Part 7

Here lies Copenhagen, the charger ridden by the Duke of Wellington the entire day of the battle of Waterloo. Born 1808, died 1836.

God’s humbler instrument though meaner clay Should share the glory of that glorious day.

[Illustration: WELLINGTON’S WATERLOO CHARGER “COPENHAGEN”

FROM THE PAINTING BY JAMES WARD, R.A.]

As we stood by “Copenhagen’s” grave in the summer of 1872, the duke said to me:

Several years after my father’s death an old servant of the family came to me in the library, and, producing a paper parcel, spoke as follows: “Your Grace, I do not believe that I have long to live, and before I die I wish to place in your hands what belongs to you.” With no small degree of surprise I inquired what it was, and when he opened the package and produced a horse’s hoof he said: “Your Grace, when Copenhagen died I cut off this hoof. None of us imagined that the duke would trouble his head about the body of the war-horse, but, to our great surprise, he walked down to the stables on his sudden return from London to see him buried. He instantly observed that his right forefoot was gone, and was in a fearful passion. No one dared tell him how it happened. I have preserved the hoof carefully for thirty years, and I now return it to your Grace.”

[Illustration: GRANT’S THREE FAVORITE WAR-HORSES: “EGYPT” (ON THE LEFT), “CINCINNATI” (IN THE MIDDLE), AND “JEFF DAVIS” (ON THE RIGHT)

By permission of “Harper’s Weekly”

SHERMAN’S FAVORITE STEED “LEXINGTON”

FROM A DRAWING BY THURE DE THULSTRUP

SHERIDAN’S FAMOUS WAR-HORSE “WINCHESTER”]

Lady de Ros, the last survivor of those who danced at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball in Brussels on the evening before the battle of Waterloo, also the last among those who had mounted “Copenhagen,” published a little volume of recollections of Wellington which contained the following extract:

We often stayed with the duke at Abbaye, Mount St. Martin, Cambrai, and one morning he announced that there would be a sham battle, and that he had given orders to Sir George Scovell that the ladies riding should be taken prisoners, so he recommended our keeping close to him. I had no difficulty in doing so, as I was riding the duke’s Waterloo charger “Copenhagen,” and I found myself the only one within a square where they were firing. To the duke’s great amusement, he heard one of the soldiers saying to another: “Take care of that ’ere horse; he kicks out. We knew him well in Spain,” pointing to “Copenhagen.” He was a most unpleasant horse to ride, but always snorted and neighed with pleasure at the sight of troops. I was jumping with him when the stirrup broke, and I fell off. In the evening the duke had a dance, and said to me, “Here’s the heroine of the day--got kicked off, and didn’t mind it.”

[Illustration: LEE’S CELEBRATED CHARGER “TRAVELLER”]

The first Duchess of Wellington, with whom “Copenhagen” was a great favorite, wore a bracelet of his hair, as did several of her friends. Her daughter-in-law, the second duchess, who died in August, 1894, and who was much admired by the great duke, accompanying him on his last visit to the field of Waterloo, showed the writer a bracelet and breastpin made of “Copenhagen’s” mane. On my last sojourn of several days at Strathfieldsaye in September, 1883, I received from the second duke as a parting gift a precious lock of the Waterloo hero’s hair and a sheaf of the charger’s tail. It may be mentioned _en passant_ that Sir William Gomm’s redoubtable Waterloo charger “Old George,” once mounted by Wellington, which lived to the unusual age for war-horses of thirty-three years, is buried beneath a stone seat at Stoke Pogis, the pastoral scene of Gray’s familiar and beautiful elegy.

On the authority of his eldest son, who mentioned the circumstance to the writer, it may be stated in conclusion that the last time Wellington walked out of Walmer Castle, on the afternoon of the day previous to his death, it was to visit his stable and to give orders to the groom concerning his horses.

* * * * *

Chief among the most celebrated battle-chargers of the nineteenth century was “Marengo,” Napoleon’s favorite war-horse. He was named in honor of one of the most remarkable victories ever achieved by the illustrious soldier. The day was lost by the French, and then gained by the resistless charges of cavalry led by Desaix and Kellermann. Their success caused the beaten infantry to rally and, taking heart, to attack the Austrians with fury, and the field was finally won. In view of the several hundred biographies of Bonaparte, it is certainly surprising that so little should be known with any degree of certainty concerning the world-famous Arab which he rode for eight hours at Waterloo, and previously in scores of battles, as well as during the disastrous Russian campaign. To an American visitor to the Bonapartes at Chiselhurst in the summer of 1872, Louis Napoleon, in speaking of his own horses and those of his uncle, said:

The emperor’s “Marengo” was an Arabian of good size and style and almost white. He rode him in his last battle of Mont St. Jean, where the famous war-horse received his seventh wound. I mounted him once in my youth, and only a short time before his death in England at the age of thirty-six. Another favorite was “Marie,” and was used by the emperor in many of his hundred battles. Her skeleton is to be seen in the ancient castle of Ivenach on the Rhine, the property of the Von Plessen family. Of the other sixty or seventy steeds owned by Napoleon and used in his campaigns, perhaps the most celebrated were “Ali,” “Austerlitz,” “Jaffa,” and “Styrie.” He had nineteen horses killed under him.

The American might have mentioned, but did not, that Field-Marshal Blücher had twenty shot in battle, while in the American Civil War Generals Custer of the North and Forrest of the South are believed to have lost almost as many in the short period of four years. “Marie” is thus described by Victor Hugo in the words of a soldier of the Old Guard:

On the day when he [Napoleon] gave me the cross, I noticed the beast. It had its ears very far apart, a deep saddle, a fine head marked with a black star, a very long neck, prominent knees, projecting flanks, oblique shoulders, and a strong crupper. She was a little above fifteen hands high.

When “Marengo” was slightly wounded in the near haunch, Napoleon mounted “Marie,” and finished his final battle on her. On his downfall, a French gentleman purchased “Jaffa” and “Marengo” and sent them to his English estate at Glastonbury, Kent. The tombstone of the former may be seen there, with the inscription, “Under this stone lies Jaffa, the celebrated charger of Napoleon.”

The last trumpet-call sounded for “Marengo” in September, 1829. After his death the skeleton was purchased and presented to the United Service Institution at Whitehall, London, and is at present among its most highly treasured relics. Another interesting souvenir of the famous steed is one of his hoofs, made into a snuff-box, which makes its daily rounds after dinner at the King’s Guards, in St. James’s Palace. On its silver lid is engraved the legend, “Hoof of Marengo, barb charger of Napoleon, ridden by him at Marengo, Austerlitz, Jena, Wagram, in the Russian campaign, and at Waterloo,” and round the silver shoe the legend continues: “Marengo was wounded in the near hip at Waterloo, when his great master was on him in the hollow road in advance of the French. He had frequently been wounded before in other battles.” Near his skeleton may be seen an oil painting of “Marengo,” by James Ward, R.A., who also was commissioned by Wellington to paint a picture of “Copenhagen,” Napoleon’s pocket-telescope, and other articles found in his carriage at Genappe, near Waterloo, where he was nearly captured, but escaped by mounting the fleet “Marengo.” In the museum is also displayed the saddle used by Blücher at Waterloo, and a letter written by the fiery old field-marshal, the day after the fierce battle, of which the following is a translation:

Gossalines June 19, 1815.

You remember, my dear wife, what I promised you, and I have kept my word. The superiority of the enemy’s numbers obliged me to give way on the 17th; but yesterday, in conjunction with my friend Wellington, I put an end forever to Bonaparte’s dancing. His army is completely routed, and the whole of his artillery, baggage, caissons, and equipage are in my hands. I have had two horses killed under me since the beginning of this short campaign. It will soon be all over with Bonaparte.

From a recent Paris publication, written by General Gourgaud, we learn that at St. Helena Napoleon said that the finest charger he ever owned was not the famous “Marengo,” but one named “Mourad Bey,” of which, unfortunately, no further information is afforded by the French general. In his St. Helena diary, Gourgaud writes:

L’Empereur passé à l’equitation. Il n’avait pas peur à cheval, parce qu’il n’avait jamais appris. “J’avais de bons chevaux le Mourad-Bey etait le meilleur et le plus beau à l’armée d’Italie. J’en avait un excellent: Aussi, pour invalide, l’ai-je mis à Saint-Cloud, où il passait en liberté.”

The last horse used by Napoleon was purchased at St. Helena. He was a small bay of about fifteen hands called “King George,” but afterward named by the emperor “Scheik,” which became much attached to him. Captain Frederick Lahrbush of the Sixtieth Rifles, who was then stationed on the island and who, as he could speak French, became intimate with Napoleon, gave me a description of “Scheik” and bequeathed to me his silver Waterloo medal and a lock of the emperor’s hair, received as a parting gift on his departure from St. Helena.

* * * * *

As far as I am aware, no great commander ever possessed so valuable a charger as “Cincinnati,” General Grant’s favorite during the fourth year of the Civil War, and after his great victory at Chattanooga, during which he rode “Egypt,” another of his six war-horses. A few weeks later, when in Cincinnati, Grant received the gift of the noble steed, which he named after that city. He was a son of “Lexington,” with a single exception the fastest four-mile thoroughbred that ever ran on an American race-course, having made the distance in 7:19¾ minutes. The general was offered $10,000 for the horse, as his record almost equaled that of his sire and his half-brother “Kentucky.” He was a spirited and superb dark bay of great endurance, Grant riding him almost daily during the Wilderness campaign of the summer of 1864, and until the war closed in the following spring. “Cincinnati” was seventeen hands, and, in the estimation of the illustrious soldier, the grandest horse that he had ever seen, perhaps the most valuable ever ridden by an army commander from the time of Alexander down to our own day.

The general very rarely permitted any person but himself to mount him. Only two exceptions are recalled by the writer, once when Admiral Daniel Ammen, who saved Grant when a small boy from being drowned, visited him at his headquarters at City Point on the James River, and when, a little later, President Lincoln came to the same place from Washington to spend a week with the general. On the admiral’s return from a two-hours’ ride, accompanied by a young aide-de-camp, Grant asked how he liked “Cincinnati.”

Ammen answered, “I have never backed his equal.”

“Nor have I,” said the general.

In his “Personal Memoirs” Grant writes:

Lincoln spent the last days of his life with me. He came to City Point in the last month of the war, and was with me all the time. He lived on a despatch-boat in the river, but was always around headquarters. He was a fine horseman, and rode my horse “Cincinnati” every day. He visited the different camps, and I did all that I could to interest him. The President was exceedingly anxious about the war closing, and was apprehensive that we could not stand another campaign.

Soon after the surrender of General Robert E. Lee and his army at Appomattox Court House, Virginia, in April, 1865, “Cincinnati” was retired from active service, thereafter enjoying almost a decade of peace and comfort on Admiral Ammen’s Maryland estate near Washington until the end came in September, 1874, and he then received honorable burial. The charger is fully entitled to a prominent place among the most celebrated chargers of the nineteenth century, which includes General Lee’s “Traveller,” General Sherman’s “Lexington,” and General Sheridan’s “Winchester,” which died in 1878, and was skilfully mounted by a taxidermist. “Winchester” is included among the relics of the Mexican and later wars in the interesting collection of the Military Service Institution on Governor’s Island, New York Harbor.

It is interesting to record that Washington, who was six feet and two inches in stature, weighed at the time of the siege of Yorktown 195 pounds; Wellington, five feet seven inches, weighed at Waterloo 140 pounds; Napoleon, five feet six inches, at the same date, 158 pounds; and Grant, five feet eight inches, weighed at Appomattox Court House 145 pounds; General Lee at Gettysburg weighed 180 pounds; Sherman at Atlanta 165 pounds; and Sheridan, in the battle of Cedar Creek, about 150 pounds. Washington was the tallest, and Sheridan the shortest of the seven generals whose war-horses are described in this article. It will be seen, therefore, that Washington’s war-horse “Nelson” had a much heavier weight to carry than the chargers “Copenhagen,” “Marengo,” and “Cincinnati,” in their masters’ concluding campaigns.

* * * * *

The most celebrated charger in the Confederacy during our four years’ war was General Robert E. Lee’s “Traveller,” described to the writer by Sheridan, who first saw him on the day of surrender at Appomattox, as “a chunky gray horse.” He was born near Blue Sulphur Springs in West Virginia in April, 1857, and when a colt won the first prize at the Greenbrier Fair under the name of “Jeff Davis.” When purchased by the great Virginian early in February, 1862, his name was changed by Lee to “Traveller,” his master being very careful always to spell the word with a double _l_. The horse was sixteen hands, above half bred, well developed, of great courage and kindness, and carried his head well up. He liked the excitement of battle, and at such times was a superb and typical war-steed. General Fitzhugh Lee said to me that “Traveller” was much admired for his rapid, springy walk, high spirit, bold carriage, and muscular strength.

It may be doubted if any of the great commanders mentioned in American history possessed greater admiration for a fine horse than General Lee, who said, “There is many a war-horse that is more entitled to immortality than the man who rides him.” On the third day of the battle of Gettysburg, when Pickett’s gallant charge had been successfully repulsed by Hancock, and the survivors of his broken and decimated command were returning to the Confederate position, Lee appeared and spoke encouragingly to his defeated troops. While he was thus occupied, observing an officer beating his horse for shying at the bursting of a shell, he shouted: “Don’t whip him, Captain! Don’t whip him! I have just such another foolish horse myself, and whipping does no good.” A moment later an excited officer rode up to Lee and “Traveller,” and reported the broken condition of his brigade. “Never mind, General,” responded Lee, cheerfully; “all this has been my fault. It is I that have lost the battle, and you must help me out of it in the best way you can.”

As with Napoleon and Wellington at Waterloo, so was it with Grant and Lee, who saw each other but once during their many fierce encounters about Richmond in the eleven months previous to the final surrender, and then only at a great distance, Grant, as he told me, recognizing the gray horse, but not his rider. The illustrious soldiers had met in Mexico while serving under General Scott, but after separating in April, 1865, never saw each other again but once--when General Lee called at the White House to see President Grant.

Soon after the close of the Civil War, Lee accepted the presidency of Washington and Lee University. For five years, until his death, he almost daily rode or fed his favorite charger. At the hero’s funeral, “Traveller” was equipped for service and placed close to the hearse. When the flower-covered coffin was carried out from the church, the faithful horse put his nose on it and whinnied! He survived his attached master for two years, when a nail penetrated his right forefoot while grazing in a field, and, although it was immediately removed, and everything possible was done to save him, lockjaw developed, and he died during the summer of 1872. “Traveller’s” skeleton was preserved, and is to be seen at Lexington, Virginia, as well as Stonewall Jackson’s famous “Sorrel,” which was skilfully set up by a veteran taxidermist. “Traveller,” like Sheridan’s celebrated charger “Winchester,” enjoyed the very great distinction of having his illustrious master for a biographer. In the sketch Lee mentions his other horses, saying: “Of all, ‘Traveller’s’ companions in toil,--‘Richmond,’ ‘Brown Roan,’ ‘Ajax,’ and quiet ‘Lucy Long,’--he is the only one that retained his vigor. The first two expired under their onerous burdens, and the last two failed.” During the Mexican War, the general’s favorite was “Grace Darling,” a handsome and powerful chestnut, which was seven times wounded, but never seriously.

Referring to the photograph of “Traveller,” General Custis Lee wrote to me:

You will observe that my father’s position in the picture which I send you, is that “to gather the horse,” in order to keep him quiet. The legs are crossed behind the girth, and the hand is slightly raised. “Traveller” injured both my father’s hands at the second battle of Manassas, and General Lee could not thereafter hold the reins in the regulation manner.

The brilliant Sherman’s favorite war-horse was killed under him in the first day of the bloody battle of Shiloh, and two others were shot while in charge of his orderly. Later in the four years’ contest his most famous steeds were “Lexington” and “Sam.” The former was a Kentucky thoroughbred, and is mentioned in his memoirs. Sherman was photographed on “Lexington” in Atlanta, and he rode him in the grand review in Washington, May 24, 1865. The horse that under the homely name of “Sam” most firmly established himself in the affection and confidence of the general was a large, half-thoroughbred bay, sixteen and a half hands, which he purchased soon after losing his three steeds at Shiloh. “Sam” possessed speed, strength, and endurance, and was so steady under fire that Sherman had no difficulty in writing orders from the saddle and giving attention to other matters. While as steady as a rock under fire, “Sam” was nevertheless prudent and sagacious in his choice of shelter from hostile shot and shell. The charger was wounded several times when mounted, and the fault was wholly due to his master. He acquired wide reputation as a forager, and always contrived to obtain a full allowance of rations, sometimes escaping on independent expeditions for that purpose.

What first endeared “Sam” to Sherman was that he became a favorite with his son Willie, whom the writer well remembers when he came to Vicksburg on a visit during the siege only a brief period before his untimely death. The general told us that he always felt safe when his boy was absent on “Sam,” knowing that he would keep out of danger and return in time for dinner. Sherman rode him in many pitched battles, and placed him on an Illinois farm, where he was pensioned, dying of extreme old age in the summer of 1884. The general’s son Tecumseh writes: “Sam was hardly the heroic horse to place with the others you mention, but he was a strong, faithful animal who did perfectly the varied and dangerous work allotted to him, and made a march as long and difficult as any recorded in history--that from Vicksburg to Washington,” via Atlanta, Savannah, Columbia, and Richmond.

A few months before his death Sherman said to me: “Now remember, Wilson, when I am gone, you are not to hand around a hat for a monument. I have paid for one in St. Louis, and all you have to do is to place me under it.”

“General,” was the reply, “your wishes shall be respected; but of course your troops of friends and admirers will certainly erect statues in New York and Washington, and I am certain our Society of the Army of the Tennessee will expect to honor their great commander with a statue in some city of the West.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right,” said the old hero, “if they think I am worthy of them; but don’t put me on a circus horse.”

This comment I repeated at the Metropolitan Club luncheon which followed the unveiling of Saint-Gaudens’s equestrian statue of the illustrious soldier. While McKim, who designed the pedestal, the poet Stedman, and others smiled, the gifted sculptor looked solemn. The steed, whose feet are not all where Sherman wished them to be, is supposed to be a counterfeit presentment of “Lexington.”

* * * * *

Philip H. Sheridan, who was in half a hundred battles and skirmishes without ever being wounded, wrote to an army friend in January, 1876:

In regard to the black horse, I am glad to say that he is still living, and is now in my stable. He has been a pensioner for the past eight years, never being used save in the way of necessary exercise. He is of the Black Hawk stock, was foaled at, or near, Grand Rapids, Michigan, and was brought into the army by one of the officers of the Second Michigan Cavalry, of which I was made Colonel in 1862. Early in the spring of that year, while the regiment was stationed at Rienzi, Miss., the horse was presented to me by the officers, and at that time was rising three years old. He is over seventeen hands in height, powerfully built, with a deep chest, strong shoulders, has a broad forehead, a clear eye, and is an animal of great intelligence. In his prime he was one of the strongest horses I have ever known, very active, and the fastest walker in the army, so far as my experience goes.[3] I rode him constantly from 1862 to the close of the war, in all the actions and in all the raids, as well as campaigns in which I took part. He was never ill, and his staying powers were superb. At present he is a little rheumatic, fat and lazy; but he has fairly earned his rest, and so long as I live he will be taken care of.

The celebrated charger died in October, 1878, when Sheridan made a slight addition to his biography, saying:

He always held his head high, and by the quickness of his movements gave many persons the impression that he was exceedingly impetuous. This was not the case, for I could at any time control him by a firm hand and a few words, and he was as cool and quiet under fire as one of my old soldiers. I doubt if his superior for field service was ever ridden by any one.