Chapter XIX: Part 19

“After this failure the French grenadiers absolutely refused to mount the breach any more over the putrid bodies of their unburied companions, sacrificed in former attacks by Buonaparte’s impatience and precipitation, which led him to commit such palpable errors as even seamen could take advantage of. He seemed to have no principle of action but that of pressing forward; and appeared to stick at nothing to obtain the object of his ambition, although it must be evident to everybody else, that even if he had succeeded in taking the town, the fire of the shipping must drive him out of it again in a short time: however, the knowledge the garrison had of the inhuman massacre at Jaffa rendered them desperate in their personal defence. Two attempts to assassinate me in the town having failed, recourse was had to a most flagrant breach of the laws of honour and war. A flag of truce was sent into the town by the hand of an Arab dervish, with a letter to the pasha, proposing a cessation of arms, for the purpose of burying the dead bodies, the stench from which became intolerable. It was natural we should gladly listen to this proposition, and that we should consequently be off our guard during the conference. While the answer was under consideration, a volley of shot and shells on a sudden announced an assault, which, however, the garrison was ready to receive; and the assailants only contributed to increase the number of the dead bodies in question, to the eternal disgrace of the general who thus disloyally sacrificed them. Subordination was now at an end; and all hopes of success having vanished, the enemy had no alternative left but a precipitate retreat, which was put in execution in the night between the 20th and 21st instant. The battering-train of artillery (except the carriages, which were burnt) is now in our hands, amounting to twenty-three pieces. The howitzers and medium twelve-pounders, originally conveyed by land with much difficulty, and successfully employed to make the first breach, were embarked in the country vessels at Jaffa, to be conveyed coastwise, together with the worst among the two thousand wounded, which embarrassed the march of the army. This operation was to be expected; I took care, therefore, to be between Jaffa and Damietta before the French could get as far as the former place. The vessels being turned to sea without seamen to navigate them, and the wounded being in want of every necessary, even water and provisions, they steered straight to his majesty’s ships, in full confidence of receiving the succours of humanity; in which they were not disappointed. I have sent them on to Damietta, where they will receive such further aid as their situation requires, and which it was out of my power to give to so many. Their expressions of gratitude to us were mingled with execrations on the name of their general, who had, as they said, exposed them to peril unnecessarily. Two thousand cavalry are just despatched to harass the French rear, and I am in hopes to overtake their van in time to profit by their disorder.”

A perusal of this siege redounds very little to the honour of the great French general: he was beaten fairly at every point, and on every occasion, by a seaman. Sir Sidney was never taken by surprise or defeated in open fight. The sailor joined to the ardour characteristic of his profession, a coolness and foresight worthy of the greatest captain; the French general exhibited none of the talents of a superior tactician; his conduct was impetuous and headstrong; he was evidently annoyed at receiving a check where he did not expect it, and was weak enough to show it by his actions: he was irritated by the obstacle, but took the worst possible measures to remove it.

Buonaparte told O’Meara, at St. Helena: “Sir Sidney dispersed proclamations among the troops, which certainly shook some of them; and I, in consequence, published an order stating that he was _mad_, and forbidding all communication with him. Some days after he sent, by a lieutenant or midshipman, a flag of truce, with a challenge to meet me at some place which he pointed out, in order to fight a duel. I laughed at this, and sent back intimation that when he sent Marlborough to fight me, I would meet him. Notwithstanding this, I like the character of the man.” This little anecdote is quite characteristic of Buonaparte and Sir Sidney; the wild chivalry of the sailor being not more striking than the _fanfaronnade_ of the future emperor. As we have done frequently before, we will enliven our account of “perils i’ the deadly breach” with an anecdote. The following is from the “Memoirs of Sir Sidney Smith.”

“The seamen of the squadron took each their turn for the military service on the walls of Acre. One of them had observed, in his spell ashore, the body of a French general, splendid in his uniform, that lay exposed in the very centre of the ditch. This dwelt on the mind of the honest, though--the truth must be told--somewhat obtuse-minded tar. Indeed he had never shown himself remarkable for either intellect or activity, and held no higher office in the ship than a waister. Yet, by some unexplained mental process, the fate and the unburied corpse of the French general had fixed themselves so strongly in his imagination, that he was determined, at all risks, to give his glittering dead opponent the rites of sepulture. The next day, though out of his turn, he asked and obtained permission to take his spell on the walls. Nothing divided the hostile intrenchments but this same ditch, and so closely placed were the foes to each other, that a moderate whisper could be easily heard from one embankment to the other. Nothing appeared above these embankments but a serried line of bayonets; for if a hat, or a head, or anything tangible appeared on either side, it was saluted with a volley of perforating-balls. It was about noon, and the respective hostile lines were preserving a dead silence, anxiously watching for the opportunity of a shot at each other. Our seaman, who, without informing any one of his intention, had provided himself with a spade and pickaxe, suddenly broke the ominous silence by shouting out, in a stentorian voice, ‘Mounsiers, a-hoy! ’vast heaving there a bit, will ye? and belay over all with your poppers for a spell.’ And then he showed his broad unmeaning face over the lines. Two hundred muskets were immediately pointed at him; but seeing him with only the implements of digging, and not exactly understanding his demand for a parley, the French forbore to fire. Jack very leisurely then scrambled over the intrenchment into the ditch, the muzzles of the enemy’s muskets still following his every motion. All this did not the least disturb his _sang-froid_; but going up to the French general, he took his measure in quite a businesslike manner, and dug a very decent grave alongside the defunct. When this was finished, shaking what was so lately a French general very cordially and affectionately by the hand, he reverently placed him in his impromptu grave, then shovelled the earth upon and made all smooth above him. When all was properly completed, he made his best sailor’s bow and footscrape to the French, shouldered his implements of burial, and climbed over into his own quarters with the same imperturbability that had marked his previous appearance. This he did amidst the cheers of both parties.

“Now our friend the waister seemed to think he had done nothing extraordinary, and only remarked that he should sleep well. A few days after, another gaudily-decorated French general came on board the Tigre, on some matters of negotiation, which, when completed, he anxiously desired to see the interrer of his late comrade. The meeting took place, and Jack was highly praised for his heroism in a long speech, not one word of which, though interpreted to him, could he comprehend. Money was then offered him, which at first he did not like to take; but he at length satisfied his scruples by telling the French officer he should be happy to do the same thing for him as he had done for his brother general--for nothing. The French general begged to be excused; and thus ended the interview.”

DOVER.

A.D. 1216.

We only introduce this little siege on account of a particular circumstance attending it. Whilst the English invasions of France have been more than one, and the sieges and captures of her cities numerous, Dover we believe to be the only English city that has been besieged by the French. We of course except the Conquest, because we do not consider William of Normandy a Frenchman at all: the Normans, or Northmen, were a race of the most successful adventurers of that age, and, not much more than a hundred years before their expedition to England, had gained, in an almost similar manner, an establishment in a remote province of France.

The English barons, disgusted with the levity and tyranny of John, very inconsiderately offered the crown of England to Louis, son of Philip Augustus, and heir to the kingdom of France. This prince, who did not want for spirit, in spite of the anathemas of the court of Rome, under the protection of which the weak John had placed himself, embarked with an army on board a fleet of seven hundred vessels, landed at Sandwich, and took possession of the county of Kent, with the exception of Dover. This place was well provided against an attack, and was governed by Hubert du Bourg, an intrepid and skilful soldier. Louis being unable to overcome his firm resistance, had recourse to more seductive advances, offering him a considerable bribe; but to his honour, Du Bourg repulsed it more indignantly and quite as firmly as he had resisted his arms. The French were obliged to raise the siege.

“This England never did (nor never shall)
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.”

BAGDAD.

A.D. 1638.

Amurath IV. had twice besieged Bagdad,--in 1625 and 1634; twice his generals had been compelled disgracefully to raise the siege, when the sultan, in 1638, determined to punish a city which had so roused his anger. During thirty days his artillery thundered against its ramparts. Cannon, steel, and fire spread desolation within the walls; assault upon assault was given. The grand seignor appeared, scimitar in hand, striking down such of his own men as even advanced slowly. He killed the vizier Mahommed, who appeared to him not sufficiently eager to court danger. At length the city was carried. Thirty thousand unarmed Persians were slaughtered before the eyes of the cruel conqueror. This savage prince was about to exterminate all the inhabitants of Bagdad, when a musician threw himself at his feet, and spoke as follows: “Sublime emperor! will you permit so divine an art as that of music to perish this day with me, with Schah-Culi, your slave? Ah! preserve, by preserving me, a divine art of which I have not yet discovered all the beauties.” This speech made the sultan laugh, and casting a favourable look upon the artist, he permitted him to prove his talents. Schah-Culi immediately took up a _scheydor_, a kind of six-stringed harp, and adapting his voice to the sounds of that instrument, he sang the tragic capture of Bagdad and the triumph of Amurath. The sultan at first appeared astonished; fury was depicted in his countenance: he fancied himself amidst his warriors, animating the combatants, and leading them to victory. All at once the artist touched another chord: by plaintive and affecting sounds he subdued the heart of the implacable conqueror: the haughty sultan melted into tears; his stern heart was, for the first time, accessible to pity: he shudders at the barbarous orders he had given to immolate so many thousand victims; he revokes them, and puts a stop to the carnage. Overcome by the charms of music, he restored liberty to the compatriots of Schah-Culi, attached the musician to his personal service, and loaded him with benefits.

CASSEL.

A.D. 1528.

Philip of Valois, scarcely seated on his own throne, turned his arms towards Flanders, to assist the count in subduing his rebellious subjects. His noble army consisted of thirty thousand men, among whom were fourteen thousand gendarmes. Philip marched straight towards the city of Cassel, and laid siege to it. The rebel army, much less numerous than the French, was composed entirely of infantry: they were fishermen, peasants, and artisans. A small dealer in fish, named Colin Zannequin, was at their head, a bold, daring man, in whom audacity and cunning made up for deficiency in military experience. Such was the singular champion opposed to the king of France; such were the troops destined to contend with the proudest nobility of Europe: and this ignoble assemblage was very near destroying the haughty battalions which held them in rather too much contempt. Never was any army more determined or more insolent in its bearing than these newly-made soldiers, encamped and intrenched within sight of Cassel, upon an eminence very difficult of access. They had the audacity to hoist upon one of the towers of the city a kind of standard, upon which was painted a cock, with this inscription:--

“Quand ce coq chanté aura,
Le roi Cassel conquérera.”

[When this cock shall have crowed, the king shall conquer Cassel.]

Zannequin conceived a project which might, if successful, have proved of great importance. In his character of a dealer in fish, he went every day, with reckless confidence, to exercise his trade in the royal camp. He sold his fish at a moderate price, in order to get a footing, and afford him an opportunity of seeing what was going on. He found that they sat a long time at table, that they gambled a great deal, that they danced, and they slept in the afternoon. In short, such negligent guard appeared to be kept, that the audacious Fleming conceived the design of carrying off the king and all his quarter. On the 23rd of August, 1528, about two o’clock in the afternoon, at the time when he knew the French were taking their daily nap, he divided his troops into three bodies, ordered one to march quietly to the quarter of the king of Bohemia, the second to advance in silence against the _battle_ commanded by the count of Hainault, whilst he placed himself at the head of the third. He entered the camp without shouting the war-cry, which was at that time always done before commencing a battle, and penetrated nearly to the king’s tent, where too good a watch was not kept. When they appeared, they were supposed to be a reinforcement just arrived, and Renaud Delor, a noble cavalier, came towards them with a smile, saying it was not polite to disturb their friends’ slumbers. He was answered by a javelin through his heart. This proved the signal for fight. The Flemings drew their swords and slaughtered all they met. The alarm was soon spread through the French camp; loud cries announced the danger, and all flew to arms. The king was roused by a Dominican, his confessor. He laughed at the worthy father, telling him that fear disturbed his imagination; but Miles de Noyer, who bore the oriflamme, soon rushed in, confirming the news, and entreating the king to arm. But there was neither squire nor knight to assist his majesty, and the duty was performed by the clerks of his chapel. He sprang upon his war-horse, and marched straight against the assailants. Miles de Noyer stopped him, advising him to wait till his troops should be sufficiently increased to turn the Flemings, and afterwards take them in flank. This brave and prudent knight then raised the royal standard on a point from which it could be seen at a great distance. At this signal, the cavalry drew up around their prince. The Flemings were surrounded, broken, and then cut to pieces. Of sixteen thousand men, who composed this army, not one gave ground, but not one escaped. The French lost but few in the action: armour was then very complete, and the ill-protected Flemings had but little chance against the French chivalry. The other rebel battalions dispersed immediately. Cassel was taken, razed to the ground, and reduced to ashes. After having restored peace, Philip returned to his own dominions, saying to the count of Flanders: “Be more prudent and more humane, and you will have fewer rebels.” This was certainly a well-merited reproof; but it came very ill from such a man as Philip of Valois.

ROMORANTIN.

A.D. 1356.

However insignificant in itself, this siege commands a place in our record, as being the first in which cannon were employed. Our country’s favourite hero, the Black Prince, having entered Sologne with hostile intentions, laid siege to Romorantin. The English were repulsed in their first assault; but were not disheartened. They continued their attacks, but still in vain, till some engineers advised an experiment to be made with the newly-discovered gunpowder. They planted some batteries of cannon so as to enable them to throw into the place a number of inflammable missiles. By this means they set fire to some buildings in the lower court of the castle. The conflagration soon extended to one of the towers. The besieged were then constrained to surrender to the conqueror, and were made prisoners of war. This is the first time that mention is made in history of artillery being employed for besieging places. It was ten years after the battle of Crecy, at which, it is said, cannon were first used in the field.

LA ROCHELLE.

A.D. 1372.

The English having made themselves masters of La Rochelle, the inhabitants of that important city did not endure the yoke without impatience. They were only restrained by their fear of the military who garrisoned the castle, which dominated over both the port and the city. Jean Candorier, mayor of La Rochelle, proposed gaining possession of it by a stratagem. “We shall easily do so, and to our honour,” said he, “for Philip Monsel (the English commander) is not over cunning.” Candorier invited Monsel to dine with him, and took the opportunity of showing him an order which desired him, in his quality of mayor, to review the garrison and the armed burgesses. This order was a fiction. The English commander, like most warriors of the time, could neither read nor write. Candorier showed the order so openly, and read it with a confidence that might have imposed upon any one. On the day appointed for the review, Monsel marched all his garrison out of the castle, with the exception of about twelve men. Scarcely had he passed the fortifications, than a body of armed citizens, placed in ambuscade behind an old wall, got between him and the citadel, whilst a body of two hundred men met him, in good order, in front. The English, finding themselves surrounded, yielded at discretion. The inhabitants then summoned the few left in the citadel to place it immediately in their power. Their number was so small that they complied without hesitation. Charles V. rewarded the Rochellois with great privileges.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1573.

During the various religious wars in France, the Reformers had no more formidable rampart or place of refuge than La Rochelle. Readers not well acquainted with French history, and accustomed to look upon France as one kingdom ruled by a despotic king, can form no idea of the real state of that country quite up to the middle of the reign of Louis XIV. In all the provinces of France there were strongly fortified cities, mostly attached to the governments of these provinces. It was the object of princes of the blood and of the high nobles to obtain a government; after that, upon receiving offence at court, or taking umbrage at even an imaginary insult, they would retire to their fortified city, and set even royalty at defiance. La Rochelle, Sedan, and some other cities, were the great rallying-points of the Huguenots, and, in them, the power of the monarchs was merely nominal. In 1573, they were besieged in La Rochelle by the duke of Anjou, afterwards the infamous Henry III., the most inveterate enemy they ever had to encounter. The massacre of St. Bartholomew has fixed an indelible stain upon the reign of Charles IX.; but more of its horrors were due to this, his successor, than to him. Henry of Anjou was more after Catherine de Medici’s own heart than her second son Charles. This prince could boast of having in his army the flower of the French nobility. In the course of eight months they gave nine general assaults, and formed more than twenty useless attacks. An English fleet endeavoured to throw succours into the city, but it was repulsed, and forced to renounce the enterprise. The Rochellois, notwithstanding, continued to signalize their valour by the most intrepid resistance. The duke of Anjou, returning from visiting a mine, passed by a place within gun-shot of the city. A soldier, recognising him, took a deliberate aim at him, and would have ridded the world of a monster, but for the intervention of his squire, Hubert Devins, who, seeing the danger of the prince, rushed forward, and received the ball instead of him. He was cured of his wound, and lived a long time to enjoy the glory of such an action. Upon the duke being chosen king of Poland, a general assault was given; but it succeeded no better than its predecessors. The prince, who had already lost more than twenty-four thousand men, then resolved to terminate the siege by making peace. The conduct of the royalists during the siege was the height of extravagance, injustice, and ferocity: “They sported there with the lives of men,” says Matthieu the historian; “and I have heard those say who were near the duke of Anjou, that to pass away the time, when they were at a loss what to do, they sent soldiers to the breach.” It is not to be wondered at that an enterprise so conducted should have had a bad end, and that the Rochellois, pretending to submit, to save the honour of the court, should have really remained masters of their city. Near the counterscarp, there was a mill, called Labrande, of which Captain Normand had obtained the proprietorship, upon condition that he should have it guarded. He thought at first of fortifying it; but finding he could not put it in a state of defence, he satisfied himself with keeping a few soldiers in it in the daytime, who retired at night, with the exception of one sentinel. Strozzi, one of the Catholic generals, who fancied he could derive some advantage from this mill, fixed upon a moonlight night to attack it with a detachment and two culverins. A soldier from the Isle of Rhé, named Barbot, sole defender of this bad post, stood his ground, fired, with incredible celerity, many arquebuse-shots at the assailants, and, by varying the inflexions of his voice, made them believe that he had a considerable number of comrades. Captain Normand kept encouraging him from the top of a cavalier, speaking as if there were an entire company in the mill, and telling them to hold out bravely, and they should soon have assistance. Barbot’s artillery being exhausted, he came forward and demanded quarter for himself and his comrades; and, the defence having been so respectable, it was granted. He immediately laid down his arms, and revealed the whole garrison in his own person. Strozzi, enraged at what he ought to have thought heroic, wanted to have him hung for his act of gallantry; but Biron, who was more moderate, satisfied himself with condemning him to the galleys. These men prided themselves upon fighting in a religious cause, and in civilized times: the pagans of old Greece or Rome would not have punished such a man at all. The soldier was fortunate enough to escape by flight a punishment he did not deserve.[13]

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1627.

We come now to the most important siege of La Rochelle, a siege which is likewise the great event of the life of so remarkable a man as the Cardinal de Richelieu. Of all the actions of this able, selfish, cruel minister, his policy in subduing the Huguenots is, perhaps, the most defensible. The Huguenots were not only what they pretended to be, a religious party,--they were a political party; and many men carried on their schemes of rebellion or aggrandizement under the shadow of their standard, who cared nothing for religion of any kind. That this is the case in all religious wars we are willing to admit, but it was particularly so in France in the reign of Louis XIII. Louis himself was superstitious enough; as most weak men are; but it would have puzzled the Sorbonne itself to have told what was the _heart religion_ of Louis’ minister.

Cardinal de Richelieu, who governed France and its king, being very desirous to signalize his ministry by the conquest of La Rochelle, ordered the siege of it to be prepared. In the year 1627, an army of twenty-three thousand men, with Louis XIII. at their head, presented itself before this last asylum of the Protestants. The warlike cardinal conducted all the operations in the name of the king. The city was vast, well fortified, well situated, provided with numerous artillery, full of munitions of all kinds, and defended by inhabitants animated by religious zeal. They elected as mayor, governor, and general of their city, Jean Guiton, a man of great firmness and valour. He was scarcely clothed with these important but perilous dignities, than he assembled the inhabitants, and drawing a poniard, said: “I will be your mayor, since you insist upon my being so, but only upon condition that I may be permitted to plunge this poniard into the heart of the first man who shall speak of surrendering. I consent that it shall be employed in the same manner upon me, if I should propose to capitulate; and I require that this poniard shall remain for that purpose upon the table of the chamber in which we assemble.” Richelieu in the mean time continued his works for the blockade of the place. A circumvallation of three leagues was formed, protected by thirteen forts, flanked with redoubts, and bristling with artillery. But the great object was to close the ports, in order to exclude succour. Piles were sunk to embarrass the entrance; a chain of immense force was stretched across the mouth: but all these means proved useless. At length the cardinal resolved to make a dyke. We beg our readers to remember that whenever a grand national operation is successful, the king or minister under whom it is effected is almost sure to have the credit of it, although, perhaps, perfectly innocent of any idea of the kind. This, we have reason to believe, was the fact with respect to Richelieu and his famous dyke, which might have been planned by any soldier in the army. It will not bear a comparison with Alexander’s dyke at the siege of Tyre. Everybody, as is usual in such cases, exclaimed against the project as absurd. Louis Métézeau and Jean Tiriot alone ventured to undertake the execution of it, and they were kindly set down by their contemporaries as madmen. It was necessary to form a canal of seven hundred and forty toises in width, in a place where the current of the sea was very strong. Long posts were sunk in the sea, at twelve feet distance from each other, from the point of Coreille to Fort Louis: other posts, quite as strong, connected them crosswise. Immense dry stones were thrown into the intervals, to which the slime and mud acted as cement. This dyke was so elevated, that in the highest tides the soldiers were dry upon it; its thickness was proof against cannon. It was, towards the bottom, about twelve toises wide, and only about four at the top, so that it resembled a glacis. At each extremity a fort was built; an opening was left in the middle to allow passage for the tides; but, in order to prevent the enemy’s vessels from entering by this opening, forty vessels, filled with hewn stones, were sunk, and a vast number of huge piles were driven. This great and wonderful work, which required the incessant labour of six months, was defended by several batteries erected on firm ground, and by two hundred vessels of all sizes, well armed, which lined the shore. The advantage of this dyke was soon perceived: La Rochelle, which till then had received all its munitions and provisions by sea, became destitute in a very short time. The English made two attempts to deliver or revictual the place, but were obliged to renounce their undertaking. After a year’s blockade, the Rochellois, for some time reduced to subsist upon grass, herbs, and shell-fish, began to be carried off in great numbers by famine. Twelve thousand men had already perished; whole houses were filled with dead bodies. One day the mayor met a person attenuated by famine. “He has but one breath of life left,” said some one to him. “Are you surprised at that?” replied he; “you and I must soon come to that, if we are not relieved.” “But,” added another, “hunger carries off so many daily, that we shall soon have no inhabitants left.” “Well,” rejoined the brave old man, “never mind, so long as there is one left to keep the gates shut.” Such was what Catholic historians call the _obstinacy_, and Protestant ones the _firmness_, of the commander of the Rochellois and his soldiers. Although scarcely able to carry their muskets, they preferred death to surrendering. They really had “but one breath of life left,” when, on the 28th of October, 1628, they were compelled to capitulate. The royal troops took possession on the 30th, and on the 1st of November the king made his public entrance. The fortifications were demolished, the ditches filled up, the inhabitants disarmed and made taxable; _echevinage_ and the corporation of the city were abolished for ever. For nearly two hundred years, La Rochelle had scarcely acknowledged any sovereigns but its magistrates. This conquest cost Louis forty millions of francs, but not so many lives as might have been expected.

It is impossible to give an account of the siege of La Rochelle in a work like this, proportioned to the means at command; with half what we have at hand, we could compose a volume. But this very abundance removes the necessity for our going into detail: there are so many interesting accounts of it before the public, that a longer one from us is not required. Whilst Richelieu, Buckingham, and Louis XIII.; whilst the religious wars between Catholics and Huguenots, shall occupy--we were going to say _stain_--the page of history, the siege of La Rochelle must be familiar to most readers.

CASSOVIA.

A.D. 1389.

The city of Cassovia, in Lower Hungary, was often the theatre of the exploits of the Germans and the Turks, after the entrance of the latter into Europe. In 1389, Amurath I. conquered in these plains the Hungarians, the Wallachians, the Dalmatians, and the Triballian confederates. After a long and sanguinary battle, the sultan went to survey the dead, and walked over the field of carnage. When he had for some time contemplated these sad trophies of his success--“I am astonished,” said he to his grand vizier, who accompanied him, “to see only young beardless men among these dead, and not one old man.”

“It is that that has given us the victory,” replied the vizier; “youth only listens to the wild fire which animates it, and comes to perish at your feet; old age is more tranquil and prudent.”

“But that which still more surprises me,” said the grand seignor, “is, that I have triumphed. I dreamt last night that an unknown enemy’s hand pierced my side. Nevertheless, thanks to God! thanks to His Prophet! I triumph, and I live!”

He had scarcely pronounced these words when a Triballian soldier, concealed among the dead, sprang up in a rage and plunged his dagger into the sultan’s bowels. The murderer was instantly cut to pieces. The proud sultan saw his dream accomplished: a conqueror in thirty battles. He expired two hours after, from the stroke of this assassin.

TROYES.

A.D. 1429.

The Maid of Orleans had announced that her mission was confined to two objects,--the deliverance of Orleans and the consecration of the king at Reims. After having gloriously fulfilled her first promise, she employed the ascendancy she had acquired to execute the second. Although the city of Reims, and all the country from Chinon, where the king then resided, was in the power of the English, the French set forward on their march, with an army of twelve thousand men. All the cities in their route opened their gates to them, with the exception of Troyes, which endeavoured to arrest their progress. A council of war being called, Joan confidently assured them that, within three days, the king should be received in Troyes.

“Say seven days, Joan,” cried the archbishop of Reims, “say seven, Joan; and we shall be right glad to see your prediction fulfilled.”

“Before three days are over,” exclaimed the Maid, “I tell you the king will be master of Troyes.”

They prepared for the attack. Joan appeared before the ramparts, advanced to the edge of the fosses, planted her banner, and called aloud for fascines to fill them up. Terror instantly seized the besieged; they believed their city taken, although there was yet no breach. They capitulated; and Charles entered triumphantly into that city where, eight years before, his ruin had been contemplated by excluding him from the throne. After the reduction of Troyes, Reims was eager to receive the monarch, who repaired thither on the 27th of July, 1429, and was consecrated the next day.

When this august ceremony was completed, Joan advanced towards the king, with the tears streaming from her eyes, and throwing herself at his feet, held his knees embraced for some time; then, checking her emotion, she said,--“At last, gentle king, I have fulfilled the pleasure of God, who willed that you should come to Reims to receive your worthy consecration, by showing that you are king, and are he to whom the kingdom belongs.”

She then supplicated him to permit her to return to her native village; but she was still too useful to him to allow her to depart: he entreated her, he even forced her to continue her services. She yielded to his commands, and experienced nothing but misfortunes afterwards.

BELGRADE.

A.D. 1439.

At the confluence of the Danube and the Save stands the city of Belgrade, the capital of Servia; its advantageous situation upon a hill, the excellence of its port, the strength of its castles, the soundness of its ramparts, caused it for a long time to be considered one of the best bulwarks of Hungary against Turkey; whilst its position and its wealth made it a continual object of desire for the Ottoman monarchs. The first sultan who attacked it was Amurath II. Followed by the flower of his armies, he crossed the Danube in 1439, halted before Belgrade, and thundered against it, night and day, from cannons throwing balls of a hundred pounds weight. In the first attacks the grand seignor battered down a great part of the fortifications, but nothing could intimidate the inhabitants, who were resolved to bury themselves under the ruins of their city rather than surrender; they presented themselves firmly at every breach, and repulsed the Mussulmans with arquebuses and arrows. For several days the Turks did not dare to approach the ramparts; but at length one of their best captains having placed himself at the head of the troops, succeeded in gaining the edge of the ditch; from this advantageous position he drove in the besieged, pursued them through the breach, and gave a vigorous assault; the Turks spread themselves through the city, and believed themselves masters. But all at once the inhabitants rallied in despair, fell upon the Turks close-handed, and killed the greater part of them. Discouraged by this reverse, Amurath raised the siege and returned to his own dominions.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1455.

Sixteen years after, Mahomet II. was anxious to crown his exploits by the capture of Belgrade; he invested it by land with an army of four hundred thousand men, at the same time that his fleet blockaded it upon the Danube. Ladislaus, king of Hungary, was encamped on the other side of the river with a numerous army. Being convinced that he should lose Belgrade if he did not in some way get rid of the Turkish galleys, he embarked the _élite_ of his troops on a vast number of large boats, and fell upon the Turks with such fury that he took twenty of their ships, sunk others, and put the rest to flight. This victory reopened his communication with Belgrade, and he sent in the celebrated John Corvin, known under the name of Huniades. This general was seconded by John Capestran, a Cordelier, sent into Hungary by the Pope, to preach a crusade. This monk appeared at the head of all the sorties, a crucifix in his hand, inducing the warriors to perish rather than give way, by constantly displaying to them the crown of martyrdom suspended over their heads, if they fell by the hands of the infidels. His words and example destroyed all fear, and the troops he led always returned victorious. But the Mussulman artillery had made a large breach; Mahomet commanded an assault, led his troops to the edge of the ditch, carried it, and rushed into the city without meeting with much resistance. Thus were both parties situated, just as in the former siege. This calm was a _ruse_ of Huniades. To surprise the Ottomans in the midst of their fancied triumph, he drew up his troops upon a retired part of the city; at the first sound of the trumpet the garrison of the citadel had orders to join those who, by his direction, had abandoned the breach. The signal was given, and the Hungarians poured from all quarters. The Turks, attacked in front, in rear, in flank, knew not which way to turn; some perished in their astonishment, without offering any defence; others precipitated themselves into the ditches, and a small number succeeded in escaping through the breach. In vain Mahomet endeavoured to rally them; his obstinate valour was constrained to give way; the conqueror of Constantinople was forced to raise the siege of Belgrade shamefully, after losing an eye and his noble army. Huniades survived this triumph but a short time; he quickly died of his wounds.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1521.

So many useless efforts we might think would have for ever discouraged the haughty Ottomans; but the more necessary for them the conquest of Belgrade became, the more it excited their ambition. Soliman II. once more directed the Turkish arms against the city, in 1521; he at first had it blockaded by his generals, and then repaired to the scene of action, to animate his troops by his presence. During six weeks the walls were mined, a continual fire of artillery was kept up, and every day furious assaults were given. At length the exhausted garrison was forced to surrender, and on the 20th of August, 1521, Belgrade became a Turkish city.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1688.

The Porte held peaceable possession of Belgrade for nearly two hundred years, when the elector of Bavaria, who had become general of the Hungarian armies under the emperor Leopold, began by beating the Turks, who disputed the passage of the Save with him, and pursued them up to the walls of Belgrade, to which place he laid siege on the 30th of July, 1688. After a constant cannonade of twenty-five days, the walls were opened in several places, and the commander was summoned to surrender. Upon his refusal, the signal for a general assault was given, at six o’clock in the morning of the 6th of September, and five different breaches were attacked at the same time. At half-past ten all the corps rallied to the cry of Emmanuel! (God is with us); the Germans fell upon the Turks with such fury, that the latter gave way and retreated before them. The combat was terrible; the whole garrison, composed of nine thousand determined and warlike men, united their efforts to check the progress of the Christians; those who had fled, rallied upon the breaches and fought with desperation. The Imperialists began to waver, and yielded the victory step by step. The elector perceiving this, flew to their head, followed by Prince Eugene, sword in hand: “My children, follow us!” shouted the elector, “we must conquer or die!” The Germans return to the fight; Eugene mounts first to the breach, at the head of the bravest. A Janissary splits his helmet with a stroke of his sabre; the prince turns round calmly, runs his enemy through, and resumes the fight. The garrison is driven from the ramparts, and the assailants penetrate into the city; the Turks endeavour to retreat to the castle, but in great confusion; the Germans, who are pursuing them, enter with them. The combat rages with more fury than ever; the elector is wounded by an arrow in the cheek. Danger redoubles his courage; no enemy can stand against him, and soon his victory is complete. Blood inundates Belgrade; neither age nor sex is respected; the garrison is put to the sword; five thousand Janissaries become the victims of the angry conqueror.--The Germans lost about four thousand men, but the army found motives for consolation in an immense booty.

In this siege we see a prince, who was to become one of the greatest generals the world has known, displaying the character of a cool and brave swordsman. Eugene did not flesh his maiden sword in this siege, but it took place early in his career.

Voltaire claims Eugene as a Frenchman, although his father, the count de Soissons, was the son of Charles Emanuel, duke of Savoy, and his mother was an Italian, one of the notorious nieces of Cardinal Mazarin. But as he was born in Paris in 1663, and his father was settled in France, we suppose we must yield the honour to that country. But France set very little store by him in his youth: he was first known as the Chevalier de Cavignan; he next assumed _le petit collet_, and was styled the _Abbé de Savoie_. It is said that he asked the king for a regiment, and that Louis’ refusal was accompanied with reproaches. Being unable to succeed in his darling view in France, he went to serve the emperor against the Turks, in 1683. The two princes de Conti joined him in 1685. Louis XIV. then commanded them all to return; but the Abbé de Savoie was the only one who refused to do so, simply saying he had renounced France. When the king heard this, he said to his courtiers, “Don’t you think I have made a great loss?” And the courtiers replied that the Abbé de Savoie would always be a wild fellow, incapable of anything. They judged him by some youthful extravagances, which should rarely be taken as proofs of what a man may be. Voltaire’s character of him is so just, that we cannot refrain from repeating it. “This prince, too much despised by the court of France, was born with the qualities which make a hero in war, and a great man in peace; a lofty and just mind, possessed of necessary courage both in the field and in the cabinet. He committed faults, as what generals have not? but they were concealed by the number of his great actions. He shook the grandeur of Louis XIV. and the power of the Ottoman; he governed the empire; and, in the course of his victories and his ministry, showed an equal contempt for pomp and wealth. He even cultivated letters, and protected them at the court of Vienna, as much as was in his power.”

FIFTH SIEGE, A.D. 1690.

This famous conquest spread joy throughout the empire; but scarcely had Leopold taken possession of Belgrade than it was torn from him again. The grand vizier, Mustapha Coprogli, presented himself before that city with an army, which its valour, its zeal, and its exploits had rendered formidable: he commenced by blockading it. Learning that the Imperialists were coming to its aid, he opened the trenches with half of his army, and destined the other to dispute the passage of the Save with the Germans: this strategic position was very critical. The grand vizier, uncertain of success, awaited some event capable of forwarding his plans. For eight days the artillery had thundered against the place, without any considerable effect, when a bomb fell upon a tower which served as a powder-magazine, and blew it up, together with all the neighbouring houses, and part of the walls. The Turks immediately exclaimed that God had declared himself by this miracle; and no longer doubting of his assistance, they flew to the breach before the garrison had had time to repair the damage. Although surprised, they resisted a long time with great valour; but overwhelmed by numbers, having killed many Turks, the garrison retired on the 8th of October, by the Danube, to the amount of seven or eight hundred men, commanded by General D’Ospremont and the duke de Croi. Six thousand soldiers, who could not make their escape, were massacred by the Turks; most of the inhabitants shared the same fate, and the barbarians did not discontinue their cruelty till wearied with slaughter.

This disgrace astonished the court of Vienna, without depriving it of hope; the duke de Croi appeared suddenly, in 1694, under the walls of Belgrade, from which place the Turkish army was absent. His batteries were placed in a short time; his artillery and mines were so vigorously worked, that in eight days he had reduced all the advanced works to ashes, when the grand vizier made his appearance with a powerful army; the siege was raised perforce, and the conquest was reserved for Prince Eugene.

SIXTH SIEGE, A.D. 1717.

On the 8th of June, Prince Eugene, who had become the terror of Europe and Asia by a series of triumphs, approached Belgrade with an army of a hundred and fifty thousand men. Several French princes accompanied him, solely for the purpose of learning the art of sieges under so great a captain. On the 16th the army encamped on the heights of Visnitza, and the next day all the baggage arrived, in spite of a cloud of Tartars who scoured the country. The count de Palfi was directed to invest the place.

Two days after, Eugene himself made a grand reconnaissance. When scarcely at a quarter of a league from the camp, twelve hundred Turks fell upon his escort. A Mussulman officer recognised him, drew near to him, and followed him, pistol in hand. He had already penetrated through two ranks, when he paid for his temerity with his life. The Turks proving too weak to take advantage of the occasion, were soon dispersed, and left the prince to continue his operations. Continual discharges of artillery from the Turkish galleys and saiks which covered the Danube, impeded the works of the besiegers, at the same time that this flotilla prevented the complete blockade of Belgrade. Eugene ordered it to be destroyed. A long and obstinate combat ensued on the river; but the Ottomans were conquered, and left the Germans masters of the navigation. The city now was completely invested. Lines of circumvallation and countervallation completed the system of attack and defence. To connect his operations, the prince threw bridges over the Save and the Danube; but they lasted only a short time; being carried away by a violent storm. The Turks endeavoured to profit by this accident to disturb the quarters which were momentarily separated from the main army, and attacked the redoubts of the Hessians, who defended themselves with great courage. The first assault upon the body of the place was not very successful; the prince had charged Colonel De Merci to carry the advanced works on the side of the river, where the approaches were tolerably easy and the fortifications not very redoubtable. At the moment of obeying his instructions, Colonel De Merci was struck with apoplexy, and was carried back to the camp. The prince was unwilling to trust this delicate mission to any other hands, and took it upon himself. He succeeded, but he incurred extreme danger: three balls passed between him and the prince of Dombes, who accompanied him: their hissing was so violent as to startle their horses. On the 22nd of July, all the batteries directed against the city were completed: they were unmasked all at once. The garrison, consisting of twenty thousand men, responded to the fire with much spirit; but their pieces were soon dismounted, and they were constrained to remain quiet spectators of the devastation caused by the enemy’s cannon. All at once, there appeared on the neighbouring heights more than a hundred thousand Turks, marching in good order: this was the army of the grand vizier. Prince Eugene was now in exactly the same situation as Cæsar at the siege of Aliso; he blockaded Belgrade, but he was himself blockaded by all the Ottoman forces, collected for the defence of that place. Surrounded by land on all sides, he would have been lost if his trenches had been forced. The Turks raised several batteries, which began to play upon the besiegers on the 2nd of August. In the night between the 14th and 15th, they opened a trench opposite to the centre of the Imperialists, and pushed their works to within a hundred paces of the lines of the Christian army. To prevent the attack upon his intrenchments by attacking the intrenchments of the Turks, was following the example of Cæsar. Prince Eugene decided upon doing so. In the centre of his army he placed the infantry, under the command of Prince Alexander of Wurtemberg; on the two wings he arrayed his cavalry; in two lines, behind these bodies, were regiments of infantry, to support them. The reserve remained in the trenches, under the orders of the count de Seckendorf, and the _garde du camp_ was confided to the valour of General Vrard. To deceive the Ottoman army, Belgrade was bombarded vigorously during the whole evening of the 16th, the fire only ceasing at midnight. At one o’clock, the report of three bombs was heard: this was the signal for marching. The first line immediately moved forward in silence, and advanced towards the _flèche_[14] of the intrenchments by the light of the moon. Suddenly a thick fog arose, the right of this line missed its way, and fell into one of the enemy’s _boyaux_ (branch of a trench). But confusion had seized the Turks, and they began to fly: the Janissaries, however, rallied them, and the fight commenced. The error of the Germans had separated them from the centre; and the Mussulmans threw themselves into the interval, in spite of the efforts of Prince Eugene, whose operations were defeated by the fog. During several hours they fought at hazard, in profound darkness. At length, however, the cloud dispersed, and, with the return of light, the general became aware of the danger his army was in. He flew to its aid, and charged the Mussulmans at the head of his volunteers; the Turks resisted bravely, and the battle was sanguinary; Eugene was slightly wounded by a sabre-stroke: but, fighting under the eyes of their general, his soldiers became heroes; they attacked, overthrew, and crushed every obstacle opposed to their valour. In an instant the Turks abandoned the centre. The Bavarian infantry now signalized their courage: led on by a French officer, named La Colonie, they cleared the ditches, ravines, and parapets, surmounted every obstacle, overtook the Turks, charged and broke their battalions, pursued them from trench to trench, and took possession of a battery of eighteen guns defended by twenty thousand Janissaries and four thousand Turks: their intrepidity secured the triumph of the Imperialists. By eleven o’clock in the morning, the Turks, broken and beaten on all sides, took to flight, leaving thirteen thousand dead upon the field of battle, five thousand wounded, and as many prisoners. This victory cost the Germans more than three thousand men, but it procured them an immense booty; a hundred and thirty guns, with all the munitions and provisions of the Ottomans, who lost fifty-two colours, nine horse-tails, and four trumpets. On the morrow, the governor of Belgrade hoisted the white flag: he was permitted to march out without arms or munitions. The conquerors found in the city two hundred cannons and sixty-eight mortars.

SEVENTH SIEGE, A.D. 1739.