




This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.





GENERAL GORDON:
SAINT AND SOLDIER.


BY
J. WARDLE, C.C.,
A PERSONAL FRIEND.

NOTTINGHAM:
HENRY B. SAXTON, KING STREET.
1904.

{The Author: p6.jpg}




PREFACE.


Nothing but the greatest possible pressure from my many kind friends who
have heard my lecture on "General Gordon: Saint and Soldier," who knew of
my intimacy with him, and had seen some of the letters referred to, would
have induced me to narrate this little story of a noble life.  I am
greatly indebted to many friends, authors, and newspapers, for extracts
and incidents, etc., etc.; and to them I beg to offer my best thanks and
humble apology.  This book is issued in the hope, that, with all its
imperfections, it may inspire the young men of our times to imitate the
Christ-like spirit and example of our illustrious and noble hero, C. G.
Gordon.

J. WARDLE.

THIS BRIEF STORY
OF A
NOBLE, SAINTLY AND HEROIC LIFE,
I DEDICATE WITH MUCH AFFECTION
TO MY SON,
JOSEPH GORDON WARDLE

   "If I am asked, who is the greatest man? I answer, "the best."  And if
   I am requested to say, who is the best, I reply: "he that deserveth
   most of his fellow creatures."

--_Sir William Jones_.




INDEX.


_Chapter_ I.--Introduction--Gordon's birth, parentage and school--His
first experience of warfare in the Crimea--His display of exceptional
soldierly qualities--The storming of Sebastopol and its fall.

_Chapter_ II.--Gordon assisting to lay down frontiers in Russia, Turkey
and Armenia--Gordon in China--Burning of the Summer Palace--Chinese
rebellion and its suppression.

_Chapter_ III.--Gordon at Manchester--My experiences with him--Ragged
School work--Amongst the poor, the old, the sick--Some of his letters to
me, showing his deep solicitude for the lads.

_Chapter_ IV.--Gordon's letters--Leaflet, &c.--His work at
Gravesend--Amongst his "Kings"--His call to foreign service, and leave
taking--The public regret.

_Chapter_ V.--His first appointment as Governor General of the Soudan--His
journey to, and his arrival at Khartoum--His many difficulties--His visit
to King John of Abyssinia, and resignation.

_Chapter_ VI.--Gordon's return to Egypt and welcome by the Khedive--Home
again--A second visit to China--Soudan very unsettled--The Madhi winning
battles--Hicks Pasha's army annihilated--Gordon sent for; agrees again to
go to Khartoum.

_Chapter_ VII.--Gordon's starting for Khartoum (2nd appointment)--His
arrival and reception--Khartoum surrounded--Letter from the Madhi to
Gordon--Gordon's reply--His many and severe trials in Khartoum.

_Chapter_ VIII.--Expedition of Lord Wolseley's to relieve Gordon--Terrible
marches in the desert--Battle of Abu-Klea--Colonel Burnaby killed--Awful
scenes--The Arabs break the British Square--Victory and march to
Mettemmeh.

_Chapter_ IX.--Gordon's Boats, manned by Sir Charles Wilson, fighting up
to Khartoum--Khartoum fallen--Gordon a martyr--Mourning in all lands--Our
Queen's letter of complaint to Gladstone--Gladstone's reply and
vindication--Queen's letters to Gordon's sister--Account of the fall of
Khartoum--Acceptance by the Queen of Gordon's Bible.




CHAPTER I.


   "There is nothing purer than honesty; nothing sweeter than charity;
   nothing warmer than love; nothing richer than wisdom; nothing brighter
   than virtue; nothing more steadfast than faith."--_Bacon_.

It has been said that the most interesting study for mankind is man; and
surely one of the grandest objects for human contemplation, is a noble
character; a lofty type of a truly great and good man is humanity's
richest heritage.

The following lines by one of our greatest poets are true--

   "Lives of great men all remind us,
      We can make our lives sublime,
   And departing leave behind us,
      Footprints on the sands of time."

While places and things may have a special or peculiar charm, and indeed
may become very interesting, nothing stirs our hearts, or rouses our
enthusiasm so much as the study of a noble heroic life, such as that of
the uncrowned king, who is the subject of our story, and whose career of
unsullied splendour closed in the year 1885 in the beleaguered capital of
that dark sad land, where the White and Blue Nile blend their waters.

   "Noble he was contemning all things mean,
   His truth unquestioned and his soul severe,
   At no man's question was he e'er dismayed,
   Of no man's presence was he e'er afraid."

General Gordon was the son of a soldier who proved his gallantry on many
occasions, and who took a pride in his profession.  It was said of him
that he was greatly beloved by all who served under him.  He was
generous, genial and kind hearted, and strictly just in all his practices
and aims.  He gave to his Queen and country a long life of devoted
service.  His wife, we are told, was a woman of marked liberality;
cheerful and loving, always thoughtful of the wants of others; completely
devoid of selfishness.

The fourth son, and third soldier of this happy pair, Charles George, was
born at Woolwich in 1833.  He was trained at Taunton.  When about 15
years of age he was sent to the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich, to
prepare for the army; a profession his father thought most worthy of the
Gordons.  While here at school an incident occurred which served to show
that our young hero was no ordinary student.  His tutor, with an air of
contempt, rebuked him severely for some error or failure in his lessons,
and told him sneeringly he would never make a general.  This roused the
Scotch blood of the budding soldier, and in a rage he tore the epaulettes
from his shoulders, and threw them at his tutor's feet--another proof of
the correctness of the old adage, "Never prophesy unless you know."  By
the time he reached the age of twenty-one, he had become every inch a
soldier, and when tested he proved to have all a soldier's
qualities--bravery, courage, heroism, patriotism, and fidelity,
characteristics of the best soldiers in our army.

Archibald Forbes, writing of him, says "The character of General Gordon
was unique.  As it unfolded in its curiously varied but never
contradictory aspects, you are reminded of Cromwell, of Havelock, of
Livingstone, and of Captain Hedley Viccars.  But Gordon's individuality
stood out in its incomparable blending of masterfulness and tenderness,
of strength and sweetness.  His high and noble nature was made more
chivalrous by his fervent, deep and real piety.  His absolute trust in
God guided him serenely through the greatest difficulties.  Because of
that he was not alone in the deepest solitude.  He was not depressed in
the direst extremity.  He had learned the happy art of leaning upon the
Omnipotent arm."

{Gordon, the hero: p17.jpg}

Early in 1884 a leading newspaper said of him, "General Gordon is without
doubt the finest captain of irregular forces living."  About the same
time Mr. Gladstone said of him, "General Gordon is no common man.  It is
no exaggeration to say he is a hero.  It is no exaggeration to say he is
a Christian hero."  Mr. W. E. Forster also remarked of him, "I know no
other man living for whom I have a greater admiration than General
Gordon.  He is utterly unselfish.  He is regardless of money.  He cares
nothing for fame or glory.  He cares little for life or death.  He is a
deeply religious man.  The world to come, and God's government over this,
are to him the greatest of life's realities.  True heroism has been said
to be a sacrifice of self for the benefit of others.  If this is true,
Gordon has well won the appellation, "The Hero of the Soudan."  His
soldierly qualities were first tested in the Crimea, where we find him in
1854 and 1855.  Here for the first time in his military career he was
brought face to face with all the horrors of actual war, and here for the
first time he saw friend and foe lie locked like brothers in each other's
arms.  Here he got his first baptism of fire; and here he showed the
splendid qualities which in after years made him so famous and so
beloved.  An old soldier who served under him during this terrible
campaign says "I shall never forget that remarkable figure and form,
which was an inspiration to all who knew him, and saw him on the field of
carnage and blood."

He was utterly unconcerned in the midst of dangers and death.  He would
twirl his cane and good humouredly say "Now boys, don't fear, I see no
danger."  On one occasion when engaged in the very thick of a most awful
struggle he said, "Now my boys, I'm your officer, I lead, you follow,"
and he walked literally through a shower of lead and iron with as little
concern apparently, as if he were walking across his own drawing-room;
and he came out of the conflict without a scar.

Sir E. Stanton in his dispatches home, making special reference to our
hero, says--"Young Gordon has attracted the notice of his superiors out
here, not only by his activity, but by his special aptitude for war,
developing itself amid the trenches before Sebastopol, in a personal
knowledge of the enemy's movements, such as no officer has displayed.  We
have sent him frequently right up to the Russian entrenchments to find
out what new moves they are making."  Amid all the excitement of war and
its dangers he never omitted writing to his mother; an example I hope my
readers, if boys, or girls, will studiously copy.  He loved his mother
with the passion of his great loving heart.  Soldier lads often forget
their mother's influence, their mother's prayers, and their mother's God.
Writing home to his mother he says "We are giving the Redan shells day
and night, in order to prevent the Russians from repairing it and they
repay us by sending amongst us awful missiles of death and destruction,
and it requires one to be very nimble to keep out of their way.  I have
now been thirty-four times, twenty-four hours in the trenches; that is
more than a month without any relief whatever, and I assure you it gets
very tedious.  Still one does not mind if any advance is being made."

An eye witness of this bloody work in the trenches and the storming of
the Malakof and the Redan, writes:--

   "On that terrible 8th of September, every gun and mortar that our
   people and our noble allies, the French, could bring to bear upon the
   enemy's work, was raining death and destruction upon them.  The
   stormers had all got into their places.  They consisted of about 1,000
   men of the Old Light and 2nd Division; the supports were formed up as
   closely as possible to them, and all appeared in readiness.  History
   may well say, 'the storming of a fortress is an awful task.'  There we
   stood not a word being spoken; every one seemed to be full of thought;
   many a courageous heart, that was destined to be still in death in one
   short hour, was now beating high."

   "It was about 11.15 a.m., and our heavy guns were firing in such a way
   as I have never heard before.  The batteries fired in volleys or
   salvoes as fast as they could load and fire, the balls passing a few
   feet above our heads, while the air seemed full of shell.  The enemy
   were not idle; for round shot, shell, grape and musket balls were
   bounding and whizzing all about us, and earth and stones were rattling
   about our heads like hail.  Our poor fellows fell fast, but still our
   sailors and artillery men stuck to it manfully.  We knew well that
   this could not last long, but many a brave soldier's career was cut
   short long before we advanced to the attack--strange some of our older
   hands were smoking and taking not the slightest notice of this 'dance
   of death.'  Some men were being carried past dead, and others limping
   to the rear with mangled limbs, while their life's blood was streaming
   fast away.  We looked at each other with amazement for we were now
   under a most terrible fire.  We knew well it meant death to many of
   us.  Several who had gone through the whole campaign shook hands
   saying, 'This is hot,' 'Good bye, old boy,' 'Write to the old folks
   for me if I do not return.'  This request was made by many of us.  I
   was close to one of our Generals, who stood watch in hand, when
   suddenly at 12 o'clock mid-day the French drums and bugles sounded the
   charge, and with a shout, 'Vive l'Empereur' repeated over and over
   again by some 50,000 men, a shout that was enough to strike terror
   into the enemy.  The French, headed by the Zouaves, sprang forward at
   the Malakof like a lot of cats.  On they went like a lot of bees, or
   rather like the dashing of the waves of the sea against a rock.  We
   had a splendid view of their operations, it was grand but terrible;
   the deafening shouts of the advancing hosts told us they were carrying
   all before them."

   "They were now completely enveloped in smoke and fire, but column
   after column kept advancing, pouring volley after volley into the
   breasts of the defenders.  They (the French) meant to have it, let the
   cost be what it might.  At 12.15 up went the proud flag of France,
   with a shout that drowned for a time the roar of both cannon and
   musketry.  And now came our turn.  As soon as the French were seen
   upon the Malakof our stormers sprang forward, led by Colonel
   Windham--the old Light Division consisting of 300 men of the 90th,
   about the same number of the 97th, and about 400 of the 2nd Battalion
   Rifle Brigade, and with various detachments of the 2nd and Light
   Divisions, and a number of blue jackets, carrying scaling ladders.  Our
   men advanced splendidly, with a ringing British cheer, although the
   enemy poured a terrible fire of grape, canister and musketry into
   them, which swept down whole companies at a time.  We, the supports,
   moved forward to back up our comrades.  We advanced as quickly as we
   could until we came to the foremost trench, when we leaped the
   parapet, then made a rush at the blood stained walls of the Redan.  We
   had had a clear run of over 200 yards under that murderous fire of
   grape, canister and musketry.  How any ever lived to pass that 200
   yards seemed a miracle; for our poor fellows fell one on the top of
   another; but nothing could stop us but death.  On we went shouting
   until we reached the redoubt.  The fighting inside these works was of
   the most desperate character, butt and bayonet, foot and fist; the
   enemy's guns were quickly spiked: this struggle lasted about an hour
   and a half.  It was an awful time, about 3,000 of our brave soldiers
   were slain in this short period."  Our hero Gordon, tells us that on
   the evening of this 8th of September--

   "I heard most terrific explosions, the earth seemed to be shaken to
   its very centre;--It was afterwards discovered the enemy's position
   was no longer tenable, so they had fired some 300 tons of gunpowder,
   which had blown up all their vast forts and magazines.  O! what a
   night: many of our poor fellows had been nearly buried in the
   _debris_, and burning mass: the whole of Sebastopol was in flames.  The
   Russians were leaving it helter-skelter--a complete rout, and a heavy
   but gloriously-won victory."

For his acknowledged ability, his fine heroism, and his true loyalty to
his superiors during this most trying campaign, he received the
well-earned decoration of the Legion of Honour from the French
Government, a mark of distinction very rarely conferred upon so young an
officer.

   "God gives us men, a time like that demands.
   Strong minds, great hearts, true faith and ready hands;
   Men whom the lusts of office cannot kill,
   Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy,
   Men who possess opinions and a will,
   Men who have honour, men who never lie."

We must not leave this part of our story without a brief notice of one
whose name will live in song and story, when this generation shall have
passed away.  Many noble English ladies bravely went out to nurse the
suffering soldiers; but in this noble band was one whose name remains a
synonym for kindly sympathy, tenderness and peace--Miss Florence
Nightingale.

The following lines were written in her praise--

   "Britain has welcomed home with open hand
   Her gallant soldiers to their native land;
   But one alone the Nation's thanks did shun,
   Though Europe rings with all that she hath done;
   For when will shadow on the wall e'er fail,
   To picture forth fair Florence Nightingale:
   Her deeds are blazoned on the scroll of fame,
   And England well may prize her deathless name."




CHAPTER II.


   "The greatness of a nation depends upon the men it can breed and
   rear.--_Froude_.

The war over and peace duly established, Lieutenant Gordon (for so he was
then) accompanied General Sir Lintorn Simmons to Galatz, where, as
assistant commissioner, he was engaged in fixing the new frontiers of
Russia, Turkey and Roumania.  In 1857, when his duties here were
finished, he went with the same officer to Armenia; there, in the same
capacity, he was engaged in laying down the Asiatic frontiers of Russia
and Turkey.  When this work was completed he returned home and was
quartered at Chatham, and employed for a time as Field Work Instructor
and Adjutant.  In 1860, now holding the rank of Captain, he joined the
Army in China, and was present at the surrender of Pekin; and for his
services he was promoted to the rank of Major.



THE BURNING OF THE SUMMER PALACE.


"On the eleventh of October," Gordon relates, "we were sent down in a
hurry to throw up earth works against the City; as the Chinese refused to
give up the gate we demanded their surrender before we could treat with
them.  They were also required to give up the prisoners.  You will be
sorry to hear the treatment they have suffered has been very bad.  Poor
De Norman, who was with me in Asia, is one of the victims.  It appears
they were tied so tight by the wrists that the flesh mortified, and they
died in the greatest torture.  Up to the time that elapsed before they
arrived at the Summer Palace, they were well treated, but then the ill-
treatment began.  The Emperor is supposed to have been there at the time.

But to go back to the work, the Chinese were given until twelve on the
13th, to give up the gate.  We made a lot of batteries, and everything
was ready for assault of the wall, which is a battlement, forty feet
high, but of inferior masonry; at 11.30 p.m., however, the gate was
opened, and we took possession; so our work was of no avail.  The Chinese
had then, until the 23rd, to think over our terms of treaty, and to pay
up ten thousand pounds (10,000 pounds) for each Englishman, and five
hundred pounds (500 pounds) for each native soldier who had died during
their captivity.  This they did, and the money was paid, and the treaty
signed yesterday.  I could not witness it, as all officers commanding
companies were obliged to remain in camp, owing to the ill-treatment the
prisoners experienced at the Summer Palace.  The General ordered this to
be destroyed, and stuck up proclamations to say why it was ordered.  We
accordingly went out, and after pillaging it, burned the whole
magnificent palace, and destroyed most valuable property, which could not
be replaced for millions of pounds.

"This Palace" (wrote the author of _Our Own Times_), "covered an area of
many miles.  The Palace of Adrian, at Tivoli, might have been hidden in
one of its courts.  Gardens, temples, small lodges and pagodas, groves,
grottoes, lakes, bridges, terraces, artificial hills, diversified the
vast space.  All the artistic treasures, all the curiosities,
archaeological and other, that Chinese wealth and taste, such as it was,
could bring together."  Gordon notes, "This palace, with its surrounding
buildings, over two hundred in number, covered an area eight by ten miles
in extent."  He says, "it makes one's heart burn to see such beauty
destroyed; it was as if Windsor Palace, South Kensington Museum, and
British Museum, all in one, were in flames: you can scarcely imagine the
beauty and magnificence of the things we were bound to destroy."

"These palaces were so large, and we were so pressed for time, that we
could not plunder them carefully.  Quantities of gold ornaments were
burned, considered as brass.  It was wretchedly demoralizing for an army:
everybody was wild for plunder...  The throne and room were lined with
ebony, carved in a wonderful manner.  There were huge mirrors of all
shapes and sizes, clocks, watches, musical boxes with puppets on them,
magnificent china of every description, heaps and heaps of silks of all
colours, coral screens, large amounts of treasures, etc.  The French have
smashed up everything in a most shameful way.  It was a scene of utter
destruction which passes my description."  This was not much in Gordon's
line.

In the following year he made a tour on horseback to the outer wall of
China at Kalgan, accompanied by Lieutenant Cardew.  A Chinese lad of the
age of fourteen, who knew a little English, acted as their servant and
interpreter, while their personal luggage was conveyed in the Chinese
carts.  In the course of this tour we are told they passed through
districts which had never before been visited by any European.  At Kalgan
the great wall was seen, with its parapet about twenty-two feet high, and
sixteen feet broad.  Both sides were solid brick, each being three times
the size of our English bricks.  Gordon writes: "It is wonderful to see
the long line of wall stretching over the hills as far as the eye can
reach."  From Kalgan they travelled westwards to Taitong; here they saw
huge caravans of camels laden with tea going towards Russia.  Here they
were forced to have the axle trees of their carts widened, for they had
come into a great part of the country where the wheels were set wider
than in the provinces whence they came.  Their carts, therefore, no
longer fitted into the deep ruts which had been worn into the terribly
bad roads.  The main object of their journey was to find out if there was
in the Inner Wall any pass besides the Tchatiaou which on that side of
the country led from the Russian territory to Pekin.  It was not until
they reached Taiyuen that they struck the road that led to Pekin or
Tientsin.

Their first bit of trouble on this somewhat venturesome tour occurred