Part 37
The Protector of the Commonwealth proved himself quite as jealous of maintaining the power and privileges of the navy, as any of his kingly predecessors, and he did what not one of them had ever effected, namely, made a treaty with the United Provinces (the Low Countries), by which it was solemnly stipulated “that the ships and vessels of the United Provinces, as well those fitted for war as others, meeting any ships of war of the said Commonwealth in the British seas, shall strike their flag and lower their topsail, in such manner as had been any time before practised under any former government.” This was in 1654. After the restoration, Charles II renewed the treaty in 1662, and in 1667, in almost precisely the same terms as the above; and at the conclusion of the Dutch war, in 1673, in the fourth article of the treaty of peace it was expressly stipulated that if any “ships or vessels of war, or others, or whether single or in fleets, shall meet in any of the seas from Cape Finisterre to the middle point of the land of Vanstaten in Norway, with any ships or vessels belonging to his Majesty of Great Britain, whether those ships be single or in greater numbers, if they carry his Majesty of Great Britain’s flag or jack, the aforesaid Dutch vessels or ships shall strike their flag and lower their topsail, in the same manner, and with as much respect, as has at any time and in any place been formerly practised,” &c. The reader will bear in mind that the Dutch were at that time the most powerful naval power next to Great Britain. The treaty appears to have confirmed the dominion of the latter beyond what might properly be called the “narrow,” or “British seas,” including, as it did, all from the south-west of Portugal to a cape in Norway.
During the reigns of the four Stuart kings, as well as under the protectorate of Cromwell, the “Mariners of England,”
“Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze,”
did indeed jealously “guard our native seas,” and assert and maintain their country’s sovereignty thereof. In 1652, two fierce actions were fought on this very score “On the 14th of May, Commodore Young fell in with a Dutch convoy, escorted by three ships of war, from whom he civilly demanded _the usual honours to be paid to the English flag_. The Dutch commander positively refused to comply, giving as a reason that he had express orders from the States-General not to pay those honours which the English exacted from their ships in the Channel. Commodore Young, on this refusal, fired into the Dutch, which brought on a smart action; but at length the Dutch ships struck, and, _after paying the compliment_, were allowed to proceed on their voyage.” Only four days later, Blake himself and Van Tromp had a far more serious encounter on the very same score. Van Tromp and his fleet stood towards Dover, off which Blake was lying with fifteen men-of-war, and paid no respect whatever to the English flag. Blake instantly fired, from his own ship, three unshotted guns at the Dutchman as a reminder of his want of respect. Van Tromp retorted with a broadside. “A most furious engagement instantly began. At first the whole of the Dutch fleet directed their fire at the English admiral, but he was soon bravely supported by the rest of the ships, and Commodore Bourne joining at the same time with eight sail more, obliged the Dutch to bear away, though still superior in number, and seek shelter at the back of the Goodwin Sands, after having been most severely mauled. The action lasted from four till nine at night. One of the Dutch ships was taken, and another sunk.”
In a volume of the “Naval Chronicle,” for 1807, the sovereignty of the sea is described as being “an actual and peculiar use and enjoyment of the sea itself, and the performance of all the functions of a sovereign upon it; such as prescribing rules of navigation to those who frequent it, punishing delinquents, protecting others, and receiving from all that homage and advantage which are due to every lawful sovereign.” The writer proceeds to state that the dominion of the sea entitles the “lawful possessors” to six several prerogatives. The first two refer to the right of fishing, &c., and the residue we will give at length.
“3. To impose tribute and customs on all merchant ships and fishermen, fishing and trading within the limits of the sea that is subjected to any particular dominions.
“4. The regular execution of justice for protecting the innocent, and punishing the guilty for all crimes committed within the extent of such sea-dominions.
“5. To grant free passage through any such sea to any number of ships of war belonging to any other prince or republic, or to deny the same, according to the circumstances and occasion of such passage, in the same manner as any prince or state may grant or deny free passage to foreign troops through their territories by land, even though the prince or state to whom such ships or land forces belong _be not only at peace, but in alliance_ with the prince or republic of whom passage is desired.
“6. To demand of all foreign ships whatsoever within those seas to strike the flag and lower the topsail to any ships of war, or others bearing the colours of the sovereign of such seas.”
The latest example of an English commander insisting on a salute to his flag, which we have been able to find, occurred in the month of June, 1769, when “a French frigate having anchored in the Downs, without paying the usual compliment to the British flag, Captain John Holwell, who was the senior officer lying there, in the ‘Apollo’ frigate, sent an officer on board to demand the customary salute; the French captain refused to comply, upon which Captain Holwell immediately ordered the ‘Hawk,’ sloop of war, to fire two shot over her, which being done, the French commander thought proper instantly to salute.”
Many of the greatest of our poets have eloquently alluded to the sea-sovereignty of their native island, ramparted with tidal waters. Who does not remember the truly magnificent lines:--
“This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it as the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house Against the envy of less happy lands!
* * * * *
England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune.”
The popular strain of Thomson’s “Rule Britannia” gives an emphatic assertion of Britain’s naval greatness. No poet, however, has so celebrated the floating bulwarks of Britain, and the “Hearts of Oak” who man them, as Campbell. His marvellously spirit-stirring lyric, “Ye Mariners of England,”[3] has no rival in its intense patriotism.
In conclusion, suffice it that for a considerable time the claim of England’s sovereignty of the seas, so far as it includes special homage to our flag, or anything resembling a judicial supremacy over the ships of other nations, within the limits of the narrow (or any other) seas, has been a dead letter. But we can well afford to dispense with what was at best a somewhat questionable sort of shadowy honour, for we know that we yet retain the substantial maritime supremacy which alone enables us to rank as the foremost nation of the world--
“Mistress, at least while Providence shall please, And trident-bearing Queen of the wide seas!”
to quote the noble lines of the patriotic and Christian poet, Cowper. Well will it be for us to constantly bear in mind the vital truth that the same great poet proclaimed:--
“They trust in navies, and their navies fail: God’s curse can cast away ten thousand sail!”
SPURS, BATTLE OF THE.--Henry VIII of England landed in France, July, 1513, and soon gathered an army of 30,000 men. He was shortly after joined by the Emperor Maximilian, with a well-appointed army of horse and foot. They laid siege to Terouenne, which they invested with an army of 50,000 men; and the Duc de Longueville advancing to its relief was signally defeated. The French were everywhere routed in the battle. This battle of Guinnegate was called the Battle of the Spurs, because the French made more use of their spurs than their swords. Fought 18th, August, 1513.
STANDARD, BATTLE OF THE.--Fought A.D. 1135. The following graphic account gives the reason why the engagement was so called:
“King David at once marched into England to strike for the rights of his niece. Twice he ravaged Northumberland with merciless barbarity. In a third invasion he penetrated into Yorkshire. Stephen was in the south, hard pressed by the partisans of Matilda, and was obliged to leave the northern part of his kingdom to look to its own defence. There was a man in those parts who knew what to do. This was the aged Thurstan, Archbishop of York. He assembled the Barons at York, held a solemn fast, gave them absolution and his blessing, and delivered into their hands his crozier and the holy banner of St. Peter of York. He ordered processions of the priests with crosses, banners, and relics in every parish. He enjoined all men capable of bearing arms to rise “for the defence of the Church against the barbarians.” To all who should die in battle he promised salvation. He sent forth the priests to lead their parishioners to battle. Sickness alone prevented him, aged as he was, from putting on his own coat of mail.
The English standard was erected on Cutton Moor, near Northallerton. The mast of a ship was set up on a high four-wheeled car. At the top of the mast was a large cross; in the centre of the cross a silver box containing the consecrated wafer. Below the cross floated the banners of three Saints, St. Peter of York, St. John of Beverley, and St. Wilfred of Ripon. The idea of this car seems to have been taken from the great standard car which was used by the people of Lombardy.
The Scottish army was 26,000 strong. Men from the Lowlands of Scotland were there armed with cuirasses and long spears; archers from the southland “dales,” or valleys of the rivers that run into Tweed and Solway; troopers from the Border mountains, who rode small, but strong and active horses; the fierce men of Galloway, who carried long pikes and wore no defensive armour; clansmen from the Highlands with the small round target and claymore; men of the isles, who wielded a long-handled battle-axe. A strong body of knights and men-at-arms, sheathed in complete mail, rode around the King.
The English placed their standard in their centre. Their steel-clad knights dismounted, sent their horses to the rear, and formed in a compact mass round the standard car. The Scots came on, shouting their war cry, “Alban! Alban!” Their fierce charge drove in the English infantry, but they could not break through the dense array of mailed warriors who surrounded the standard, and received them on the points of their levelled lances. The long pikes of the Galloway men were shivered against the strong plate-armour of the knights. In vain the Highlanders tried to hew their way with the claymore into the mass of iron-cased chivalry. The archers of Yorkshire, Nottingham, and Lincolnshire, with their great bows, and arrows of three feet in length, ranged themselves on both flanks of the Scots, and kept up from either side a constant flight of their deadly shafts. On many another bloody day the Scots were destined to know right cruelly the fatal force of the cloth-yard arrow!
For full two hours the attack was maintained. At length the Scots began to recoil. An English soldier, cutting off the head of one of the slain, raised it aloft, and cried, “The head of the King of Scots.” The report that their King was killed flew through the Scottish army and filled them with dismay. They broke and fled. The King, tearing off his helmet to show his face, kept together a small body of troops around himself, and was able in some degree to check the pursuit. On that bloody moor he left 12,000 dead.”
STIRLING, BATTLE OF.--Fought, A.D. 1297.
“Wallace was engaged in the siege of Dundee when tidings were brought him that an army, fifty thousand strong, was on the march from England to put the Scots down. They were holding their course towards Stirling. Wallace immediately left Dundee and advanced to meet them. If he could reach the river Forth before the English, he meant to make them pay for their passage. He marched swiftly, talking over and arranging his plans with the good Sir John the Graham as they rode. When they reached the hill above Cambuskenneth, two miles east from Stirling, no English were in sight. It was not long, however, till their banners were seen approaching. The chief of their host was the Earl of Surrey. But he was old and in broken health, and the man who really took the command was Sir Hugh Cressingham, Edward’s Lord Treasurer of Scotland. Cressingham was a priest, haughty and insolent, who loved the corslet better than the cassock.
The English, three times more in number than the Scots, advanced and took up their position on the banks of the Forth. Wallace occupied the high ground to the north. The river, spanned by a long and narrow wooden bridge, flowed between the armies. The towers of Cambuskenneth Abbey threw their shadows slant and long as the September sun sank behind Ben Lomond. The glow of the watchfires lighted up the deep and sluggish waters of the Forth, as the two armies lay under the silent night, waiting for day, and what fortune God might send.
Morning came, but Surrey was in no haste to begin. The bridge was so narrow that only two men-at-arms could pass it abreast. The attempt to cross a deep river in the face of an enemy, by one narrow passage, was so dangerous that the English general hesitated to risk it. But the rash and scornful churchman, Cressingham, would try it. He insisted on instantly attacking the Scots with the division under his command. Surrey gave way to the taunts of the headstrong priest, and ordered the attack.
A brave knight, Sir Marmaduke de Twenge, led the advance at the head of a squadron of cavalry, heavily sheathed in steel, both horse and man. Cressingham with his division followed. The Scots, posted on high ground, kept their ranks and allowed the English to defile over the bridge. Wait! they know what they are about. Twenge has got his division of heavy cavalry over to the opposite shore. Cressingham’s division are eagerly crowding along the bridge. Twenge forms his cavalry and leads them up the hill against the main body of the Scots. Nearly half the English army has crossed without interruption. But see that strong force of Scottish spearmen who, fetching a circuit, and keeping near the river, make swiftly for the head of the bridge. They dash across the line of English as it issues from the bridge, and cut it in two. Forming in a solid mass bristling with spears, they occupy the bridgehead, and bar the bridge against all passage. Surrey looks on over the water. In three minutes the old General shall see a sight to make his white hair stand up!
The moment Wallace has waited for has come. Up then, and at them! The Scots charge furiously down the hill on Twenge and his cavalry, and hurl them back in disorder on the squadrons of Cressingham, great part of which have not had time to form since they passed the bridge. The English are mingled, horse and foot, in desperate confusion. Hundreds of them go down before the fierce charge of the Scots. The long spears plough the thick, disordered mass. Vast numbers are driven back into the river. The deep, still-flowing river swallows horse and man with splash and gurgle. Multitudes madly plunge in, vainly hoping to struggle to the other side, and the water is lashed into a foam by the drowning struggles of thousands of men and horses. This is the sight which old Surrey sees, sitting his warhorse on the safe side of the Forth.
He did what he could to send help to his reeling squadrons. The royal standard of England, with its three gold leopards set on red, was advanced to the cry of “For God and St. George!” A strong body of knights attended it. Then came Surrey’s own banner, of chequered blue and gold, followed by a numerous force of his vassals. It was in vain. They forced their way over the bridge, but finding no room to form, they only served to increase the confusion and swell the slaughter made by the Scottish spearmen. Of all who crossed that fatal bridge there returned but three. Sir Marmaduke Twenge with his nephew and armour-bearer, spurring their steads, rushed into the midst of the Scots at the bridgehead, cut their way through, and escaped unharmed. The haughty churchman, Cressingham, lay dead on the field. A Scottish spear had pierced his mail like silk, and run him through the body, till the point stood out on the other side. It was said that Wallace’s own hand drove that spear home.
Surrey saw that the safe side of the Forth was safe no longer, for the Scots were preparing to cross. He turned his horse, and fled without drawing bridle to Berwick. His troops broke and scattered in all directions. The face of the country was covered with a confused mass of terrified fugitives, who threw away their arms and standards as they fled. Keen and fierce the Scots pressed the chase, and their thirsty swords drank much blood. The powerful host which a few hours before had marshalled so proudly beside Stirling Bridge was beaten small and scattered like chaff.”
STONY CREEK.--_Canada._--Fought, June 5th, 1813. Between the Canadians and Americans, the latter commanded by Generals Chandler and Winder. The Americans had advanced as far as Stony Creek with the intention of dislodging him, when Lieutenant Colonel Harvey, now Sir John Harvey, conceived and executed a plan of surprising them in the night. Before day he entered their camp, consisting of 3000 men, with only 704 soldiers, killed and wounded a great number, and captured two Generals and 120 prisoners. This affair so disconcerted the Americans that they returned hastily to Fort George, leaving the communication with part of Niagara frontier open to the British, and perhaps eventually saving the whole of the Province.
STRATTON HILL, BATTLE OF.--Between the Royal army and the forces of the Parliament, headed by the Poet Waller. The Parliamentarians lost the battle, with numbers of killed and wounded, and Waller was obliged to flee to Bristol. Fought, May 16th, 1643. Waller was nephew to the great Hampden.
T.
TALAVERA.--Fought, July, 27th and 28th, 1809, between the English and French and Spanish armies.--“After the campaigns of Marlborough, the English army acquired little distinction in the field for more than a century. The battles of Dettingen (1743), Fontenoy (1745), and Minden (1759), were affairs in which England was involved by her Hanoverian alliances, and in which small bodies of English troops were engaged, with little glory, and with but trifling results. It was not until the next century had opened, and the talent and ambition of one of the world’s greatest conquerors had almost reached the climax of universal dominion, that England, for her own preservation, and for the rescue of the Spanish peninsula from his grasp, was compelled to send an army into Spain; which, under the guidance of one of the most consummate Generals that the world has ever seen, chased the armies of France over province after province, from Lisbon to Biscay, and ultimately drove them over the Pyrenees.
The peninsular campaigns of the Duke of Wellington commenced with the brilliant affair of Vimiera; but we cannot dignify that engagement with the name of a great battle, in which the forces on either side, did not exceed thirteen or fourteen thousand men; and the fruits of which were snatched from the victor’s hands by the sudden arrival of a superior in command. It was on Sir Arthur Wellesley’s second appearance in Portugal, in the year following the battle of Vimiera, that the contest really began; and the three great battles which distinguished its successive stages, were those of Talavera, Salamanca, and Vittoria. The first exhibited the power of Napoleon in Spain fairly grappled with; the second showed that power defeated; the third closed the struggle by its absolute downfall and expulsion.
After his supercession in 1808, on the very day of Vimiera, Sir Arthur Wellesley had returned to England; but, happily, the indignation felt by the English people at the convention of Cintra, by which the results of that victory had been thrown away, warned the British government that it was needful in times of great emergency to depart from the rule of _seniority_, and to select a Commander mainly on the ground of known and proved talent and ability. Hence the victor of Vimiera was again called into the field, and, on the 22nd of April, 1809, Sir Arthur Wellesley a second time landed in Portugal.
“The unexpected arrival of a victorious Commander,” says Sir W. Napier, “created the greatest enthusiasm:--the Regency nominated him Captain-General; the people hailed his presence, and an undefined but powerful sentiment that something great would be achieved, pervaded the public mind.” Still, somewhat surprising, and rather overweening, was this confidence; for Sir Arthur Wellesley commanded only 26,000 English and German troops;--the Spanish and Portuguese armies were of little worth, and the French Emperor had at that moment in the Peninsula, a force of _two hundred and seventy thousand men_.
Sir Arthur lost no time in bringing his troops into action. On the 12th of May he crossed the Douro, in the face of the French army, and carried Oporto. Soult had entered it two months before with 25,500 men; he quitted it with 19,500, having lost by the sword and by sickness, by assassination and capture, 6,000 good soldiers. He had marched into Portugal with 58 pieces of artillery, he quitted it without a gun! Yet Soult was perhaps the greatest of all Napoleon’s Generals. Sir Arthur’s next object was, and indeed it seemed a necessity of his position, to seek the French armies, and to fight them with the least possible delay. The demand of the English, and of the Portuguese also, was to be led against the foe. To raise the spirit of the people of Spain and Portugal, and also of the governments of both countries, it was necessary to show that there was an army and a General in the field, and that neither the army nor the General were afraid of meeting the French.
At this period the Spanish Generals and the Spanish Ministers had not fully proved their entire inefficiency. They still boasted of their power to “drive the French out of Madrid, and out of Spain;” and if the English General had refused to co-operate with them, he would have been charged with cowardice or with treachery. On the 27th of June, 1809, therefore, Sir Arthur, at the head of 22,000 British troops, and with 30 guns, entered Spain, and began his march on Madrid. The Spanish General Cuesta, with an army of 39,000 men, was to co-operate with him.
This co-operation, however, proved to be nothing but hindrance and a source of vexation. The two armies marched forward, Sir Arthur grieved, day by day, by some failure of supplies, means of transport, or other necessary aid. On one occasion a delay of two whole days was created by the Spanish General’s obstinacy. On the 24th of July Sir Arthur wrote to Lord Castlereagh, “I am not able to follow the enemy as I could wish; having found it impossible to procure _even one mule, or a cart in Spain_; ... My troops have been in actual want of provisions for the last two days.” Meanwhile the Spanish Government took care of its own troops, and left the English to shift for themselves. “The French,” writes Sir Arthur, “can take what they like and will take it--while we cannot even buy common necessaries.”