After the army had made good its landing, which was effected without opposition, one of the first acts of our commander was to issue a proclamation, in which he announced the object of the expedition, lamented the necessity of the cause of it, and expressed a hope that the Danish fleet, then at anchor in the roads, would be surrendered without bloodshed; at the same time declaring, that if it were not given up, force would be used to secure it; in which event, he argued, the innocent blood unavoidably shed would be chargeable on those who advised resistance to a measure dictated by imperious necessity. To this specimen of military logic, rendered so conclusive by the force of arms, the Danes deigned no reply. The government resolved to defend the capital, and thus convince the world that the country intended to maintain its honour and property against the assailants, whether they came from the Thames or the Seine, and show the fallacy of the reasoning upon which the British ministry founded the expediency of their present extraordinary measure. Paper contentions and the rivalry of manifestoes were therefore relinquished; and as neither party chose to recede, negotiation was succeeded by the rude appeal to arms.
On the side of the invaders, the best understanding subsisted between the army and navy, and suitable arrangements were promptly made by the respective commanders for mutual co-operation. Several frigates and gunboats took advantage of a favourable wind to place themselves in front of the harbour, taking care to secure a position which enabled them to throw shells into the city, while the troops advanced by land: the operations on both elements were conducted with equal vigour and success. The plan of defence adopted by the Danes was similar to that projected some years previously, in the memorable engagement with Nelson. Strong lines of gunboats and praams were securely moored for the defence of the harbour, flanked at each extremity by the crown battery and a blockhouse, in which upwards of a hundred pieces of cannon were mounted; this force, which was judiciously planned, offered formidable resistance to the British squadron. The Danes fired red-hot balls, and soon after the commencement of the action several of our ships in advanced positions were compelled to haul off: they, however, shortly resumed their places, and poured an incessant fire on the rafts and armed craft. As it was deemed imperatively needful to put an end to all resistance on the harbour side of the city, batteries were erected on shore by the English forces, who opened a well-directed fire on every vessel in which Danish colours were visible. Congreve rockets flared through the lurid sky without intermission. One of the Danish vessels blew up with tremendous explosion, the fire of the others gradually abated, and in a few hours all opposition from the flotilla ceased.
Meantime the main body of the besieging army pushed on its advanced posts with great vigour: they carried their approaches to within four hundred yards of the ramparts, and forced one of the strongest redoubts, which was turned against the enemy. Having heard that a considerable body of troops had assembled in order to surprise us, a detachment, consisting of four regiments of British infantry, with a squadron of hussars, under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, was ordered to march against it. We found the Danes, fourteen thousand strong, advantageously posted in front of the small town of Kioge. The attack began on our part with the usual spirit. Some little impression having been made on the enemy’s line, the 92nd were ordered to charge. The movement was executed with astonishing celerity; the shock was irresistible, and the Danes, unused perhaps to such personality, fled in all directions: numbers, however, remained lifeless on the battlefield, and many more were taken prisoners, and consigned to the British fleet.
As this was the first action of any importance in which I had been closely engaged, it put my firmness to the test. The regiment in which I served was placed on the right of the British line. The first thing that startled me was the forceful rebound of a cannon-ball that struck the ground within a few paces of the place where I stood; it scattered the earth with violence, but fortunately did no injury, and the impression of danger was soon erased by the heavy and rapid trampling of a cavalry charge made in our favour, and which laid many a brave fellow low. Of those who escaped from the destructive sweep, several sought refuge in a churchyard, where a large body were overtaken and captured. I recollect meeting with an exhausted Dane, concealed in the side of a ditch: the interview seemed particularly disagreeable to him, and was quite unexpected by myself. I soon put an end to all explanations by conducting him to headquarters. But after the battle had ceased, and my spirits became composed, I was subdued beyond all I ever felt before. This emotion was produced by leisurely traversing the scene of action on the following day. There lay the dead, just as they had fallen. They were said to be enemies, but I felt that they and myself were partakers of one common nature. I saw several Danish women moving with terror among the slain, anxious to discover and yet afraid to ascertain who pressed the field. The day before I was among the foremost of those fearless spirits who dealt out wounds and carnage, careless of danger and destitute of fear. But when the soul is allowed quietly to look within; when the hurricane of wrath has spent its fierceness, and nothing remains, save the desolation it has produced,—views and sensations are strangely transposed. My compassionate musings were, however, exceedingly brief. A soldier’s moral meditations seldom take place; and if nature will occasionally assert her right, the hasty tear is brushed away for sterner thoughts and deeds.
There is to be perceived among the Danes an amiable simplicity of manners, coupled with remarkable firmness and bravery in action: this was conspicuous in every conflict. Private emolument or the protection of property was never suffered to compete with the measures necessary for public defence. Life itself seemed of value only so far as it could contribute to national honour. Gardens, smiling with the choicest fruits, all but ripe, were cheerfully resigned as the site for erecting batteries. Masses of soldiery were quartered in the cornfields. The furniture of several mansions belonging to the nobility was hastily removed, and the buildings offered to the service of government, as the exigency of affairs required. The palace of the crown prince resembled a barrack more than the residence of royalty. The entire people, of whatever age or rank, emulous only to be distinguished in the defence of home, came simultaneously forward, with the suffrage of their best services. This unflinching devotedness, estimable whether in friend or foe, was met by corresponding energy on the part of the besiegers, who were persons not to be trifled with.
COPENHAGEN.
Before I report further progress, a few brief notices of the city of Copenhagen may not be uninteresting. It is universally acknowledged to be the best-built capital in the north. Petersburg excels it in superb edifices, but is disfigured by multitudinous wooden houses, and exhibits therefore a striking contrast of pomp and penury. Copenhagen presents a more equable and uniform appearance. The town is surrounded toward the land with regular ramparts and bastions, a broad ditch full of water, and several outworks. Its circumference is about five miles. The streets are well paved, with a foot-way on each side, but are inconveniently narrow. The greater part of the buildings are of brick, and a few of freestone brought from Germany. The houses of the nobility are in general splendid, and constructed in the Italian style of architecture: the palace, which was erected by Christian VI., is a large pile of building, the front of which is stone, and the wings of brick stuccoed. Maritime affairs and the facilities of trade have also received proper attention. The haven is commonly crowded with merchant ships, and the streets are intersected with broad canals, by which merchandise is brought close to the warehouses that line the quays. The city owes its principal beauty and healthiness to a cause similar to that to which the renovation and improvement of London are to be ascribed. A dreadful fire broke out in Copenhagen, in 1728. Five churches and sixty-seven streets were destroyed; the whole of which, and many others, have since been rebuilt in modern style. The new part of the town, raised by king Frederick V., (1746–1766) is extremely beautiful, scarcely inferior to Bath. It consists of an octagon, containing four uniform and elegant buildings of hewn stone, and of four broad streets leading to it in opposite directions. Part of Copenhagen, which is called Christianshafen, is built upon the isle of Amak.
The British commander, unwilling to injure the city, had hitherto confined his offensive operations to the adjacent suburbs. It was, however, notified to the Danes in occupation as a garrison, that unless the terms proposed for the surrender of the fleet were immediately accepted, an attack might be expected. On the 31st of August the platform was raised, and the mortar batteries were ready for action. General Pieman, the governor, having refused to listen to the proposals forwarded, a vigorous fire was opened from the batteries and bomb-vessels, and in a few hours it was observed that the city was on fire in several places: the bombardment continued with little intermission till the evening of the 7th of September. By that time extensive injury had ensued, and it became evident that if the bombardment continued much longer, the city would be reduced to ashes. A flag of truce was in this extremity despatched, requesting a suspension of hostilities for twenty-four hours, to afford time for proposing terms of capitulation. The reply of Lord Cathcart was that nothing of the kind could be entertained, unless grounded on the entire and unconditional surrender of the Danish fleet. This was a bitter pill; but necessity, which has often laid the mighty in the dust, compelled the besieged to take it; and in the night of the 7th of September the articles of capitulation were settled, to be ratified the following morning. According to these, the British were put into possession of the citadel and dockyards, all the ships of war and naval stores were to be delivered up, a mutual restoration of prisoners was to take place, private property to be respected, and in the space of six weeks the citadel to be restored to the King of Denmark, and the whole island of Zealand to be evacuated by the British army. In consequence of this capitulation, we were put into possession of sixteen sail of the line, fifteen frigates, six brigs, and twenty-five gunboats, all of which were nearly ready for sea. A vast abundance of stores of all kinds necessary to equip or build a fleet were found in the arsenals. It was therefore necessary to load all the ships of the line and frigates which were delivered up with masts, spars, and timber; so that ninety-two transports were employed to bring the property to England.
Whatever may be the opinion respecting the justice or policy of the expedition to Copenhagen, there can be but one relative to the mode in which Lord Cathcart conducted it. While he did all that his duty as an officer required, he was throughout the whole of the operations attentive to the suffering Danes: he levied no contributions; not the slightest military excess was committed; and had it not been that the British army was engaged in bombarding their capital, the Danes might have taken them for friends and allies, instead of hostile troops. Even after the surrender of Copenhagen, we were not quartered in it for some days, the Danish troops remaining in possession of all the gates but that which was connected with the citadel. No interference took place with respect to the police or any other internal regulation of the city, and everything was done to tranquillise the public mind; but all was in vain to reconcile the Danish government or people to the bombardment of the capital and the seizure of their fleet in time of peace. As might have been foreseen, the outrage was deemed intolerable: it is true they were plundered with comparative politeness,—nobody hurt them when their treasures were given up; still that did not alter the character of the transaction: it conferred honour upon the agencies employed, who might, without any special departure from the laws of war, have added fierceness to bravery, and wasted what they did not want. But the national spirit of the Danes was roused to unquenchable indignation; they considered themselves the victims of lawless freebooters, superior to themselves only in brute force, and infinitely inferior in everything else. Under feelings excited by these galling considerations war was proclaimed between Denmark and Great Britain.