At this moment, it is generally thought, the allies were within reach
of grave disaster. Had Mentschikoff been a Napoleon or a Wellington,
with the genius to see and the skill to use his opportunity, he might
now have dealt a crushing blow at the allies. He was in between his
foes: one army was caught amongst a difficult country, and separated
in two parts by a wide interval; the other army, not yet engaged. Had
he sent his cavalry to hold the English in check, just as the German
cavalry at Mars la Tour with such desperate gallantry turned Bazaine
back to Metz, he might have fallen upon Canrobert and almost eaten
him up. The utter defeat of one French division at this early part of
the day would have probably decided the battle, and in favour of the
Russians.
But such masterly tactics were not to be expected from such an
incapable general. All Mentschikoff could do when Bosquet scaled the
west cliff, was to hurry up eight battalions from his reserve to
confront him; then, hesitating to join issue, to march them back whence
they came, and thus lose their services for more than an hour. His
cavalry remained inactive till the golden opportunity was lost, and
then he found himself so fiercely assailed by the hitherto despised
English that he lost the power of the offensive.
While the French were in this critical condition, the English, who were
also jeopardised, still remained passive, halted, and lying down under
a dropping artillery fire. But now, at length, Lord Raglan gave the
signal for attack; and the order was received with soldier-like glee
by our troops, to whom the long inaction was very irksome. At last the
battle was to be fought in real earnest, but to understand what follows
we must realise exactly how our forces were arrayed.
1. Sir De Lacy Evans with the 2nd Division stood next the French. His
right rested on the village of Bourliouk opposite the causeway bridge;
his left joined on to and was rather jammed in with the right of--
2. The Light Division under Sir George Brown, who faced the Kourgané
hill, with its two redoubts heavily armed, and a garrison of eighteen
battalions: a very formidable position to storm. At the same time his
left was what soldiers call “in the air”--resting on nothing, that is
to say, and exposed.
3. Immediately behind the Light Division came the Duke of Cambridge
with the 1st, composed of the Guards and the Highland Brigades.
4. The 3rd Division supported the 2nd, but at a long interval.
5. The cavalry under Lords Cardigan and Lucan, not a thousand sabres,
were held withdrawn to the left rear.
6. The 4th Division of infantry were a long way behind, and did not
come up till after the action.
The first fighting fell to Evans, but at the moment of his advance
the enemy set fire to the village of Bourliouk, which burst up
into instantaneous flames, and Evans, to avoid it, drew one
brigade--Pennefather’s--to the left, and sent the other--Adams’--by a
long _détour_ to his right, where it was in touch with the French.
All Pennefather’s men got across the river, but were stayed by the
fierce fire of the causeway batteries; and one of his regiments--the
95th--crushed in by the right of the Light Division, joined it and its
fortunes for the rest of the day. Evans had thus only three battalions
left, and with so scanty a force he could make no impression: he could
but simply hold his ground beyond the river.
[Illustration: “THEN YOUNG ANSTRUTHER RACED FORWARD”
(_p._ 178).]
Part of the Light Division, the right, or Codrington’s Brigade, was
soon engaged in a weightier battle. The left, or Buller’s, also moved
forward, but being entrusted with the protection of the exposed flank
of the whole army, two of its regiments were held in hand while the
rest became involved in Codrington’s attack; for this gallant soldier
was no sooner across the river with his regiments all disorganised, and
in no sort of formation, than he led them immediately forward.
His superior officer, the divisional general, Sir George Brown, was
not within hail, and Codrington felt that his plain duty was to go
ahead. He himself headed the desperate charge upon the Great Redoubt,
which was now made in quite inferior numbers, and in the teeth of a
murderous fire of big guns. His colonels, especially Lacy Yea of the
7th Fusiliers, took the cue, and springing to the front cried to their
men:
“Come on--never mind forming! Come on anyhow.”
“Forward! forward!” was the universal cry of all; pell-mell,
higgledy-piggledy, but always straight on, the first brigade of the
Light Division rushed up the slope.
The Russians were really in tremendous strength. There were heavy
columns of them all around; the Redoubt was armed with twelve big
guns, yet they could not resist an onslaught which seemed only the
vanguard of an imposing attack.
There was another cause, no doubt, for their weakness, as we shall
presently see; but now already they were limbering up their guns
and going to the rear. Then young Anstruther, a mere boy fresh from
school, raced forward with the Queen’s colour of the 23rd, and placed
it triumphantly on the crown of the breastworks. He was shot dead, the
colour falling with him. A sergeant, Luke O’Connor, following close,
succeeded to his mission, and raised the flag erect.
[Illustration: MARSHAL ST. ARNAUD.]
He, too, was struck down, but would not yield, and although desperately
wounded, carried the colours for the rest of the day. This was the
crisis of the fight; the flag was the rallying point; crowds came
rushing in, and the Redoubt was carried--for a time. The battle itself
would probably have been completely won had reinforcements been at
hand. But the 1st Division, which had been ordered to support the Light
Division, had not yet crossed the river. Its advance was hastened by
the Quartermaster-General, General Airey, speaking for Lord Raglan,
who, as we shall see, was at another part of the field. So the Duke
of Cambridge moved forward, but slowly; the Guards Brigade to the
right, in line--a well-dressed two-deep “thin, red line,” which kept
its formation even when crossing the stream, each man walking on
whatever was before him, shallow water or deep pool. On the left were
Sir Colin Campbell’s three famous Highland regiments--the 42nd, 93rd,
and 79th--advancing in an echelon of deployed lines, one behind and
a little further to the left of the one in front of it. Such a stern
array would have more than sufficed to stiffen our hold upon the Great
Redoubt; but it came too late, and other untoward events had also
occurred.
The Russians, of whom there were eighteen battalions in these parts,
could not brook the loss of the Redoubt to what seemed only a handful
of redcoats, and they came forward again in great strength to recover
the work. The Vladimir regiment, approaching close, was mistaken
for a French column, and no one fired at it; then some misguided
English bugler sounded the “retire”--by whose orders it was never
ascertained--but the call was taken up and repeated, till at length,
most reluctantly, Codrington’s men in possession of the Redoubt
prepared to leave it. They clung for a time to its reverse slopes, but
presently gave way, and under a murderous fire retreated down the hill.
Only indomitable Lacy Yea, with his bold regiment, the 7th Fusiliers,
refused to withdraw, and, in line against a column double his strength,
alone maintained the fight.
All this time the French were not prospering. Bosquet still clung,
isolated, upon the west cliff; Canrobert had climbed it, but had made
no forward movement; Prince Napoleon stood halted, irresolute, on the
safe side of the river. The Russian general in command of the centre,
which was posted around the Telegraph Height, now put in motion eight
of his battalions, in dense double column, and crossed the plateau
to smite Canrobert, who forthwith crumbled back over the cliff. He
had supports at hand--a brigade (D’Aurelle’s) of Forey’s Division,
which was on the hilly road jammed in between him and Prince Napoleon,
and the Prince himself was close behind; but these supports were in
marching columns, with no frontage for attack, and could not help
Canrobert. Had Kiriakoff, the Russian general, pressed on, he would
probably have completely “rolled up” the French. But he paused, and the
battle meanwhile passed into a fresh phase.
Strange as it may seem, the turning-point in the action was a
hazardous, and, speaking by the book, a perfectly indefensible step
taken by the English commander-in-chief. Lord Raglan, with his staff
and a few dragoons--not twenty horsemen in all--had ridden boldly,
blindly, into the very centre of the enemy’s line. He had gone down
towards Bourliouk, but avoiding the burning village, and, anxious to
see what was in progress beyond the river, had dashed into it, crossed,
and galloped up the opposite slope. He came out at a point under the
Telegraph Height and _above_ the causeway, and thence could survey
at ease--for no enemy, happily, was near enough to injure him--the
whole state of the battle. Better still, he looked into the enemy’s
line of defence, taking it in reverse, and realised at once the
supreme advantage his really dangerous position gave him.
“If only we had a couple of guns up here!” he cried, and two artillery
officers--Dacres and Dickson, who rode with his staff--dashed off
to fetch them, while General Airey was sent to bring up the nearest
infantry, Adams’ brigade of Evans’ 2nd Division.
The messengers found Turner’s battery struggling across the ford, and
Turner himself hurried up two of his guns, which were soon unlimbered
and worked--one, at least--by Colonel Dickson’s own hands.
[Illustration: The Battle of the ALMA.]
Their very first shot was a surprise to the whole field. It proved to
the enemy, whose guns were posted in advance in the causeway, that they
had been taken in reverse and had better retire. It overjoyed Evans,
who still stood checked by this causeway battery. “Hark! that is an
English gun,” he cried, and prepared at once to advance, knowing that
the barrier in front would soon be removed. And so it was. Evans swept
forward triumphantly with his three remaining regiments, their left
still covered by stout Lacy Yea and his splendid Fusiliers, who just
about this time had finally conquered the Russian column with which
they had so long been engaged. Yea’s obstinate heroism had not only
paved the way for the advance of the 2nd Division, but it had made
another attack possible upon the Kourgané Hill.
The Scots Fusilier Guards had been the first of the Duke of Cambridge’s
troops to get across the river in support of Codrington’s discomfited
brigade. The Russians on the hill now numbered some 15,000 men, part of
them being the Vladimir column, which had retaken the Great Redoubt.
A very stout resistance was made. The Scots Fusiliers were met with
so bold a front and such a withering fire that they fell back in
some disorder. It seemed as though the Grenadier Guards would also
be involved, but this regiment, under Colonel Hood, stood firm, and
presently advanced in beautiful order--a well-dressed, steady line, as
perfect as though it was in Hyde Park. To the left of the Scots Guards
were the Coldstreams, another regiment in magnificent array, which had
not been touched by the fire, and moved up the hill with admirable
precision. The Duke of Cambridge rode with the Coldstreams.
So fierce was the fight into which the Guards now entered, so
strong the opposition, that some cried in alarm, “The Brigade will
be destroyed.” There was a talk of falling back, and then it was
that stout old Sir Colin Campbell made his famous speech to the
Duke:--“Better, sir, that every man in her Majesty’s Guards should lie
dead upon the field than that they should turn their backs upon the
enemy.” The Guards needed no stiffening--they were only too eager to
get on. But Campbell did more than exhort in words. He had here, close
at hand, his three superb Highland regiments, and he was ready to use
them, to the last man, in support.
The Highlanders were now on the left of the whole line. Although
Buller’s two regiments on this extremity, the 88th and the 77th,
had held their own during the day, they were now beginning to fall
back. But Campbell took charge of the flank, and, despising the still
irresolute Russian cavalry, he brought up his deployed regiments in
echelon, and prolonging our line, threw them at the Russian right. Our
front was very extensive, for the line was only the depth of two men;
but it looked so threatening, that the Russian general, Gortschakoff,
concluding there were heavy masses behind, thought himself outnumbered
and overpowered.
[Illustration: THE HIGHLANDERS AT THE ALMA.]
Sir Colin spoke a few words of encouragement to his men. “Be
steady--keep silence--fire low;” and then, with fierce emphasis, he
finished--“Now, men, the army will watch us: make me proud of the
Highland Brigade!” He was about to engage twelve battalions with his
three; each regiment as it advanced, the 42nd first, seemed to be
outflanked by a heavy column; but beyond each flank came the next
regiment in the echelon behind, and in this formation the Highlanders
carried all before them. The Russians, after another despairing and
unavailing stand, began to retreat, and the Guards and Highlanders took
possession of the Kourgané Hill.
[Illustration: “TURNER HIMSELF HURRIED UP TWO OF HIS
GUNS” (_p._ 179).]
All this time Lord Raglan had held his ground--no longer
perilous--above the causeway; but now he was joined by Adams’ two
regiments, and a red line was seen surmounting the slope. He left
them there, to be used, if needs were, in hastening the retreat of
the Russian columns; a brigade of the 3rd Division, Eyre’s, had also
arrived, and was across the Bourliouk bridge. Now the French made
head against Kiriakoff, who could not hold out with his comrades in
full retreat; and as he fell back Canrobert came on, and, gaining the
heights, took full possession of the Telegraph Hill. There was very
little more fighting to be done, except with a handful of forgotten
riflemen: the Russians were gone. Following Canrobert, Prince Napoleon
and D’Aurelle advanced, so that soon two strong and unbroken French
divisions and a whole brigade occupied the ground.
Then followed the grievous mistake of not following up the beaten
enemy. It was clear that the English could not do this with effect:
the bulk of our men had been engaged, we had suffered severely, and
the survivors were worn out with their exertions. Our cavalry could do
little against the Russian, which was still quite fresh, and ready,
if not too anxious, to cover the retreat. Lord Raglan hoped that the
French would now reap the full advantage of the victory, and urged St.
Arnaud to press on in pursuit. The only answer was that any further
advance of the French that day was “impossible.” The men, when moving
up to the attack, had left their knapsacks on the other side of the
river, and they could not go on without them. So the Russian army,
which was now nearly dissolved, a broken, helpless mass of fugitives,
was suffered to continue its headlong retreat upon Sebastopol. A little
more energy on the part of the victors would have dealt a crushing blow
and probably annihilated it.
In this first error was sown the seeds of the long and disastrous siege
of Sebastopol.
[Illustration: LORD RAGLAN.
(_From the Painting by Andrew Morton._)]
[Illustration:
AUSTERLITZ
BY C. STEIN]
On the 21st of November, 1805, a striking and warlike cavalcade was
traversing at a slow pace a wide and elevated plateau in Moravia. In
front, on a grey barb, rode a short, sallow-faced man with dark hair
and a quick, eager glance, whose notice nothing seemed to escape.
His dress was covered by a grey overcoat, which met a pair of long
riding-boots, and on his head was a low, weather-stained cocked hat.
He was followed by a crowd of officers, evidently of high rank, for
their uniforms, saddle-cloths, and plumed hats were heavily laced, and
they had the bold, dignified bearing of leaders of men. In front and in
the flanks of the party were scattered watchful vedettes, and behind
followed a strong squadron of picked cavalry in dark green dolmans
with furred pelisses slung over their shoulders, and huge fur caps
surmounted by tall red plumes. The leading horseman rode in silence
over the plateau, first to one point then to another, examining with
anxious care every feature of the ground. He marked carefully the
little village from which the expanse took its name, and the steep
declivity which sloped to a muddy stream below. No one addressed
him, for he was a man whose train of thought was not to be lightly
interrupted. Suddenly, at length, he drew rein, and, turning to the
body of officers, said: “Gentlemen, examine this ground carefully.
It will be a field of battle, upon which you will all have a part to
play.” The speaker was Napoleon. His hearers were his generals and
staff. He had been reconnoitring, surrounded and guarded by his devoted
Chasseurs of the Guard, the plateau of Pratzen, the main part of the
arena where was to be fought in a few days the mighty conflict of
Austerlitz.
Napoleon’s headquarters were then at Brunn. The French host, then for
the first time called the “Grand Army,” had, at the command of its
great chief, in the beginning of September broken up the camps long
occupied on the coasts of France in preparation for a contemplated
invasion of England, and had directed its march to the Rhine. It was
formed in seven corps under Bernadotte, Marmont, Davoust, Soult,
Lannes, Ney, and Augereau, with its cavalry under Prince Murat, and the
Imperial Guard as a reserve.
The Rhine was crossed at different points, and the tide of invasion
swept upon the valley of the Danube. From the beginning the movements
had been made with a swiftness unprecedented in war. Guns and cavalry
had moved in ceaseless and unhalting stream along every road. Infantry
had pressed forward by forced marches, and had been aided in its
onward way by wheeled transport at every available opportunity. The
Emperor had resolved to strike a blow by land against his foes which
should counterbalance the several checks which the indomitable navy
of England had inflicted on his fleets at sea. Austria and Russia
were in arms against France, and he was straining every nerve to
encounter and shatter their separate forces before they would unite in
overwhelming power. The campaign had opened for him with a series of
brilliant successes. The veterans of the revolutionary wars, of Italy
and of Egypt, directed by his mighty genius, had proved themselves
irresistible. The Austrians had been the first to meet the shock,
and had been defeated at every point--Guntzberg, Haslach, Albeck,
Elchingen, Memmingen--and the first phase of the struggle had closed
with the capitulation at Ulm of General Mack with 30,000 men.
But there had been no stay in the rush of the victorious French. The
first defeats of the Austrian army had been rapidly followed up.
The corps which had escaped from the disaster at Ulm were pursued
and, one after another annihilated. The Tyrol was overrun, and its
strong positions occupied by Marshal Ney. From Italy came the news of
Massena’s successes against the celebrated Archduke Charles, and at
Dirnstein Marshal Mortier had defeated the first Russian army under
Kutusow. The Imperial headquarters had been established at Schönbrunn,
the home of the Emperor of Austria. Vienna had been occupied and the
bridge across the Danube secured by Lannes and Murat. Kutusow, after
his defeat at Dirnstein, had been driven back through Hollabrunn on
Brunn by the same marshals at the head of the French advanced guard,
and had now joined the second Russian army, with which was its Emperor
Alexander in person, and an Austrian force under Prince Lichtenstein,
accompanied by the Emperor of Austria.
[Illustration: “THE SAYING PASSED, ‘OUR EMPEROR DOES NOT MAKE
USE OF OUR ARMS IN THIS WAR SO MUCH AS OF OUR LEGS.’”]
The main body of the “Grand Army” had, under Napoleon, followed
its advanced guard into the heart of Moravia. Its headquarters and
immediate base were now at Brunn, but its position was sufficiently
critical, at the extremity of a long line of operations, numbering less
than 70,000 disposable men, while the Russo-Austrian army in front
amounted to 92,000. So rapid had been the movements since the camp at
Boulogne was left, that the common saying passed in the ranks that “Our
Emperor does not make use of our arms in this war so much as of our
legs”; and the grave result of this constant swiftness had been that
many soldiers had fallen to the rear from indisposition or fatigue,
and even the nominal strength of corps was thus for the time seriously
diminished. It is recorded that in the Chasseurs à Cheval of the Guard
alone there was a deficiency of more than four hundred men from this
cause. But all these laggards were doing their best to rejoin the army
before the great battle took place which all knew to be inevitable, and
in which all were eager to bear their part.
Napoleon had himself arrived at Brunn on the 20th of November, and
during the following days till the 27th he allowed his army a measure
of repose to enable it to recover its strength after its long toils--to
repair its arms, its boots and worn material, and to rally every man
under its eagles. His advanced guard had been pushed forward under
Murat towards Wischau on the Olmutz road, Soult’s corps on his right
had pressed Kutusow’s retreat towards Austerlitz, and the remainder
were disposed in various positions to watch Hungary and Bohemia and to
maintain his hold upon Vienna.
On the 27th the French advanced guard was attacked and driven back by
the Russians at Wischau, and certain information arrived that this
had been done by a portion of the main Russian army under the Emperor
Alexander. It had been thought possible by Napoleon that peaceful
negotiations might be opened, but this confident advance of his
enemies seemed to show that they had by no means lost heart, and when
on the 28th he had a personal interview with Prince Dolgorouki, the
favourite of Alexander, he found the Russian proposals so insulting and
presumptuous that he broke off abruptly any further communication.
We have seen Napoleon reconnoitring on the 21st of November, and we
have marked the marvellous _coup d’œil_ and prescience with which
he foresaw the exact spot where the great battle, then looming before
him, must take place. Every succeeding day saw the reconnaissances
renewed, and never was a battle-field more thoroughly examined, never
was forecast by a general of the actual turn of events to be expected
more completely justified by fulfilment.
It had become certain that the united army of two mighty empires was
close at hand. From the tone of Dolgorouki’s communication it was
evident that both the Russian and Austrian monarchs had resolved to
trust their fortunes to the ordeal of battle, and that they, with
their generals and soldiery, were eager to retrieve their previous
misfortunes, and full of confidence that they would do so. That
confidence had been increased by the repulse of the French advanced
guard at Wischau; and they now longed to complete their work by pouring
their superior numbers on the comparatively weak French main body.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
(_From the Painting by Paul Delaroche._)]
With this knowledge before him, Napoleon proceeded to carry out the
plan of action which he had carefully matured. To the astonishment of
many veterans in his army, a general retreat of his advanced troops was
ordered. Murat fell back from Posoritz and Soult from near Austerlitz.
But this retrograde movement was short, and they were halted on the
ground chosen by Napoleon for his battle-line. The outlying corps of
Bernadotte and Davoust were summoned to complete his array. Munitions,
food, ambulances were hurried to their appointed posts, and it was
announced that the battle would be fought on the 1st or 2nd of December.