The battles of the world

by J. Douglas Borthwick

Thus terminated this desperate struggle for popular rights, and which has no parallel in the annals of history. The Parisians left their homes to fight, without organization and almost without arms, against some of the best troops in the world;—and for what? Were they a rabble driven by hunger, or a rebellious nobility endeavouring to wrest new privileges from the monarch? No: they were men who, animated with an ardent desire to be free, would not suffer themselves to be stripped of their civil rights, but firmly and manfully defended them with their lives. It was in this respect a great moral revolution, and forms a brilliant epoch in the annals of the world.”

RETREAT OF THE GREEKS.—Whoever has read the beautiful descriptions of Xenophon, has read of the memorable retreat of the 10,000 Greeks. It happened B.C. 401, after the battle of Cunaxa; Xenophon was chosen commander. He rose superior to danger, and though under continual alarms from the sudden attacks of the Persians, he was enabled to cross rapid rivers, penetrate through vast deserts, gain the tops of mountains, till he could rest secure for a while, and refresh his tired companions. At last they returned home, after a retreat of 1155 parasangs or leagues, which was performed in 215 days,—and after an absence of 15 months.

RIDGEWAY, BATTLE OF, OR LIME RIDGE.—Fought, Saturday, June 2nd, 1866, between the Canadian Volunteers of Toronto and Hamilton, and the Fenians, a lawless band of predatory scoundrels, who wantonly invaded Canada, and were driven back by Canada’s brave sons. The following succinct account is from the pen of the Rev. D. Inglis, D.D., of Hamilton, who was present in the engagement.

“Rev. Mr. Burwash and myself were appointed by a number of the ministers of this city to join the 13th Battalion of Hamilton volunteers, and to render them such assistance as might be in our power. The shadows of night had just given way to the bright light of that June morning when we reached Port Colborne and joined the battalion in the cars, a few minutes before the train left for Ridgeway. Much has been written on the proper rations and equipments for the men, and I only refer to this with the view of noticing the want of shoulder-straps with which to fasten the overcoats on the back of the soldiers, and the fact that they were obliged to roll them up and sling them over their right shoulders, under their left arm-pits, an expedient which afterwards greatly impeded them in aiming and firing, and caused them to abandon their overcoats when going into battle.

The train proceeded slowly to Ridgeway, where the men left the cars and were drawn up on the Stevensville road. The Queen’s Own were in the front, then came the 13th Battalion, and a company of riflemen from Caledonia forming the rear-guard. The men were in good spirits, and I could not look without admiration upon the coolness and intrepidity with which these volunteer soldiers, many of them mere lads, prepared for the advance. The ammunition was distributed to the men, the order given to load with ball cartridge, and then followed an interval of suspense and waiting. The sensation of relief was great when after some minutes of anxiety and impatience the order to advance was given. The position assigned to the waggon containing the ammunition, &c., in which Mr. Burwash and myself were riding, was immediately behind the main body, and in front of the rear guard. When about a mile and a half from Ridgeway several companies of the Queen’s Own were ordered into the fields and woods to clear them of Fenians—and in a short time the first shot was fired—and then in a rapid succession we saw small clouds of blue smoke issuing from the woods, telling us of a rapid discharge of musketry before the reports reached our ears. The sergeants in charge concluded to halt with their waggon, and Mr. Burwash and myself hurried on in the rear of our main body. The Fenian skirmishers fell back upon the main body of their force, who were drawn up in an entrenched position along the Fort Erie road. They had converted a stone wall and the ordinary snake-fences into barricades, and held a strong position; but on the advance of our forces, fearing lest our skirmishers should out-flank them, they retired in good order, and amid rapid firing, to a slightly elevated piece of ground covered with thick woods, some distance in their rear. It was in this advance that Ensign McEachren was mortally wounded. It has been stated that Colonel Booker rushed to the rear calling for a surgeon. I am in a position positively to deny this; the cry for a surgeon was heard by me, but it did not come from the Colonel. Mr. McEachren was borne to the rear by some men of his company, accompanied by the Captain, a noble fellow, whose name I do not know, to whom I at once introduced myself as a minister, and offered to do all I could for his friend. He thanked me with tears in his eyes, and hastened back to the post of danger. Dr. May was in attendance; but a glance at the wound shewed that it was mortal—and it fell to me to inform him of the fact. He received the intelligence as a Christian soldier—informing me that his faith rested in the Lord Jesus Christ. I prayed with him, and after a few moments’ conversation I mentioned Mr. Burwash’s name, and finding that he was an old parishioner of Mr. Burwash, I left him mainly to his care—though I several times spent a few moments with him afterwards. I then returned to the battle-field to see if I could be of use there. Our forces had advanced, throwing out their skirmishers right and left of the skirmishers—Queen’s Own—to the extreme right—13th battalion—the distance was probably a little more than three-quarters of a mile. Not a Fenian was to be seen, but as our brave soldiers advanced, nearer and nearer, there came again first a single shot, and then a rapid discharge of fire-arms along the whole line. From their elevated position, or from what other cause, I know not, the shots went over the heads of our men, and I could see them striking the field behind. I hastened back to the hospital with feelings of admiration for the brave fellows who, exposed to a terrible fire from an unseen foe, so nobly stood their ground, while the sharp crack of their rifles assured me that the gallant fellows were doing their duty amidst those showers of bullets, in spite of all the manifest disadvantages of their position; but I could not rid myself of a feeling of depression and anxiety when I thought of the result.

In the hospital I found a few men slightly wounded. One of them told me there were no litters with which to bear the wounded from the field. I set the men who were on guard to work to make litters with some poles which we found near—and such sheets and blankets as I could lay my hands on—and returned to the field with the men carrying the litters. I took my old position, from which I had a full view of the whole field, and was startled to notice strange movements going on among our men. They had halted—the whole line trembled—I do not mean that the brave men trembled, but there was a movement along their line which I find no other word to describe. The order to receive cavalry was given, and an effort was made to obey it. Then another and another order. The only one which the men seemed eager to obey was the one to advance, and then came the fatal bugle’s notes that told them to retreat, and our men began to fall back. I hurried to the hospital and told the Doctor and Mr. Burwash that I feared the day was against us, but said I would return to the field while they made the necessary preparations to remove the sick and wounded from a place which should soon be the very centre of the battle. When I again reached my old post of observation a shower of bullets fell around me, and before I got back to the hospital, a number of men belonging to the Queen’s Own had got between me and the house. These were quickly followed by a large number of the 13th Battalion, and I was forced to leave without again communicating with my friends. I soon found, however, that the Doctor and his wounded men, as well as Mr. Burwash, had got safely out of that terrible fire.

The descriptions given of the retreat, are, for the most part greatly exaggerated. Some men, it is true, ran away in terror, but the main body, though in confusion, were not panic-stricken. The feeling was one of vexation, and at the very moment when they expected victory, all had unaccountably gone wrong with them. Tears were shed, but they were tears wrung from brave men at the bitter thought of being called to retreat before their foes. In the rear, Major Skinner, with a number of men belonging to the 13th and the Queen’s Own, kept in good order, and so effectually covered our retreat, that the enemy were unaware of the disorder in which the main body were retiring. Beyond all doubt, we were at this point saved from further disaster by the coolness and steadiness of Major Skinner, and the officers and men who were with him.

At Ridgeway the confused and scattered mass of men who got into order through the exertions of a Toronto officer whose name I have been told is Captain Arthurs, and who certainly discharged his duty in a way that marked him out as a man able to control and lead others.

I have refrained from all criticism of the conduct of the officers on whom the responsibilities of this matter lie. I know nothing of military tactics, and it does not become me to say anything of why this little band of volunteers should have been led into a conflict with superior numbers of trained and veteran soldiers without support from artillery or the regulars—it is not my part to say what the commanding officer should or should not have done. This only I am bound to say, that the officers and men of the Queen’s Own and 13th Battalion, behaved throughout the battle with coolness and gallantry—and even the unfortunate retreat only brought out more clearly that, with few exceptions, they were men of unflinching courage. The hospital, no less than the battle-field proved the noble courage of our men, and it would have moved the stoutest heart to tears, to see those boy-heroes suffering as they did, without a murmur or a groan.

Major Gilmore, of the Queen’s Own, and Major Skinner, of the 13th, distinguished themselves greatly, their words of command inspiring their men with courage—while they themselves were steady as rocks under the hottest fire. Indeed, but for Major Skinner’s coolness and power over the men under his command, the retreat of Ridgeway must have resulted in fearful consequences.”