; like the live flame which, as it wanders over the
already impregnated ground, catches up and summons into ac-
tivity each latent germ of fire. England, at this epoch, was pur-
suing a dilatory war against France, both in Hurope and Ame-
rica, and forcibly illustrating the common adage, that her soldiers
were ‘ lions,’ but their leaders ‘asses.’ <A series of disasters had
reduced her reputation to the lowest ebb—had terribly weakened
her prestige at land and sea. Her losses on the continent had
been signal and shameful ; in America, it seemed probable that
the French would speedily assert a decisive supremacy. Eng-
lishmen felt themselves humiliated and dishonoured by the inca-
pacity of their governors, and it was really the national voice
which summoned to the supreme direction of the war the only
3858 THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM.

man in England capable of retrieving her fame—William Pitt,
the great commoner.

With the expeditions which he immediately planned against
the French coast it is not our purpose to concern ourselves. They
illustrated the minister’s vigour; but their results did not help
to raise the nation’s military glory. But in America the British
arms were graced by triumphs as novel as they were important.

The Canadas, at this period, were occupied by the French,
who, under the brave and able M. de Montcalm, had also ex-
tended their conquests over the great lakes, and planted them-
selves in the Island of Cape Breton. Pitt determined not only
to recover the English colonies, but to drive the French out of
Canada. His scheme was bold and well-devised. An army, under
General Amherst, a soldier of distinction, was to march from
New York, seize upon Crown Point and Ticonderoga, traverse
Lake Champlain, and at Quebec unite with an expedition, under
General Wolfe, which would be despatched against that impor-
tant capital. A third division, led by Prideaux, was intended
to seize upon Niagara, cross Lake Ontario, capture Montreal,
and finally effect at Quebec a combination with Wolfe and
Amherst’s forces.

The principal part of this scheme was, of course, the capture
of Quebec,—the chief fortified town in the Canadas, seated in a
formidable position upon the St Lawrence, and enjoying the
commercial advantages of a noble harbour. To command the
expeditionary force against this important port it seemed natural
that a veteran should be selected; and it appears that the King
himself had fixed upon an old general named Hopson, whose
principal qualification was his—age. But Pitt possessed that
faculty peculiar to great men, the quick perception of greatness
in others, and his choice fell upon a young soldier, James Wolfe,
who, though but in his thirty-third year, had already given
signal proofs of courage and capacity.

A fleet of 21 sail of the line, carrying 1400 guns, sailed from
England about the middle of February, under the command of
Admirals Saunders and Holmes, to support General Wolfe’s
proposed operations. They reached Louisbourg on the 21st of
April, but finding the harbour blocked up with ice, bore away
THE DEFENCES OF QUEBEC. 359

for Halifax, detaching, meanwhile, a small squadron, under Rear-
Admiral Durel, to intercept the transports proceeding to the
relief of Quebec,—an attempt which proved unsuccessful. Re-
turning to Louisbourg, Admiral Saunders took on board General
Wolfe and his 7000 troops, and commenced the ascent of the St
Lawrence. During this delay the French commander, a man of
proven ability and undoubted courage, had laboured assiduously
to strengthen the fortifications of Quebec. His camp was placed
outside the town, along the shores of the St Lawrence, resting
upon the village of Beauport, and extending from the town (on
his right) to the celebrated Falls of the Montmorency. Dense
woods raised an almost impenetrable barrier in his rear. The
river in his front was dangerous to navigate, being choked up by
an immense sandbank, and the passage was further fortified by
several gunboats and floating batteries. The city itself, planted
upon a lofty rock, was protected by two bastions and a demi-
bastion; a citadel and a strong battery; and a téte du pont,
commanding the bridge of boats across the river St Charles,
which afforded a mode of communication between the city and
the camp. The obstacles, therefore, to be overcome by an
attacking force were of the most formidable character. Here is
a sketch of them :—The upper town,—for Quebec is divided into
the Upper and the Lower Towns,—is built on a rocky steep facing
the western bank of the St Lawrence; the St Charles bounding
it on the N.W., and flowing into the great river. The St
Lawrence is impassable because of the sandbank already men-
tioned. It was needful, therefore, to climb therugged and diffi-
cult precipice, or cross the St Charles; the former defended by
a well-posted force, the latter by the French camp of 12,000
men, and a country of a most broken and unequal nature.

The expedition landed on the Isle of Orleans, a few miles
below Quebec, on the 27th of June, and Wolfe immediately pro-
ceeded to strengthen the position, and secure the opposite bank
of the river,—an operation in which he was successful despite of
Montcalm’s furious efforts to dislodge him. Here he waited in
vain for the junction of General Amherst’s forces, which had
been intended to assist him in his attack on Quebec. The
covering fleet, meanwhile, was exposed to the most serious
360 THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM.

disasters. A terrible storm had driven several vessels of the
line from their anchors, and caused the transports to run foul of
one another. In this emergency Montcalm sent in upon them
some fire-ships from Quebec; but British sailors nobly vindicated
their ancient reputation: they boarded the fire-ships, and driving
them ashore, prevented them from effecting any mischief.

A portion of the British forces was encamped on Point Levy,
and having constructed with eager rapidity some impromptu bat-
teries, directed a furious cannonade against the lower town,—that
quarter of Quebee which lines the river bank,—whose defences
were speedily destroyed. Wolfe soon found that this operation had
brought him no nearer to a conquest of the upper town, or Quebec
proper, from the defensible nature of the communications existing
between the two. He saw, therefore, that his only hope of suc-
cess lay in the result of a general action with Montcalm, and
determined to force the French entrenchments.?

Let him consider the extraordinarily strong position occupied
by the French; their superior numbers; their plenitude of re-
sources; their advantages of communication, with a well-fur-
nished arsenal; and the reader will marvel at the intrepidity of
genius which could resolve upon an attempt so daring.

It was on the 9th of July that the great General moved his
little army from the island of Orleans to across the broad channel
ofthe St Lawrence, and encamped them on the French left, from
which they were only separated by the river and falls of Mont-
morency. A detachment was sent out on the following morning
to force a passage through the wood which covered the French
rear, but, surprised by a body of Indians, was cut to pieces to a
man. Wolfe next attempted to pass the Montmorency, but the
only ford which could be discovered was so strongly entrenched,
that an attempt to force it would have been hazardous. A small
British squadron (two men-of-war, two sloops, and two trans-
ports) succeeded, on the 18th, in passing Quebec, and anchoring
off the British encampment on the Montmorency, and, with their
assistance, Wolfe meditated a diversion, which should entice
Montcalm from his defences. The French General was too wary

1 Smollett. Life of Wolfe. Pict. Hist. England.
THE FRENCH ENTRENCHMENTS ATTACKED. 361

to fall into the snare. Confident in his own resources, and aware
of the weakness of his enemy, he remained impassible in his for-
midable position.

Apparently there remained but one resource, and this the
indomitable spirit of Wolfe resolved to adopt,—a direct attack
upon the French entrenchments. Two batteries defended the
mouth of the Montmorency, and a neighbouring bay was pro-
tected by a low redoubt, which seemed totally unsupported by the
fire of the French camp. Here, then, Wolfe directed his main
attack, while Brigadier Townshend was ordered to pass the
Montmorency and fall upon the enemy’s flank. The design was
well conceived, but frustrated by natural obstacles. The boats
employed to land the troops struck upon a sunken rock, and it
was not until after a dangerous delay, and a still more dangerous
confusion, that the grenadiers were disembarked. They then,
unexpectedly, found themselves exposed to a fierce cannonade
from the French works, and, their British blood inflamed, rushed,
unsupported, upon the foe. A terrible fire compelled them to
retreat, as the clouds of night gathered rapidly over the disas-
trous scene. Wolfe felt that the attempt was unsuccessfal ;
withdrew the grenadiers; and despatched orders to Townshend
not to attempt the passage of the Montmorency. A retreat was
effected in tolerable order, but many of the wounded were left
behind, and upon them the Indians attached to the French army
wreaked their hideous barbarity.t

Such a series of disasters might have dismayed the most ardent
genius; and Wolfe, indeed, was for a time overtaken by a severe
depression. Thus he wrote to Pitt, his patron: ‘To the un-
common strength of this country, the enemy have added, for the
defence of the river, a great number of floating batteries and
boats. By the vigilance of these, and the Indians round our
posts, it has been impossible to execute anything by surprise.
We have almost the whole force of Canada to oppose. In this
situation there is such a choice of difficulties, that I own myself
at a loss how to determine. The affairs of Great Britain require
the most vigorous measures; but then the courage of a handful

1 Wolfe’s Despatches ; Smollett, vol. v.
362 THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM.

of brave men should be exerted only where there is some hope of
a favourable event.’ From this despondency, however, his elastic
mind speedily recovered, and Wolfe was yet to enrol his name
among the greatest of our British Soldiers.

The enterprise upon which he finally decided, was one that
only a bold brain could have conceived, and a resolute heart have
carried out. He resolved to effect a landing above the town,
and leading his army up the precipitous sides of the Heights of
Abraham, so to force Montcalm from his secure position. He
knew that the valour of British soldiers would do the rest. Once
draw the enemy from his formidable lines, and he felt that he
might trust his ambitious hopes to British steel. The attempt
was hazardous; but Wolfe to uncommon courage joined no
ordinary prudence, and having resolved upon the adventure, ne-
glected nothing that skill and science could suggest to render it
successful. By various able manceuvres he threw the enemy into
confusion as to his future movements. In these he was ably and
gallantly seconded by Admiral Saunders. The fleet moved up
the river for several miles, as if a descent were meditated upon
some exposed district ; but during the deep darkness of the night
of the 12th of September, it silently dropped down to a point
agreed upon, and sent out all its boats to assist in the disem-
barkation of the troops, who, meanwhile, had been transported
to the general rendezvous.

It was one hour after midnight when Wolfe placed his
soldiers in the boats, and, with the utmost stealthiness, bore
down with the tide to the appointed landing-place, three miles
or so above Cape Diamond. The swiftness of the current un-
fortunately carried them beyond this point, and they were
compelled to put into a small natural harbour,—now known as
Wolfe’s Cove,—a mile and a half above Quebec. Their perilous
passage had been effected without alarming the French sentinels
or outposts, and the soldiers, with eager alacrity, now leapt on
shore. An incident had, however, occurred which threatened
the ruin of the whole enterprise. The movement of the boats
attracted the attention of a sentinel more vigilant than his
fellows. ‘ Qui vit?’ he cried. Fortunately, the captain in com-
mand had served in Holland, and was conversant with the
THE HEIGHTS GAINED. 363

French language. In a voice husky (we can fancy) with emo-
tion, he replied, ‘Za France. The sentinel continued: «A quel
regiment ?? It happened that the captain was acquainted with
the name of one of the French regiments. He rejoined, ‘De le
Reine.” ‘ Passe!’ exclaimed the sentry, concluding that this was
a convoy of provisions which had been for some time expected
at Quebec. It appears that another sentinel was surprised
at the low tone in which these embarrassing dialogues were
conducted, and inquired, ‘ Pourquoi est ce que vous ne parlez
haut?’ He was satisfied with the answer: ‘ Tas-toi, nous serons
entendues !”

Wolfe, though weakened by a painful attack of dysentery,
was the first man on shore, aud was quickly followed by the
Highlanders, the light infantry, and soldiers of the line, muster-
ing there, upon that lonely beach, in the silence of the night, not
more than 5000 men. Before them rose a rugged and difficult
steep, broken by copse, and thicket, and projecting trees. On
the summit was posted a captain’s detachment, and among the
wood were scattered a few Indians and Canadian riflemen; but
knowing the apparently insurmountable difficulties with which
nature had fortified the ascent, Montcalm had deemed it un-
necessary to place there any considerable force. His neglect
proved the ruin of French dominion in Canada, Wolfe led his
men up the steep. As they straggled through the brushwood,
the enemy, hearing the movement, though not discerning by
whom they were made, discharged a few shots at them. The
English fired with equal promptitude and in equal uncertainty ;
but the French took alarm and fled precipitately, leaving their
wounded captain a prisoner. Thus the height was scaled, and
Wolfe’s small army stood in safety on the summit.

With incredible difficulty, a gun was now brought up by a
body of seamen, and, with four pieces taken from the French,
composed the whole force of artillery with which Wolfe had to
attack a gallant and powerful enemy. Montcalm, when apprised
by the firing and the reports of his soldiers that the English had
gained the heights of Abraham, exclaimed, ‘I see them where
they should not be; but since they are there, we must fight them.
Let us hasten to crush them.’ Drawing out his troops from their
364 THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM.

position, he crossed the St Charles and marched rapidly to the
scene of action,—in such haste, indeed, that he left his artillery,
except two small field-pieces, behind him. Detachments of
Indians were thrown out as tirailleurs, skilfully taking advantage
of the shelter afforded by the inequalities of the ground, while
the main body moved forward in tolerable order, but opening a
weak and irregular fire before they were even within range. In
fact, the daring character of Wolfe’s attempt had startled them
into a lively appreciation of the courage and resolution of the
foe with whom they were about to contend, and they did not
share in the sanguine confidence of their leader.

The English reserved their fire until their opponents were well
within range. They then poured in a most destructive volley, fol-
lowing it up with a series of steady and well-directed discharges.
A detachment of light infantry was thrown into some neighbour-
ing houses to check the attack of the Indians; and a movement
was made by General Townshend to prevent Montcalm from
outflanking the English line. As Wolfe led his grenadiers to
the charge, he received a musket shot in his wrist, but quietly
binding his handkerchief over the wound, pressed forward with
undaunted alacrity. His heroism elevated his soldiers into heroes.
In less than half an hour the enemy began to waver. Wolfe
pressed upon them with a glittering line of levelled steel. A
second shot struck him in the upper part of the abdomen, but it
did not check his ardour. Still he advanced. A third shot pene-
trated his right breast, and brought him to the ground. He was
immediately carried to the rear, while his troops, infuriated by
the loss of their beloved general, swept upon the French with an
impetuosity which was asirresistible as the crashing of a tempest
through a grove of pines. Montcalm fell in the struggle; and
the foe, driven close by British bayonets, gave way, rolled back
in confusion upon his rear, and finally fled from the field in
irretrievable disorder, while eager shouts of, ‘They run! they
run!’ burst from the lips of the conquerors.

As the glad sounds fell upon the ears of the dying Wolfe,
who had lain almost insensible throughout the struggle, he
opened his eyes, and with a momentary glance of animation,
exclaimed, ‘Whorun?’ ‘The French,’ replied an officer ; ‘ they
RESULTS OF THE VICTORY. 365

are in rapid retreat down the hill.’ ‘Then I thank God,’ said
the victorious general, ‘I die contented.’ With feeble voice he
gave orders for a regiment to move down upon the bridge which
crossed the St Charles, so as to intercept the enemy in their
flight ; and then, after a few minutes of speechless agony, tran-
quilly expired,—thus, in death as in life, illustrating the calm
heroism of his gallant spirit His was the work which, to
human eyes, seems second only in felicity to the apotheosis of
the martyr. It was as if the heroic soul ascended to heaven in
a chariot of fire. The rattle of musketry, and the cheers of
victory, were the music which rang around him, which throbbed
upon his failing ears as he passed away,—passed away in the
consciousness of a glorious triumph, in the knowledge of a great
service rendered to England, in the full conviction of having
secured a place among those names which England will not
willingly let die. Nor do the services of a great man end with
his life. He leaves his example as a legacy to posterity; and
who can tell how many hearts have been prompted to noble
deeds by the narrative of the death of Wolfe upon the Heights
of Abraham ?

If the victory he had won was memorable in itself, it was
yet more memorable in its results. It ultimately placed the
Canadas in the hands of England, and terminated that savage
war of races which had so long been carried on between the
French and English settlers. A blow was inflicted upon the
power of France in America from which it never recovered.
Ample room was thus secured for the development of the energy
and enterprise of the Saxon; and Americans, equally with Eng-
lishmen, should honour the memory of Wolfe, as, without the
victory of the Heights of Abraham, it is no exaggeration to say,
that there could never have arisen the once mighty commonwealth
of the American Confederation.

1Smollett. Pict. History. Life of Wolfe.
366 GENERAL JAMES WOLFE.

GENERAL JAMES WOLFE:
A BioGRAPHY.

‘While George in sorrow bows his laurell’d head,

And bids the artist grace the soldier dead,

We raise no sculptur’d trophy to thy name,

Brave youth! the fairest in the lists of fame.

Proud of thy birth, we boast the auspicious year ;

Struck with thy fall, we shed the general tear:

With humble grief inscribe one artless stone,

And from thy matchless honour date our own.’

Worre’s Eritary In WesTeRuUAM CuuRCH.

James Wolfe, the son of Lieutenant-General Edward Wolfe,
was born at the Vicarage, Westerham, Kent, in the year
1726.

At an early age he displayed those high qualities which, in
after life, were to secure his renown; singular steadiness of
purpose, quickness of comprehension, promptitude in action, and
readiness of thought. These are the qualities which, above
all others, are most essential to the general and soldier, or,
indeed, to all who aspire to control the movements and guide
the impulses of large masses. Having adopted the profession of
his father, he applied himself with unflagging assiduity to the
studies connected with it ; and when he obtained his commission
as ensign, few officers of his years—in the British army—were
as well acquainted with military science.

His first experience of actual warfare was gained in the Low
Countries—always ‘ the cock-pit of Europe’—under that much-
maligned commander, the Duke of Cumberland. It was in 1747
that ‘the hero of Culloden,’ as his panegyrists called him, obtained
the chief command of the heterogeneous forces which the Allied
Powers had sent into the field against France. The French
army, not inferior in number, and infinitely superior in the valu-
able quality of cohesiveness, was led by Marshal Saxe; and it is
no disparagement of the military qualities of the Duke of Cum-
berland to say that he was ill fitted to cope with that illustrious
chief. At Laffeldt, near Maestricht (July 2d), the allied army
was soundly beaten, owing, in some degree, to bad generalship,
HIS FIRST BATTLE. 367

but in a far larger measure to the cowardice of the Dutch and
the inactivity of the Austrians. The British, however, on this,
as on all other occasions, proved themselves no unworthy suc-
cessors of the veterans whom Marlborough had so often led to
victory. Saxe lost 8000 foot and 1000 horse in this desperately-
contested action; and the view which was generally taken of it
is plainly expressed by Horace Walpole :—‘ Though,’ he says,
‘we have no great reason to triumph, as we have certainly been
defeated, yet the French have as certainly bought their victory
dear ; indeed, what would be very dear to us is not so much to
them. However, their least loss is 12,000 men, as our least loss
is 5000. The truth of the whole is, that the Duke was deter-
mined to fight at all events, which the French, who determined
not to fight but at great odds, took advantage of” . . . A French
officer said to an English private who had been made prisoner,
‘Had there been 50,000 men like you, we should have found it
very difficult to conquer.’ ‘There were men enough like me,’
was the reply, ‘but we wanted one like Marshal Saxe.’

In this engagement Wolfe distinguished himself so nobly
that he received the especial thanks of the Duke, and earned for
himself a rapid promotion in his profession. When peace was
concluded in 1748, no young officer occupied a larger place in the
public regard than the soldier from Westerham. Some years,
however, elapsed before he was again called into active service ;
and then, as Colonel Wolfe, he attracted the attention of a man
eminently calculated to appreciate and encourage merit— William
Pitt.

The exertions made by France to raise its navy to an equa-
lity with that of England—an old, and seemingly an enduring
struggle—had aroused the anxieties of the English Government,
and Pitt determined to strike a blow against some of those
arsenals by which the French fleets were nourished. An attack
upon Brest seemed utterly impracticable, but Rochefort was
considered to lie open toa skilful coup de main. An army of
10,000 men was therefore collected in the Isle of Wight, and
the chief command entrusted to General Sir John Mordaunt,
under whom Wolfe held a subordinate position. The gallant
Admiral Sir Edward Hawke was appointed to the fleet of 16
368 GENERAL JAMES WOLFE.

sail of the line, with numerous smaller vessels,! designed to co-
operate with the military forces; and the combined expedition
sailed, under apparently favourable auspices, in September 1757.

Combined expeditions, however, have seldom succeeded in the
English service, owing, perhaps, to the unworthy jealousies by
which our naval and military chiefs have been too often influenced.
The want of secrecy, moreover, which characterizes our prepara-
tions, enables the enemy to discern against what point they are
directed, and to strengthen it against our attacks. Pitt’s plan
provided for the seizure of Rochefort by a coup de main ; but the
delays which took place, and the publicity which was given to
every movement, sufficiently prepared the French for a vigorous
resistance, and rendered a surprise impossible.

The British fleet reached the Isle of Oberon on the 20th.
After some vexatious delays, caused by the incompetency of
Admiral Knowles, an attack was made (Sep. 22) on the small
island of Aix, which lies at the mouth of the Rochefort river.
Its defences were insignificant, and speedily succumbed to the
British ; but the conquerors tarnished their easy success by an
abominable licence of conduct. ‘This little island,’ says an eye-
witness, ‘became, in a few hours, a most shocking scene of
devastation ; even the church was suffered to be pillaged, the
poor priest robbed of his little library, aud his robes became a
masquerading habit to the drunken tars.’? Wolfe, meanwhile,
was engaged in reconnoitring the coast; and his ready genius
speedily conceived a plan of operations which should ensure the
fall of Rochefort. This plan was submitted to the leaders of the
expedition, and both Admiral Hawke and Sir John Mordaunt
determined on adopting it. The troops, encouraged by their
first success, were eager to move against the enemy; but at this
favourable moment General Conway—Sir John Mordaunt’s
second in command—professed to have gathered information
from the prisoners captured at Aix, which proved that any at-
tempt upon Rochefort must end in disaster and disgrace. A
couucil of war was accordingly held, and decided, as councils of

‘Sixteen men of war, seven frigates, two bombs, two fire-ships, and
fifty-five transports.
* Genuine Account of the Late Expedition,—pub. in 1758.
THE EXPEDITION TO AMERICA. 369

war will decide, against a daring enterprise. Nevertheless,
ashamed to return to England without effecting something, the
commanders occupied several days in meditating upon fruitless
projects, until Sir Edward Hawke, disgusted by their inaction,
roughly informed General Mordaunt, that if nothing more was
to be done he should return home with his fleet. The land
officers approved of his resolution ; and on the Ist of October,
this expedition, which had promised so much and accomplished
so little, set sail for England. It anchored at Spithead on thé
6th.

The English public was seized with a just indignation at this
disgraceful failure. No victims, however, suffered from it.
Courts-martial were held upon the leading officers, to result, of
course, in their acquittal. But the opinion became general, that
if Colonel Wolfe had filled Sir John Mordaunt’s position, Roche-
fort would have been attempted, even if it had not been carried.
Mordaunt and Conway were men of great personal courage, and
not absolutely deficient in military knowledge; but they wanted
resolution. Now, a lack of enterprise in a commander is a crime.
The difference between your great generals and your little ones
is, after all, not so much a question of genius as of temperament.
No victory was ever yet won but at the hazard of a defeat ; and
the courage to dare is as needful in a hero as the genius to conceive.

In the following year (1758), the ministry determined upon a
comprehensive plan of operations against the French in North
America. It was first resolved to recover Louisbourg, in Cape
Breton,—a fortified town of the highest importance. The com-
mand of the fleet was conferred upon a bold and able seaman,
Admiral Boscawen, who sailed from St Helen’s, on the 19th of
April, with 23 sail of the line and 18 frigates. Fourteen thou-
sand troops, thoroughly equipped and carefully officered, com-
posed the military force of the expedition,—under General
Amherst, and several brigadiers, of whom Wolfe was undoubtedly
the most distinguished. Fleet and army departed from Halifax
on the 28th of May, and on the 2d of June anchored in the bay
of Gabarus, some five or six miles to the west of Louisbourg.

1 Smollett’3 Continuation, ii. Annual Register, 1758.
2A
370 GENERAL JAMES WOLFE.

Chevalier Drucour, the French Governor, had made every pre-
paration to receive them which his skill and experience could
suggest. New batteries had been erected, commanding the
whole line of coast for several miles. Fresh entrenchments had
been thrown up, and across the mouth of the harbour four
frigates were sunk. The garrison consisted of 2500 veteran
soldiers and 600 Canadian rifles. Had the British forces been
led by a Mordaunt or a Conway, no attempt would have been
Ymade upon a position so strongly fortified; but, happily for
British America and its future fortunes, they were commanded
by Amherst and inspired by Wolfe, and Boscawen was not the
man to delight in that refuge of the incompetent, a council of
war.

It was resolved to land the troops at a point now known as
Kennington Cove. Two batteries and an entrenched camp com-
manded it, and its shores were further protected by a difficult
barrier of trees, behind whose leafy branches and prostrate trunks
were disposed a strong detachment of musketry. The attacking
force was divided into three bodies. One division, under General
Lawrence, was to effect a landing in the Cove itself; another,
under Wolfe, was to disembark on the left; while the third, under
Whitmore, distracted the enemy’s attention by a feigned disem-
barkation on the right. The weather on the 8th of June prov-
ing favourable, long before dawn the impetuous soldiery were in
their boats; and while the lighter vessels of the fleet drew in
shore, and covered them with a well-directed and incessant fire,
they rowed briskly to their several destinations. Wolfe’s division
consisted of a regiment of grenadiers, a regiment of Highlanders,
and several companies of American light infantry and rangers—
* good shots’—dressed in an ‘ easy costume’ of green jackets and
pantaloons, which fitted them for skirmishing in the American
woods. As they neared the shore, a veritable feu-denjer opened
upon’them ; and so severe was the firing from the batteries on the
left, that Wolfe was compelled to row towards the opposite shore,
and there effect a disembarkation. The surf was tremendous,
and staved in several boats. Many of the soldiers were drowned
in the raging waves; others fell, slain or sorely wounded, by the
enemy’s fire. Wolfe was still undaunted. He leapt into the
THE SIEGE OF LOUISBOURG. 371

fierce surf, and, followed by his impetuous troops, was speedily
on shore. Then he formed his men into line, and rushed upon
the nearest battery. The other divisions made for the same
landing-place, and inspired by Wolfe’s example, disembarking
with the utmost rapidity, advanced against the enemy. That
enemy, surprised and dismayed at the heroism which could over-
come such formidable obstacles, never stayed to receive them.
He abandoned his entrenchments in disorder, and retreated into
the town. Amherst immediately landed his artillery and stores,
and commenced the investment of Louisbourg,

This brilliant enterprise was accomplished by the British with
no severer loss than that of 3 officers, 5 non-commissioned officers,
and 38 privates, killed; 5 officers, aud 54 rank and file, wounded.
About 70 boats were destroyed by the surf. The French aban-
doned, in their entrenchments, all their small arms, ammunition,
and other stores, 17 pieces of cannon, two mortars, and 14 large
swivels.

The siege of Louisbourg occupied about a month. The first
operation of importance was effected by Wolfe, who, with a de-
tachment of 1800 men, seized upon the Lighthonse-point, on the
north side of the harbour, and silenced an island-battery, which
had done much mischief to the besiegers. The French made
several daring sallies, but were invariably repulsed with great
loss, and the British continued their approaches in a most satis-
factory manner. On the 13th of July they had arrived within
600 yards of the covered way. On the 21st, three French men-
of-war in the harbour were utterly destroyed; and on the 25th,
of the two which remained, one was burnt and the other captured,
ina brilliant night attack. The Chevalier Drucour, the gover-
nor, now perceived that further resistance could only entail a
terrible and fruitless loss of life. His ships were destroyed; his
defences rendered impracticable ; his provisions nearly exhausted ;
and his garrison was wofully reduced in numbers. He at once
capitulated, and on the 27th of July the British marched tri-
umphantly into Louisbourg, and the Islands of Cape Breton and
St John were formally eeded to Great Britain.

The vigour, daring, and promptitude which Wolfe had dis-
played in this expedition recommended him to the especial favour
372 GENERAL JAMES WOLFE.

of Pitt ; and he was selected, as we have already shown, to conduct
those operations against Quebec which placed that important
post in the hands of the British, and crushed the power of France
in North America. The victor fell in the hour of victory, after
a life which, brief as it was, had not proved too brief for great
deeds, and added another name to the long and immortal roll of
British Worthies.

After the fall of Quebec, the young hero’s body was carried
to England in the Royal William man-of-war; was received at
Portsmouth with reverent tears; and buried by his father’s side,
in Greenwich church. <A tablet was inscribed to his memory at
Westerham ; a monument in Westminster Abbey recorded his
achievements; and the pencil of West, in one of his best pictures,
perpetuated the fame of his glorious death. A noble eulogium
was pronounced in his honour by the great statesman who had so
readily appreciated his genius, and even the dilettante Walpole
was compelled into some earnest words of praise :—

‘ Ambition,’ he wrote, ‘activity, industry, passion for the
service, were conspicuous in Wolfe; he seemed to breathe for
nothing but fame, and lost no moments in qualifying himself to
compass his object.’ ;

It is of such materials that heroes are made.

AUTHORITIES.

[Life of Wolfe; Great Military Commanders; Biog. Britt. ;
Campbell’s Naval History; Silliman’s Tour to Quebec; Travels
in Canada; Pict. History of England; Bouchette; Vie de M.
Montcalm; Annual Register; Smollett, vol. v.; Warburton’s
Hochelaga; Thackeray’s History of the Harl of Chatham, etc.]
CHAPTER IX.

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO; AND ARTHUR,
DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

‘Stop! for thy tread is on an empire’s dust !

An earthquake’s spoil is sepulchred below!

Is the spot mark’d with no colossal bust ?

Nor column trophied for triumphal show ?

None ; but the moral’s truth tells simpler so,

As the ground was before, thus let it be ;—

How that red rain hath made the harvest grow!
And is this all the world has gain’d by thee,

Thou first and last of fields! king-making victory !’

Byron.
‘Own that the progeny of this fair isle
Hath power as lofty actions to achieve
As were perform’d in man’s heroic prime.’
Worpswortu.

SunpDAY, JUNE 18, 1815.

WE confess that it is with considerable diffidence we approach
this portion of our task, and attempt a narrative of that ‘ battle
of giants’—king-making Waterloo. The work has been done
so often, and by such able hands, that we would gladly have
refrained from the attempt; but to no spectator is the play of
Hamlet agreeable if the part of Hamlet be omitted; and we feel
that ‘ Waterloo’ must necessarily be included in a volume which
treats of the ‘Memorable Battle-fields’ of England ;—of those
great victories which have asserted her power, preserved her
liberties, and established her empire,—those mighty contests ‘ of
which a contrary event would have essentially varied the drama’
of English history ‘in all its subsequent scenes.’
374 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

The news of Napoleon’s escape from Elba broke upon Europe
like a thunderstorm. The illustrious members of the Congress
of Vienna were still engaged in their labours and their festivities
when Talleyrand, on the 11th of March 1815, announced to them
that the great conqueror was once more Emperor of France.
Necessarily the event was regarded with dismay, as the precursor,
perhaps, of another long and bloody struggle before Europe had
had breathing-time to recover from her recent toils and suffer-
ings. One sentiment, however, animated the allied sovereigns ;
that Napoleon must be met at once, and effectually,—that Europe
could never hope for peace while his extraordinary genius directed
and inspired the martial prowess of France. Not an European
nation but had some signal wrong to avenge. Prussia still
remembered with sullen indignation the fatal field of Jena; Aus-
tria mourned over a half-avenged Austerlitz; Russia had not
forgotten her Borodino. When, therefore, Napoleon, on his
return to power, attempted to negotiate separately with the allied
sovereigns, his overtures were coldly received; and on the 13th
of March, the ministers of England, Russia, Prussia, Austria,
Sweden, Spain, and Portugal, affixed their signatures to a mani-
festo which declared Napoleon Bonaparte an outlaw. A treaty
was afterwards concluded, by which the seven powers bound
themselves to enforce that decree, and to carry on the war
until Napoleon should be driven from the throne of France,
and rendered incapable of again disturbing the tranquillity of
Europe.

On the 5th of April, the Duke of Wellington, who had been
appointed to the command of the British army, arrived at
Brussels, and assembled there the British regiments, and the
contingents furnished by the Dutch, Belgians, and Hanoverians.
The Prussian troops were concentrated at Aix-la-Chapelle, and
were destined, under Marshal Blucher, to co-operate with Wel-
lington’s army, the whole forming ‘the van of the armaments
of the allied powers.’ Prince Schwartzenberg was to collect
130,000 Austrians and 124,000 Germans for ‘the army of the
Upper Rhine ;’ and 168,000 Russians, under Barclay de Tolly,
were to compose ‘ the army of the Middle Rhine.’

While such were the gigantic preparations of the allies, Na-
NAPOLEON'S PREPARATIONS FOR WAR. 375

poleon was busily engaged in organizing the whole military
strength of the French empire. The artillery was enlarged and
improved; the cavalry augmented and remounted; and the im-
perial guard once more called into existence. The veterans who
had followed his successful standard on so many glorious fields
eagerly rejoined the ranks; the younger of the male population
was called out by special ordonnances; every effort was made to
inspire the nation with a military passion and to rouse its warlike
spirit ; and, in the briefest possible period, a splendidly efficient
army was ready to take the field. Napoleon left Paris} on the 12th
of June, and reached Avennes on the 14th. He had determined
to assume the offensive, and to attack the Anglo-Belgic army
before the reserves of the allies could get up to their support.
In a word, his plan was to beat them in detail. ‘The disparity
of numbers was indeed great, but delay was sure to increase the
proportionate numerical superiority of his enemies over his own
ranks. The French Emperor considered also that the enemy’s
troops were now cantoned under the command of two generals,
and composed of nations differing both in interest and feelings.’?
His own army was under his sole command. It was composed
exclusively of French soldiers, mostly of veterans, well acquainted
with their officers and each other, and full of enthusiastic con-
fidence in their commander. If he could separate the Prussians
from the British, so as to attack each singly, he felt sanguine of
success, not only against these the most resolute of his many
adversaries, but also against the other masses that were slowly
labouring up against his eastern dominions.’

On the other hand, the allied generals had no means of ascer-
taining in what quarter the shock of war would fall. Napoleon
was able to concentrate his masses behind the threefold barrier
of strong fortresses which France possessed on the border of
Belgium, and thence to direct his blows at any point he willed.
The allies were, therefore, compelled to spread their troops in
such a manner as to prevent his turning their flank, and suddenly
hurling his forces upon their rear. Their lines extended from

1 As he entered his travelling carriage he exclaimed, ‘Je vais me

mésurer avec ce Vilainton’ (I goto measure myself with this Wellington).
2 Montholon. 3 Creasy’s Decisive Battles of the World.
376 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Liege to Tournay: the Prussians occupying the barks of the
Sambre and the Meuse, from Liege on their left to Charleroi on
their right; the Anglo-Belgians extending from Charleroi on
their left to Tournay and Courtray on their right, and covering
the important position of Brussels.

Napoleon resolved to direct his attack upon Charleroi, with
the view of separating the Prussian and Anglo-Belgian armies,
and then attacking each with a superior force. Having, there-
fore, skilfully concentrated the different divisions of his army at
and around Avennes upon the Sambre, he issued to them his
celebrated ‘Order of the Day,’—an eloquent invective, which
stirred the hearts of his soldiers like the sound of a trumpet.
It was worded thus :—

‘“Napo.eoy, by the grace of God, and the Constitution of the Empire,
Emperor of the French, etc., to the Grand Army.

‘ At the Imperial Head- Quarters,
¢ Avennes, June 14, 1815.

‘ Soldiers! this day is the anniversary of Marengo and of Friedland,
which twice decided the destiny of Europe. Then, as after Austerlitz, as
after Wagram, we were too generous! We believed in the protestations
and in the oaths of princes, whom we left on their thrones. Now, however,
leagued together, they aim at the independence and the most sacred rights
of France. They have commenced the most unjust of aggressions. Let
us, then, march to meet them. Are they and we no longer the same
men?

‘Soldiers! at Jena, against these same Prussians, now so arrogant,
you were one to three, and at Montmirail one to six!

‘Let those among you who have been captives to the English, describe
the nature of their prison ships, and the frightful miseries they endured.

‘The Saxons, the Belgians, the Hanoverians, the soldiers of the
Confederation of the Rhine, lament that they are compelled to use their
arms in the cause of princes, the enemies of justice and of the rights of
all nations. They know that this coalition is insatiable! After having
devoured twelve millions of Poles, twelve millions of Italians, one million
of Saxons, and six millions of Belgians, it now wishes to devour the states
of the second rank in Germany.

‘Madmen! one moment of prosperity has bewildered them. The
oppression and the humiliation of the French people are beyond their
power. If they enter France, they will there find their grave.

‘ Soldiers! we have forced marches to make, battles to fight, dangers
PREPAPATIONS OF THE ALLIES. 377

to encounter; but, with firmness, victory will be ours. The rights, the
honour, and the happiness cf the country will be recovered !

‘ To every Frenchman who has a heart, the moment has now arrived
to conquer or to die!

‘NAPOLEON.
‘Tap Marsnat Dune or Datmatia,
‘ Major-General.’

Early on the 15th of June the French hosts were in motion,
and, in three columns, pressed towards Charleroi, with the view
of advancing upon Brussels, and oceupying it while Napoleon’s
agents revolutionized Belgium. Intelligence of their advance
reached Brussels about three o’clock in the afternoon of the
same day; and Wellington instantly issued orders for the more
detached corps to break up from their cantonments and move
upon Nivelles, while the regiments in Brussels marched by way
of Soignies upon Charleroi. Later in the evening he directed
the advance of his whole army upon Quatre Bras, so as to be
ready to support Blucher, who had concentrated his troops at
Ligny. It is absurd, therefore, to represent the English com-
mander as surprised by Napoleon. He was in constant com-
munication with Blucher, and both were fully apprised of the
movements of the French. But, resolved not to spread abroad
any useless panic, he proposed to the Prussian General Miiffling,
that as a ball was to be given by the Duchess of Richmond that
night, they should be present at the ball, and ride after the
advancing troops in the morning. The Duke and his leading
officers attended the festivities, but with a full knowledge of
the struggle which afterwards awaited them. ‘One by one,
and in such a way as to attract as little observation as possible,
the leaders of the various corps left the ball-room, and took their
stations at the head of their men, who were pressing forward
through the last hours of the short summer night to the arena
of an anticipated slaughter.’

‘ And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
378 THE BATTLE OF WATE3LOO.

And the deep thunder peal on pealjafar ;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum,
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
‘Qr whispering, with white lips, “ The foe! They come! they come.”
Brron.

After a wearisome march of twenty miles, in sultry weather,
and over a country destitute of water, the British soldiery reached
Quatre Bras at two o’clock in the morning of the 16th. Quatre
Bras is a small and irregular village, having on its right a dense
and extensive wood, called Le Bois de Bossu, which, at the time
of Wellington’s arrival, was in the hands of the French,—the
troops under the Prince of Orange having been gradually forced
to retire. The French force consisted of the left wing of Napo-
leon’s army, under Marshal Ney, and had advanced from Charleroi
through Gosselies and Frasnes. It consisted of about 16,000 in-
fantry, 7000 cavalry, and 88 guns. The force of the allies at the
commencement of the battle did not exceed 7000, but reinforce-
ments slowly arrived as the different brigades drew together at
Quatre Bras.

Wellington’s first operation was to recover the post of Le
Bois de Bossu. The 95th were ordered to attack the tirailleurs
who occupied it. The order was obeyed, and the French com-
pelled to retire. The Royals and the 28th were exposed upon the
left, and the 44th and Highland regiments on the right. Heavy
charges were directed by the French horsemen upon the British
infantry ; and as some regiments had become disordered and bad
fallen out of their squares, they were severely cut up. But the
general resistance opposed to the French was of the most success-
ful and spirited kind. A heavy rolling fire mowed down lancers
and cuirassiers, and despite their furious onslaughts,—despite
the sharp cannonade maintained by the enemy’s batteries,—the
British squares stood their ground, and as the dead and dying
fell out, coolly closed up their ranks, and kept unbroken their
wall of steel. ‘One regiment,’ says Mr Maxwell, ‘ after sustain-
ing a furious cannonade, was suddenly, and on three different
sides, assailed by cavalry. Two faces of the square were charged
by lancers, while the cuirassiers galloped down upon another.
THE ACTION AT QUATRE BRAS. 379

It was a trying moment. There was a death-like silence; and.
one voice alone, clear and calm, was heard. It was their
colonel’s, who called upon them to be “steady.” On came the
enemy !—the earth shook beneath the horsemen’s feet ; while on
every side of the devoted band, the corn bending beneath the
rush of cavalry disclosed their numerous assailants. The lance-
blades nearly met the bayonets of the kneeling front rank—the
cuirassiers were within a few paces—yet not a trigger was drawn.
But when the word “Fire!” thundered from the colonel’s lips,
each side poured out its deadly volley; and in a moment the
leading files of the French lay before the square, as if hurled by
a thunderbolt to the earth. The assailants, broken and dis-
persed, galloped off for shelter to the tall rye, while a constant
stream of musketry from the British square carried death into
their retreating squadrons.’ The 424 and the 92d, however,
suffered terribly from the plunging charges of the French
cavalry ; and the battle lingered on, with various fortune, until
the arrival of the English Guards,! about half-past six, enabled
Wellington to recover Le Bois de Bossu, and drive the French
out of the farm of Gemiancourt, which they had occupied in the
early part of the day. Night fell upon the hard-fought field,
in the possession of the British ; and Wellington had succeeded
in maintaining his communications with Blucher, who, on the
same day, had been disastrously engaged with the French
right and centre, under Napoleon, and, with a loss of 13,000
men, had been forced to retire upon Wavre, defeated but not
beaten.

The victory of Quatre Bras was not won without heavy loss.
The British had 320 killed and 2155 wounded. Altogether, the
allies had 3750 put hors de combat. The Duke of Bruuswick fell
while leading his soldiers to the charge, and numerous British
officers were among the dead and wounded. The 92d regiment,
in one brief conflict, lost 28 officers and nearly 300 men. On the
other hand, the French confessed to a loss of 4200 killed and
wounded ; and Ney himself acknowledged that the victory was
with Wellington. ‘In spite of all my efforts,’ he wrote, ‘in ,

They had left Enghien, twenty-two miles distant, at three in the morning,

1
380 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

spite of the intrepidity and devotion of my troops, my utmost
exertions could only maintain me in my position till the close of
the day ;’ when he reluctantly fell back upon Frasnes.

It was not until the next morning that Wellington was in-
formed of the retreat of the Prussian army, the aide-de-camp
whom Blucher had despatched having been killed on the road.
The Duke was by this time prepared to assume the offensive, for
the different corps of his army had all come up; but now, in
order to maintain his communications with the Prussians, and to
cover Brussels, it became necessary for him to retire; and he
sent word to Blucher that he should halt at Mont St Jean, and
there accept a general battle with the French, if Blucher would
promise to assist him with 25,000 men. To this the Prussian
chief readily assented; and the English army, having enjoyed
ample repose and refreshment, fell back upon the Dyle, and
crossed it at Genappe, after a sharp skirmish between the Eng-
lish rear-guard and the advanced cavalry of the French, in which
the Earl of Uxbridge displayed great skill and his wonted cour-
age. No other attempt was made to impede their retreat, and
early in the evening the British halted upon the plain of Water-
loo. Arms were piled; the guns were parked; the cavalry
picketed their horses ; and fires speedily blazed along the whole
extent of the allied lines.

Wellington was now about twelve miles distant from Wavre,
where Blucher had successfully reorganized his army, and effected
a junction with a considerable corps, under Bulow, which had
not been in action at Ligny. He therefore sent word to Wel-
lington, that on the following day he should come to his help at
Mont St Jean with his whole army, and not with a single divi-
sion. There is no doubt that Napoleon considered the Prussians
disordered and broken up, and was ignorant of the excellent
array in which they had drawn off the battle-field. He would
otherwise hardly have left their retreat unmolested, nor have sup-
posed it possible for Marshal Grouchy, with 32,000 men and 96
guns, to have performed the task he enjoined upon him,—to pre-
vent the junction of the Prussians with the British. Blucher
knew that the campaign was to be decided ‘ not at Wavre, but
at Waterloo,’ and coutented himself with opposing Thielman’s
WELLINGTON'S GENERALSHIP. 381

small detachment to Grouchy’s corps, while with the mass of
his army he advanced to the assistance of Wellington. He was
aware that Wellington depended upon him. ‘ It was in full re-
liance,’ as Professor Creasy observes, ‘ on Blucher’s promise to
join him, that the Duke stood his ground and fought at Water-
loo; and those who have ventured to impugn the Duke’s capacity
as a general, ought to have had common sense enough to per-
ceive, that to charge the Duke with having won the battle of
Waterloo by the help of the Prussians, is really to say that he
won it by the very means on which he relied, and without the
expectation of which the battle would not have been fought.’
It has been said, indeed,—and by Napoleon among others,—that
the Duke ought to have retreated further, and at once effected
@ junction with the Prussians. But he knew the importance of
protecting Brussels, and was confident in his ability to resist the
advance of the French until Blucher came up, when the two
armies united would have overwhelmed Napoleon by mere supe-
riority of numbers. The Emperor justly regarded the British as
his most troublesome opponents. ‘If they had been beaten at
Waterloo,’ he said at St Helena, ‘ what would have been the use
of those numerous bodies of troops,—of Prussians, Austrians,
Germans, and Spaniards,—which were advancing by forced
marches to the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees?’ It was,
then, because Wellington appreciated the resolute solidity of
his troops that he halted at Waterloo, and there prepared to
decide the fate of Europe."

In considering the details of a great battle, it is necessary that
we should gain a clear idea of the relative strength of the con-
tending armies, of their positions, and of the nature of the ground
they occupied.

The number of troops under the Duke of Wellington is
easily known from official documents; it is more difficult to
arrive at a correct estimate of Napoleon’s forces. But the fol-
lowing figures are accredited by the most reliable authori-
ties :—

1 For some interesting details respecting the operations of Blucher
and Wellington on the 16th and 17th, see the Earl of Ellesmere’s
‘ Essays.”
382 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Tur ANGto-BELGIAN ARMY, UNDER THE ‘
Doxe or WELLINGTON.

Infantry, 49,608) Of these, 24,000 were British.
6,000 ,, German Legion.
Cavalry, 12,402 7,500 ,, Hanoverians.
21,000 ,, Belgians & Nassau troops,
Artillerymen, 5,645 of indifferent quality.

67,655 men, with 156 guns.

Tur Frenca ARMY, UNDER THE EMPEROR NapoLeon.

cae eee : Napoleon’s superiority was in two important
o ? ? ]
Artillerymen, — 7,232 arms, the cavalry and artillery.

71,947 men, with 246 guns.

The field of Waterloo, which the encounter of these vast
hosts, under such illustrious leaders, was to render ever-memor-
able, may be roughly described as a valley, or hollow, of irregu-
lar width, bounded north and south by winding ridges of low
hills, which extend for some two or three miles, and gently slope,
but with frequent undulations, towards the central valley. In
the rear of the northern ridge, and almost in its centre, stands
the village of Mont St Jean; in a similar position behind the
southern ridge, is that of La Belle Alliance. Through both
these villages, and consequently traversing the valley almost at
right angles, runs the broad paved high road from Charleroi,
which winds afar under the green boughs and through the
beechen shades of the forest of Soignies to Brussels. Near the
entrance to the forest is situated the little hamlet of Waterloo.

Along the northern ridge of hills was stationed the ALLIED
Army,—its extreme right secured by a village and ravine called
Merke Braine, and its left by the small hamlets of La Haye and
Papelotte, the communication with the Prussians being kept
open by the Ohain road. As Wellington was apprehensive that
Napoleon might attempt to march upon Brussels by turning his
right, and advancing through Mons and Hal, a corps of observa-
tion of 18,000 men were placed at Hal, under Prince Frederick
of the Netherlands, which did not come into action at all on the
18th. The Guards, under General Coote, were posted in two
brigades (Maitland’s and Byng’s) on the rising ground near the
POSITION OF THE ARMIES. 383

old-fashioned chateau of Goumont, or Hougoumont, which they
strongly garrisoned as an important defence for the British right.
Baron Alten’s division occupied the centre, behind the farm-
house of La Haye Sainte, which was also held by a considerable
body of allied troops. The Brunswickers were partly in line
with the Guards, and partly kept in reserve, and the Nassau
soldiers were mainly attached to Alten’s division. Infantry
and riflemen occupied the beech-tree copse which surrounded
Hougoumont, under the command of the Prince of Orange.
Colville’s and Clinton’s British divisions, two Hanoverian bri-
gades, and a Dutch corps under Lord Hill, were placed en potence,
in front of the right.

On the left, between the Charleroi road and La Haye (not
La Haye Sainte), and along a lane and hedgerow which crossed
the rising ground, were stationed Picton’s division, a brigade
under Sir John Lambert, a Hanoverian corps, and some Nether-
landers. A detachment of Nassau troops, under the Prince of
Saxe Weimar, garrisoned La Haye and Papillote. As Welling-
ton had reason to suspect the fidelity of the Belgians, they were
not placed together in brigades or divisions, but distributed, in
separate regiments, among those corps on which he could rely.
The second line was formed of cavalry.

The Frenco Army, in two lines, occupied the southern ridge
‘of hills, its centre resting upon La Belle Alliance, and its right
protected in the rear by the village of Planchenoit. The first
line was formed of the corps commanded by Count D’Erlon on
the right, and that of Count Reille on the left, and consisted of
seven divisions of infantry and two of cavalry. Milhaud’s corps
of heavy cavalry formed the right wing of the second French
line, and Kellerman’s cavalry its left. Thus each corps of in-
fantry had a corps of cavalry behind it; and in the centre the
second line was further strengthened by a-corps of infantry and
two divisions of cavalry, drawn up on either side of La Belle
Alliance. The reserves included the famous Imperial Guard, in
three bodies,—the old Guard, the middle Guard, and the young
Guard,—with their chasseurs and lancers on the right, and their
grenadiers and dragoons on the left.

This admirable arrangement of his force of each arm has
384 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

been warmly praised by military critics. ‘It presented to its
skilful designer,’ says Captain Siborne, ‘the most ample means
of sustaining, by an immediate and efficient support, any attack,
from whatever point he might wish to direct it, and of possessing
everywhere a respectable force at hand to oppose any attack
upon himself, from whatever quarter it might be made. It was
no less remarkable for the regularity and precision with which
the several masses, constituting thirteen distinct columns, advanced
to their destined stations, than for the unusual degree of warlike
pomp and high military bearing with which the lines drew up
in their mighty battle-array.’ As Napoleon looked upon this
splendid host, animated by the memories of a hundred triumphs,
and full of eager confidence in the genius of him who had so
often led them to victory, he might be pardoned for entertaining
a sanguine belief that no army could withstand its onset. It is
said that when, early in the morning, he reconnoitred his great
antagonist’s position, so few troops were visible that he imagined
Wellington had retreated, and that the rear-guard was about to
follow. General Foy, who had served in the Peninsular War,
knew better. ‘ Wellington, sire,’ said he, ‘never shows his
troops; but if he is yonder, I must warn your Majesty that the
English infantry in close fighting is the very devil (en duel c'est
le diable!)’ Soult hazarded a similar warning, but Napoleon’s
confidence in his soldiers and in himself remained unshaken ; and
as he rode along the lines, such a mighty shout of welcome
greeted the great Conqueror, as might well convince him not a
soldier there but would die in Napoleon’s cause and for the
glory of ‘la belle France.’

It may here be stated that the Emperor, at the commence-
ment of the battle, stationed himself on a gentle ascent behind
the farm-house of La Belle Alliance. ‘There he remained for
a considerable part of the day, dismounted, pacing to and fro
with his hands behind him, receiving communications from his
aides-de camp, and issuing orders to his officers. As the battle
became more doubtful, he approached nearer the scene of action,
and betrayed increased impatience to his staff by violent gesticu-
lation, and using immense quantities of snuff. At three o’clock
he was on horseback in front of La Belle Alliance; and in the
THE BATTLE BEGINS. 385

evening, just before he made his last attempt with the Guard, he
had reached a hollow close to La Haye Sainte.’

Wellington passed the night at his head-quarters in the
village of Waterloo. After a few hours’ sleep he rose, while it
was yet dark, and wrote various official letters, besides issuing
the orders necessary to prevent serious disaster in the event of
the battle terminating unfavourably. He next inspected the
reserves of ammunition, and the arrangements made for the
reception of the wounded. Then, mounting his favourite charger,
a small thorough-bred chesnut horse, named Copenhagen,! he
rode onward to the allied lines, and carefully examined every
detail. To Hougoumont, from its importance, he paid special
attention. It was an antique castellated mansion, with an old
tower, @ chapel, and various out-buildings; the whole partly
enclosed by a farm-yard and partly by a garden, while beyond, a
beech wood flourished, and an orchard. The walls were per-
forated with loop-holes, for the discharge of musketry; and
scaffolding was raised, that the men, while protected, might fire
from their summits. This important post, the key of Wellington’s
position, was garrisoned by the light companies of the Cold-
stream and Ist and 3d Guards, and a detachment of Guards was
also placed on the rising ground adjacent. Having superin-
tended these preparations, Wellington galloped off towards the
right of his centre, and took up his position on a ridge im-
mediately behind La Haye.

The battle of Waterloo began at half-past eleven on the
morning—the Sabbath morning—of June 18, 1815. Napo-
leon ordered up a powerful divison of the second corps, under
Jerome Bonaparte, to carry the post of Hougoumont; and the
British artillery, which, though far inferior in number to the
French, was admirably served throughout the day, immediately
opened fire. The attack upon Hougoumont was made with
determined valour; it was repulsed with resolute courage. As
fast as one man fell another took his place; and never did the
sous of France fight with greater fierceness or more obstinate
determination. They won possession of the copse, but that was

1 Copenhagen lived, in great honour, until 1825, and lies buried in a

paddock, at the Duke of Wellington’s seat of Strathfieldsaye.
2B
386 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

all. The Guards still held the chateau, and poured out on every
side a rapid and most destructive fire. The rattling shot, the
whirring shell, the blazing rafters,—for a part of the buildings
was in flames,—the hoarse shouts of the French, the lusty cheers
of the English, all combined to lend a peculiar horror to the
infernal scene. Napoleon poured regiment upon regiment into
the wood, and occasionally the chateau was completely sur-
rounded with French troops; but our countrymen were invincible.
In the short space of half an hour, 1500 men were slain in the
small orchard adjoining the chateau,—an area of not more than
four acres. The French loss wasenormous. General Foy’s divi-
sion alone lost 8000 men, and probably not less than 10,000 of
the enemy were killed or wounded in their protracted attempts to
gain this position. ‘Above 6000 men of both armies perished in
the farm of Hougoumont: 600 French fell in the attack on the
chateau and the farm; 200 English were killed in the wood; 25 in
the garden; 1100 in the orchard and meadow; 400 men near the
farmer’s garden ; 2000 of both parties behind the great orchard.
The bodies of 300 English were buried opposite the gate of the
chateau; and those of 600 French were burned at the same
place.’ At one time the French pressed right up to the wall,
as the Coldstream Guards retired into the great courtyard.
The Guards endeavoured to barricade the gate, but the French
drove it open, and in large masses poured into the courtyard.
The fight became a mélée, a desperate hand-to-hand combat ;
but British steel, ‘sent home’ by British muscle, soon prevailed
over French daring. Nearly every enemy who forced his way
into their midst was killed on the spot ; and as the few survivors
retreated, five of the Guards,—be their names immortal !—
Colonel Macdonnell, Captain Wyndham, Ensign Gooch, Ensign
Hervey, and Sergeant Graham,—rushed forward, closed the gate
again despite the exertions of the French, and stoutly barricaded
it against further assaults. ‘Over and through the loopholed
wall of the courtyard, the English garrison now kept up a deadly
fire of musketry, which was fiercely answered by the French,
who swarmed round the curtilage like ravening wolves. Shells,

* Booth.
THE ATTACK AND DEFENCE. 387

too, from their batteries were falling fast into the besieged place,
one of which set part of the mansion and some of the out-build-
ings on fire. Sergeant Graham, who was at this time standing
near Colonel Macdounell at the wall, and who had shown the
most perfect steadiness and courage, now asked permission of his
commanding officer to retire for a moment. Macdonnell replied,
‘By all means, Graham; but I wonder you should ask leave
now.’ Graham answered, ‘I would not, sir, only my brother
is wounded, and he is in that out-building there, which has
just caught fire’ Laying down his musket, Graham ran to the
blazing spot, lifted up his brother, and laid him in a ditch.
Then he was back at his post, and was plying his musket
against the French again before his absence was noticed, ex-
cept by his colonel.’ Upon this gallant soldier was conferred
the annuity offered by an English clergyman to ‘le plus brave
des braves.’

The attack upon Hougoumont was the signal for a general
onset upon the British line. As it has been often said, there
Was no manwurring at the battle of Waterloo. Wellington was
determined to hold his position; Napoleon endeavoured to force
him from it. The question was simply, who could hold out the
longest; and then, as before, British endurance proved more
than a match for French elun. The allied regiments were each
disposed in squares,—a formation admirably adapted to the
peculiar steadiness of British infantry. Hach square was drawn
up in triple lines, so that it might easily deploy when necessary.
Most of the squares were placed in a line with one another, but a
few were thrown back, and thus exposed the French cavalry, when
they had passed the foremost regiments, to a severe flanking
fire. The battle of Waterloo was nothing, in fact, but a con-
tinued series for ten hours of attacks by the French columns upon
these squares. And nothing could exceed the gallantry of the
French but the heroic courage of the British. Their horsemen
rode round and round the squares, seeking some gap into which
they might fling themselves. Then came a rattling discharge of
musketry; broken and disordered, the French receded. Down
upon them fell the English cavalry, who, after cutting them up
severely, retired, in their turn, before the advance of a fresh
388 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

body of the French. No situation could more painfully test the
endurance of British infantry than this resolute immobility. It
is one thing, with soul elate and brain on fire, to pour forward
upon your enemy, cross steel with steel, and maintain the fierce
enthusiasm of the assault; it is another to stand to your arms,
hour after hour, exposed to a murderous cannonade, while
fatigued by ceascless attacks of cavalry, and, as your comrade
falls, to step coolly into the gap, without the prospect of avenging
his death upon the foe. No wonder that Napoleon, as he saw
these fast diminishing squares still preserve their formation un-
broken, repulse charge after charge of his splendid cavalry, and
drive back his columns in disorder, exclaimed to Soult, ‘How
beautifully these English fight! but they must give way!’ So
reduced were several regiments, that their commanding officers
besought the Duke to let them retire. ‘ Will they stand?’ said
Wellington. ‘Till they perish!’ was the reply. ‘Then I will
stand with them to the last man!’

‘We saw these sons of Albion,’ says General Foy, an
adversary as generous as he was brave, ‘formed in square
battalions, in the plain between the wood of Hougoumont and
the village of Mont St Jean; and to accomplish this compact
formation, they had doubled and redoubled their ranks several
times. The cavalry which supported them was cut to pieces,
and the fire of their artillery completely silenced. Generals
and staff-officers were galloping from one square to another, not
knowing where to find shelter. Carriages, wounded men, parks
of reserve, and auxiliary troops, were all flying in disorder to
Brussels. Death was before them, and in their ranks; disgrace
in their rear! In this terrible conjunction, neither the bullets
of the Imperial Guards, discharged almost point-blank, nor the
triumphant cavalry of France, could make the least impression
upon the immoveable British infantry. One might almost have
imagined that it had rooted itself in the earth, but for the
majestic movement which its battalions began soon after sunset,
when the advance of the Prussian army apprised Wellington
that he had won the completest victory of the age.’

‘In one dark torrent, broad and strong,
The advancing onset roll’d along,
PICTON’S BRAVERY. 389

Forth harbinger’d by fierce acclaim,
That, from the shroud of smoke and flame,
Peal’d wildly the Imperial name.
But on the British heart were lost
The terrors of that charging host ;
For not an eye the storm that view'd
Changed its proud glance of fortitude,
Nor was one forward footstep stayed,
As dropp’d the dying and the dead.
Fast as their ranks the thunders tear,
Fast they renew’d each serried square ;
And on the wounded and the slain
Clos’d their diminish’d files again,
Till from their lines scarce spears’ lengths three,
Emerging from the smoke they see
Heimet, and plume, and panoply,—
Then wak’d their fire at once!’ Scorr.

While his second corps was hurling itself in vain upon
Hougoumont, Napoleon, about one o’clock, ordered his first
corps, under Marshal Ney, to advance against the centre and
left wing of the allied army. Seventy-four guns were posted on
a Tising ground between the two hosts, and within about 700
yards of the British lines opened a destructive fire. Under
cover of this infernal cannonade the French advanced in majestic
array,—18,000 infantry, supported by a strong body of cavalry
under Kellerman. Napoleon’s design was to pierce the British
centre, occupy La Haye Sainte and Mont St Jean; and so to
cut off the retreat of the British from Brussels, and separate
them from their own left. Of the four columns engaged in this
bold movement, one advanced against Wellington’s extreme left ;
the other three moved upon the left of his centre, where Bylandt’s
Belgian brigade was stationed. As the French masses ascended
the slope towards this position, and their taillewrs opened fire,
the dastard Belgians were seized with a panic, and fled in the
most shameful disorder. Happily, Wellington’s second line was
here composed of Pack and Kempt’s British brigades, under the
gallant Picton, than whom no braver son has England ever
sorrowed for. He had been sorely wounded at Quatre Bras by
a musket-ball, which had broken two of his ribs, but, anticipating
another and more decisive battle, had concealed the injury from
390 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

the knowledge of all,—though its agony must have been in-
tense,—lest he should be prevented from appearing on the field.
Picton brought forward his two brigades—they were scarce 3000
strong—side by side, in a thin two-deep line. As the French
halted on the crest of the hill, and began to deploy into line, not
more than 30 yards from the scanty force of the British, Picton
shouted to Kempt’s brigade, ‘ A volley, and then charge!’ The
musketry blazed along the whole line, and straightway the fore-
most sections of the French column bit the dust! A wild cheer,
—a ringing British cheer,—and with levelled steel Picton’s
heroes rash forward to the charge. Their leader, as he ad-
vances, is shot dead, through the left temple, the ball crashing
into the brain. Woe to the French! The loss of their well-
beloved general embitters the fury of the British, They charge
the devoted column, and hurl it down the blood-wet slope in ter-
rible disarray. Pack’s brigade, in like manner, has repulsed the
other three columns; and as they stagger and reel,—all broken
and disordered,—in among the mass glitter the sabres of
Ponsonby’s brigade of heavy cavalry—the famous Union Brigade
—the gallant British Royals, the ‘ terrible’ Scots Grey, the fiery
Trish Inniskillings; and whole battalions are mowed down by
their avenging swords, while the remainder fall back on the hill
utterly and irretrievably broken up. Two thousand prisoners
are taken, and two eagles; but the horsemen are not yet satis-
fied. They ride up to Ney’s artillerymen, sabre them at their
guns, sever the traces, and cut the horses’ throats,—render-
ing those guns entirely useless to the French during the re-
mainder of the fight. Their daring charge, however, has
carried them too far, and their success disordered them. While
attempting to re-form, they are enveloped in a cloud of Polish
lancers, and compelled to retreat with severe loss. But now
Vandeleur leads up his light cavalry to the support, and,
charging the enemy, once more drives them back with pitiable
slaughter.

While thus disastrous was the failure of the French attack
upon the left of the allies, no better success had attended the
attempt of their cavalry to support it. These steel-clad cuiras-
siers, gallantly led by Kellerman, had cut up some companies of
THE FIGHT AT LA HAYE SAINTE. 391

German infantry near La Haye Sainte, and galloped forward
against the British position. At this moment, Wellington let
loose upon them the Household Brigade of British Cavalry,—the
Life Guards, the Dragoons, and the Blues,—and those magnifi-
cent horsemen, led by Lord Anglesea in person, swept upon their
foes like a whirlwind. A brief hand-to-hand struggle ensued,—
the French yielded,—and then over the broken ranks poured
the British cavalry, literally riding down their antagonists, man
and horse, until the famous cuirassiers, as a corps, ceased to
exist! The heat of the pursuit carried the British too far, as it
had carried their comrades of the Union Brigade, and they suf-
fered severely in fighting their way back to the allied position.

At the farm-house of La Haye Sainte, meanwhile, a despe-
rate conflict had raged. Five hundred German riflemen held it
stoutly against an overwhelming mass of French infantry. Shot
and shell played upon them. The barn broke ont into flame, and
no reinforcements could be sent up to their succour; still they
maintained their ground. Thrice the French attacked them;
thrice they were beaten back. But now the Germans found
themselves without ammunition, and slackened fire. The French
made a fourth attempt. ‘ Though the doors,’ says Maxwell,
‘were burst in, still the Germans held the house with their
bayonets ; but, having ascended the walls and roof, the French
fired on them from above, and, now reduced to a handful, the
post was carried. No quarter was given, and the remnant of
the brave riflemen were bayoneted on the spot. This was, how-
ever, the only point where, during this long and sanguinary con-~
flict, Bonaparte succeeded. He became master of a dilapidated
dwelling, its roof destroyed by shells, and its walls perforated by
a thousand shot-holes; and, when obtained, an incessant torrent
of grape and shrapnels, from the British artillery on the heights
above, rendered its acquisition useless for future operations, and
made his persistence in maintaining it a wanton and unnecessary
sacrifice of human life.’

On every part of the field burnt the lurid fires of battle.
Wearied and exhausted, the British still held their ground, and
Napoleon destroyed almost all his magnificent heavy cavalry in
vain attempts upon the allied right. Halkett’s brigade, in the
392 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

right centre, composed of battalions of the 30th, 33d, 69th, and
73d regiments, were especially distinguished by their indomitable
steadiness and their severe losses. One company, which entered
the field with three officers and fifty-one men, had but one officer
and ten men in its ranks at the close of the battle. A vivid
picture of the contest at this part of the allied line is afforded in
the Journal of Major Macready, who served during the fight in
the 80th regiment—one of Halkett’s brigade. He and his com-
pany had been thrown forward as skirmishers, in conjunction with
some grenadiers of the 73d, but were retired to the brigade at
the commencement of the French cavalry’s attacks upon their
position. The Major’s narrative proceeds as follows :1—
‘When I reached Lloyd’s abandoned guns, I stood near them
for about a minute to contemplate the scene: it was grand be-
yond description. Hougoumont and its wood sent up a broad
flame through the dark masses of smoke that overhung the field ;
beneath this cloud the French were indistinctly visible. Here a
waving mass of long red feathers could be seen; there gleams, as
from a sheet of steel, showed that the cuirassiers were moving ;
400 cannon were belching forth fire and death on every side; the
roaring and shouting were indistinguishably commixed : together
they gave me an idea of a labouring volcano. Bodies of infantry
and cavalry were pouring down on us, and it was time to leave
contemplation: so I moved towards our columns, which were
standing up in squares. One regiment and the 73d formed one,
and the 33d and 69th another ; to our right, beyond them, were
the Guards ; and, on our left, the Hanoverians and German legion
of our division. As I entered the rear face of our square, I had
to step over a body ; and, looking down, recognised Harry Beere,
an officer of our grenadiers, who about an hour before shook
hands with me, laughing, as I left the columns. I was on the
usual terms of military intimacy with poor Harry—that is to
say, if either of us had died a natural death, the other would
have pitied him as a good fellow, and smiled at his neighbour as
he congratulated him on the step; but seeing his herculean
frame and animated countenance thus suddenly stiff and motion-

1 United Service Magazine, 1852.
MAJOR MACREADY’S NARRATIVE. 393

less before me (I know not whence the feeling could originate,
for I had just seen my dearest friend drop, almost with indiffer-
ence), the tears started in my eyes, as I sighed out, “ Poor
Harry!” The tear was not dry on my cheek when poor Harry
was no longer thought of. In a few minutes after, the enemy’s
cavalry galloped up and crowned the crest of our position. Our
guns were abandoned, and they formed between the two brigades,
about a hundred paces in our front. Their first charge was
magnificent. As soon as they quickened their trot into a gallop,
the cuirassiers bent their heads, so that the peaks of their hel-
mets looked like visors, and they seemed cased in armour from
the plume to the saddle. Not a shot was fired till they were
within thirty yards, when the word was given, and our men fired
away at them. The effect was magical. Through the smoke
we could see helmets falling ; cavaliers starting from their seats,
with convulsive springs, as they received our balls ; horses plung-
ing and rearing in the agonies of fright and pain; and crowds of
the soldiery dismounted ; part of the squadron in retreat; but
the more daring remainder backing their horses to farce them on
our bayonets. Our fire soon disposed of these gentlemen. The
main body re-formed in our front, and rapidly and gallantly re-
peated their attacks. In fact, from this time (about four o’clock)
till near six, we had a constant repetition of these brave but
unavailing charges. There was no difficulty in repulsing them ;
but our ammunition decreased alarmingly. At length an artil-
lery waggon galloped up, emptied two or three casks of car-
tridges into the square, and we were all comfortable.

‘The best cavalry is contemptible to a steady and well-sup-
plied infantry regiment; even our men saw this, and began to
pity the useless perseverance of their assailants, and, as they ad-
vanced, would growl out, ‘“ Here come these fools again!” One
of their superior officers tried a ruse de guerre, by advancing and
dropping his sword, as though he surrendered; some of us were
deceived by him, but Halkett ordered the men to fire, and he coolly
retired, saluting us. Their devotion was invincible. Oue officer
whom we had taken prisoner was asked what force Napoleon might
have had in the field, and replied, with a smile of mingled derision
and threatening, “ Vous verrez bientét sa force, messieurs.” A pri-
394 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

vate cuirassier was wounded, and dragged into the square; his
only ery was, “ Tuez donc, tuez, tuez, tues moi, soldats !” and as one
of our men dropped dead close to him, he seized his bayonet, and
forced it into his own neck; but this not despatching him, he
raised up his cuirass, and plunging the bayonet into his stomach,
kept working it about till he ceased to breathe.

‘Though we constantly thrashed our steel-clad opponents,
we found more troublesome customers in the round shot and
grape, which all this time played on us with terrible effect, and
fully avenged the cuirassiers. Often, as the volleys created open-
ings in our square, would the cavalry dash on; but they were
uniformly unsuccessful. A regiment on our right seemed sadly
disconcerted, and at one moment was in considerable confusion.
Halkett rode out to them, and seizing their colour, waved it over
his head, and restored them to something like order, though not
before his horse was shot under him. At the height of their
unsteadiness we got the order to “right face,” to move to their
assistance; some of the men mistook it for “right about face,”
and faced aecordingly, when old Major M‘Laine, 734d, called out,
“‘ No, my boys, it’s ‘right face;’ you'll never hear the ‘right
about’ as long as a French regiment is in front of you!” Ina
few moments he was mortally wounded. A regiment of Light
Dragoons—by their facings either the 16th or 23d—came up to
our left and charged the cuirassiers. We cheered each other as
they passed us; they did all they could, but were obliged to
retire, after a few minutes at the sabre. A body of Belgian
cavalry advanced for the same purpose, but on passing our
square they stopped short. Our noble Halkett rode out to them,
and offered to charge at their head ; it was of no use; the Prince
of Orange came up, and exhorted them to do their duty, but in
vain. They hesitated till a few shots whizzed through them,
when they turned about, and galloped like tury, or rather like
fear. As they passed the right face of our square, the men, irri-
tated by their rascally conduct, unanimously took up their pieces
and fired a volley into them, and ‘many a good fellow was de-
stroyed so cowardly.”

‘The enemy’s cavalry were by this time nearly disposed of;
and as they had discovered the inutility of their charges, they
MAJOR MACREADY’S NARRATIVE. 395

commenced annoying us by a spirited and well-directed carbine
fire. While we were employed in this manner, it was impossible
to see farther than the columns on our right and left ; but I ima-
gine most of the army was similarly situated—all the British and
Germans were doing their duty. About six o’clock I perceived
some artillery trotting up our hill, which I knew by their caps to
belong to the Imperial Guard. I had hardly mentioned this
to a brother officer when two guns unlimbered within seventy
paces of us, and, by their first discharge of grape, blew seven
meu into the centre of the square. They immediately reloaded, ~
and kept up a constant and destructive fire. It was noble to
see our fellows fill up the gaps after every discharge. I was
much distressed at this moment; having ordered up three of my
light bobs, they had hardly taken their station, when two of
them fell, horribly lacerated. One of them looked up in my face,
and uttered a sort of reproachful groan, and I involuntarily ex-
claimed, “I couldn’t help it.” We would willingly have charged
these guns ; but had we deployed, the cavalry that flanked them
would have made an example of us.

‘The “vivida vis animi”—the glow which fires one upon
entering into action—had ceased; it was now to be seen which
side had most bottom, and would stand Killing longest. The
Duke visited us frequently at this momentous period; he was
coolness personified. As he crossed the rear face of our square
a shell fell amongst our grenadiers, and he checked his horse to
see its effect. Some men were blown to pieces by the explosion,
and he merely stirred the rein of his charger, apparently as little
concerned at their fate as at his own danger. No leader ever
possessed so fully the confidence of his soldiery: wherever he
appeared, a murmur of ‘Silence—stand to your front—here’s the
Duke!’ was heard through the column, and then all was steady
as on a parade. His aides-de-camp, Colonels Canning and Gor-
don, fell near our square, and the former died within it. As he
came near us, late in the evening, Halkett rode out to him, and
represented our weak state, begging his Grace to afford us a
little support. “It’s impossible, Halkett,” said he. And our
General replied, “If so, sir, you may depend on the brigade to a
man.”’”
396 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Throughout the engagement Wellington’s cool and collected
bravery inspired his troops with confidence in him and in them-
selves. He rode from square to square in the hottest of the fire,
occasionally pausing to address a few plain hearty English phrases
to his men. To one regiment he said, quietly, ‘Hard pound-
ing this, gentlemen; we will try who can pound the longest.’
To another, which was threatened by a storm of French cavalry,
‘Stand firm, my lads; what will they say of us in England?’
An Irish regiment was impatient to get at the enemy: ‘ Wait
a little longer,’ exclaimed the Duke, ‘and you shall have your
wish.’ Scarcely an officer upon his staff but was killed or
wounded, and it seemed that the great General bore a charmed
life. At one time he could find no aide-de-camp but a young
Piedmontese gentleman, named De Salis. ‘Were you ever in a
battle before?’ the Duke inquired of him. ‘No, my lord,’ was
the reply. ‘Then you are a fortunate man, for you will never
see such another.’ A member of the Duke’s staff asked for
instructions that, in the event of his Grace’s fall, his successor
might carry them out. ‘My plan,’ he replied, ‘is simply to
stand my ground here to the last man!’ Captain Siborne relates
an interesting anecdote:—‘ At one period of the battle, when
the Duke was surrounded by several of his staff, it was very
evident that the group had become the object of the fire of a
French battery. The shot fell fast about them, generally
striking and turning up the ground on which they stood. Their
horses became restive, and “Copenhagen” himself so fidgety,
that the Duke, getting impatient, and having reasons for re-
maining on the spot, said to those about him, “ Gentlemen, we
are rather too close together ; better to divide a little.” Subse-
quently, at another point of the line, an officer of artillery came
up to the Duke, and stated that he had a distinct view of
Napoleon, attended by his staff; that he had the guns of his
battery well pointed in that direction, and was prepared to fire.
His Grace instantly and emphatically exclaimed, “No! no! Till
not allow it. It is not the business of commanders to be firing
upon each other.”’

About four o’clock, the Prussians, under Blucher and Bulow,
having left Thielmann with one division to occupy Grouchy’s
ADVANCE OF THE OLD GUARD. 397

attention, began to draw near the field of battle. Lobau’s
infantry and Dumont’s horse had succeeded at first in checking
their advance ; but as fresh troops came up, they turned Lobau’s
left, and made an attempt to capture Planchenoit, so as to inter-
cept Napoleon’s retreat in the event of his falling back. The
French Emperor despatched his young Guard to hold the village,
and a desperate struggle ensued, in which, so deadly was the
hatred of the two nations, quarter was neither solicited nor
given. Troops were also detached to cut off the Prussian
regiments gradually pressing towards the English left. Bulow’s
corps was menacing the French right wing. In fact, Napoleon
perceived that the crisis was approaching. All his attempts to
occupy Hougoumont or penetrate the allied centre had failed.
The British squares had never been broken; thinned in numbers,
but constant in spirit, they still maintained their ground. He
therefore mounted his white Persian charger, which he rode that
his presence might easily be recognised by his troops, and prepared
for one last terrible effort. The Old Guard had not yet been in
action. He might have used it to cover his retreat, but retreat
for Napoleon meant ruin. He well knew that, even if he suc-
ceeded in retiring upon Paris, he would soon be overwhelmed by
the masses the allies were rapidly assembling. The only hope
for him and his dynasty was in victory. With the Old Guard,
then,—the invincible Old Guard,—he would venture a final
throw.

It was half-past seven o’clock when these veterans, formed in
two massive columns, and led by the gallant Ney, advanced to
the attack. Napoleon accompanied them for some little distance,
and then reined up, and paused, while the old Guard—the élite
of his army—the flower of France—his last resource, which had
never yet failed him in many a deadly field—defiled past, with
loud shouts of ‘ Vive ’Empereur!’ Their attack was directed
between Hougoumont and La Haye Sainte against the right of
the British centre; while Donzelot’s troops, then in possession of
La Haye Sainte, made a corresponding attack upon the left.
‘This part of the battle,’ says Sir Edward Creasy, justly, ‘ has
drawn less attention than the celebrated attack of the old Guard ;
but it formed the most perilous crisis for the allied army; and
398 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

if the young guard had been there to support Donzelot, instead
of being engaged with the Prussians at Planchenoit, the conse-
quences to the allies in that part of the field must have been
most serious. The French tirailleurs, who were posted in clouds
in La Haye Sainte, and the sheltered spots near it, picked off
the artillerymen of the English batteries near them; and, taking
advantage of the disabled state of the English guns, the French
brought some field-pieces up to La Haye Sainte, and commenced
firing grape from them on the infantry of the allies, at a distance
of not more than a hundred paces. The allied infantry here con-
sisted of some German brigades, who were formed in squares,
as it was believed that Donzelot had some cavalry behind La
Haye Sainte to charge them with, if they left that order of
formation. In this state the Germans remained for some time
with heroic fortitude, though the grape-shot was tearing gaps
in their ranks, and the side of one square was literally blown
away by one tremendous volley which the French gunners
poured into it.” The Prince of Orange attempted in vain to lead
up some Nassau troops to their support; the recreants would
not advance. Then the Duke rallied several battalions of
Brunswickers, and moved them up in person against Donzelot,
whose attack was thus defeated. He next rode off to the right
to observe the movements of the Imperial Guard.

In order to avoid the destructive cannonade with which
Napoleon covered the advance of his best troops, the British
soldiers laid down, in a line four deep, behind the crest of the hill.
Meanwhile, the British guns, at a distance of not more than fifty
yards, opened with murderous effect upon the advancing column.
Ney’s horse was killed under him; he led his soldiers forward
upon foot. At first the French were unable to discern their
opponents ; but when they had gained this point of approxima-
tion, Wellington, who perceived that the moment for assuming
the offensive had arrived, gladly gave the word to advance, ‘ Up,
Guards, andat them!’* Then from the earth leapt up the house-
hold troops of Britain; delivered a sure, close, and deadly volley,

*It is said that these famous words were never uttered by Wellington:

they have, however, become historical, and the world will doubtlessly per-
sist to believe in them.
THE BATTLE WON. of01

which killed, it is said, 800 men; and, levelling their bayonets,
fell upon the wavering French with unimaginable fury. Down
the blood-red hill-side, heaped as it was with horse and rider,
dead or dying, they swept—irresistible! In vain the heroic Ney
attempted to stem therushing torrent. Driven headlong over the
slope, the middle Guard, shattered and broken, pressed upon the
old Guard, stationed at the bottom as a reserve, and threw it
into irretrievable confusion. The British hussars, under Vivian,
rode in among them, and sabre vied with bayonet in doing deadly
work. Donzelot’s battalions, dismayed by the repulse of the
Guards, began to falter, and soon, before the onset of the British,
gave way and fled. Napoleon had some corps of cavalry still
remaining at La Belle Alliance, and was rapidly rallying what
survived of the first column of his Imperials. Against them
Wellington straightway let loose his reserves of horse ; and beau-
tiful it was to see those gallant riders dash, in all the exultation
of victory, against their dispirited foes! | The French made no
further effort to retrieve the day.

It was now past eight o’clock. Through nine long and weary
hours had the battle lingered, testing British endurance to the
very utmost. With a joyous cheer the whole line, at Welling-
ton’s order, sprang forward to the advance ; and the setting sun,
as if to gild their triumph, suddenly broke forth from its shroud
of mists, and filled the valley with golden lustre. The Duke rode
forward with the foremost, though shot and shell still played
across the field. An officer of his staff begged of him not to ex-
pose a life so precious. ‘Never mind,’ he replied; ‘let them
fire away. The battle is won, and my life is of no consequence
now.’ ‘Yes, indeed, the battle was won, and ‘ Waterloo’ was
added to the long roll of England’s triumphs. Prussians were
attacking Napoleon’s disordered masses in the rear; Britons were
sweeping down upon them in front. The carnage was awful, for
both had bitter wrongs to avenge, and both exacted a retribu-
tion which will never be forgotten. The disorder of the foe in-
creased, until his retreat became a flight, and the French army
no longer, as an army, existed. ‘It was a total rout:’ said
Napoleon; and his own words best realize the scene. With
difficulty he extricated himself from it. We are told that, when
390 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

he saw the waves of battle rapidly engulphing his bravest
veterans, and comprehended that ‘the sun of Austerlitz’ was
about to set in cloud and shadow, he was anxious to lead what
troops he could rally to a final charge, and die upon the field.
Soult seized his bridle and turned round his horse, exclaiming,
‘Sire, are not the enemy already lucky enough?’ And through
the devotion of his officers he was borne from the lost field, to
sign in Paris his final abdication of the imperial throne.

The Duke of Wellington, meanwhile, had ridden with his vic-
torious soldiers as far as Rossomme, and there he abandoned the
pursuit of the flying French to the avenging Prussians. On his
return to Waterloo he met, at a farm-house called ‘ Maison
Rouge,’ near La Belle Alliance, Marshal Blucher, and warmly
the two generals greeted each the other on the victory so nobly
won. Then the Duke passed across the valley of the battle.
It was only now that his great heart gave way. He had never
flinched during all the changes of the desperate fight; calm,
serene, and impassable, he had cheered, encouraged, and directed
his soldiers ; but the masses of dead bodies which met his gaze on
every side, and the groans of thousands which assailed his ears,
struck home to his very soul. He thus expressed himself in a
letter written immediately after his return :—‘ My heart is broken
by the terrible loss I have sustained in my old friends and com-
panions, and my poor soldiers. Believe me, nothing except a
battle lost, can be half so melancholy as a battle won: the bravery of
my troops has hitherto saved me from the greater evil; but to
win such a battle as this of Waterloo, at the expense of so many
gallant friends, could only be termed a heavy misfortune but for
the result to the public. Yet with these sorrowful feelings
naturally mingled an emotion of pride. ‘On the night of the
memorable battle,’ says Major Sherer, ‘the words and emotions
of the conqueror will long be remembered by those who sat with
him at supper, after the anxious and awful day had closed.
The fountain of a great heart lies deep; and the self-government
of acalm mind permits no tears. But this night, Wellington
repeatedly leaned back upon his chair, and rubbing his hands
convulsively, exclaimed aloud, “ Thank God, I have met him!
thank God, I have met him!” And ever as he spoke, the’smile
THE LOSS ON BOTH SIDES. 401

that lighted up his eye was immediately dimmed by those few
and big tears that gush warm from a grateful heart.’

The carnage at Waterloo, as might have been expected on a
field so desperately fought, was terrible, though it has been of late
exceeded at Magenta and Solferino. But the actual loss suffered
by the French was never accurately known. In fact, their army
was destroyed, and it became impossible to make up any returns
with regard to corps and divisions which no longer existed. It
is computed that at least 25,000 fell on the field of battle, and an
equal number must have perished in the flight, or of their wounds,
fatigue, and famine. A victory so complete and so decisive was
not purchased by the conquerors but at a heavy cost. The Bri-
tish alone, out of some 24,000—to speak in round numbers—lost
6000, or about one man out of every four. The Hanoverians
lost one man in sv, and the German legion suffered in about
the same proportion. The cowardly and treacherous Belgians
and Nassau troops escaped any great mortality. The British
officers exposed themselves heroically, and of course suffered
terribly. Besides the brave Picton, General Sir William Pon-
sonby, Colonel Gordon (brother of the late Earl of Aberdeen),
Major the Hon. Frederick Howard (commemorated by Byron),
and Colonel Lancy, were among the killed ; General Sir Frederick
Ponsonby, the Earl of Uxbridge (the late Marquis of Anglesea),
Generals Cooke, Halkett, Sir Edward Barnes, Alten, Lord
Fitzroy Somerset (the late Lord Raglan), the Prince of Orange,
and the Hon. T. Howard, were severely wounded. The official
returns ran as follows :—

I.

Return oF THE KILLED AND WOUNDED, WITH AN ABSTRACT OF THE
DIsposaL oF THE WOUNDED, JULY 1815.

Killed on the spot, non-commissioned-officers and privates, 1715

 

Died of wounds, . ‘ ‘ . j i 856
Missing, supposed killed, 3 r ‘ 3 353
Total, . ‘ - 2924

Wounded, ; » 6831

Total of killed and wounded,_. . 9755

2C
402 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Il.

ABSTRACT OF THE DISPOSAL OF THE WOUNDED.
Wounded by amputation, . 5 ; - 236
Discharged, 5 ‘ : 506
Transferred to the Veter Battalion, < 2 , 167
Rejoined their regiments, : : . 5068
In hospitals, under cure, April 1816, : ‘ 5 854

Total of wounded, . 6831

I.
Rerorn or Frencu ARTILLERY CaPTURED AT WATERLOO.

12-Pounder guns, é : : ‘ 35
6-Pounder do., . Z : é : 57
6-Inch howitzers, é ‘ i ; . 13
24-Pounder do. . 2 $ - . . 17
Total of guns, . é 122

12-Pounder waggons, . . : é : 74
6-Pounder do., a : 3 . 2 71
Howitzer do., i 3 : 7 3 50
Total of waggons, ‘ 195

Spare Gun-CaRRIaGEs.

12-Pounder, . . 6
Howitzer, 6
6-Pounder, 8
Total, °. $ " 20

Forage waggons, : z : . 20
Waggons of Imperial Guard, ‘5 : ; 52
Total, . 5 . 72

Grand total, ‘ 5 409

We cannot conclude our notice of this memorable victory
without referring to some of the criticisms which it has elicited.
Wellington has been blamed for accepting battle at Waterloo,
but he had every reason to calculate on receiving assistance from
the Prussians in four hours; and as he was enabled to hold his
ITS RESULTS. 403

ground for eight, it is evident that he had fully prepared himself
for the worst contingencies. The Prussians were retarded by
the state of the roads, bad weather, and unforeseen obstacles ;
otherwise, the battle would have been sooner decided, and with
less loss. As it was, they arrived in time to convert a defeat
into a rout. No maneuvres were attempted by either com-
mander. Napoleon confined himself to his favourite plan of
flinging an overwhelming force upon a particular point ; but his
columns were shattered against the British squares, like waves
against a rock, and fell off from those ‘ walls of steel’ in scattered
spray. Wellington’s policy was a policy of resistance; a policy
which, with any other army, under any other general, might
probably have failed, but the intrepidity of his troops well
seconded his own inflexibility. Had not the Prussians arrived
on the evening of the 18th, the worst that could have befallen
the British was to retire into the forest of Soignies, which could
have been kept against the French until the appearance of the
Prussians on the following morning, when the combined armies,
with overwhelming numbers, would have assumed the offensive,
and effectually “crushed the enemy.’ ‘They never could have
beaten us,’ said the Duke himself, in after times, ‘so that we
could not have held the wood against them.’

The Battle of Waterloo was the last, as it was the most glo-
rious of Wellington’s victories, and splendidly completed that
unprecedented series, which began with Assaye, and included the
famous names of Talavera, Salamanca, Vittoria, and Toulouse.
It gave peace to Europe for nearly half a century; it overthrew
the greatest conqueror and the finest army the modern world had
known; it relieved from a hateful thraldom many an oppressed
nation; it restored for a while the balance of power in Hurope;
and the great movements, which men now contemplate with
mingled hope and alarm, may all be indirectly traced to that
‘ first and last of fields, king-making Waterloo!’ For the Bri-
tish nation and the British army it accomplished much: it con-

1 See Capt. Pringle’s Memoir, in Scott’s Life of Napoleon, vol. viii.
Consult also Alison’s Military Life of the Duke of Marlborough; Miiffling’s
‘ Passages from my Life and Writings;’ and the Quarterly Review, Nos.
70 and 178.
404 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

solidated the power of the one, and established the reputation of
the other; and, considering its vast results, considering the im-
portance of the stake, and the brilliancy of the players,—the hero
of fifteen pitched battles, and each a victory, contending with the
man who, from a sous-lieutenancy of artillery, had risen by the
force of his genius to an imperial throne, who had humbled every
nation in Europe, and planted his standards in Berlin, in Vienna,
in Moscow, and in Madrid, who had been cradled in victory, and
nursed in the lap of success,—it is no marvel that the name of
Waterloo is still familiar in our ears as a ‘household word,’ and
still regarded by all loyal Englishmen as a heritage of glory, and
a legacy of pride!

Artuur, DuKE oF WELLINGTON:
A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH.

‘The Duke of Wellington is, I believe, the only General in whose con-
duct of war we cannot discover any important mistake.’—NrigBuHR.

‘O friends, our chief state-oracle is mute:
Mourn for the man of long-enduring blood,
The statesman-warrior, moderate, resolute,
Whole in himself, a common good.
Our greatest, yet with least pretence ;
Great in council and great in war;
Foremost captain of his time ;
Rich in saving common sense;
And, as the greatest only are,
In his simplicity sublime.’ TENNYSON.

A.D. 1769-1852.

In the narrow limits to which we are confined, it would be useless
to attempt a biography of England’s Greatest Soldier. Our
object will be, simply, to furnish a brief chronological summary
of his illustrious career, which, from its very condensation, may
probably be found useful for reference, and without which our
volume would necessarily be incomplete.

Arthur Wellesley was the fourth son of the Earl of Morning-
ton. The place of his birth is disputed. By some authorities it
HIS FIRST ACTIVE SERVICE. 405

is contended that he was born in Merrion Square, Dublin; by
others, at Dangan Castle, Meath. The year of his birth (1769,
May 1) was a remarkable one; for it produced Chateaubriand
and Humboldt, Soult and Napoleon. He was sent to Eton at
an early age, and after a short curriculum removed to the mili-
tary college at Angers, where he remained six years, and obtained
repute as a sedulous and decorously-conducted student. Before
he was eighteen, he was appointed to an ensigney in the 73d regi-
ment of foot, and in a few months removed to a lieutenancy in
the 76th. His rise was rapid, for his connections were powerful,
and those were days when competitive examinations had not even
been dreamed of by the most sanguine reformers. By 1798,
in a space of six years only, he had passed through the various
grades of Lieutenant (in the 41st, and 12th Light Dragoons)—
Captain (58th Foot)—Major, and Lieutenant-Colonel (33d Foot).
He had scarcely attained bis majority when parliamentary
honours were added to his military successes. He was returned
to the Irish House of Commons as member for Trim, a borough
where the Mornington influence was all-powerful, but he did not
interfere in the Irish debates. For parliamentary speaking he
was, indeed, naturally unfitted, and oratorical graces by no means
commended themselves to his simplicity of taste and austerity of
thought.

His first active service commenced under inauspicious cir-
cumstances. As Colonel of the 33d regiment, he accompanied
(in May 1794) the Expedition to Ostend, designed to reinforce
the Duke of York’s army in the Netherlands, which had been
shamefully mismanaged by that unlucky blunderer. The series
of disasters, however, which had so vividly illustrated the incom-
petency of English generals, had also exhibited the steady value
of English soldiers. As General Pichegru said, ‘ The English
commanding officers may have a good deal to learn yet; but
their men have certainly all the qualities which make the best
of soldiers.’ Wellesley’s regiment was employed in covering
the retreat of the forces from Antwerp to the coast, and his dis-
positions were so admirably made, his coolness and courage so
conspicuous, that the young officer’s rapid promotion was fully
justified by his evidently superior merit.
406 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

His career as a great English soldier, however, dates from
1797. Inthe February of that year he landed with his regiment
at Calcutta, and was immediately despatched by his brother, the
Marquis Wellesley, Governor-General of India, to reinforce the
army of the Carnatic, under General Harris. British India was
at that time threatened by the power of Tippoo, the Sultan of
Mysore, one of the ablest and most implacable of the enemies with
which England in Hindostan has ever had to contend. Scindiah,
the chief of the Mahrattas, was closely allied with the French,
who were making active efforts to re-establish their supremacy
in India. The Nizam alone was friendly to the English. The
crisis was a terrible one; but the Marquis Wellesley was fully
competent to deal with it. The army of the Carnatic, under
General Harris, including the Nizam’s contingent, amounted to
30,000 infantry and 6000 cavalry. On the 5th of March 1797
it crossed the frontiers, and being joined by a division of 6000
men, under Colonel Stuart, pushed forward against Tippoo’s
almost impregnable capital, Seringapatam. On the 27th of
March it reached Malavelly, where it found Tippoo’s forces drawn
up in battle-array to dispute their advance. As it was of im-
portance to bring on a general engagement, General Harris
directed Colonel Wellesley, with his gallant 83d, the Nizam’s
troops, and some cavalry, to attack Tippoo’s left, while he him-
self moved against his right. In the face of a fierce cannonade
and rocket discharge, the young soldier’s division steadily pressed
forward, and receiving the enemy’s reserved fire at only sixty
yards, levelled their bayonets, and broke upon the foe in a cloud
of triumph. Away sped Tippoo’s startled soldiery, in an agony
of dismay, and right into the struggling press rode the British
horse; and the sabre finished what the bayonet had begun.

Harris did not repose upon his laurels: he crossed the
Cauvery without delay, and on the 5th commenced the invest-
ment of Seringapatam.

Seringapatam was formidable, both from its natural and arti-
ficial defences. It stood—it still stands, though somewhat altered
since the days of Tippoo—upon a bare and desolate island-
rock, a mile or so in diameter, which the sluggish Cauvery em-
braces with many windings. The city is built on the higher
THE SIEGE OF SERINGAPATAM. 407

ground of this lonesome island, and surrounded by a curious
combination of works, partly of Oriental and partly of European
origin,—the Hindu towers being often connected by European
ramparts, and protected by European bastions. These works—
which, if irregular in design, were by no means of despicable
strength—were mounted with upwards of 250 guns, and manned
by a garrison of 20,000 men.

We need not repeat the details of this celebrated siege. The
outer defences were speedily captured; the parallels pushed for-
ward with vigour; the sorties of the garrison steadily repulsed.
A practicable breach in the north-west defences was effected by
the 3d of May; and the storm was appointed for the 4th, under
the direction of Major-General Baird. The storming party was
composed of 2500 Europeans and 1900 sepoys. Noon was the
time appointed for the attack, as it was known that the garrison
would then be at rest in their quarters, retired from the heat of
the blazing sun of India. The assault was gallantly made, and
gallantly resisted. The ramparts, however, were gained; and
British bayonets gleamed deadlily in the crowd of fugitives, who
made for the town itself. Tippoo, shot by an Irish soldier, was
spared the shame of falling into the hands of his conquerors.
Seringapatam, before the evening gathered in, was in the hands
of the British. Hight thousand of Tippoo’s garrison fell in
the terrible contest; and the Europeans lost 1531 killed and
wounded.

Among the prisoners released from the dungeons of Seringa-
patam was a Mahratta trooper, named Dhoondia, who was no
sooner free from his fetters, than his foot was again in the
stirrup ; and his bold, wild spirit having a peculiar fascination
for the lawless hordes of Tippoo’s shattered army, he soon
colleeted around him a formidable force. These daring free-
booters carried fire and sword into the villages of Mysore; and
soon their ravages assumed proportions which demanded the
immediate action of the British Government. Against them
Colonel Wellesley was despatched; and with a skill which
augured well for his future career, he followed them up, as the
huntsman tracks his prey; outstripped them in speed; surpassed
them in ingenious resources; and, finally, at the very moment
408 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

that Dhoondia thought himself securely encamped in a fastness
the British durst not penetrate, he fell upon his 5000 rovers,
cut them to pieces, and slew ‘the King of the Two Worlds’
himself.

A man of such fertility of conception and promptitude of
execution as Major-General Wellesley,—for he had now obtained
a well deserved promotion,—was not likely to be long unem-
ployed; and Scindiah and his Mahrattas having assumed an
hostile attitude, he was appointed to the command of a force
intended to reduce them to obedience. The campaign opened
with the capture of Ahmednuggur. On the 24th of August the
British crossed the Godavery, and on the 29th took possession
of Aurungabad. But on the very day that Wellesley crossed
the Godavery, Scindiah, with a cloud of Mahratta cavalry, had
fallen upon the lands of the Nizam, and destroying as he went,
advanced upon Hyderabad. The English general immediately
retraced his steps to the Godavery, and ascended its northern
bank in order to throw himself between Hyderabad and the
enemy—an able movement ably carried out. By this time
Scindiah had been joined by his artillery and 16 battalions of
infantry, officered chiefly by Frenchmen. It was now the 21st
of September ; and Wellesley, at Budnapoor, held a conference
with Colonel Stevenson, the commander of the Nizam’s troops,
and arranged a combined attack upon the Mahrattas. The
colonel was to move eastward, while Wellesley moved westward ;
aud about the 24th, the two leaders were to fall upon Scindiah’s
forces on the banks of the Kaitna. On the 23d, however, Wel-
lesley was apprised that Scindiah and his ally, the Rajah of
Berar, had withdrawn their cavalry, and that their infantry were
about to follow. The English general straightway resolved to
engage their infantry; and sending a messenger to Colonel
Stevenson to bring up his troops as rapidly as possible, pushed
forward to attack the foe. But when the ground was reached
it was found to be occupied not only by Scindiah’s infantry, but
also by his hosts of cavalry, who were encamped on a level
peninsula between the Kaitna and the Suah, the cavalry entirely
on the right, the guns—90 in number—and infantry on the left,
resting on the village of Assaye. The steep broken banks of
THE BATTLE OF ASSAYE. 409

the Kaitna rendered their position one of considerable strength.
The whole Mahratta force consisted of 50,000 men; Wellesley
had but 3000 cavalry and about 3500 foot, and of the latter
only 1000 were British.

No thought of retreat, however, was entertained. An un-
guarded ford had been discovered, and the army was carried
across the river, falling vigorously upon Scindiah’s flank. His
numerous artillery swept destructively through the British ranks,
and overpowered the British guns. But Wellesley was prepared
for this result, and ordered his men to charge with the bayonet.
The charge was made with eager bravery ; the Mahrattas were
driven back, and their cannon captured.

Meanwhile, on the left, a severe fire from the village of As-
saye had disordered the British light infantry, and the Mahratta
cavalry instantly swooped upon them to reap what advantage
they could. But Maxwell, the commander of the British horse,
who had closely watched the varying fortunes of the battle,
sprung, at this moment, to the assistance of the gallant 74th.
Before his sweeping blades the Mahrattas fell like ripe corn
before a sickle; and on through a storm of shot and a sea of
fire the British rode, plunging far into the ranks of Scindiah’s
left, and soon followed by the light infantry battalions, who had
coolly re-formed and returned to the charge. Thus both his left
and right were broken; and Wellesley next moved against a
part of the artillery who were in position near the village of
Assaye. He led on the 78th Highlanders, supported by a
regiment of sepoy cavalry, in person. His horse was killed
under him, and many of his men were slain; but the steady
advance was kept up, and as the deep shadow of the night
closed over plain and river, the last remnant of Scindiah’s host
was driven out of Assaye, and the battle won (September 23,
1803).

The enemy left 1200 dead upon the field, and a vast number
of wounded both upon the field and in the adjacent villages. At:
least 100 guns were captured. The British loss was necessarily
severe: 22 officers and 386 men killed, and 57 officers and 1526
men wounded. But nothing more brilliant or more complete had
illustrated the arms of England in Hindostan since the days of
410 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

Plassey and Porte Novo. Fortress after fortress submitted to
the conqueror, and Scindiah humbly sued for a truce. The
truce had scarcely been granted, however, than the treacherous
Mahratta once more coalesced with the Rajah of Berar, and the
two chiefs concentrated their forces upon the plains of Argaum,
some twenty miles north of the river Poorna. By a rapid forced
march—a march seldom equalled in swiftness and decision—
Wellesley came up with the confederates, and administered to
them a thorough ‘drubbing’ (November 29, 1803). On the
very day the battle was fought, his troops had marched six-and-
twenty miles, over a heated soil and under a blazing sun, and a
junction had been skilfully effected with Colonel Stevenson’s de-
tachment, which, a few days before, was 300 miles away. Mass-
ing his troops in one manageable column, with the British cavalry
in advance and the native cavalry in the rear, he moved up to
the enemy’s position. ‘Their infantry and guns,’ says the
general, in his own despatch, ‘ were in the left of their centre,
with a body of cavalry on their left. Scindiah’s army, con-
sisting of one very heavy body of cavalry, was on the right,
having upon its right a body of Pindarees and other light troops.
Their line extended above five miles, having in their rear the
village and extensive gardens and enclosures of Argaum; and
in their front a plain, which, however, was much cut by water-
courses, etc.

‘T formed the army in two lines; the infantry in the first,
the cavalry in the second, and supporting the right; and the
Mogul and Mysore cavalry the left, nearly parallel to that of the
enemy; with the right rather advanced in order to press upon
the eneniy’s left. Some little time elapsed before the lines could
be formed, owing to a part of the infantry of my division which
led the column having got into some confusion. When formed,
the whole advanced in the greatest order; the 74th and 78th
regiments were attacked by a large body (supposed to be Per-
sians), and all these were destroyed. Scindiah’s cavalry charged
the 1st battalion 6th regiment, which was on the left of our line,
and were repulsed; and their whole line retired in disorder before
our troops, leaving in our hands 38 pieces of cannon, and all
their ammunition.
HE RETURNS TO ENGLAND. 411

‘The British cavalry then pursued them for several miles,
destroyed great numbers, and took many elephants and camels
and much baggage. The M ogul and Mysore cavalry also pur-
sued the fugitives, and did them great mischief. . . . The
action did not commence till late in the day [the men being
fatigued with their long march], and unfortunately sufficient
daylight did not remain to do all that I could have wished; but
the cavalry continued their pursuit by moonlight, and all the
troops were under arms till a late hour in the night.’ Wellesley
himself was on horseback for eighteen consecutive hours.

The enemy lost, in this disastrous fight, 38 cannon, and all
their ammunition, elephants, horses, camels, and baggage. The
number of killed and wounded was enormous, and had daylight
lasted an hour longer, scarce a man would have escaped. The
British loss included 15 Europeans killed and 145 wounded; 31
natives killed, 148 wounded, and five missing.

This great defeat, and the capture of Gawil Ghur, a fortress
on a cloud-capt rock, which the natives believed impregnable,
compelled both Scindiah and the Rajah of Berar to humble
themselves before British power. All the country between the
Jumna and the Ganges, and the rich territory of Cuttack, were
ceded to the Company, and numerous privileges and extensive
grants increased their influence and augmented their wealth.
Well, therefore, did Wellesley deserve the honours now bestowed
upon him: a monument in Calcutta which commemorated the
battle of Assaye,—a gold vase,—a sword of honour,—the thanks
of both Houses of Parliament,—and a Knight Companionship of
the Bath ;—not for the victories he had won, and the fortresses
captured, so much as for the ingenuity of his combinations, the
fertility of his resources, his skill as an administrator, his faculty
of discipline, and the insight, almost intuitive, into the pecu-
liarities of Oriental character and feeling which distinguished
him.

In 1805, Wellesley returned to England, prepared by his
Indian experience to deal with vast military operations, and
measure his sword against those of nobler foes. He married, in
1806, the Honourable Miss Pakenham; and shortly afterwards
was employed in the mixed political and military movements
412 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

which checked Napoleon’s designs upon Denmark, and terminated
in the occupation of Copenhagen. His services were acknow-
ledged by a vote of thanks in both Houses of Parliament. In the
same year he was elected M.P. for Rye; in 1807, for Midshull ;
in 1808, for Newport, in the Isle of Wight. He was now ap-
pointed Secretary for Ireland and Privy Councillor ; and brought
to the discharge of his official duties that straightforwardness of
purpose, clearness of thought, and capacity for business, which
were his peculiar characteristics. But his political career was
abruptly terminated. It was a fierce and stormy time. Napo-
leon’s ‘ conquering Eagles’ swept resistless over the whole of
Europe; and kings were made or unmade, nations crushed or
re-created, as the great arbiter determined. Prussia had been
humbled at Jena; Austria at Austerlitz. The foul crime which
met with a righteous retribution on the field of Waterloo—the
plot against the life and liberties of Spain—had just been consum-
mated. A French army occupied Madrid, and a French king
was seated on the Spanish throne. Another French army had
penetrated into Portugal, and the whole Peninsula was humbled
beneath the most barbarous oppression and debasing tyranny.
But the spirit of the people awoke, and a rebellion against their
French taskmasters broke out in Portugal, which rapidly as-
sumed the most formidable dimensions. Oporto revolted, and
the French were also driven from Algarve. In vain did Junot,
the French general, attempt to quench the fires of revolt in blood.
Leyria was destroyed, and Evora and Guardo; their glittering
streets were razed to the ground; their dark-eyed beauties foully
abused ; their priests and citizens remorselessly slaughtered. It
was in vain. He flung but fresh fuel on the flame, and sowed
the seeds of a deadly hatred against France and the French in
the bosom of every Iberian.

At this juncture, the English Government, which had long ex-
pended the military strength of Great Britain in ill-conceived
and ill-directed expeditions against various points, determined to
adopt a more definite plan of operations, and, by a series of re-
gulated efforts, to effect the relief of Portugal. A small army
was got together, chiefly of recruits, and placed under the com-
mand of Sir Arthur Wellesley.
PORTUGUESE FAITHLESSNESS. 413

Rorica.—Aueust 17, 1808.

‘ The united forces of the English,’ says Southey,! ‘ amounted
to 12,300 men. It was the desire of General Freire, who com-
manded all the Portuguese then in arms, that Sir Arthur should
abandon the coast, march up into the heart of Beira, and open
an offensive campaign ; and he promised large supplies of provi-
sions. Sir Arthur declined this measure. He gave Freire 5000
stand of arms, and the necessary ammunition for hig troops,
which did not exceed 6000 of all arms effective; and these by no
means in a state to give real assistance in any severe trial. Sir
Arthur,’ however, though resolute not to abandon the line of
communication which he had chosen, nor to move to any great
distance from his ships, did, at the earnest desire of Freire, to
save, according to his report, a magazine of provisions collected
for the British, march upon Leyria.’

The French force at this time in Portugal amounted to nearly
18,000 men, of whom about 5000 were dispersed in garrisons.
But it was superior in guns, and especially in cavalry, to the
British.

Wellesley moved from the Mondego River on the 9th of Au-
gust; entered Leyria on the 10th, when the Portuguese general
shamelessly defrauded the British of their magazine of supplies ;
and, next, flatly refused to accompany them further in the offen-
sive movement undertaken at his urgent request! It was only
after urgent remonstrances that he consented to follow cautiously
in their line of march, and placed at Wellesley’s disposal 1400
Portuguese infantry and 250 Portuguese cavalry. The British
then advanced, and on the 15th came in sight of a division of
the French, under General Laborde, at Brilos. Junot was ra-
pidly concentrating his scattered troops, and had despatched
Laborde to observe Sir Arthur’s movements and cover his own.

Laborde had with him but 5000 men and six guns—little more
than one-third of the English numbers; but he had 500 excel-
lent cavalry, and a commanding position,—a sort of isolated hill,
rising somewhat abruptly out of the heart of the valley of Obidos,

1 History of the Peninsular War.
414 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

and in the vicinity of the village of Roliga (or Roriga). ‘ On his
right was a lofty mountain ridge; on his left lower, but very
rough, ground; and the valley behind him was closed, not only
by the commingling of the hills in a mountainous knot, but by a
rocky projection called the Zambugeira or Columbeira heights,
which, at less than a mile, stood like a citadel in his rear, and
was so covered with copses, wild evergreens, and forest-trees,
and so rugged that only by paths leading up deep clefts and hol-
lows could it be ascended.’?}

Soon after daybreak on the 17th, the British moved out of
the town of Obidos, and advanced against the French in three
columns,—Trant and his Portuguese against their left; the
centre, 9000 infantry with 12 guns, under Wellesley’s own com-
mand, against their centre; while his left, 4800 men, with six
guns, turned the French right, and prepared to oppose, if neces-
sary, the expected advance of General Loison and 6000 men.
Laborde, an able leader, saw that this disposition could not be
withstood, and immediately retired under the rocks of Zambu-
geira, covered by his cavalry. Thither he was followed by Sir
Arthur. <A part of the British centre, about 4000 in number,
was thrown, through an error of the left wing, against the whole
front of the enemy, extending along a ridge for nearly a mile.
But gallantly did those British soldiers clamber up the steep and
rocky paths, and through the narrow defiles, where scarce half-
a-dozen men could move abreast,—though sharp steel and deadly
lead opposed their passage, and the frequent flash leapt fatally
out of the leafy screens. It was Laborde’s object to hold his
position until Loison’s troops came up. He did his best, but he
little knew how tenacious was the grip of the English bull-dog !
His left was gradually drawn back, but his right—the side on
which he expected Loison—was kept well up to its ground.
Colonel Lake,—the brave son of a brave man, Lord Lake, the
Indian hero,—led on his regiment (the 29th) with eager im-
petuosity. The 9th, under Colonel Stewart, were not far behind.
Thus they had got near the enemy, but out of the position which
their general had marked for them, which was, in junction with

! Napier.
THE VICTORY AT ROLICA. 415

Trant, on the French left. The 29th reached the summit of the
ridge in necessarily loose order. Before they could re-form, a
French battalion leapt out of a sheltering copse of blooming
myrtle, and poured in a volley which destroyed the whole of the
front ranks. Lake, who had led his men up the hill on horseback,
was among the slain. The sergeant-major, Richards, seeing his
colonel fall, stood over him, like another Ajax, until he himself
fell wounded in thirteen places by shot and bayonet. His last
words were, ‘I should have died happy, if our gallant colonel
had been spared.’?

The 9th, though it had suffered terribly, now struggled up to
the succour of the 29th, and the remains of the two regiments
presented a gallant front, which all Laborde’s efforts could not
break. The 5th next appeared on the French left, while his
right had been turned by the left wing of the British, which had
succeeded in cutting off his communication with Loison. Laborde,
therefore, retreated, slowly and in tolerable order, throwing out
his cavalry to check the pursuers, who were unfortunately weak
in that useful arm. For awhile he attempted to hold the village
of Zambugeira, but was incontinently driven out of it, and having
had more than enough of British bayonets, retired to the hills of
Montecheque.

The casualties at Rolica, among the British, were—70 killed,
335 wounded, 74 missing. The French lost three guns, and
nearly 1000 men. But the importance of the victory is not to
be measured by these results, but by the confidence in themselves
with which it inspired the British soldiers, and the respect which
it taught the enemy to entertain for British valour.

As Sir Arthur expected reinforcements and stores by sea, and
it was important for him to keep open his communications, he did
not follow up the pursuit of Laborde. Receiving intelligence
that the British fleet was on the coast, he made for Vimiera, a
village near the coast, and nine miles from Torres Vedras, to pro-
tect the disembarkation of the troops. Reinforced by two bri-
gades of infantry, which increased his army by 16,000 men, he
projected a bold initiatory movement upon Mafra, so as to turn the

1 Guthrie.
416 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

position taken up by the French on the heights of Torres Vedras ;
but, unfortunately, the ships which brought this desirable rein-
forcement, brought also an undesirable ‘ senior in command,’ an
incapable, named Sir Harry Burrard, who countermanded Welles-
ley’s daring plans.

The ground which the English occupied at Vimiera, ‘had
been taken temporarily and for ease.” The main body of their’
army was posted on the summit of a ridge which overlooked the
village and plain of Vimiera. On the other side of the plain ran
a continuation of the same ridge, extending westward towards
the sea. Here, only a regiment and some pickets were posted.
At the mouth of the valley between these ridges rose an isolated
hill of moderate elevation, which covered the village of Vimiera.
Two brigades of infantry and six guns defendedit. The cavalry,
one squadron only, was placed at the egress of the plain, on the
road to Torres Vedras ; but another road, from Torres Vedras
to Lourinham, led round the opposite hills to the left, and af-
forded an easy passage for an enemy to seize the ridge where the
pickets were posted, and from thence to fall upon the British rear.

Junot, meanwhile, had concentrated his brigades, and drawn
out of his garrisons every disposable man. The army thus col-
lected, having been formed into two divisions, under Delaborde
and Loison, and a reserve, entirely of grenadiers, under Keller-
man, moved rapidly towards Vimiera. At midnight, on the
20th, Sir Arthur Wellesley,—who still remained in command, Sir
Henry Burrard not having landed,—was awakened by a general
officer with the news that the enemy was advancing. Sir Arthur
made a few preparations, but would not suffer his troops to be
disturbed. At sunrise no enemy was visible; but about eight
o’clock his advanced guard of cavalry gained the hills in front of
the English position. Throwing out a detachment against Sir
Arthur’s right, he led the masses of his army (14,000 men strong)
against the plateau which formed the British centre, thus en-
tirely neglecting Sir Arthur’s weak point, the left, and enabling
him to strengthen it with four brigades, while a fifth was des-
patched to cover the Lourinham road. During these arrange-
ments, the battle broke against the British centre with astonishing
fury. But all the efforts of the French—and they were gallantly
VIMIERA. 417

made—proved unavailing. They forced their way up, in the
face of a terrible fire of artillery and musketry, but were received
on the summit by a closely delivered volley, which smote them
down by dozens, and then by the bayonets of the 50th regiment,
which drove them headlong down the declivity. The attacks on
the right and left of the centre had been equally disastrous.
Kellerman’s grenadiers were met by our 48d with wonderful
energy, and repulsed in the completest possible manner, yet not
without an arduous struggle. ‘The loss of the regiment was
120; and when the charge was over, a French soldier and a
sergeant-armourer, Patrick, were found grimly confronting each
other in death as they had done in life, their hands clutching
their muskets, and their bayonets plunged to the socket in each
manly breast! It is by such men that thousands are animated
and battles won.’

Junot’s left wing and centre were now thoroughly broken up ;
and having exhausted his reserve of Kellerman’s grenadiers, the
Torres Vedras road,—the direct route to Lisbon,—was un-
covered, and a column under General Solignae so exposed, that,
by one rapid movement it would have been surrounded and
forced to lay down arms. Wellesley proposed, therefore, to
complete his victory by pushing on his own right wing and
centre, part of which had not even been engaged, to Torres
Vedras, and, by doing so, to cut Junot off from Lisbon. Mean-
while, he meant in person to drive him across the Baragueda
mountain on to the Tagus, where he would lose his remaining
artillery, and be forced to shelter his disorganized troops in one
of the frontier fortresses. But Sir Harry Burrard had now
arrived on the field, and taken the command, and to him, a
general of regulation pattern, the movement appeared too ha-
zardous. He therefore stopped its execution, and robbed Sir
Arthur of the fruits of his victory.* Solignac’s column con-
trived to rejoin Junot, and the French general, with true French
rapidity, regained Torres Vedras.

At Vimiera, the British loss was 185 killed and 534

1Jt is said that when Burrard announced his decision, Sir Arthur

turned round to his officers, and said, bitterly, ‘ Well, gentlemen, we have
now nothing to do but go and shoot red-legged partridges.’
2D
418 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

wounded. The French, in killed and wounded, had to mourn
over 3000 men.

After this decisive battle, both armies for awhile remained
inactive. Sir Hew Dalrymple, another veteran incapable, ar-
rived from England to supersede Sir Harry Burrard; and Junot,
who found his position a perilous one, having proposed to
evacuate Portugal, the famous, or rather the infamous, ‘Con-
vention of Cintra,’ one of the most shameful of the many
shameful treaties which have deprived England of the fruits of
her victories, was concluded. By this convention France gained
an army which must otherwise have surrendered at discretion ;
and the French were permitted to retain the immense plunder,
both public and private, which a rapacity unexampled in the
annals of war had accumulated. A storm of indignation arose
in England when its details were known. Sir Arthur returned
home to undergo an examination before a committee of inquiry,
appointed by Parliament, and was honourably acquitted; but a
severe vote of censure was passed upon the unfortunate Sir Hew
Dalrymple. It should rather have fallen upon the ministry
who had appointed incompetent men to important commands,
and given an army three different commanders in four-and-
twenty hours!

Soon after his return to England, Sir Arthur submitted to
the English Government a plan of operations in the Peninsula,
characterized by such clearness of conception and boldness of
thought, that its adoption was immediately insisted upon by the
people, who also urged the appointment of its author to the
chief command, as the only English general capable of carrying
it successfully into execution. The national feeling was at this
time strung to the highest pitch. The retreat upon Corunna, and
the death of Sir John Moore,—the rapid conquests of the French
in Spain,—their second invasion of Portugal,—all tended to stir
up the popular heart. It was with enthusiasm, therefore, that
Sir Arthur Wellesley’s acceptance of the command of the Penin-
sular army was generally hailed, in April 1809; and he set
sail from England, accompanied by the best wishes of the
English people. Less earnest, however, was the support ten-
dered to him by the Government and Parliament. In the latter,
PASSAGE OF THE DOURO. 419

a strong body was opposed to the war, and took every oppor-
tunity of throwing obstacles in the way of the general appointed
to prosecute it. Scanty reinforcements, irregular supplies, a
deficient commissariat, were also among the serious difficulties
with which Wellington had to contend; and his ‘Despatches’
are full of illustrations of the miserable manner in which he was
assisted by the home authorities.

The Portuguese troops had been placed under the command
of a brave and efficient English officer, Marshal Beresford. The
command-in-chief of both Portuguese and British was vested in
Sir Arthur Wellesley. He arrived at Lisbon on the 22d of
April, and without delay moved upon Oporto, which was then
occupied in force by one of Napoleon’s best generals, the illus-
trious Soult. His forces numbered 16,000 British troops, of
whom 1500 were cavalry, with 24 guns, and pushed forward
from Coimbra towards the Vouga river ; while Marshal Beresford,
with about 9000 men, operated upon the side of Lamego. The
news of Wellesley’s movements broke upon Soult, who was beset
by treachery in his own camp, with alarming suddenness. He
immediately destroyed the bridges across the Douro; secured
all the boats ; threw out vigilant patrols, and concentrated what
troops he could in Oporto, preparatory to its evacuation. Mean-
while the British army, about eight o’clock on the morning of
the 12th of May, was quietly assembled behind a rocky height,
crowned with a convent which stood exactly opposite to the
City of the Vines.

PAssaGE OF THE Dovuro.—Mar 12, 1809.

The river Douro is broad, swift, and deep; and 10,000
veterans guarded the opposite bank. Its passage, therefore, to
an ordinary general would have seemed impracticable; but Sir
Arthur was a great captain, and took a great captain’s view of
difficulties. The lower part of the river was efficiently guarded,
as Soult expected the British would move up in boats from the
sea; but the upper part—above the town—was but loosely pro-
tected. Sir Arthur detected the error, and resolved to profit
by it. A large unfinished building, called ‘the Seminary,’
caught his eye: it was isolated, easily accessible from the river,
420 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

and commanded everything around. ‘There were no French
posts near the building ; and as the direct line across the water
was entirely hidden from the city by the rock, Sir Arthur, with
a marvellous hardihood, instantly resolved to force a passage
there, in face of a veteran army and a renowned general, his
means being as scanty as his resolution was great, yet with his
genius they sufficed.

‘Colonel Waters, an officer on his staff, a quick-witted,
daring man, discovered a poor barber, who had come over the
river the night before in a small skiff, and readily agreed to go
back; he was accompanied by the Prior of Amarante, who
gallantly offered his services: thus, Waters crossed unperceived,
and returned with three large barges. Meanwhile, eighteen guns
had been placed in battery on the convent rock; and General
John Murray was detached with a brigade of German infantry,
the 14th dragoons, and two guns, to seek a passage at the
Barca de Avintas, three miles up the river: he was reinforced
with other troops when the barges were secured, and then, also,
the head of the army cautiously approached the river.

¢ At ten o'clock, the French being tranquil and unsuspicious,
the British wondering and expectant, Sir Arthur was told that
one boat was ready. Well! let the men cross! was the reply ;
and a quarter of an hour afterwards an officer and twenty-five
British soldiers were silently placed on the other side of the
Douro in the midst of the French army! ‘The Seminary was
thus gained, all remained quiet, and a second boat passed. No
hostile stir succeeded, no sound of war was heard ; but when the
third boat passed, tumultuous voices rolled through Oporto, the
drum beat to arms, shouts arose; the citizens, violently gesticu-
lating, made signals from their houses; and confused masses of
troops rushing out from the higher streets, threw forward swarms
of skirmishers, and came furiously down on the Seminary.

‘Secrecy was then no longer valuable; and the army crowded
to the river-bank. Paget’s and Hill’s divisions pressed to the
point of passage ; Sherbrooke’s, to where a bridge of boats had
been cut away the night before. Paget himself passed with the
third boat, but on the roof of the Seminary was deeply wounded.
Hill took his place; and the musketry, sharp and voluble from
PASSAGE OF THE DOURO. 421

the first, augmented as the forces accumulated on each side;
yet the French attack was eager and constant, their fire in-
creased more rapidly than that of the English, and their guns
soon opened against the building. Soon, however, some citizens
were seen bringing over several great boats to Sherbrooke,
while a prolonged shout from the streets, and the waving of
handkerchiefs from the windows, gave notice that the enemy
had abandoned the lower town; Murray also was then descried
on the right bank.’

The passage was thus wou; the allies had gained the right
bank of the Douro; and the French retired in terrible disorder
by the Amarante road, pursued by the British cavalry until the
evening closed in. Soult was then enabled to effect a junction
with Loison, and reorganizing his shattered ranks, he rapidly
retreated upon Salamonde, and traversed a fearful torrent by a
single-arched bridge, the Ponte Nova, so narrow that it admitted
but three people abreast. Here the British advanced guard
overtook his rear, and dealt destruction upon it. The rest of
the army Soult carried across with consummate ability, and
reached Oreuse on the 19th, with barely 19,000 men left out of
a splendid army of 26,000; his guns, stores, and baggage aban-
doned to the conquerors.

Wellesley. now directed his steps towards Abrantes, on the
Tagus, with the intention of concerting a general movement upon
Madrid with the Spanish generals Cuesta and Venegas. At that
time he had had no experience of Spanish irresolution, or the
labyrinthine duplicities of Spanish politics. But he was soon to
discover that the lightest portion of his task as commander-in-
chief in Spain was to beat the French; that Spanish promises
could never be relied upon; that Bioanteh generalship was hope-
lessly inefficient ; and Spanish pride ridiculously contemptible. |

Madrid was now covered by a force of 43,000 French in-
fantry and 7000 cavalry, under the command of Marshal Victor,
who had taken up a strong position at Talavera.

Cuesta, with 87,000 men and 70 guns, was at Almarez ;
Venegas, with 25,000 men, in La Mancha.

Sir Arthur had 18,000 foot, 8000 horse, aud 30 guns under
his immediate command, and a reinforcement of 8000 men from
422 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

England was on its way to join him. Relying on the promised
co-operation of the Spanish, he pushed forward, and effected a
junction at Oropesa, on the 18th of July, with Cuesta’s forces.
Victor then retired from Talavera, which was straightway occu-
pied by the allies. Cuesta now advanced alone, thinking, in the
insanity of his pride, to enter Madrid triumphant; but Joseph
Bonaparte, concentrating 50,000 men and 90 guns, drove him
back on the Guadamara, on the 26th, with a loss of 4000 men,
and he was only saved from destruction by the gallant interposi-
tion of Sherbrooke, with the advanced guard of the British army.
Wellesley, after a sharp altercation, prevailed upon Cuesta to
draw back his forces upon Talavera, where he had selected a field
of battle, and strengthened it with some field-works on a line
perpendicular to the Tagus.

The position was about two miles long, and was partly re-
trenched with a difficult broken country before it on the left.
Here the Spanish were placed, almost protected from attack by
the nature of the ground. On the left ran a series of hills, over-
looking a considerable valley, which separated them from a
precipitous mountain ridge. This was the position occupied by
the English, and was the weakest, though they were the weakest
in force. In the front was an open plain extending to the wooded
banks of the Alberche.

The strength of the allied army was as follows :—

British and Germans, . ‘ ‘ 19,000 men, with 30 guns.
Spanish, : : 34,000 men, with 70 guns.
Total, 44, 000 foot 10, 000 cavalry, and 100 guns.

The French, who were rapidly advancing to the attack,
mustered 43,000 foot, 7000 cavalry, and 80 guns.

Bartres or Taravera.—Juy 27 anp 28, 1809.

About one o’clock, the French crossed the Alberche, and
‘made a sudden attack upon an English division, under Mackenzie,
which lay beyond, and was completely surprised. Notwith-
standing the steady resistance of the 45th and 60th, Mackenzie
was driven back from the river into the open plain, and took
post with one brigade behind the Guards in the British centre ;
while Colonel Donkin, with another brigade, seeing a hill on
THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 423

the extreme left unoccupied, felicitously posted his men upon it.
Marshal Victor, who commanded in chief the French army,
though King Joseph was on the ground, pushed forward, crossed
the plain, and seized upon an isolated hill opposite to Donkin’s
position. At the same moment Sebastian’s cavalry rode boldly
up to the Spanish line. Then was seen a spectacle of peculiar
shame. The Spaniards replied with one voluble discharge of
musketry ; and then 10,000 infantry, with all the artillerymen, as
if deprived of their senses, broke and fled away in confused heaps ;
the gunners carried away their horses, the soldiers threw away
their arms. The Adjutant-General O'Donoghue was foremost
in retreat, and even Cuesta was off some distance in his carriage.
Some English squadrons, however, moved up rapidly, and the
French advance was checked. Many of the Spaniards rallied,
and returned to their positions ; but in the next day’s battle the
Spanish were weaker by 6000 than they should have been, and
their great central redoubt was silent from want of guns.

It was now twilight; but Victor, discerning the confusion
among the Spaniards, thought to profit by it, and ordered a
vigorous assault. Donkin maintained his position with resolute
valour, though the French turned his left and won the height in
his rear. General Hill, however, led the 29th to the charge
with such audacity, that the French were soon driven out of their
briefly enjoyed quarters; and reinforcements coming up, the
British charged in their turn, and hurled the enemy into the ravine
below. Darkness had now gathered over the scene, and all fight-
ing ceased. The two armies occupied the relative positions they
had held at first,—the British having lost 800, and the French
upwards of 1000 men. During the night the Spaniards suddenly
opened ‘a prodigious peal of musketry and artillery, without
cause or object,’ but the French and British remained quiet.

Victor ascertained, from the prisoners he had made, the exact
nature of the Spanish position, and having obtained King Joseph’s
consent to a second attack, made his arrangements accordingly.

The morning came, and the French commenced a tremendous
cannonade, to cover another attack upon the height to the left.
They clambered up the steep with admirable bravery, but could
not hold their ground. It was a hand-to-hand fight, and British
424 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

steadiness would not be denied. After losing above 1500 men
in forty minutes, they withdrew in utter confusion, only saved from
tuin by the renewed fire of their powerful artillery. Sir Arthur,
observing that the fury of the French assault fell upon his left,
now moved up a powerful body of cavalry to reinforce it, and
posted on the hill itself a division of Spanish infantry.

The contest had lasted from five until half-past eight, and,
as if by mutual consent, both armies rested for awhile from the
work of slaughter. The sun was pouring fire over the red battle-
field, and wearied with the heat, both the French and the allies
disposed themselves for refreshment. It was at this time that
a curious incident occurred, which introduced into the protracted
struggle something of the amenities of peace :—

‘A small stream, tributary to the Tagus, flowed through a
part of the battle-ground, and separated the combatants. Dur-
ing the pause that the heat of the weather and the weariness of
the troops had produced, both armies went to the banks of the
rivulet for water. The men approached each other fearlessly,
threw down their caps and muskets, chatted to each other like
old acquaintances, and exchanged their brandy-flasks and goat-
skins. All asperity of fecling seemed forgotten. To a stranger
they would have appeared more like an allied force than men hot’
from a ferocious conflict, and only gathering strength and energy
to recommence it anew. But a still nobler rivalry for the time
existed; the interval was employed in carrying off the wounded,
who lay intermixed upon the hard-contested field; and, to the
honour of both be it told, that each endeavoured to extricate
the common sufferers, and remove their unfortunate friends and
enemies, without distinction. Suddenly the bugles sounded, the
drums beat to arms; many of the rival soldiery shook hands, and
parted with expressions of mutual esteem, and in ten minutes
after they were again at the bayonet’s point.’?

The battle recommenced. with a continued attack, directed
against the British right and left. A tremendous cannonade—a
fierce rash—a volley from the British within twenty paces—a
charge with the ready bayonet—and voila tout! The French

1 The Bivouac, by W. H. Maxwell.
THE BATTLE OF TALAVERA. 425

were driven back on the right, with the loss of a battery of ten
guns, and numerous killed and wounded. The attack on the left
was equally well disposed of. The enemy’s advance was observed,
and Anson’s cavalry brigade despatched to check it. The attempt
was a bold one, and though the charge failed, through the dis-
order caused by a deep ravine right in the line of march, the foe
was so surprised at its audacity that he did not dare to advance."

The assault upon the allied centre was delivered with infinite
fury, but again the French were met with a close volley and a
bayonet charge, and driven back with prodigious loss. But
unfortunately the Guards, in their enthusiasm, were carried too
far, and being assailed by the French reserves, were swept away
in sections under an overwhelming fire. Sir Arthur perceived
the danger, and moved up a brigade of horse and a regiment of
foot. The latter formed in companies, and the broken ranks of
the Guards retreated through the intervals, rallied, re-formed,
and with their gallant comrades pushed on against their assail-
ants. A lusty cheer swept from end to end of the British line ;
the French wavered, yielded their ground, and, covered by
skirmishers, retired. The British, reduced to less than 14,000
men, and exhausted by toil and want of food, were unable to
pursue, and the Spanish seemed incapable of any evolution.’

The British loss in these sanguinary actions was 800 killed,
3913 wounded, and 652 missing. Altogether, in the two days’
fighting, 6268 were put hors de combat. The Spanish affected
to have had 1200 men killed and wounded. On the French side
944 were killed, 6294 wounded, and 156 made prisoners. Ten
of their guns were captured, and seven left in the wood near the
Alberche.

Early on the 29th the French retreated to the heights of
Salmas, behind the Alberche, and General Crawfurd joined the
allied army with a reinforcement of the 43d, 52d, and 95th
regiments, which, in their eager haste to get up to the field of
battle, had marched 62 English miles in 26 hours, in the hottest
season of the year, and leaving only 17 stragglers behind.

The victory at Talavera was rendered a fruitless one by the

1 Maxwell. ? Napier. See also Southey and Alison.
426 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

feebleness of the Spanish Government, and the incapacity of the
Spanish generals. With half-starved troops Lord Wellington—
he had been elevated to the peerage for his services at Talavera?
—was unable to undertake any offensive movement. ‘I wish,’
wrote the English general, ‘that the gentlemen of the Junta
would either come or send here somebody to satisfy the wants
of our half-starved army, which, although they have been en-
gaged for two days, and have defeated twice their numbers in
the service of Spain, have not bread to eat. It is positively a
fact, that during the last seven days the British army have not
received one-third of their provisions ; that at this moment there
are nearly 4000 wounded soldiers dying in the hospital in this
town from want of common assistance and necessaries, which
any other country in the world would have given even to its
enemies; and that I can get no assistance of any description from
this country. I cannot prevail upon them even to bury the
dead carcases in the neighbourhood, the stench of which will
destroy themselves as well as us.’?

Soult, having concentrated in Leon upwards of 50,000 men
of all arms, entered the rich valley of the ‘yellow Tagus’ on the
31st of July, and menaced Wellington’s communications. The
English general, ignorant of his overwhelming numbers, moved
towards him, and on the 4th of August found himself at Oropesa
with 17,000 men in front of 53,000. There was nothing to be
done but to retreat. By an able movement Wellington crossed
the river in safety, and for a while took up a defensive position
on the mountains beyond, But the fatality of Spanish incapacity
pursued him, and early in January 1810 he was constrained to
withdraw into Portugal, where he took up his quarters at Viseu,
about 130 miles north of Lisbon, with his outposts extended
towards Ciudad Rodrigo.

A summary of this brilliant and yet unsatisfactory campaign
may best be given in Wellington’s own pithy phrase: ‘I have
fished in many troubled waters, but Spanish troubled waters I
will never try again.” He determined to make Portugal the base
of his future operations, and with this view designed and com-

1 Baron Douro of Wellesley, and Viscount Wellington of Talavera,
? Wellington Despatches.
ALMEIDA LOST BY PORTUGUESE TREACHERY. 427

menced those marvellous fortifications at Torres Vedras which
afforded so splendid an illustration of the depth, originality, and
fertility of his military genius.

Marshal Massena had now assumed the command of the
French ‘army of Portugal,’—a splendid force of 65,000 men,
well officered, well equipped, and excellently supplied. He com-
menced the campaign of 1810 by investing the fortress of Ciudad
Rodrigo; Wellington’s army was too weak to attempt its relief,
and it capitulated on the 10th of July. Ney was then pushed
forward towards Almeida, on the Coa, where he suddenly came
upon the light division of the British army, under Robert Craw-
furd, which Wellington had thrown forward as a corps of obser-
vation. Crawfurd’s orders were to fall back if pressed by the
enemy; but his proud courage and headstrong ambition induced
him to contest the position, and he resolved to oppose 4000 in-
fantry, 1100 cavalry, and six guns, against 30,000 French veterans
(July 24). The British did all that could be done by heroic
valour, and actually contested every inch of ground. An able
retreat was effected across the Coa, and an attempt of the enemy
to effect a passage repulsed with the most brilliant valour. Ney
lost 1000 killed and wounded, and Crawfurd 316 in killed,
wounded, and missing; but as this loss could ill be endured by
the small British army, we must condemn the impolicy of the en-
gagement, while we admire its surpassing daring.

Nearly a month was passed by Massena in useless inaction,
and when suddenly rousing himself from his unwonted lethargy,
he laid siege to Almeida. Wellington moved up to its relief;
but, through the treachery of some Portuguese officers, it sur-
rendered to the French after a siege of only twelve days. Mas-
sena next prepared for the invasion of Portugal in force, resolv-
ing to act upon the line of the Mondego. ‘ This river, flowing
between the Estrella mountain and the Sierra da Carramula, is
separated by the latter from the coast, along which the royal
road runs from Oporto to Lisbon. The roads on each side of the
river were very rugged, and at the southern end of the valley
crossed by two mountain ridges, namely, the Sierra de Murcella
on the left bank, the Sierra de Busaco on the right bank. Wel-
lington had prepared the former for battle, and General Hill was
428 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

coming to it by the military road; but Massena, aware of its
strength, crossed to the right of the Mondego, and moved by
Viseu, to turn Wellington’s flank and surprise Coimbra. He,
however, knew nothing of Busaco, which covered that city, and
so fell into the worst road, and lost two days waiting for his
artillery. Meanwhile, his adversary also passed the Mondego,
and sending troops to the front, broke the bridges on the Criz
and Dao, mountain torrents crossing the French line of march.’?

Massena’s design upon Coimbra was thus frustrated, and he
accordingly moved down the Mondego, while Wellington rapidly
concentrated his scattered troops, who had been extended at
great length to watch the enemy’s movements, upon ‘ grim Bu-
saco’s iron ridge.’ By the 24th of September the concentration
was almost complete.

BattLe or Busaco.—SEPTEMBER 27, 1810.

Let us quote Wellington’s own description of the battle-field
of Busaco:% ‘ The Serra de Busaco,’ he says, ‘is a high ridge,
which extends from the Mondego in a northerly direction about
eight miles. At the highest point of the ridge, about two miles
from its termination, is the convent and garden of Busaco. The
Serra de Busaco is connected by a mountainous tract of land
with the Serra de Carramula, which extends in a north-easterly
direction beyond Viseu, and separates the valley of the Mon-
dego from the valley of the Douro. On the left of the Mondego,
nearly in a line with the Serra de Busaco, is another ridge of the
same description, called the Serra de Murcella, covered by the
river Alva, and connected by other mountainous parts with the
Serra d’Hstrella. All the roads to Coimbra, from the eastward,
lead over the one or the other of these Serras. They are very diffi-
cult for the passage of an army, the approach to the top of the
ridge on both sides being mountainous.’ Every road, every defile,
every steep, was defended by the allied artillery, and the position
was so formidable that many of the British officers believed
Massena would not accept the battle. But Wellington better

1 ¢ There are many bad roads in Portugal,’ wrote Wellington, ‘but the
enemy has decidedly taken the worst in the whole kingdom.’

2 Napier. 3 Wellington Despatches.
THE HEIGHTS OF BUSACO. 429

understood the Prince of Essling’s confident obstinacy, and added
coolly, ‘If he does, I shall beat him.’ Massena’s second in com-
mand, the gallant Ney, perceived all the advantages enjoyed by
the allied army, and was averse to the attack; but the chief,
knowing his superiority in numbers—65,000 to 50,000—and
urged by the direct orders of Napoleon himself, who had written
to him, ‘ It is ridiculous to suppose that 25,000 English can
balance 60,000 French, if the latter do not trifle; but fall on
boldly, and after having well observed where the blow may be
struck,’—resolved to make the attempt, and storm the heights of
Busaco.

The Marshal’s procrastination gave time to Wellington to
collect all his forces. Hill’s division was placed on the extreme
tight. Next came Leith’s; and next a division under Picton.
On the highest ridge in reserve, and flanked by the convent of
Busaco, were Spencer’s division, and a regiment of dragoons.
Half-way down the steep stood the Portuguese, whom Beresford
had drilled into respectable efficiency, and in front of the convent
were a Portuguese regiment, a German brigade, and the Light
Division. In a line with these, and forming the extreme left,
Cole’s division was posted.

The French chose two points of attack, about three miles
asunder. Ney was directed against the Light Division, and
Regnier against Picton. Junot’s corps and Montbrun’s cavalry
were held in reserve. arly in the morning of the 27th, while
the grey mists still hovered over the crests of the iron hills, Reg-
nier’s columns, preceded by a cloud of tirailleurs, pushed up the
acclivity, where the road was tolerably easy, and with such vigour
and resolution, as to gain the summit between Leith’s and Pic-
ton’s masses. A portion of the column was about to deploy
towards the right, with the view of sweeping the allies from the
whole crest of the Sierra, when Wellington directed two guns
loaded with grape upon their flank, and the 88th, aided by a
wing of the 45th and a Portuguese regiment, went at them with
such irresistible fury as literally to topple them headlong down the
mountain-side, until the valley bottom was strewn with the bodies
of the dead and the dying!

Meanwhile, the remainder of the column having formed to the
430 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

left, was dimly visible through the morning vapours to Leith and
his troops. Leith immediately put a brigade in motion, and
though it had two miles of rugged ground to traverse, it pressed
on manfully,—the Royals in reserve,—the 38th directed against
the enemy’s right, and the 9th, under Colonel Cameron, against
his front. When within a hundred yards of the enemy, the 9th
formed line, as if upon parade, and, levelling their bayonets,
tushed in upon the ‘ heroes of Austerlitz,’ and drove those
veterans down the steep with wonderful rapidity. A great mass
of fresh troops coming up, the French could not restore the fight,
and sullenly abandoned the attack.

Marshal Ney had by no means met with better success in his
advance. The Light Division was ably manceuvred by Crawfurd.
The two columns in which the French swarmed up were allowed
to ascend the mountain, and it is due to French valour to own
that they ascended in excellent order, though under a heavy can-
nonade ; but, when within a few yards of the summit, Crawfurd
ordered his men to charge. With ‘a horrid shout,’ they leapt
over the brow of the hill; three murderous volleys, at five yards’
distance, broke the wavering mass; and the ready steel of the
British completed their discomfiture.

Every attack made by the French was thus entirely defeated,
and Massena was taught, by a loss of 4500 men, that the heights
of Busaco were inaccessible. The allies lost 1300 killed and
wounded, of whom 578 were Portuguese. ‘To the latter, Wel-
lington gave a just meed of praise. ‘They have proved,’ he
said, ‘ that the trouble which has been taken with them has not
been thrown away, and that they are worthy of contending in
the same ranks with British troops in this interesting cause, which
they afford the best hopes of saving.’

It is said that Massena, on the day previous to the battle,
observed to his officers, ‘I cannot persuade myself that Lord
Wellington will risk the loss of his reputation by giving battle ;
but if he does, I have him! To-morrow we shall accomplish the
conquest of Portugal; and in a few days I shall devour the
leopard.’ Even after his defeat he did not lose his confidence ;
but by a road which wound through the defiles of Carramula,
marched upon Coimbra, with the view of threatening Lisbon.
THE LINES OF TORRES VEDRAS. 431

He appears to have been totally ignorant? of the formidable
works which Wellington had constructed at Torres Vedras for
the defence of the capital. To those famous lines Wellington
coolly and slowly now retreated, gaining their shelter early in
October. ‘ My opinion is,’ wrote Wellington, ‘ that the French
are ina scrape. They are not a sufficient army for their pur-
pose, particularly since their late loss, and that the Portuguese
army has behaved so well; and they will find their retreat from
this country a most difficult and dangerous operation.’

The front of the lines of Torres Vedras extended two-and-
twenty miles, and was protected by 59 redoubts, armed with 232
pieces of cannon, and defended by 17,500 men. The central
point was the Sierra, in the rear of Sobral, which was crowned
by a redoubt of 25 heavy guns, garrisoned by 1000 men. The
sea flanked the lines at one extremity, at the other they touched
upon the Tagus, where the works were of immense strength.
The troops intended for their garrisons were Portuguese militia
and British artillery ; and the allied army, numerous, brilliant
in equipment, high in spirit, confident in the genius of their com-
mander, was prepared to move in every direction, to cover the
crests of mountains, to descend into valleys, or pour in torrents on
any luckless column that, with diminished numbers, might have
forced past the almost impenetrable obstacles of this grand
position. ?

Massena arrived before the lines on the 7th of October.
Their amazing strength discomfited him; and after a few san-
guinary skirmishes, he abandoned all hopes of carrying them by
storm. Nevertheless, he continued watching them throughout
the cold and dreary winter, until his army had completely ex-
hausted all the country in its rear, and was reduced to a state
of famine; while the English were supplied by sea with ample
stores. On the 6th of March he abandoned Santarem, and
commenced a retreat whose horrors can hardly be paralleled in
the history of war, while it was conducted with a masterly

1 Napier. But it seems incredible that so able a general as Massena
could have been totally ignorant of the existence of such vast defences.
Of their strength he may have been misinformed.

2 Leith Hay.
432 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

ability, which all military critics have enthusiastically recognised.
The allied army broke up from Torres Vedras, and pressed hard
upon the fugitive French. Several sharp actions took place :
‘at Redinha (March 11), at Cazal Nova (March 12), at Foz
d’Aronce (March 13), and at Sabugal (April 3d), the enemy
was tolerably well beaten. The latter especially was a briskly.
fought affair, and pronounced by Wellington ‘one of the most
glorious actions British troops were ever engaged in.’ Nearly
200 British were killed and wounded; but the enemy lost at
least 300 killed and 1200 wounded. Altogether, in this dis-
astrous retreat, the French army suffered a loss of 45,000 men.
‘In a military view, it was admirable, and reflected infinite credit
on the generals who directed it; but, in a moral one, nothing
could be more disgraceful. The country over which the re-
treating columns of the French army passed was marked by
bloodshed and devastation. Villages were everywhere de-
stroyed; property wasted or carried off; the meri shot in sheer
wantonuess; the women villanously abused; while thousands
were driven for shelter to the mountains, where many perished
from actual want. With Gothic barbarity, the fine old city of
Leria, and the church and convent of Alcabaca, with its library
and relics, were ordered by Massena to be burned. The order
was too faithfully executed; and places, for centuries objects of
Portuguese veneration, were given to the flames; and those
hallowed roofs, beneath which “the sage had studied and the
saint had prayed,” were reduced to ashes, to gratify a ruthless
and vindictive spirit of revenge.’?

On the 5th of April 1811, Massena crossed the frontiers of
Spain, thus terminating the third French invasion of Portugal
in disgrace and disaster. Wellington immediately invested Al-
meida, which brought down the French army, re-organized and
largely reinforced, to attemptits relief. The English commander
had meanwhile gone south to confer with Marshal Beresford
respecting the siege of Badajoz, which a treacherous or cowardly
Spanish garrison had surrendered to Soult’s army. Tidings of
Massena’s advance brought him hack to the Coa (April 28),

1 Maxwell.
BATTLE OF FUENTES D’ONORO. 433

where his troops regarded him as equal to a reinforcement of
10,000 men. Though, owing to the negligence of the Portu-
guese Government, the Portuguese portion of the allied army
was wasting away through desertion and starvation, Wellington
determined to prevent the relief of Almeida, even at the risk of
a battle. His forces only mustered 32,000 infantry, 1200
cavalry, and 42 guns; while Massena, when he re-entered
Portugal on the 2d of May, had 40,000 foot, 5000 horse, and
380 guns. The French marshal was resolute not to surrender
Almeida, and determined to venture on a general engagement.
The allied army was disposed, on a line seven miles in length,
between the rivers Tarones and Das Casas, its left at Fort Con-
cepcion, its centre opposite Almeida, and its right at Fuentes
@Onoro. Massena, observing that the latter position was the
most exposed, determined there to direct the brunt of his attack,
in the hope of turning the right of the allied army, forcing it
back on its centre, and so sweeping the whole into the Coa,
which flows between steep and difficult banks in the rear of the
village of Almeida.

Barrie or FUENTES D’ONoRO.—May 5, 1811.

On the morning of the 3d, a desperate attack was made upon
the village of Fuentes d’Onoro by Loison’s division, and most
gallantly repulsed by the 24th, 71st, and 79th regiments, after
a hideous slaughter. This was one of the few occasions during
the war when the French withstood the bayonet charges of the
British. On the 4th, Massena himself arrived, and a reinforce-
ment of cavalry under Marshal Bessiéres. Early on the 5th, the
great battle began, with a tremendous attack on the British
right by all the French horse and the main body of their in-
fantry, a partial advance being made at the same time against
Fuentes d’Onoro. Both attacks failed, notwithstanding the vast
numerical superiority of the French. For a time the battle
wavered on the British right, and Craufurd, with his light
division, was ordered to restore it. While effecting a necessary
movement, he was assailed by the masses of the French horse.
Forming his men into squares, he stood his ground most gal-

lantly, and gave the enemy a foretaste of what they afterwards
25
434 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

so fully experienced at Waterloo. In vain the cavalry rode
round and round the compact formations of the British. They
could not break them.

Wellington now, by a skilful movement concentrated his
troops upon the centre, and formed them with a new front in a
splendid and imposing mass. Twelve guns commenced at the
same time a well-directed cannonade, and, dismayed and dispirited,
the enemy withdrew. The attack upon Fuentes @’Onoro had like-
wise failed, mainly through the stern resistance offered by the
Highlanders, whose brave colonel, Cameron, fell early in the fight.
His death was terribly avenged. The battle lingered about the
village until the evening, when the French, after severe suffering,
sullenly retired.

The British loss in this hardly-contested action was 235
killed, 1234 wounded, and 317 missing and taken prisoners.
The French lost 500 or 600 killed, and between 2000 and 3000
wounded. The latter were never more thoroughly beaten. Few
actions have contributed more to the reputation of the British
army than that of Fuentes d’Onoro.

On the 10th of May, Massena retired across the Agueda; and
as he had failed in driving the leopard into the sea, he was re-
lieved of his command by Marshal Marmont. Brennier, the go-
vernor of Almeida, succeeded, with his garrison of 1500 heroes,
in forcing his way through the investing army, after destroying
the fortifications.

‘At midnight on the 10th,’ says Napier, ‘he sprung his
mines, and in a compact column broke through the pickets,
passing between the quarters of the reserve with a nicety prov-
ing his talent and his coolness. Pack, following with a few men
collected on the instant, plied him with a constant fire, yet could
not shake or retard his column, which in silence gained the
rough country leading upon Barba de Puereo, where it halted
just as daylight broke. Pack still pursued, and knowing some
English dragoons were a short distance off, sent an officer to
bring them out upon the French flank, thus occasioning a slight
skirmish and consequent delay. The other troops had paid little
attention to the explosion of the mines, thinking them a repetition
of Brennier’s previous practice; but Pack’s fire had roused them ;
THE SIEGE OF BADAJOZ RESUMED. 435

the 36th regiment was now close at hand; and the 4th also,
having heard the firing, was rapidly gaining the right flank of
the enemy. Brennier drove off the cavalry, and was again in
march; yet the infantry, throwing off their knapsacks, overtook
him as he descended the deep chasm of Barba de Puereo, and
killed or wounded many, taking 300; but the 36th regiment, rashly
passing the bridge, was repulsed with a loss of 40 men. Had
Erskine given the 4th regiment its orders, the French column
would have been lost ; and Lord Wellington, stung by this event,
and irritated by previous examples of undisciplined valour, issued
this strong rebuke: “ The officers of the army may depend upon
it that the enemy to whom they are opposed is not less prudent than
powerful. Notwithstanding what has been printed in gazettes
and newspapers, we have never seen small bodies unsupported
successfully opposed to large; nor has the experience of any
officer realized the stories which all have read of whole armies
being driven by a handful of light infantry and dragoons.’”’
Wellington now moved northwards to the relief of Marshal
Beresford, who, on the 16th of May, had fought with Soult the
desperate battle of Albuera, and won a noble victory, in spite of
Spanish incompetency. He resumed the siege of Badajoz, al-
ready begun by Beresford, but raised upon the approach of the
French, and was himself obliged to raise it by the junction of
Marmont’s forces with those of Soult and Drouet, which neces-
sitated his retirement upon Campo Mayor. The French had
70,000 men, and Wellington only 56,000; but they did not dare
to engage him in battle, and Marmont, separating from Soult,
retired to Salamanca. The English commander effected a simi-
lar movement, and took up his old position, after a partial en-
gagement with Marmont at El] Bodon (July 25), upon the Coa,
—a position which the enemy were not inclined to grapple with.
Wellington now employed himself in restoring the works of
Almeida, as a cover for the immense preparations he was making
for the investment of Ciudad Rodrigo, a stronghold of great im-
portance. As soon as the new year broke, he commenced ope-
rations, and with 35,000 men and 38 pieces of ordnance sat

1 Napier; Wellington Despatches.
436 ‘ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

down before it. It was by no means a scientific siege, with re-
gular approaches and fine-drawn parallels. Wellington’s sieges,
from his paucity of means, were always decided by swift, sharp,
and sudden attacks. He had neither the time, men, nor supplies
for elaborate investments. As soon as a breach was effected, he
issued orders for a general storm, and trusted to British valour
to do the rest. Ciudad Rodrigo was stormed on the evening of
the 19th. It was a gallant piece of work, but not effected with-
out serious loss.

Wellington next turned his eyes to Badajoz. In spite of the
difficulties thrown in his way by ‘the perverseness of coadjutors
and the errors of subordinates,’ he directed the march of his army
upon the Tagus, completely outwitting Marmont, who could by
no means fathom the object of his movements. On the 16th of
March, he despatched Beresford across the Guadiana to com-
mence the siege. Badajoz was defended by General Philippon,
an able and adventurous officer, and a garrison of 5000 men. It
was well supplied with provisions, and strongly fortified. The
appliances of the allies were, on the contrary, of the most unsatis-
factory description. Nevertheless, the siege was vigorously pro-
secuted, and day by day the advances were pushed forward. On
the 6th, this strong place, so strenuously defended, was carried
by storm, under circumstances of the utmost horror, and with a
fearful loss of life. Its capture completely astounded the French,
and probably a finer achievement may not be recognised in the
entire annals of the Peninsular War.

Soult, though deeply chagrined at the loss of so potent a
fortress, was not disposed to accept battle from Wellington, and
hastily retired to Seville, while Marmont hovered about Sala-
manca and the Spanish frontiers, ravaging Beira with merciless
ferocity. Against Marmont the British commander resolved to
direct his operations, and commenced by surprising Almaraz, so
as to obtain the command of the Tagus, and prevent Soult from
reinforcing, or effecting a junction with, his brother marshal.
This important operation was gallantly carried out by General
Hill ; and then Wellington, on the 13th of June, advanced to the
Tormes. The river was duly passed, and the British entered the
town of Salamanca amidst the loud welcomes of its inhabitants.
BATTLE OF SALAMANCA. 437

Marmont took up a bold position on the 20th, in front of
St Cristoval, a few miles from Salamanca; and a cavalry skirmish
took place, in which the British had the best of it. On the
night of the 21st, he seized an eminence on the right flank of
Wellington’s line, and occupied it in force ; but on the following
morning it was most gallantly retaken by the 58th and 61st,
under General Graham. Further movements occupied the
ensuing days, Marmont endeavouring to establish communica-
tions with the garrisons he had left in three small forts at
Salamanca, and Wellington ably checking him. These forts
surrendered to the British on the 27th ; and then, early in July,
the French retreated, and posted themselves on the northern
bank of the Douro, while the British faced them on the southern.
Being reinforced by a division under General Bonnet, Marmont’s
next movement was to cross the Douro at Toro, a movement
which Wellington met by a change of front upon the Guarena ;
and Marmont recrossed the river, and ascended:the northern
bank to Tordesillas. There he again crossed the Douro, and by
a rapid march contrived to reach Nova al Rey on the 17th, and
so to re-establish his communications with King Joseph’s army,
which was advancing from Madrid to his relief.

The two armies, by a complication of manceuvres (which it
is impossible, in our limited space, to detail), were now again
face to face, but on opposite banks of the Guarena, an affluent
of the Douro. For several days they actually marched upon
parallel lines, within cannon-shot of each other; and it seemed
probable that Wellington, whose army was ill-supplied with pro-
visions, would finally be forced to retire into Portugal, or accept
battle at a disadvantage. But fortunately Marmont’s confidence
in his own superiority, aud his eager desire to win a victory be-
fore King Joseph could come up to rob him of the credit, gave
the English commander an opportunity of which he did not fail to
avail himself.

Batre oF SaLaMANcA.—JULY 22, 1812.

On the 21st, Marmont crossed the Tormes, and moving up
the valley of the Machechaco, encamped on the skirts of a forest.
In the evening Wellington also crossed the Tormes at Salamanca,
438 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

but left one division and some cavalry on the right bank in an
entrenched position. The passage was attended by a fearful
storm, but nothing could disturb the beautiful order in which the
British veterans crossed the foaming river. On the morning of
the 22d, various movements were made by Marmont, apparently
without any definite design, but resulting towards noon in a
heavy cannonade, under cover of which he extended his left, and
advanced his troops. His object appeared to be to seize the hill
of the Arapiles on the British right, and from thence to direct
his attack; but Wellington’s eagle eye detected a fatal error.
In extending his left he had separated it from the centre. Con-
centrating large masses of troops on his own right, Wellington
immediately hurled them upon the enemy. The collision was
terrible, but decisive. The French gave way in confusion. Mar-
mont was desperately wounded, and succeeded by Bonnet.
Bonnet also was wounded, and Clausel took the command.
Seeing his left wing utterly and irretrievably beaten, the French
general retired his troops and re-formed them, but was im-
petuously assailed by the 6th and 4th divisions of the British
army, aud driven through the woods upon the Tormes. Then
night rose upon the scene, and extended its mercy to the fugi-
tives. The pursuit was abandoned until the next morning; but
had there been another hour of daylight, Marmont’s whole army
must have surrendered or been cut to pieces.

The French loss was severe: three general officers were
killed, and four wounded. One general, 136 officers, and nearly
7000 men, were made prisoners. The number of killed and
wounded was never ascertained, but could not have been less
than 12,000. Very bitter, too, were the sufferings of the allies.

Of the British, 694 were killed ; 4270 wounded ; 256 missing.
Of the Portuguese, 302 = do. 1552 do. 182 do.
Of the Spanish, 2 = do. 4 do.

Total loss, 7264.

Eleven pieces of cannon and two eagles were among the
conyuerors’ trophies of their decisive victory. ‘We fell upon
Marmont,’ says Wellington pithily, ‘turning his left flank; and
L never saw an army receive such a beating.” Forty thousand men,
as a French officer said, were defeated in forty minutes!
HIS RECEPTION ON ENTERING MADRID. 439

The remainder of the campaign was distinguished by the
rapid retreat of the French, and Wellington’s advance upon
Valladolid, where he found large stores and 18 pieces of artillery.
‘Thus,’ says General Napier, ‘terminated the Salamanca opera-
tions, which present the following remarkable results. On the
18th of July, Marmont’s army, 42,000 sabres and bayonets, with
74 guns, passed the Douro to attack the allies. On the 30th it
repassed that river in retreat, having in those 12 days marched
200 miles, fought three combats and a general battle, in which
one marshal of France, seven generals, and 12,500 men and
inferior officers were killed, wounded, or taken, together with two
eagles, several standards, and 12 guns, exclusive of those found
at Valladolid. In the same period, the allies, who had 46,000
sabres and bayonets, with 60 guns, the excess of men being
Spanish, marched 160 miles, and had ove marshal (Beresford),
four generals, and 6000 men and officers, killed or wounded.’

Wellington now pushed on with his victorious army to Madrid,
which, after a desultory skirmish, was abandoned by Joseph
Bonaparte and his court, and in most unkingly confusion. The
British general entered the city (August 12) as a deliverer, and
was received with the most passionate welcome. With tears,
and every sign of emotion, the citizens, woe-worn and famine-
stricken, pressed around his horse, hung by his stirrups, touched
his clothes, and throwing themselves on their knees, blessed him
aloud.

Wellington quitted Madrid on the 1st of September, and on
the 6th crossed the Douro, in the hope of intercepting Clausel,
who had gotten together an army of 22,000 men and 50 guns.
But he was again deserted by the Spanish generals, and Clausel
retired upon Burgos, slowly, and in good order. Thence he
retreated to Briviesca, and the Spanish having come up, the allies
entered the town of Burgos on the 19th. The castle, however,
was still in the possession of a French garrison, some 2000 men,
under the brave and skilful Dubretez. An assault was made on
the 19th, which carried the outer works; bat the second, third,
fourth, and fifth assaults (September 22, 28, and October 2 and
18), though gallantly attempted, failed; and finally, the advance
of the French to its relief, in overpowering force, compelled
440 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

Wellington to abandon the siege, after having lost 2000 ‘killed and
wounded. The retreat was effected on the night of the 21st, in
perfect silence, and with little loss,—the army defiling, unper-
ceived, under the very guns of the castle, and crossing the river
Arlanzun almost unmolested.

Wellington conducted his retreat with masterly ability. On
the 29th he crossed the Douro; on the 8th of November halted
in front of Salamanca, followed by Soult, who, though he had
75,000 foot and 12,000 horse, against Wellington’s 50,000 foot
and 5000 horse, would not accept the battle offered him. Ciudad
Rodrigo was gained on the 18th, and the Portuguese frontier
crossed on the 20th. Here the retreat terminated, and the
French abandoned the pursuit. Both armies then went into
winter quarters.

For this brilliant campaign, in which, though it closed some-
what disastrously, Wellington had exhibited the highest qualities
of a consummate general, he was rewarded by a Marquisate, and
a gift of .100,000 from Parliament, to enable him to support
his dignity. He was also appointed Colonel of the Blues, and
the Prince Regent of Portugal created him Duke of Vittoria.

The prospects with which the campaign of 1813 opened, both
for the allies and the French, have been concisely stated by
Mr Maxwell :—

‘Nothing could surpass the splendid state of discipline that
this period of inactivity had produced, while the allied army was
reposing in winter quarters. Its materiel was now truly mag-
nificent, powerful reinforcements having arrived from England.
The Life and Horse Guards had joined the cavalry; and that
arm, hitherto the weakest, was increased to nineteen efficient
regiments. The infantry had been recruited from the militias at
home; the artillery was complete in every requisite for the field ;
while a well-arranged commissariat, with ample means of trans-
port, facilitated the operations of the most serviceable force which
had ever taken the field under the leading of an English general.

‘ Previous to the opening of the campaign in May 1818, the
Anglo-Portuguese army numbered close upon seventy thousand
men of all arms, and were cantoned in the neighbourhood of the
Douro.
OPENING OF THE CAMPAIGN OF 1813. 441

‘Morillo’s corps occupied Estremadura ; Giron held the fron-
tier of Gallicia; O’Donel was stationed in Andalusia; Elio on
the frontiers of Mincia and Valencia; and the Duc del Vasque,
with a strong corps, held possession of La Mancha.

‘The French, at that time, might have probably mustered one
hundred and fifty thousand men in Spain. Madrid and Toledo
were in the occupation of the armies of the centre and the
south, whose corps were spread over the central provinces.
Valladolid had the head-quarters of the army of Portugal; the
line of the Douro was carefully observed, while Suchet occupied
Valencia and Catalonia; and a part of the army of the north
was quartered in Aragon and Biscay.

“Never did a leader take the field under more promising
auspices than those with which the allied commander opened
the campaign of 1813. The Spanish troops were strong in
numbers, and considerably improved in discipline; while the
guerilla leaders were in great force, and ready for daring enter-
prise. Summer was coming fast,—a rich and luxurious country
was before him,—every requisite prepared for his march; his
troops flushed with victory; and his opponents dispirited by
constant discomfiture. Even the opening movements tended to
increase these feelings; for the British were preparing to ad-
vance, and the French already retrograding. No wonder, then,
that the brilliant hopes of a country were fully realized; that
the career of English conquest continued almost without a check ;
and the fields of France saw her banners float in victory, until
the last struggles at Orthes and Toulouse attested the invinci-
bility of Wellington and his island soldiery !”

On the 22d of May Wellington moved towards the Tormes,
and on the 26th his columns reached the river-bank. Crossing
in beautiful order, they were next directed, by the combina-
tions of their great leader, upon the Douro, and soon were in full
pursuit of King Joseph and his retreating army. The enemy fell
back upon Burgos, but Wellington gave them no rest. Blowing
up the castle, they abandoned that memorable town, and retreated
to Miranda. Wellington, on the other hand, ascended the bank
of the Ebro for some distance, and crossed it on the 14th and
15th by San Martin and Puente de Arenas. Thence he con-
442 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

tinued his advance until he came up with the French army, under
King Joseph and Marshal Jourdan, at Vittoria.

Battie oF VITTORIA.—JUNE 21, 1813.

The French army was posted in front of Vittoria, where
their right was stationed, with their left resting upon the hills
which branch off to La Puebla de Arganzon. It was nearly the
same position as that which Bertrand du Guesclin’s army had
occupied previous to its defeat by Edward the Black Prince, in
1367.

On the morning of the 21st the battle was commenced by the
British with three simultaneous attacks, directed against the
French left and right, and Vittoria itself, where their convoys of
baggage and booty were stationed. Hach movement was well
conceived, boldly carried out, and completely successful. A final
advance was made against the whole French line; Vittoria was
stormed by Picton’s ‘Fighting Third ;’ and the French, beaten
at all points, abandoned their guns, and retreated, dismayed and
disorganized, by the road to Pampeluna. It was with difficulty
that the pseudo-King Joseph escaped in the confusion that fol-
lowed. An immense quantity of baggage, guns, stores, and
booty fell into the hands of the allies; 150 pieces of cannon, 400
caissons, 12,000 rounds of ammunition, and 2,000,000 musket-
cartridges, with a thousand prisoners, were taken. In fine, ‘the
French lost all their equipages, all their guns, all their treasure,
all their stores, all their papers; no man could even prove how
much pay was due to him; generals and subordinate officers alike
were reduced to the clothes on their backs, and most of them
were barefooted.’

In this well-fought and most decisive battle the British lost 500
killed, 2800 wounded ; the Portuguese, 150 killed, 900 wounded ;
and the Spaniards, 89 killed, and 460 wounded; or, in all, 739
killed and 4160 wounded. The French; in killed, wounded, and
prisoners, lost at least 9000; but their greatest loss was the
utter demoralization and disorganization induced by so thorough
a defeat. The victory at Vittoria terminated the ascendancy
of the French in Spain; and the remaining stages of the Penin-
sular war may, therefore, be glanced at with extreme brevity.
BATTLES OF THE PYRENEES. 443

Joseph Bonaparte, deprived of a kingdom and an army,
could do nought but retire into France, and the different for-
tresses occupied by French garrisons now surrendered to the
allies with amazing celerity. Wellington quickly reached the
foot of the Pyrenees, and, by a series of successes, obtained
command of the Pyrenean passes; having thus, in a campaign
of two months, exchanged the frontier of Portugal for that of
France. But Napoleon’s genius was too tenacious to succumb
to disasters; and the Emperor resolved upon another effort to
recover the line of the Ebro. The French army was re-or-
ganized, largely reinforced, and fully equipped; and to its com-
mand was appointed the ablest of the marshals of France, Soult,
Duke of Dalmatia. Wellington made every effort to meet the
storm which he foresaw was about to burst, and commenced
operations by blockading Pamplona and investing San Sebastian.
The former was beleaguered by General Hill, the latter by General
Graham, while Wellington superintended the movements of the
covering army. The British soldiers displayed their wonted
intrepidity, but their means were unequal to their object; and
being repulsed in a fierce assault on the 25th of July, the siege
was abandoned, and a blockade substituted. Then Wellington
concentrated his forces upon Pamplona, which Soult, with a large
army, was marching to relieve.

BatrLes OF THE PyRENEES.—JULY anp AvuGusT 1813.

Soult’s masses had driven back the British brigades which
defended the mountain passes of Maya and Roncesvalles, and,
penetrating into the valley of the Pyrenees, bore direct upon
Pamplona. Both passes had been contested with resolute valour.
At the Maya Pass (July 25), General Stewart, with 4500 men,
held his post among the craggy heights against Count D’Erlon
(General Drouet) and 13,000 men, until one-third of his little
band was killed or wounded, and his obstinate resistance entirely
defeated: Soult’s ablest combinations. At Roncesvalles (July
25), General Cole’s 10,000 heroes stoutly withstood Soult’s
30,000; and when at last he retreated before the vast numerical
superiority of the enemy, he took up so formidable a position that
Soult did not trouble him further. Thus, after two severe fights,
444 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

and a terrible loss of men, the French marshal found himself
scarce ten miles in advance, and still twenty-two miles distant
from Pamplona.

On the 27th, Wellington arrived from San Sebastian, and
was received by his troops with enthusiastic cheers, as if they
felt that his genius would speedily enable them to hurl back
their enemy across the Pyrenean range. ‘A Portuguese bat-
talion on the left, first recognising him, raised a joyful cry, and
soon the shrill clamour was taken up by the next regiments, swell-
ing as it ran along the line into that stern and appalling shout
which the British soldier is wont to give on the edge of battle,
and which no enemy ever heard unmoved. In a conspicuous
place he stopped, desirous that both armies should know he was
there. A spy who was present pointed out Soult, then so near
that his features could be plainly distinguished. Fixing his eyes
attentively upon that formidable man, Wellington thus spoke,
“ Yonder is a great commander ; but he is a cautious one, and
will delay his attack to ascertain the cause of these shouts; that
will give time for the 6th division to arrive, and I shall beat him.”
The event justified the prediction.’ !

The great battle of the Pyrenees, or, more properly speak-
ing, of Sauroren, was fought on the 28th of July, the anniversary
of Talavera. The French, in attempting to turn the left of Cole’s
division, were, by an able manceuvre, suddenly surrounded ; and
the unity of attack along the whole line on which Soult had
depended was thus completely frustrated. Nevertheless, the
French fought well, and strove hard for the victory which British
courage denied them. A fairer trial of strength between the two
nations was never seen. The French advanced again and again
to the attack, but always to be repulsed with a British shout and
the appalling shock of British bayonets. It was ‘bludgeon
work,’ said Wellington, and the loss on both sides immense.
The French, too, had a surprising numerical superiority —25,000
against 12,000 of the allies!’ The position of the latter was,
however, admirably chosen, and of considerable strength. The
victory was one of which the British might well be proud,

* Napier ; Hamilton’s Annals of the Peninsula War; Southey, etc.
THE FRENCH RETREAT TOWARDS FRANCE. 445

and the defeat not one of which the French had cause to be
ashamed.

On the 29th not a shot was fired, and both commanders
were employed in calling in their scattered corps.

The second battle of Sauroren was fought on the 30th.
Soult’s object was now to turn the British left; to fall with
overpowering numbers upon Sir Rowland Hill’s division; and
continuing his flank movement, to break up the blockade of San
Sebastian. Or, if he failed in this, he would at least be able to
connect himself with the large reserves, under Villatte, stationed
on the Bidassoa. But he had to deal with a chief of greater
strategical abilities than himself, though Soult was, unquestion-
ably, a man of great military genius. While Soult spent his
strength in unavailing efforts against Hill, whom Wellington
rapidly and largely reinforced, a fierce attack was made upon
the French front, occupying an apparently impregnable position
among the wooded heights of the Lanz and the Arga. Their
left was turned by Picton, and their right by Dalhousie, while
Sir Lowry Cole advanced in front. The success was complete;
and the French, defeated at all points, and having lost in nine
days 15,000 killed and wounded, and 4000 prisoners, commenced
a rapid retreat into France, pursued by the allied army as far as
the Bidassoa.

The conquerors now rested for a while, and the siege of San
Sebastian was resumed. It fell into the hands of the English
on the 9th of September, a vain attempt having been previously
made by Soult to relieve it. Pamplona also surrendered, and
no strong fortresses being in his rear, Wellington was left free
to penetrate into France. Towards the end of October he
crossed the Bidassoa, fighting a battle at Vera, in which the
French were once more discomfited (October 7); Soult retired
before his resistless advance, bravely standing at bay wherever
the country offered a favourable position,—beaten again on the
Niyelle (November 10), where he was driven from a mountain-
fastness which he had been fortifying for three months, with a
loss of 1400 prisoners, and 2860 killed and wounded; beaten
at Bayonne, in a desperate attempt to oppose the passage
of the Nive; and finally driven across the Adour, where he
446 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

took up an entrenched position of considerable strength at
Orthez.

The battle of Orthez was fought on the 27th of February
1814, and resulted in the entire defeat of the French, who lost
in killed, wounded, and prisoners some 7000 men, while the loss
of the allies did not exceed 2300. In this battle Wellington
received his only wound, being stricken by a spent ball, which
produced a temporary lameness and stiffness. The great general
seemed to bear a charmed life; for none ever exposed himself
more than he to the embrace of danger and the baptism of fire ;
and yet this slight contusion was his sole mishap in a hundred
battles!

The battle of Toulouse (Easter Sunday, April 10, 1814)
closed the struggles and triumphs of the Peninsular war. It was
Soult’s last desperate effort, and was worthy of the genius of the
French leader and the valour of French soldiers. But strongly
entrenched as his position had been rendered, and great as was
his superiority in artillery, and obstinate as was the resistance
of his troops, he was not destined to close his disastrous cam-
paign with one gleam of victory. His positions were carried one
after another; and during the night of the 11th, he evacuated
Toulouse by the only road open to him, and retreated to Car-
cassone. News now arrived of the abdication of Napoleon, and
the restoration of Louis X VIII. to tke throne of the Bourbons ;
and on the 21st of April, Wellington announced to his army the
glad prospects of a general peace; and heartily acknowledged
their uniform discipline and gallantry in the field, and their con-
ciliating conduct towards the inhabitants of the country. On
the 14th of June 1814, at Bordeaux, he finally took leave of the
splendid army, at whose head he had marched from the sea-
board of Portugal into the fairest provinces of France, defeating
her best troops in nineteen pitched battles, capturing four great
fortresses, and conquering Napoleon’s most famous marshals,—
Junot and Victor, Delaborde, Loison, and Clausel, Bessiéres,
Kellerman, and Jourdan, Marmont and Ney, Massena and
Soult !

The campaign of 1815, which resulted in the final prostration
of Nap oleon’s power, we have already traced, and our brief sketc
THE INCIDENTS OF HIS LATER LIFE. 447

of the military career of England’s greatest soldier is therefore
terminated ; but, for the convenience of the reader, we shall indi-
cate the principal events which distinguished his later life.

In September 1818, he attended the Congress at Aix-la-
Chapelle, and on the 26th of December was appointed Master-
General of the Ordnance. In 1826 he was despatched on a
special embassy to the court of St Petersburg, and was received
with the most flattering distinction. On the death of the Duke
of York, he succeeded to the post of Commander-in-Chief of the
British Army, but resigned it when in February 1828 he be-
came First Lord of the Treasury. In this capacity, assisted by
Sir Robert Peel, he carried through Parliament the great mea-
sure of Catholic Emancipation, and the repeal of the Test and
Corporation Acts. On the 21st of March 1829, he fought a
duel in Battersea Fields with the Earl of Winchelsea, who, in his
place in the House of Peers, had made certain offensive observa-
tions. But it is worthy of note, that at a later period he issued,
as Commander-in-Chief, a stringent order against duelling, from
whence it may be inferred that he had learnt to appreciate the
absurdity of that method of satisfying ‘wounded honour.’ - In
1830, the administration of which he was the head, resigned, on
account of the growing excitement relative to parliamentary re-
form, and for a time he was exposed to a storm of obloquy. In
1834 he was called from his temporary retirement by William
TV. to assist in carrying on the government of the country, and
accepted the post of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in
Sir Robert Peel’s Administration. In the same year he was ap-
pointed Chancellor of the University of Oxford.

In April 1835 he finally retired from official life, except with re-
gard to his position as Commander-in-Chief ; but his influence in
Parliament and in the country yearly increased, and in all difficult
conjunctures his advice was requested and his counsel followed.
Honoured by his sovereign, beloved by the nation, his closing
years, in their calm serenity, afforded a striking contrast to the
perilous excitement of his early career. But he himself was un-
changed and unchangeable: still the resolute, sagacious, self-
reliant, self-controlling man, who flinched not at Assaye, and
never despaired at Waterloo: still animated by no mean ambi-
448 ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

tion, no lust of power or self-aggrandizement, but by an invincible
love of order and obedience to the dictates of duty: always
active, prompt, and decided: attached to social intercourse,—
simple to a Spartan severity in his habits,—manly in every
thought, English in every feeling,—correct in discernment, ac-
curate in judgment, fertile in resource, and rapid in, execution.
Such was the Duke of Wellington, and well might England mourn
when her great chief passed away from earth, in the gentle tran-
quillity of natural decay, on Tuesday, the 14th of September
1852. His memory remains among England’s most precious in-
heritances, and his fame an inseparable portion of Eugland’s glory.

‘Remember all
He spoke among you, and the man who spoke ;
Who never sold the truth to serve the hour,
Nor palter’d with Eternal God for pow’r ;
Who let the turbid streams of rumour flow
Thro’ either babbling world of high and low;
Whose life was work, whose language rife
With rugged maxims hewn from life:
Truth-teller was our England’s Alfred named ;
Truth-lover was our English Duke ;
Whatever record leap to light,
He never shall be shamed. TENNYSON.

AUTHORITIES.

{The Battle of Waterloo and the career of Wellington have
been discussed by a hundred pens. Our own brief sketches are
compiled, in the main, from Brialmont’s, Gleig’s, and Maxwell’s
Biographies; Captain Siborne’s History of the War in 1815;
Jones’ Battle of Waterloo; Maxwell’s Victories of Wellington ;
The Bivouac ; Napier’s History of the Peninsular War; Colonel
Leith Hay’s Narrative; Scott’s Life of Napoleon; Wellington
Despatches ; Alison’s History of Europe; Sherer’s Military
Memoirs; Sir Francis Head’s paper in the Quarterly Review, No.
143; Earl of Hllesmere’s Essays on History, Biography, ete. ;
Thiers’ History of the Consulate and Empire ; Booth’s Narrative ;
Creasy’s Fifteen Decisive Battles ; Stories of Waterloo, etc., etc.]
CHAPTER X.

THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

‘Lo! where the giant on the mountain stands,

His blood-red tresses deep’ning in the sun,

With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon :

Restless it rolls, now fix’d, and now anon
Flashing afar,—and at his iron feet

Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done;
For on this morn three potent nations meet,

To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet.’
Bron.

. THE BatrLe or THE ALMA, SEPTEMBER 20, 1854.
II. Barrie oF BarakLava; Cuarce oF THE LicuTt CavALry.
III. Inkermann.
IV. SurRENDEE or SEBASTOPOL.

I.

Tue war with Russia which broke out in 1854 was due to the
interest with which France and England, from their mutual
jealousies, regarded the existence of the Turkish empire. That it
has been for centuries the object of Russian ambition to fix the
seat of Sclavonian sovereignty at Constantinople, is well known;
and it has been equally the object of the other European powers
to prevent the further extension of an empire which is so per-
sistent in its aggressions. Hence Turkey has alternately been
patronized and reprimanded ; bolstered up and lectured as to
the way in which she should go, not from any disinterested sym-
pathies with effete and decrepit Islamism, but because her exist-
ence is so necessary to the preservation of peace in Europe.
2F
450 THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

England, with a large Mediterranean commerce and a vast
oriental empire to protect, could not see with indifference the
Russian flag paramount over the cupolas of St Sophia, or the
Levant bristling with Russian war-ships ; and France, who aspires
to be the arbiter of Europe, and is animated with a profound
jealousy of the superior success of Saxon enterprise, would be
opposed to the possession of Constantinople by the English.
Each country is, indeed, unwilling that so precious a morsel
should fall into the hands of its neighbour ; and the morsel, there-
fore, remains undevoured until an agreement can be effected in
reference to its future destination. It may be added, that Turkey
has recently shown signs of an internal vigour and a recuperative
energy, which may probably save her friends and foes the trouble
of deciding upon her appropriation.

The British contingent of the allied army, furnished by Great
Britain and France, for the support and defence of the Sultan,
left London in February 1854. It was at first believed by many
politicians,—and the British Ministry shared in the belief,—that
Russia, alarmed at so formidable a demonstration, would with-
draw her pretensions ; and it was commonly said that our troops
would never go farther than Malta. But the absurdity of a hope
so sanguine eventually became manifest ; and after wasting seve-
ral months at Gallipoli and Scutari, the allied generals, Lord
Raglan and Marshal St Arnaud, resolved upon disembarking their
army in the Crimea, and attempting the capture of Sebastopol,
a fortress which, from its strength, resources, and position, was
justly deemed a standing menace and a constant danger to
Turkey.

The troops embarked at Varna on the 29th of August, and
the vast flotilla which carried them sailed from Varna Bay in
the course of the ensuing week. On the 14th, it arrived off a
point on the Crimean coast, called Staroe Ukrophoni, or the Old
Fort, in Kalamita Bay, and near Eupatoria. Under the super-
intendence of Admiral Sir HE. Lyons, the disembarkation was
effected with admirable ease and celerity. The strength of the
British army, as it mustered, on the evening of the 14th, on the
Crimean shore, may here be given :—

The Light Division (General Sir George Brown, Brigadier-
THE ALMA. 451

Major-General Codrington, and Brigadier-General Buller) in-
cluded the 2d battalion Rifle Brigade, 7th Fusiliers, 19th
regiment, 23d Fusiliers, 33d, 77th, and 88th regiments.

The First Division (Duke of Cambridge, Major-General
Bentinck, and Brigadier-General Sir Colin Campbell) included
the Grenadier, Coldstream, and Scots Fusilier Guards, and the
42d, 79th, and 93d Highlanders.

The Second Division (General Sir De Lacy Evans, Brigadier-
Generals Pennefather and Adams) consisted of the 30th, 55th,
and 95th, and the 41st, 47th, and 49th regiments.

The Third Division (General Sir R. England, Brigadiers
Campbell and Eyre) included the 1st Royals, 28th, 88th, 44th,
50th, and 68th regiments.

The Fourth Division (Sir George Cathcart) included the 20th,
21st, and 68d regiments, the 2d battalion Rifle Brigade, and
the 46th and 57th regiments, en route.

The Cavalry Division (Earl of Lucan, Earl of Cardigan, and
Brigadier-General Scarlett) was composed of the 4th and 13th
Light Dragoons, 8th and 11th Hussars, and 17th Lancers,
forming the light cavalry, under the Earl of Cardigan; and the
Scots Greys, en route, the 4th, 5th, and 6th Dragoon Guards,
distinguished as the heavy cavalry.

The Engineers were under the superintendence of Sir John
Burgoyne and Brigadier-General Tylden.

On Monday morning, September 19th, the allied armies
commenced their march upon Sebastopol, and moved along the
coast, with their flank covered by England’s glorious fleet,
‘darkening the air with innumerable columns of smoke, ready to
shell the enemy should they attack the right, and commanding
the land for nearly two miles from the shore.’

The Russians had occupied the heights of the Alma in force,
with the view of disputing the advance of the allies, who pre-
pared to force this formidable position on Tuesday, September
the 20th. The movements of the English were made dependent
upon those of the French, who were to attack the Russian left,
and in conjunction with one British division their centre, while
the rest of the British forces hurled themselves against the
Russian right. The allies mustered about 55,000 men; the
452 THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

Russians, 40,000; but the latter were placed in a defensive po-
sition of remarkable strength. The hills which rise beyond the
Alma vary in height from 100 to 600 feet, and this formidable
ridge had been strongly fortified with batteries and redoubts
and deep trenches, so that it seemed doubtful whether in the
teeth of a determined foe it could ever be carried. The French
commenced the attack ; and when they had gained some slight
success against the Russian left, the British, who could no longer
be restrained, rushed, with loud cheers, into the fight. The
Guards advanced under a terrible fire with all the precision of a
movement on parade; and our troops, though swept down by
hundreds, would not be denied. They scaled the heights, and
drove the Russians from them at the point of the bayonet.
Equally impetuous was now the French attack; and before
evening, the Russian army abandoned their almost impregnable
position, and retreated in the utmost disorder, with a loss of
from 6000 to 7000 men.’ The English lost in killed and
wounded about 1800; the French, 1600.

It is to be regretted that the allied generals were ignorant
of the full extent of the victory they had won. There can be
little doubt but that, had the whole army moved at once upon
Sebastopol, that city would have surrendered, so great was the
disorganization and so complete the panic which pervaded the
Russian forces. But partly through a deficiency of the means
of transport, and partly, it must be owned, from a want of energy
and enterprise in the allied commanders, the favourable oppor-
tunity was suffered to pass, and the Russians allowed time to
recover from the effects of the severe blow they had received.

‘The Russians,’ says the Times’ correspondent, in his eloquent
and picturesque narrative, ‘ were much dissatisfied with the result
of this battle. They have put forth the rawness of their troops,
their inferiority in numbers, and many other matters; they have
criticised severely the conduct of their generals during the action,
and the disposition of the troops on the ground; but, after all,
they must feel that their position ought to have been impreg-
nable, if defended by determined infantry; and that the English

' According to the official accounts, 1762 killed, 2315 wounded, and
405 contused. Numerous prisoners were taken.
BALAKLAVA, 453

and French,—and, above all, the English,—proved in every way
on that memorable day the superiors of the Muscovites in brilliant
courage, in audacity, steadiness, discipline, and endurance of
fire’ The Russian commander-in-chief was Prince Menschikoff,
and his lieutenants, Generals Knetsinsky, Kiriakoff, and Prince
Gortschakoff.

Reinforcements arrived on the 23d and 24th, and on the 25th
was commenced that famous flank march along the ridge between
the Belbek and the Tchernaya of which we have heard so much.
It was a bold manceuvre and well executed, and placed the
allied troops within sight of Sebastopol, in a position which
afforded them the sea as a base, and Balaklava, Kamiesch, and
Kazatch as dépéts. Balaklava was at once occupied by the
British, and its little harbour was soon enlivened by a numerous
fleet of men-of-war and transports.

On Friday, September 29th, Marshal St Arnaud, whose ill-
health had compelled him to resign the command of the French
army to General Canrobert, on the march, was removed on
board ship in a dying state. He expired at sea ere he reached
the Bosphorus.

The allies could beat the Russians, but there was one enemy
with whom it was not so easy to wrestle for the victory—cholera,
which, in the first three weeks of their stay in the Crimea, carried
off more victims than had perished at the Alma. The investment
of Sebastopol on the side assigned to the English commenced on
October 10th, and the following night was marked by a furious
sortie of the garrison gallantly repulsed. On the 17th the allies
opened fire, and the memorable siege of Sebastopol may be said
to have really commenced.

II.

The 25th of October will always be famous in the annals
of the British army as the day whereon occurred ‘the Light
Cavalry Charge’ at Balaklava. A fierce attack had been made
by the Russians on the Turkish position, and Lord Raglan
ordered up the first and fourth divisions to defeat it. General
Canrobert also despatched a considerable body of troops. The
British cavalry were on the scene of action, burning with
454 THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

impatience to launch themselves at the foe. Sir Colin Campbell,
who was in command of Balaklava, had drawn up the 93d
Highlanders a little in front of the Balaklava road, so as to
defend the town. The Turks, after a few rounds, had igno-
miniously retreated, and the brunt of the battle, it was evident,
must fall upon the English. The Turks, indeed, formed into
companies on the flanks of the Highlanders,—who prepared to
receive the Russian cavalry, 8500 in number, with resolute
intrepidity,—but after firing a volley at 800 yards they again
took to fight. The Highlanders were drawn up in the ordinary
British line (two deep); for, said Sir Colin Campbell, ‘I did
not think it worth while to form them even four deep!’ But
against that ‘thin red streak tipped with a line of steel,’ the
Russian horsemen were hopelessly shattered !

A large body of the Muscovite cavalry was now seen riding
towards our position. The British heavy cavalry brigade pre-
pared to attack them, though wofully inferior in number. Right
at their centre, with a cheer and a shout, dashed the Scots
Greys and the Enniskilliners.

Their onset made a terrible impression on the Russians, who
gave way in all directions, and in doing so drew down the
English cavalry upon their infantry. General Scarlett, however,
succeeded in keeping his men together ; and, having effected the
object of his charge by dispersing the enemy, regained success-
fully his original position.

The English were at this time much annoyed by a few
Russian guns. Lord Raglan (it is said) resolved to drive them
from the field, and for this purpose to employ both his heavy
and light cavalry. The latter, some 700 strong, under the
Earls of Lucan and Cardigan, were drawn up in battle array,
when Captain Nolan—an enthusiastic cavalry officer, who enter-
tained, it is known, an exaggerated opinion of what could be done
by cavalry—bore them the message of the Commander-in-Chief.
The Earl of Lucan could scarcely believe that his general de-
signed to throw his small body of horsemen against the strongest
point of the Russian line, and looked round in vain for the pro-
mised support. He was about to despatch a remonstrance to
Lord Raglan; but Captain Nolan intimated that a direct order
THE LIGHT CAVALRY CHARGE. 455

had been given, and must be obeyed. Lord Lucan then gave
the necessary directions to Lord, Cardigan, who, in his turn,
complained that certain destruction lay before his scanty squad-
rons, if they were complied with. But English soldiers are
justifiably jealous lest any suspicion of want of zeal or courage
attach to them ; and therefore Cardigan gave his men the word,
and they charged!

Yes, these 600 or 700 bold riders dashed through a fearful
fire upon the Russian artillery, and actually sabred the gunners
at their guns. But, meanwhile, they found themselves com-
pletely enveloped by the Russian hosts. Already terribly
weakened,—Captain Nolan, by the way, was the first who fell,
—they drew rein, faced about, and coolly rode once more against
their enemies. Nearly every saddle was emptied; and the few
who escaped were only saved by a daring rush most opportunely
attempted by the heavy brigade.

In this memorable cavalry fight 13 officers were killed or
taken, 162 men killed or taken, 27 officers and 224 men wounded.
Total: killed, wounded, and missing, 426. Horses killed or
missing, 894; horses wounded, 126. Total: 520. Well might
the French officers, in one pithy phrase, eulogize the gallantry as
well as the impolicy of the attack: ‘It was magnificent, it was
heroic, but it was not war!’ (C'est magnifique, mais ce west pas la
guerre.)

‘Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them,

Volley’d and thundered ;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came through the jaws of death
Back from the mouth of hell,
All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred!

‘When can their glory fade ?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honour the charge they made,
Honour the light brigade,
Noble six hundred !’ TENNYSON.
456 THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

The next important incident which characterized the siege,
was the attack by the Russians in force on the position occupied
by the English second division (under General Sir Lacy de Evans)
on the 26th of October. It was repulsed with the readiest
vigour, and the enemy’s columns were ‘ literally chased’ over the
ridges of the Tchernaya, and down towards the sea-shore.

III.

The 5th of November was celebrated by the Barrie of In-
KERMANN, ‘ The Soldiers’ Battle,’ which commenced with a sur-
prise, and ended in a glorious victory. The flank of the second
division, on the side of the valley of Inkermann, had been left
totally undefended, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Sir
De Lacy Evans. In the grey mists of a gloomy morning the
Russians crept up the shadowy vale, and suddenly threw them-
selves, with overwhelming numbers, upon the English. It was
no time for manceuvres or generalship. Reinforcements were
moved up as rapidly as possible, and a hand-to-hand fight ensued
of the most desperate character. Sir George Cathcart led
against the enemy, with the utmost promptitude, all the available
troops of his division ; and when, after a rapid fire, the cry arose,
‘ Our ammunition is failing,’ he cheered them on, with the inquiry,
‘ Have you not got your bayonets?’ A few minutes afterwards
he fell, mortally wounded.

‘ The battle of Inkermann,’ says Mr Russell, ‘ admits of no
description. It was a series of dreadful deeds of daring, of san-
guinary hand-to-hand fights, of despairing rallies, of desperate
assaults,—in glens and valleys, in brushwood glades and remote
dells, and from which the conquerors, Russiaus or British, issued
only to engage fresh foes, till our old supremacy, so rudely
assailed, was triumphant, and the battalions of the Czar gave
way before our steady courage and the chivalrous fire of France.
No one, however placed, could have witnessed even a small por-
tion of the doings of this eventful day ; for the vapours, fog, and
drizzling mist obscured the ground where the struggle took
place, to such an extent, as to render it impossible to see what
was going on at the distance of a few yards. Besides this, the
irregular nature of the ground, the rapid fall of the hill towards
THE BATTLE OF INKERMANN. 457

Inkermann, where the deadliest fight took place, would have pre-
vented any one, under the most favourable circumstances, from
seeing more than a very insignificant and detailed piece of the
terrible work below.’

About ten o’clock a body of French infantry, under General
Bosquet, came to the assistance of the struggling English, who,
with heroic intrepidity, had withstood the incessantly increasing
masses of the foe. The allies now advanced to the attack in
force, while their artillery sent swift death through the crowded
and now disordered Russian ranks. By one o’clock the engage-
ment was over; the Russians were in rapid retreat; and the
‘ Soldiers’ Battle’ was won!

Was won! Yes, but not without a terrible loss. Hight thou-
sand British, and 6000 or 7000 French, had gloriously repulsed
some 50,000 of Russia’s best soldiers; but, in the unequal struggle,
had lost 50 officers killed, 120 wounded, and 2500 rank and file
killed, wounded, or missing. The enemy, however, paid dearly
for their attempt to snatch a victory. Not less than 15,000
were killed, wounded, or taken prisoners. It was the last great
effort in the field which they adventured throughout the dreary
course of the Crimean war.

IV.

It is not our business to write the history of the siege of Se-
bastopol; to tell of the horrors of that fearful winter of 1854-5,
when our brave troops were smitten down by disease and famine,
owing in no slight measure to our defective military system;
when English munificence came to the rescue with such a lavish
outpouring of stores and money as the world had never seen;
when Florence Nightingale smoothed the sick soldiers’ pillow,
and watched, angel-like, by the bed of death; and England and
her Government learnt a fearful lesson at the cost of half an army.
It is not for us to trace the varying fortunes of that famous siege ;
the steps by which the allies drew nearer and nearer to the
doomed fortress; nor the improved condition of the troops,
effected by patriotic liberality and unceasing exertions. It is
some satisfaction to know that England, the Unready, soon made
up, and made up fully, for all shortcomings, and that the conclu-
458 THE CRIMEAN EXPEDITION.

sion of the war found her just preparing to bring all her im-
mense resources into action: a noble army, recruited, refreshed,
admirably equipped and provided ; and two such mighty fleets in
the Baltic and the Black Sea, as never before had quitted her
island-harbours. The attacks on the Mamelon, the Redan, and
the Malakhoff, are still familiar to English memories; and our
brief sketch of the Crimean war may be terminated by the state-
ment, that the ruined city of Sebastopol fell into the hands of the
allies on the 9th of September 1855. The Malakhoff was captured
on the previous day, and the Russians immediately retreated.

Both armies passed the ensuing winter in the Crimea, and
vast preparations were made for the next campaign. But Russia
was incapable of prolonging the war. She had lost army after
army in the Crimea; her resources were exhausted; her troops
dispirited ; her military prestige was rudely shaken. The Em-
peror Nicholas had gone to his grave, broken-hearted, the victim
of disappointed ambition; and his successor, Alexander, eagerly
seized an-opportunity of concluding peace. England, indeed,
would rather have dealt a further blow at Russian power: her
‘blood was up,’ and after many disasters, and some sad exhibi-
tions of administrative incapacity, she had girded up her loins
for the fight, vigorous, animated, and irresistible. With France
it was otherwise, and England succumbed to the wishes of the
French Emperor, her ‘ faithful and disinterested’ ally.

Peace was proclaimed on Wednesday, the 2d of April 1856,
and the allied armies shortly afterwards evacuated the Crimea.

AUTHORITIES.

[Russell’s British Expedition to the Crimea; Major Ham-
ley’s ‘ Story of the Campaign’ (originally published in Black-
wood’s Magazine) ; Contemporary Biographies, etc. The ‘ His-
tory of the Crimean War,’ by A. W. Kinglake, Hsq., M.P., an-
nounced as in preparation, bids fair to become the standard
authority on its interesting subject; and we frankly express our
regret that we are unable to avail ourselves of the valuable stores
of information it will probably contain.]
APPENDIX.

GREAT VICTORIES OF THE BRITISH ARMY:

Battle.
Crecy.
Poitiers,
Najara.

Azincourt.
Crevant.
Verneuil.
Tournay.
Patay.
Battle of the
Spurs.
Capture of Cadiz.
Siege of Namur.
Schellenberg.
Blenheim.
Ramillies.
Oudenarde.
Siege of Lille.
Wynendael.

Malplaquet.

Siege of Bethune.
Siege of Bouchain.
Dettingen.

Siege of Arcot.
Plassey.

Bedaira
Peddapore.
Quebec.

A CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE.

By whom won.
Edward III.
The Black Prince.
The Black Prince.

§
(

Henry V.

Four succes-
sive actions
of no histo-
rical value.

Henry VIII.

Earl of Essex.
William ITi.
Marlborough.
Marlborough.
Marlborough.
Marlborough.
Marlborough.
Lieutenant-Ge-
neral Webb.?
Marlborough.
Marlborough.
Marlborough.
George IT.
Clive.
Clive.
Clive.
Colonel Forde.
General Wolfe.?

Against the
French.
Freneh.
French and

Spanish.
French.
French.
French.
French.
French.
French.

Spaniards.
Freneh.
French,
French.
French.
French.
French.
French.

French.
French.
French.
French.
Moslems.
Moslems.
Moslems.
Mysoreans.
French Cana-
dians.

Date.
Aug. 26, 1346.
Sept. 19, 1355.
April 3, 1367.

Oct. 25, 1415.
1423,
1424.
1428,
1429.

Aug. 18, 1513.

1596.

July & Aug. 1695.
July 2, 1704.
Aug, 13, 1704.
May 23, 1706.
July 11, 1708.
Aug. to Oct. 1708.
Sept. 28, 1708.

Sept. 11, 1709.

Aug. 28,1710. .

Sept. 14, 1711.

June 12-27, 1743.

Sept. 1751.

June 23, 1757.

Nov. 26, 1759.
1759.

Sept. 13, 1759.
460

APPENDIX.

Battle. By whom won.
Porte Novo. Sir Eyre Coote.*
Sholinghur. Sir Eyre Coote.
Famars. Duke of York.
Seringapatam. Harris.*
Alexandria, Sir Robert Aber-

cromby.5
Assaye. Duke of Welling-
ton (then Col.
Wellesley).
Delhi.
Argaum. Wellington.
Maida. General Stuart.
Roliga. Wellington.
Vimeira. Wellington.
Corunna. Sir John Moore.®
Talavera. Wellington.
Busaco. Wellington.
Barossa. Sir T. Graham.
Fuentes d’Onoro. Wellington.
Badajoz, Siege of. Wellington.
Albuera. Gen. Visct.
Beresford.”
Ciudad Rodrigo, Wellington.
Siege of.
Badajoz, Second Wellington.
Siege of.
Salamanca. Wellington.
Vittoria. Wellington.
BattlesofSorauren Wellington.
(the Pyrenees).
Battle of Vera. Wellington.
Battle of the Ni- Wellington.
velle.
Battle of the Nive. Wellington.
Orthez. Wellington.
Toulouse. Wellington.
Quatre Bras. Wellington.
Waterloo. Wellington.
Mukwaupoor. Major-General
Ochterlony.
Nagpoor. General Doveton.
Corregaum. Major Staunton.

Rangoon.

Sir A, Campbell.

Against the
Moslems
Indians,
French.
Mysoreans.
French.

Mahrattas.

Moslems.
Mabrattas.
French.
French.
French.
French.
French.
French.
French,
French.
French.
French.

French.
French.

French.
French.
French.

French.
French.

French.
French.
French.
French,
French.
The Gorkhas.

The Pindarees.

The Mahrattas.
The Burmese.

Date.
1781.
1781.
May 8, 1793.
May 4, 1799.
March 21, 1801.

Sept. 23, 1803.

Sept. 11, 1803.
Nov. 29, 1803.
July 6, 1806.
Aug. 17, 1808.
Aug. 21, 1808.
Jan. 16, 1809.
July 27 & 28, 1809.
Sept. 27, 1810.
March 5, 1811.
May 5, 1811.

May 16, 1811.
Jan. 19, 1812.
April 6, 1812.

July 22, 1812.
June 21, 1813.
July & Aug. 1815.

Oct. 7, 1813,
Nov. 10, 1813.

Nov. 1813.

Feb. 27, 1814.
April 10, 1814,
June 16, 1815,
June 18, 1815.
Feb. 27, 1816.

Nov, 26, and Dec.
16, 1817.

Jan. 1, 1818.

May 28, 1824.
APPENDIX. A461

Battle. By whom won. Against the Date.
Meeanee. Sir C. Napier The Ameers of Feb. 17, 1843.
/ Scinde.

Moodkee. Lord Gough and The Sikhs. Dec. 18, 1845.
Lord Hardinge.®

Ferozeshuhr. Lord Gough” and The Sikhs. Dec. 21 & 22, 1845.
Lord Hardinge.

Aliwal. Lord Gough and The Sikhs. Jan, 28, 1846.
Lord Hardinge.

Sobraon. Lord Gough and The Sikhs. Feb. 10, 1846.
Lord Hardinge.

The Alma. Lord Raglan. Russians. Sept. 20, 1854.

Balaklava. Lord Clyde. Russians. Oct. 25, 1854,

Inkermann. ...... ‘Russians, Nov. 5, 1854.

Capture of Sebas- English & French. Russians. Oct. 1855,

topol.

: Capture of Delhi. Sir A. Wilson. Indian Rebels. J uly 1859.

Relief of Lucknow. Sir J. Outram™ Indian Rebels. Sept. 1859.
and Sir Henry
Havelock.

The Peiho. Sir Hope Grant Chinese. 1860.
(and French
General Mont-
auban).

Capture of Pekin. Sir Hope Grant Chinese. 1860.
(and French
General Mont-
auban).

 

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES.

' Joun Ricumonp Wess was of humble origin, and rose ‘in the army
entirely through his courage and devotion to duty. After the victory at
Wynendael, the Tories affected to consider him as a better general than
Marlborough. He held the Governorship of the Isle of Wight from 1710
to 1715, when he was superseded by one of Marlborough’s friends and
ablest lieutenants, Earl Cadogan.

2 James Woxrt, the son of Lieutenant-General Edward Wolfe, was
born in 1726, at Westerham, in Kent. He entered the army at an early
age, and his vigour and ability procured him a rapid promotion. Attract-
ing the notice of the great Earl of Chatham, he was despatched on an ex-
pedition to Canada, and signalized himself by defeating the French, under
Montcalm, on the heights of Abraham, which led to the surrender of
Quebec. He was mortally wounded in the battle. (See anteé.)
462 APPENDIX.

3 Srr Eyre Coote was long distinguished as an Indian general, and by
his victories over Hyder Ali. He was born in Ireland in 1726, and died
at Madras in 1783.

4 GeneRaL Lorp Grorce Harris was born about 1756-7; entered
the army in his 13th year; served in the American war up to the battle
of Bunker's Hill; and afterwards distinguished himself in India. He
earned his peerage by the capture of Seringapatam. Died in 1829.

5 Sir RatpuH ABERCROMBY was born at Tullibodie, Clackmannanshire,
in 1738; entered the army in 1756; served on the Continent and during
the war of American Independence, gradually rising in rank through his
steady bravery and conspicuous merit, until made Major-General in 1787.
In the shameful disasters in Flanders in 1794 and 1795, he alone of the
English chiefs displayed any acquaintance with military science. After-
wards he served in the West Indies, and many of the most valuable of
those islands were captured by the troops under his command. A long
career of usefulness was closed at Alexandria on the 21st of March 1801,
when the French under General Menon suffered a|total defeat. Aber-
cromby was wounded in the battle, and survived his victory but a week.

° Sir Joun Moore was a good general and a gallant soldier. His
principal fault was his nervousness under responsibility, As a man he
was ‘the soul of honour,’ and his gentle manners and generous feelings
endeared him to all with whom he acted. ‘The record of his worth,’
says Napier eloquently, ‘ will be as a beacon to posterity so long as heroic
virtue combined with great capacity is reverenced; for in any age, any
nation, any conjuncture, Sir John Moore would have been a leading man.
Tall he was and vigorous of person, and of a very comely, noble aspect, in-
dicating penetration which no subtlety could deceive, valour which no
danger could appal, and withal a dignity of mind which awed while it at-
tracted admiration and confidence. With him, indeed, all commanding
qualities seemed to be united to and inseparable from estimable senti-
ments. Integrity, honour, generosity, patriotism, adorned the whole
course of his existence, and his death furnished an irrefragable test of the
sincerity of his life: for both he may claim a place with the greatest men
of antiquity.’

He was born at Glasgow in 1761,—the son of Dr Moore, the author ot
‘Zeluco. At the age of fifteen he entered the army, became a Lieutenant-
Colonel in 1790, and served with distinction in Corsica. Acted under
Sir Ralph Abercromby in 1796, in the West Indies, and was made Go-
vernor of St Lucia. Fought under the same brave general at Alexandria,
and received two wounds. Having won a noble reputation, he was sent
to Spain in 1808 at the head of a small British auxiliary force ; and being
ill provided with means, and totally unsupported by the Spanish, was
forced to retreat before the Emperor Napoleon and an immense army,
whose cavalry alone counted more than all his troops! Soult took up the
pursuit at Astorga, but Moore handled his army so well that the sea-coast
APPENDIX. 463

was reached with little loss ; and to secure his safe embarkation, he fought
thetbattle of Corunna (16th January 1809) with 14,000 jaded British
against 20,000 French veterans, and fought it in such a style as to win a
complete victory, and immortalize his name. Unfortunately, in the heat
of the action he was sorely stricken by a cannon-ball, and lived but a few
hours after the success of the British arms was secured. He was buried
at night on the battle-field.

7 BERESFORD (b. 1770, d. 1854) was a Marshal in the Portuguese army
A braver soldier never lived; as a general he often committed serious errors,
and he can only be ranked among military commanders of the second order.

8 Sm Caartes James Napier, brother of Sir William Napier, the
historian of the Peninsular War, and cousin of the late Admiral Sir Charles
Napier, was born in London in 1782, and in 1794 entered the army as an
ensign in the 33d regiment. His promotion was sure ; and as a major in the
50th he fought at Corunna, where he received two severe wounds, and was
taken prisoner. He afterwards served under Wellington through all the
earlier glories of the Peninsular War, and was wounded at Busaco. In
1813 he served in the expedition to the Chesapeake. His career in India
began in 1841, as commander-in-chief of the Bombay army ; and it was
owing to his daring, his genius, and rapidity of action, that the war in
Scinde was carried on so brilliantly, and terminated so speedily. The
victory at Meeanee, where, with 2500 men, he defeated 35,000 Beloochees,
with a loss on their part of 6000, deserves to be ranked with Plassey and
Assaye. As Governor of Scinde, he distinguished himself by the activity
of his reforms and the vigour of his administration. In 1849 he served
again in India, and did much to remodel and improve the Indian army.
His simplicity of habits and rigidity of discipline earned him, however, a
large amount of obloquy and hostility. The gallant veteran died at Oak-
lands, near Portsmouth, full of years and honours, in 1852.

° Henry, Viscount Harpines, the third son of the Rev. Henry Har-
dinge, rector of Stanhope, in Durham, was born in 1785. He was one of
the best and bravest of the pupils who studied the art of war in the
Peninsula under the illustrious Wellington. At Waterloo he lost his
hand. He earned some distinction for official aptitude as Secretary of
War in 1830, and again in 1841. In 1844 he was appointed Governor-
General of India, and, when the Sikh war broke out, hastened to the field
of battle, where he nobly served under his senior in rank, but inferior in
dignity, Sir Hugh Gough. At Moodkee, Ferozeshuhr, and Sobraon, his
courage was conspicuous ; and he fully earned the peerage which was
bestowed on him. On the death of the Duke of Wellington he ie ap-
pointed Commander-in-Chief, an office which he held until his own death

in 1856.

10 HueH,
the army in 1791;
Hope in 1795, and

Viscount GoucH was born in Limerick in 1779 ; entered
served at the capture of the Dutch colony of Good
afterwards in the West Indies. From 1809 to 1814,
464 APPENDIX.

he followed the flag of Wellington through the campaign of the Penin-
sula, and led the 79th into action at Talavera, Barossa, Vittoria, and
Nivelle. At the siege of Tariffa, and in the battle of Nivelle, he was
wounded, In the Chinese war his services were of the most eminent
character (1843) ; but his fame as a general will principally rest upon his
victories over the Sikhs at Moodkee, Ferozeshuhr, and Sobraon (1845-6),
and again in the second Sikh war in 1848-9.

1 CoLin CAMPBELL, Lorp Cxiyps, late Commander-in-Chief of the
British Army in India, was born in Glasgow in 1790, and entered the
army as ensign in the 9th Foot in May 1808. Those were not the times
for carpet soldiers; and Campbell, with that cool and collected courage
under fire which is still his characteristic, was not the man to pass un-
noticed. He was a lieutenant in 1809, a captain in 1813. At Vimeira,
Corunna, Barossa, and Vittoria his gallantry was eminent ; at the siege of
San Sebastian he led the:storming party. In the assault he was wounded
twice, and nearly all his detachment were killed. At the battle of the
Bidassoa (August 1813) he was also severely wounded. He served, in
1814-15, in the United States; and after a long period of inaction, com-
manded the 98th regiment in the Chinese expedition of 1842. His ser-
vices as a brigadier-general in the Punjaub campaign of 1848-9 brought
him prominently before the public. At Ramnuggur, November 12, 1848,
he defeated the Sikhs, despite of a great inferiority of force. At Chillian-
wallah he commanded the left wing of the British army, and earned Lord
Gough’s praise for his ‘steady coolness and military precision.’ Here
again he was wounded. To the signal victory at Goojerat over the Sikhs
and Affghans his exertions largely contributed.

What he did at the Alma, and how he managed his ‘ thin red line’ of
Highlanders at Balaklava (October 25, 1854), have been described by
Russell, the Times’ correspondent, with vigorous eloquence, and there
are few Englishmen to whom the tale is not familiar. Equally well
known is the narrative of his services in suppressing the Indian mutiny
(1857-9). The combinations by which his avenging columns moved suc-
eessfully from point to point,—relieving town after town and district after
district from the pressure of rebellion,—qefeating vast bodies of insur-
gents, and gradually but surely narrowing their sphere of operations,
until, to escape from ‘the circle of fire’ which he drew around them, they
were forced to take shelter in the jungles and mountain fastnesses of
Nepaul,—must be regarded by military critics as evidencing considerable
fertility of resource, originality of invention, and decision of execution.
Lord Clyde deserves well of his country, and the veteran warrior will
assuredly by future historians be placed among great British soldiers.

” Sir Jamus Ourram, whose high fortune it has been to win the proud

title of ‘the Bayard, sans peur et sans reproche, of the Indian army,’ was
born in 1804. At the age of fifteen he obtained an India House appoint-
ment, and was posted to a sepoy regiment at Bombay. Hesoon attracted
APPENDIX. 465

the notice of his superiors, as a young man of active mind, self-reliant,
persevering, vigorous, and indomitable. His first reward was the adju-
tancy of the 23d Bombay Native Regiment; and his first military service
at Candeish, where, with a party of 200 sepoys, he captured, after a forced
march of thirty-five miles, the strong hill-fastness of an insurgent leader.
Montstuart Elphinstone, a great man, and capable of distinguishing great-
ness in others, immediately promoted the young subaltern, and despatched
him as an envoy to the savage and troublesome Bheels of Candeish, over
whom he soon obtained an extraordinary influence. A contemporary?
relates an anecdote in illustration of those manly qualities which specially
recommended him to the Bheels. ‘ A magnificent tiger, “a man-eater,”
was hunted and struck, but not mortally wounded; the beast dashed
away, as only wounded tigers can, followed by the staunchest sportsmen
of the party. At last it was again found, but, to the disgust of all, the
brute had gone to earth in a dark and ugly cavern, about the last place
in which to close single-handed with such a “ Shitan.” Men who would
have fought in the open like Spartans, would not go to be crushed like
rats in a sewer; and the tiger appeared to have escaped, when out of the
crowd came a short, thick-set Feringee, with a quick black eye, and a
pleasant smile upon his face. Merely asking where the beast was con~
cealed, he quietly dismounted, grasped his rifle, stepped into the den,
and passed from the sight of the admiring natives. “Presently there was
heard the sharp ring of the dauntless sportsman’s rifle, and James Outram
reappeared, a conqueror indeed of the “man-eater,” but quite as much
so of the impulsive Ishmaelites, who recognised in him honour and
civilisation associated with true courage.’

In 1835, Outram was sent to effect the pacification of the rebel chiefs
of the Mye-Caunta; a task in which he displayed both military and ad-
ministrative abilities of a high order. He commenced by teaching them
to respect British power, by driving them from point to point, and scaling
mountain-fastnesses which they fondly thought inaccessible. Having thus
enforced the law of might, he next resorted to the law of mercy; and
having won their reverence by his energy, secured their confidence by his
clemency and good faith. His high reputation did not decrease during
his service as Lord Keane’s aide-de-camp in the Affghan war. ‘A more
serviceable man the commander could not have had at his elbow—one
more ready to do any kind of honourable work, or better able to do
it well. If carriage-cattle were to be collected, or an obnoxious treaty
dictated to a native chief ; if a band of desperate Mussulmen, flaunting the
green standard of the Prophet, were to be broken up and dispersed ; or if
the great leader of the Affghans (Dost Mahomed), still the leader now
after a lapse of more than twenty years, were to be hunted down, Outram
was the man to do it. He did everything of that kind better than any
one else.’?

1 London Review, April 6, 1861. 2 Cornhill Magazine, January 1861.
2G
466 APPENDIX.

Outram afterwards served in Scinde, and played a foremost part in
the capture of the Beloochee stronghold of Khelat. Disguised as a syud,
and mounted on a little country pony, he bore the glad tidings to Bombay,
passing through the most dangerous portions of the enemy’s country, and
effecting a journey of 360 miles in one week. His promotion to the rank
of Major was assuredly well earned; and the Government soon after-
wards testified their sense of his conspicuous merits, by appointing him
Political Agent in Lower Scinde. In this capacity, while he efficaciously
promoted the interests and influence of England, he secured the esteem
and confidence of every chief with whom he established relations. When
Noor Mahomed Khan, Prince of the Ameers of Hyderabad, lay on his
death-bed, he entrusted his family to Outram’s care; and, embracing him,
faltered out with death-cold lips the noblest eulogium an honest man
could receive: ‘From the days of Adam, no one has known such truth
and friendship as I have found in you.’

The administration of Scinde was in the hands of this remarkable
man when, in the mid-winter of 1841-2, the Cabul disasters broke like a
thunder-storm over British India. He proved of essential service to his
country in that hour of peril; and, subdued by his chivalrous influence,
Scinde and Beloochistan remained tranquil throughout all the varying
fortunes of the second Affghan war. But when the honour of the British
arms had been retrieved, and the ascendancy of British power re=
established, the fever of annexation possessed the supreme government,
and the princes of Scinde were marked out to be the victims. It is well
known with what vigour Sir Charles Napier carried out Lord Ellen-
borough’s policy, and the subjugation of Scinde was successfully effected.
But Outram did not cease to condemn that policy as iniquitous. ‘It
grieves me to say that my heart, and that judgment which God has given
me,’ he wrote to Sir Charles Napier, ‘unite in condemning the course
which we are carrying out for his lordship, as most tyrannical—positive
robbery. And I consider that every life that may hereafter be lost in
consequence, will be a murder.’ Nevertheless, he did his duty as an
English soldier, and with a small force stoutly defended the Hyderabad
residency against a mass of Beloochees.

After the conclusion of the Scinde war, Colonel Outram returned to
England, but was speedily summoned back to India by the news of the
rebellion at Lahore, which induced our attack upon the Sikhs. The
Government, however, preferred to employ him against the Mahrattas;
and at the head of a light corps which he himself had organized, he drove
the rebels from one point to another with’such marvellous rapidity, that
in sheer despair they abandoned the struggle, and subsided into tran-
quillity.

Early in 1845 he was elevated to the highest post in the gift of the
Bombay Government—the residency at Baroda. He found it an Augean
stable of corruption, and he set to work with his usual energy to
APPENDIX. 467

cleanse it. Unhappy Outram! Every little official who had peddled in
corruption rose in arms against him, and he retorted in such significant
phrases that official etiquette was shocked. He was dismissed from his
post. Returning to England, he published an exposé of the whole trans-
action; and so conclusively established his own honesty, singleness of
purpose, and courageous vigour, that the home authorities took up his
cause, and recommended him to the Governor-General for re-employment.

He returned to India, happily for his country, and after a brief service
at Aden, was appointed (1855) to the highest and most important political
position under the Indian Government—the residency at Lucknow. His
stay here was short, for the annexation of Oude was then on the point of
accomplishment, He carried out the orders of the Government with
characteristic decision, and then, wasted in frame and broken in health,
Sir James Outram (for he had been made a Knight of the Bath) returned
to England to enjoy a well-earned repose.

Brief was the rest allowed to him. The Persian war broke out—as,
somehow or other, England’s little wars will, ever and anon, break out—
and Outram offered his sword to the Government. The command of the
Persian expedition was immediately entrusted to him (1857), and he
brought the war to a speedy and successful close, just in time to assist in
the salvation of British India.

It is, as yet, too near the event for an Englishman to write, with the
coolness and impartiality of the historian, of the Indian mutiny. Its
horrors affect our judgment by influencing our passions. But it was
fortunate for England—for her prestige and glory—that there were then
in her Indian service such men as the two Lawrences, Havelock, and
Outram. Otherwise, that grand Oriental Empire might have been lost
to her for ever, and ‘the queen of the seas’ been bereft of the fairest and
costliest gem in her imperial crown.

Outram, as we all know, immediately hastened to the scene of action,
preceded by Havelock, who, after defeating the rebels in nine despe-
rately contested battles, marched to the relief of beleaguered Lucknow.
Havelock was his junior in rank; but Outram, with the self-abnegation of
a great soul, wrote to him, ‘I shall join you with the reinforcements.
But to you shall be left the glory of relieving Lucknow, for which you
have already struggled so much. I shall accompany you only in my civil
capacity as commissioner (of Oude), placing my military service at your
disposal should you please, serving under youas a volunteer.’ He joined
Havelock, with reinforcements, at Cawnpore—Sept. 15, 1857. True to
his word, he accompanied Havelock as a volunteer, and left to him the
glory of accomplishing, as chief of the army, the relief of Lucknow.

That relief accomplished, he took the command of the British forces,
and commenced the famous Defence of the Alumbagh. Lucknow was sur-
rounded by overwhelming masses of the rebels, through whom it was im-
possible to force a passage ; and he accordingly retired to a great walled
468 APPENDIX.

enclosure, a sort of impromptu fortress, known as the Alumbagh, two
miles from the city, where, in spite of scanty provisions and insufficient
supplies—in spite of the furious onslaughts of a powerful and desperate
foe—he and his gallant little band of heroes maintained themselves for
three months, until relieved by the victorious army under Lord Clyde.

And here we close the record of a life of action, which seems replete
with all the elemients of a stirring romance. The dashing soldier, the
sagacious statesman, the truth-loving, honour-loving man, is now ‘at
home,’—shattered with toil, enfeebled with disease ; poor, we believe, in
fortune, but very rich in reputation. His career, as a recent biographer
has remarked, teaches at least one grand lesson—the noblest a man’s life
ean teach or illustrate—the lesson taught by Wellington, and expressed
in noble verse by Tennyson :—

‘ Not once or twice in our rough island-story,
The path of duty was the way to glory.
He that walks it, only thirsting
For the right, and learns to deaden
Love of self, before his journey closes,
He shall find the stubborn thistles bursting
Into glossy purples, which out-redden
The voluptuous garden roses,
Not once or twice in our fair island-story,
The path of duty was the way to glory,’

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