of the Chevalier Guards and Cuirassiers of the Russian Guard, under the
Grand Duke Constantine, brother of the Emperor Alexander, supported
by numerous lines of cavalry. So well led and so impetuous was the
attack, that the two battalions on the left of Vandamme’s division
were broken and swept away in headlong flight. One of these battalions
belonged to the 4th of the line, of which Napoleon’s brother Joseph
was colonel, and the Emperor saw it lose its eagle and abandon its
position, shattered and destroyed, forming the one dark spot to sully
the brilliancy of French steadfastness on that day of self-devotion.
The tide of panic-stricken fugitives almost surged against the Emperor
himself. All efforts to rally them were in vain. Maddened with fear,
they heard not the voices of generals and officers imploring them not
to abandon the field of honour and their Emperor. Their only response
was to gasp out mechanically: “Vive l’Empereur!” while still hurrying
their frantic pace. Napoleon smiled at them in pity; then, with a
gesture of contempt, he said: “Let them go!” and, still calm in the
midst of the turmoil, sent General Rapp to bring up the cavalry of his
Guard.
Rapp was titular Colonel of the Mamelukes, a corps which recalled the
glories of Egypt and the personal regard which Napoleon, as a man, had
been able to inspire into Orientals. They, with the Grenadiers à Cheval
and the Chasseurs of the Guard, now swooped upon the Russian squadrons.
The struggle of the _mêlée_ was bloody and obstinate between the
picked horsemen of Western and Eastern Europe; but the Russian chivalry
was at length overwhelmed and driven back with immense loss. Many
standards and prisoners fell into the hands of the French, amongst
others Prince Repnin, Colonel of the Chevalier Guards. His regiment,
whose ranks were filled with men of the noblest families in Russia, had
fought with a valour worthy of their name, and lay almost by ranks upon
the field. It had been the mark of the giant Grenadiers à Cheval, whose
savage war-cry in the great charge had been, as they swayed their heavy
sabres, “Let us make the dames of St. Petersburg weep to-day!”
When success was assured, Rapp returned to report to Napoleon--a
warlike figure, as he approached, alone, at a gallop, with proud mien,
the light of battle in his eye, his sword dripping with blood and a
sabre cut on his forehead.
“Sire, we have overthrown and destroyed the Russian Guard and taken
their artillery.”
“It was gallantly done: I saw it,” replied the Emperor. “But you are
wounded.”
“It is nothing, sire: it is only a scratch.”
“It is another quartering of nobility, and I know of none that can be
more illustrious.”
Immediately afterwards the young Count Apraxin, an officer of
artillery who had been taken prisoner by the Chasseurs, was brought
before Napoleon. He struggled, wept, and wrung his hands in despair,
crying: “I have lost my battery; I am dishonoured: would that I could
die!” Napoleon tried to console and soothe him with the words, “Calm
yourself, young man, and learn that there is never disgrace in being
conquered by Frenchmen.”
[Illustration: CHARGE OF THE CHEVALIER GUARDS.]
The French army was now completely successful on its centre and
left. In the distance could be seen, retiring towards Austerlitz,
the remains of the Russian reserves, which had relinquished hope of
regaining the central plateau and abandoned Buxhowden’s wing to its
fate. Their retreat was harassed by the artillery of the Imperial
Guard, whose fire ploughed through their long columns, carrying with
it death and consternation. Napoleon left to Murat and Lannes the
completion of their own victory. To Bernadotte, with the greater part
of the Guard, he entrusted the final crushing of the enemies who had
been driven from the Pratzen plateau; while he himself, with all of
Soult’s corps, the remainder of his cavalry, infantry, and reserve
artillery descended from the heights and threw himself on the rear of
the Austro-Russian left near Telnitz and the lakes. This unfortunate
wing--nearly 30,000 men--had in vain striven since the morning to force
its way through Davoust’s 10,000. Now, still checked in front and
entangled in the narrow roads by the Goldbach and the lakes, it found
itself in hopeless confusion, attacked and ravaged with fire from three
sides simultaneously by Davoust, Soult, Duroc with his Grenadiers and
Vandamme. It fought with a gallantry and sternness which drew forth
the admiration of its enemies, but surrounded, driven, overwhelmed, it
could not hope to extricate itself from its difficulties. There was no
way of escape open but the Menitz lake itself, whose frozen surface
seemed to present a path to safety, and in an instant the white expanse
was blackened by the flying multitude. The most horribly disastrous
phase of the whole battle was at hand. The shot of the French artillery
which was firing on the retreat broke the ice at many points, and
its frail support gave way. The water welled through the cracks and
washed over the broken fragments. Thousands of Russians, with horses,
artillery and train, sank into the lake and were engulfed. Few
succeeded in struggling to the shore and taking advantage of the ropes
and other assistance which their conquerors strove to put within their
reach. About 2,000, who had been able to remain on the road between the
two lakes, made good their retreat. The remainder were either dead or
prisoners.
At four o’clock in the afternoon the battle was over, and there was
nothing left for the French to do but to pursue and collect the
spoils of their conquest. This duty was performed with energy by
all the commanders except Bernadotte (even then more than suspected
of disloyalty to his great chief), who allowed the whole of the
Russo-Austrian right, which had been defeated by Lannes and Murat and
driven from its proper line of retreat on Olmutz, to defile scatheless
past his front and to seek shelter in the direction of Hungary.
[Illustration: BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ
Dec. 2, 1805.]
After the great catastrophe on the Menitz lake which definitely
sealed the issue of the conflict, Napoleon passed slowly along the
whole battle-field, from the French right to their left. The ground
was covered with piles of the poor remains of those who had died a
soldier’s death, and with vast numbers of wounded laid suffering on
the frozen plain. Surgeons and ambulances were already everywhere at
work, but their efforts were feeble in comparison with the shattered,
groaning multitude who were in dire need of help. The Emperor paused
by every disabled follower and spoke words of sympathy and comfort. He
himself, with his personal attendants and his staff, did all in their
power to mitigate the pangs of each and to give some temporary relief
till better assistance should arrive. As the shades of night fell on
the scene of slaughter and destruction, the mist of the morning again
rolled over the plain, bringing with it an icy rain, which increased
the darkness. Napoleon ordered the strictest silence to be maintained,
that no faint cry from a miserable sufferer should pass unheard; and
his surgeon Ywan, with his Mameluke orderly Roustan, gave to many a
one, who would otherwise have died, a chance of life by binding up
their hurts and restoring their powers with a draught of brandy from
the Imperial canteen.
It was nearly ten o’clock at night when the Emperor arrived at the
Olmutz road, having almost felt his way from one wounded man to another
as they lay where each attack had been made and each stubborn defence
maintained. He passed the night at the small posthouse of Posoritz,
supping on a share of the soldiers’ rations, which was brought from the
nearest bivouac, and issuing order after order about searching for the
wounded and conveying them to the field hospitals.
Though many of the most noted leaders in the French army were wounded
in the great battle, comparatively few were killed. One of the most
distinguished dead was General Morland, who commanded the Chasseurs à
Cheval of the Guard. His regiment had suffered terrible losses in the
charge under Rapp against the Russian Guard, and he himself had fallen,
fighting amongst the foremost. Napoleon, who was always anxious to
do everything to raise the spirit of his troops and to excite their
emulation, ordered that the body of General Morland should be preserved
and conveyed to Paris, there to be interred in a specially magnificent
tomb which he proposed to build on the Esplanade of the Invalides. The
doctors with the army had neither the time nor the materials necessary
to embalm the general’s body, so, as a simple means of conservation,
they enclosed it in a barrel of rum, which was taken to Paris. But
circumstances delayed the construction of the tomb which the Emperor
intended for its reception until the fall of the Empire in 1814. When
the barrel was then opened for the private interment of the body by
General Morland’s relations, they were astonished to find that the rum
had made the dead general’s moustaches grow so extraordinarily that
they reached below his waist.
The defeat suffered by the Russians was so crushing, and their army
had been thrown into such confusion, that all who had escaped from the
disaster of Austerlitz fled with all speed to Galicia, where there
was a hope of being beyond the reach of the conqueror. The rout was
complete. The French made a large number of prisoners, and found the
roads covered with abandoned guns, baggage, and material of war. The
Emperor Alexander, overcome by his misfortunes, left it to his ally,
Francis II., to treat with Napoleon, and authorised him to make the
best terms he could for both the defeated empires.
On the very evening of the 2nd December the Emperor of Austria had
asked for an interview with Napoleon, and the victor met the vanquished
on the 4th. An armistice was signed on the 6th, which was shortly
afterwards followed by a treaty of peace concluded at Presburg.
The total losses of the Austro-Russians at Austerlitz were about 10,000
killed, 30,000 prisoners, 46 standards, 186 cannon, 400 artillery
caissons, and all their baggage. Their armies practically no longer
existed, and only about 25,000 disheartened men could be rallied from
the wreck.
In the joy of victory Napoleon showed himself generous to Austria and
Russia in the terms which he imposed, and he at once set free Prince
Repnin, with all of the Russian Imperial Guard who had fallen into his
hands. To his own army he was lavish of rewards and acknowledgments of
its valour, and in the famous order of the day which he published he
first made use of the well-known expression--“Soldiers, I am content
with you.” Besides a large distribution of prize-money to his troops,
he decreed that liberal pensions should be granted to the widows of
the fallen, and also that their orphan children should be cared for,
brought up, and settled in life at the expense of the State.
The campaign of Austerlitz is probably the most striking and dramatic
of all those undertaken by Napoleon, and its concluding struggle was
the most complete triumph of his whole career. It was the first in
which he engaged after assuming the title of Emperor and becoming the
sole and irresponsible ruler of France. Unlike the vast masses of men
which he directed in subsequent wars, his army was then almost entirely
composed of Frenchmen, and its glories belonged to France alone. Though
for several years to come the great Emperor’s fame was to remain
undimmed by the clouds of reverse, it never shone with a brighter
lustre than at the close of 1805.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: KASSASSIN TEL-EL-KEBIR
BY CHARLES LOWE
LORD WOLSELEY]
Arabi Pasha and his rebellious ambition were the cause of the
British campaign in Egypt (1882) which culminated in the battle of
Tel-el-Kebir--a word which simply means “the large village.” Arabi was
of low origin, but had risen by his ability and force of character
to be a very popular colonel in the Egyptian army of the Sultan of
Turkey’s Viceroy, or Khedive, Tewfik. He was an ardent advocate of
the policy of “Egypt for the Egyptians”; but in the championship of
this policy he forgot that, amongst other countries, England had
immense interests at stake in Egypt, not only as the holder of about
four millions sterling of Suez Canal stock, but also as the mistress
of India, to which the Canal formed a commercial and military route.
But Arabi, making light of these things, became violently opposed to
the growth of English influence in his native country, and to such an
extent that at last he even sought to substitute his own power for that
of his master, the Khedive.
To let things go on in Egypt in this way would have been to allow them
to drift into chaos, and therefore England resolved to put down the
rebellious Pasha. The latter had been making great progress with his
plans at Alexandria, which became the scene of a massacre of Europeans;
and he had begun to arm the seaward forts of the city in a manner most
threatening to the British fleet. Thereupon he was told that if he
placed any more guns in position, he would draw upon himself the fire
of Sir Beauchamp Seymour’s ironclads in the bay. Arabi made bold to
disregard this warning, and, accordingly, on the morning of July 11th,
Sir Beauchamp’s war-vessels opened fire on Arabi’s forts, battering
some to pieces and silencing all before sunset. This was the first
noteworthy action which the British fleet had fought since the days of
Sebastopol, proving that its glory--founded on the courage, skill, and
discipline of its sailors--had by no means departed.
But his defeat at Alexandria, far from breaking the power and pride
of Arabi, had the effect only of deepening his hatred of the English,
and he retired into the interior with the view of organising further
opposition to our arms. He had thrown down the gauntlet, and England
could not refuse to pick it up. As our fleet could not sail up the Nile
to Cairo, it behoved us to equip and send out an army which should
land in Egypt, seek out Arabi wherever he was to be found, and make an
end, once and for ever, of him and his rebellious force. This army was
entrusted to the command of Sir Garnet (afterwards Viscount) Wolseley,
who had already distinguished himself in so many of our “little wars”
that he was facetiously termed “our only General.”
Nor could the command of the expedition have been given to a better
man. Sir Garnet was a tried soldier, and now he became a prophet as
well. Before leaving England he had laid his hand, with remarkable
foresight, upon the map, and, pointing to Tel-el-Kebir, said that
he would engage and beat the army of Arabi there, about the 13th
September; and he kept his word to the very letter. At first the French
seemed inclined to share with us the work of restoring order in Egypt;
but at the last moment they stood aside and left England to deal with
the task of quelling Arabi.
To accomplish this task, England at once began to bring together in
Egypt an army--or Army Corps--of about 40,000 men. Some came from our
garrisons in the Mediterranean--Malta, Cyprus, and Gibraltar--others
were brought from India, and the remainder sent out straight from
England.
Being gathered, as it was, from so many different sources, this huge
force could not, of course, all land at once; but the marvel was that
its component parts reached the trysting-ground in Egypt so soon as
they did, and it was admitted on all hands that no other nation in the
whole world could have performed such a difficult transport operation
so swiftly and so well.
It was known that Arabi had about 60,000 fighting men at his disposal,
which was 20,000 more than were commanded by Sir Garnet Wolseley; and
if these two armies had met one another in full force, there is no
saying but that the result of the campaign might have been different.
But the beauty of Sir Garnet’s war-policy was that he kept his opponent
so long in the dark as to where he meant to strike; with the natural
result that Arabi, deeming it wise to be prepared on every hand, had
his 60,000 men portioned out at the likeliest places, all over the
Delta--some in the neighbourhood of Alexandria, some at Cairo, and some
at Tel-el-Kebir, a commanding point on the railway between Ismailia, on
the Suez Canal, and the capital. This suited Sir Garnet to perfection,
and his great aim was to make Arabi think that he meant to land the
bulk of the British force in Alexandria, and challenge him to battle at
the Egyptian lines of Kafr Dowar.
[Illustration: THE SWEET-WATER CANAL, AT ISMAILIA.]
[Illustration: THE SWEET-WATER CANAL.]
In order to encourage this delusive belief in the mind of the rebel
Pasha, a considerable force had already landed here and indulged in
feints against the foe. Sir Garnet had craftily caused it to be spread
abroad that the gross of his force aboard the transports in the bay was
going to be put ashore; but what was the surprise of everyone--for the
secret had been in the keeping of only one or two--to behold one night
the magnificent flotilla of troopships, escorting-ironclads and all,
steaming away in majestic procession towards the east and the mouth of
the Suez Canal!
Ismailia, on the Canal, midway between Port Said and Suez, had been
aimed at by Sir Garnet from the beginning; and here, in truth, on the
20th August--only a short eighteen days after he had left England by
the sea route--the British army began to disembark on the burning sands
of Egypt.
Among these burning sands water was more precious than gold and silver
to the British soldier; but the only source of its supply was the
Fresh-water Canal running through the arid desert from the Nile to
Ismailia alongside of a railway line, and it therefore behoved the
English commander to secure the water in this canal from being cut off
by the enemy. But to do this it was necessary above all things to push
forward an advance force about twenty miles into the very heart of the
desert as far as a place called Kassassin, where there was a lock, and
accordingly this was done with the utmost courage and promptitude.
[Illustration: “THE EGYPTIAN BATTALIONS ... HAD BEEN
TRAMPLED AND SABRED INTO POSITIVE ANNIHILATION”
(_p._ 199).]
At Mahuta the Egyptians had made an attempt to bar this advance, but
their opposition was swept away like chaff, and soon thereafter General
Graham reached Kassassin Lock with his vanguard, entrenching himself in
that position with strict orders to hold it against all comers. Well
aware of the importance of this position for the British, the Egyptians
made several attempts to drive them out of it and back to Ismailia
before reinforcements could reach them; but each time they recoiled
from the enterprise with the bitter conviction that British bullets and
sabres were things on which no one could reasonably hope to whet his
teeth and thrive. Two main actions were fought at Kassassin--though
these formed the mere prelude, so to speak, to the grand spectacular
drama that was presently to be enacted at Tel-el-Kebir.
The chief of these preliminary actions, fought on the 28th August, will
always be memorable for the grand cavalry charge which closed it. Early
in the morning General Graham had become aware that the Egyptians were
making preparations to attack him from a circle of sand-hills which
formed a kind of amphitheatre around Kassassin. Graham’s force was
by no means a large one, but it was impossible for the Egyptians to
make out how strong it really was, and it is always half the battle to
be able to conceal your plans and numbers from the enemy. A few days
previously Arabi had sent out his second-in-command, Mahmoud Fehmi
Pasha, a great engineer and reader of military signs, to discover the
strength and dispositions of Graham, but by a curious accident he fell
into the hands of the English and never returned to his own side. To
this capture Arabi himself afterwards attributed the sole blame of his
not having been able to oust the audacious English from their advanced
post at Kassassin--and the incident will show how very important it
must always be in warfare to seize and detain spies.
[Illustration:
MAP TO ILLUSTRATE
BATTLES OF
TEL-EL-KEBIR & KASSASSIN]
Graham’s force at Kassassin was not a large one (under 2,000),
consisting mainly of a company of Royal Marine Artillery, the Duke
of Cornwall’s regiment, the York and Lancasters, with some mounted
infantry and a few guns, one of which, under Captain Tucker, was
mounted on a railway truck. But the Egyptians, taking a leaf out of our
own book of war, had by this time imitated us in this respect--though
they were very bad range-finders, and did us little harm.
Drury Lowe’s Cavalry Brigade, consisting of the 7th Dragoon Guards
and three squadrons of Household Cavalry (contributed by the 1st and
2nd Life Guards, and “Blues,” or Horse Guards, respectively) were
stationed some miles to the rear at Mehsameh, and Graham heliographed
to these splendid troopers to come and help him on his right flank in
the impending battle. Come they also did with right good will, for they
were all burning for a fight, but only to hear that the Egyptians,
after using their guns for some time, had apparently retired again
behind their sand-hills; so back they went to Mehsameh and off-saddled
again.
The heat was terrific, and bucketfuls of water from the canal had to
be poured on the heads of the English artillerists to enable them to
stick to their guns. Sunstrokes were numerous, but our men bore all
their sufferings with a fortitude truly heroic. The scorching heat was
probably the reason why the Egyptians had drawn off from their first
attack on Kassassin, but towards the cool of the evening they again
began to push forward from their sand-hills and threaten the British
position. The left of this position was well protected, but the right
less so; and, indeed, General Graham expressly made such a disposition
of his force on the latter flank as might tempt the enemy down from his
sand-hills so as to essay a turning movement, when they would be caught
in the trap which he was preparing for them.
To this end, about 5.20 p.m., he despatched his aide-de-camp,
Lieutenant Pirie, 4th Dragoon Guards, with a message to Drury Lowe, in
the rear, at Mehsameh, or wherever he should be found, “to take the
cavalry round by our right, under cover of the hill, and attack the
left flank of the enemy’s skirmishers.”
But when Lieutenant Pirie did at last reach Lowe, after a long and
fatiguing ride through the arid desert sand--in the course of which
his horse fell under him from sheer exhaustion and he had to borrow
another mount from a gunteam--he delivered his message in this altered
form, that “General Graham _was only just able to hold his own_,
and wished General Drury Lowe to attack the left of the enemy’s
infantry skirmishers.” The famous cavalry charge at Balaclava had been
due to a similar mistake in the delivery of a verbal order, though at
Kassassin, as it turned out, the repetition of this mistake did not
result in disaster, but in victory. So far was Graham from not being
able to hold his own that, about two hours after despatching Lieutenant
Pirie for the cavalry, he had ordered a counter-attack and a general
advance of his line, which had meanwhile been reinforced by a fresh
battery, for his other guns had been obliged to retire out of action,
owing to want of ammunition, it having been found impossible to drag
the battery carts through the deep and yielding sand.
It was while Graham was engaged in this general advance that at last
Drury Lowe arrived upon the scene with his cavalry. The sun had now
set, but a bright moon was shining, and the flashes from the Horse
Artillery and infantry afforded some guide for the movement of the
British horsemen, which was directed on the evening star--the orbs of
heaven being the only landmarks in the nocturnal desert. Suddenly the
cavalry came in sight of the extreme left of the Egyptians, and was at
once exposed to a heavy fire. “Shells screamed and shrapnel bullets
tore up the road on either side of us.” Rushing to the front, the guns
of the Horse Artillery attached to the Cavalry Brigade unlimbered and
belched out several rounds of shell on the Egyptian masses. Then the
front of these British guns was rapidly cleared, and Drury Lowe gave
the Household Cavalry the order to charge.