INSIDE SEBASTOPOL--THE LAST BOMBARDMENT OF
SEBASTOPOL--ON CATHCART'S HILL--RUMOURS IN THE CAMP--THE
ATTACK ON THE MALAKHOFF--THE OLD WORK AGAIN--A SUNDAY
EXCURSION--INSIDE "OUR" CITY--I AM TAKEN FOR A SPY, AND
THEREAT LOSE MY TEMPER--I VISIT THE REDAN, ETC.--MY
SHARE OF THE "PLUNDER."
The three weeks following the battle of the Tchernaya were, I should
think, some of the busiest and most eventful the world has ever seen.
There was little doing at Spring Hill. Every one was either at his
post, or too anxiously awaiting the issue of the last great
bombardment to spend much time at the British Hotel. I think that I
lost more of my patients and customers during those few weeks than
during the whole previous progress of the siege. Scarce a night passed
that I was not lulled to sleep with the heavy continuous roar of the
artillery; scarce a morning dawned that the same sound did not usher
in my day's work. The ear grew so accustomed during those weeks to the
terrible roar, that when Sebastopol fell the sudden quiet seemed
unnatural, and made us dull. And during the whole of this time the
most perplexing rumours flew about, some having reference to the day
of assault, the majority relative to the last great effort which it
was supposed the Russians would make to drive us into the sea. I
confess these latter rumours now and then caused me temporary
uneasiness, Spring Hill being on the direct line of route which the
actors in such a tragedy must take.
I spent much of my time on Cathcart's Hill, watching, with a curiosity
and excitement which became intense, the progress of the terrible
bombardment. Now and then a shell would fall among the crowd of
on-lookers which covered the hill; but it never disturbed us, so keen
and feverish and so deadened to danger had the excitement and
expectation made us.
In the midst of the bombardment took place the important ceremony of
distributing the Order of the Bath to those selected for that honour.
I contrived to witness this ceremony very pleasantly; and although it
cost me a day, I considered that I had fairly earned the pleasure. I
was anxious to have some personal share in the affair, so I made, and
forwarded to head-quarters, a cake which Gunter might have been at
some loss to manufacture with the materials at my command, and which I
adorned gaily with banners, flags, etc. I received great kindness from
the officials at the ceremony, and from the officers--some of
rank--who recognised me; indeed, I held quite a little _levee_ around
my chair.
Well, a few days after this ceremony, I thought the end of the world,
instead of the war, was at hand, when every battery opened and poured
a perfect hail of shot and shell upon the beautiful city which I had
left the night before sleeping so calm and peaceful beneath the stars.
The firing began at early dawn, and was fearful. Sleep was impossible;
so I arose, and set out for my old station on Cathcart's Hill. And
here, with refreshments for the anxious lookers-on, I spent most of my
time, right glad of any excuse to witness the last scene of the siege.
It was from this spot that I saw fire after fire break out in
Sebastopol, and watched all night the beautiful yet terrible effect of
a great ship blazing in the harbour, and lighting up the adjoining
country for miles.
The weather changed, as it often did in the Crimea, most capriciously;
and the morning of the memorable 8th of September broke cold and
wintry. The same little bird which had let me into so many secrets,
also gave me a hint of what this day was pregnant with; and very early
in the morning I was on horseback, with my bandages and refreshments,
ready to repeat the work of the 18th of June last. A line of sentries
forbade all strangers passing through without orders, even to
Cathcart's Hill; but once more I found that my reputation served as a
permit, and the officers relaxed the rule in my favour everywhere. So,
early in the day, I was in my old spot, with my old appliances for the
wounded and fatigued; little expecting, however, that this day would
so closely resemble the day of the last attack in its disastrous
results.
It was noon before the cannonading suddenly ceased; and we saw, with a
strange feeling of excitement, the French tumble out of their advanced
trenches, and roll into the Malakhoff like a human flood. Onward they
seemed to go into the dust and smoke, swallowed up by hundreds; but
they never returned, and before long we saw workmen levelling parapets
and filling up ditches, over which they drove, with headlong speed and
impetuosity, artillery and ammunition-waggons, until there could be no
doubt that the Malakhoff was taken, although the tide of battle still
surged around it with violence, and wounded men were borne from it in
large numbers. And before this, our men had made their attack, and the
fearful assault of the Redan was going on, and failing. But I was soon
too busy to see much, for the wounded were borne in even in greater
numbers than at the last assault; whilst stragglers, slightly hurt,
limped in, in fast-increasing numbers, and engrossed our attention. I
now and then found time to ask them rapid questions; but they did not
appear to know anything more than that everything had gone wrong. The
sailors, as before, showed their gallantry, and even recklessness,
conspicuously. The wounded of the ladder and sandbag parties came up
even with a laugh, and joked about their hurts in the happiest
conceivable manner.
I saw many officers of the 97th wounded; and, as far as possible, I
reserved my attentions for my old regiment, known so well in my native
island. My poor 97th! their loss was terrible. I dressed the wound of
one of its officers, seriously hit in the mouth; I attended to another
wounded in the throat, and bandaged the hand of a third, terribly
crushed by a rifle-bullet. In the midst of this we were often
interrupted by those unwelcome and impartial Russian visitors--the
shells. One fell so near that I thought my last hour was come; and,
although I had sufficient firmness to throw myself upon the ground, I
was so seriously frightened that I never thought of rising from my
recumbent position until the hearty laugh of those around convinced me
that the danger had passed by. Afterwards I picked up a piece of this
huge shell, and brought it home with me.
It was on this, as on every similar occasion, that I saw the _Times_
correspondent eagerly taking down notes and sketches of the scene,
under fire--listening apparently with attention to all the busy little
crowd that surrounded him, but without laying down his pencil; and yet
finding time, even in his busiest moment, to lend a helping hand to
the wounded. It may have been on this occasion that his keen eye
noticed me, and his mind, albeit engrossed with far more important
memories, found room to remember me. I may well be proud of his
testimony, borne so generously only the other day, and may well be
excused for transcribing it from the columns of the _Times_:--"I have
seen her go down, under fire, with her little store of creature
comforts for our wounded men; and a more tender or skilful hand about
a wound or broken limb could not be found among our best surgeons. I
saw her at the assault on the Redan, at the Tchernaya, at the fall of
Sebastopol, laden, not with plunder, good old soul! but with wine,
bandages, and food for the wounded or the prisoners."
I remained on Cathcart's Hill far into the night, and watched the city
blazing beneath us, awe-struck at the terrible sight, until the bitter
wind found its way through my thin clothing, and chilled me to the
bone; and not till then did I leave for Spring Hill. I had little
sleep that night. The night was made a ruddy lurid day with the glare
of the blazing town; while every now and then came reports which shook
the earth to its centre. And yet I believe very many of the soldiers,
wearied with their day's labour, slept soundly throughout that
terrible night, and awoke to find their work completed: for in the
night, covered by the burning city, Sebastopol was left, a heap of
ruins, to its victors; and before noon on the following day, none but
dead and dying Russians were in the south side of the once famous and
beautiful mistress-city of the Euxine.
The good news soon spread through the camp. It gave great pleasure;
but I almost think the soldiers would have been better pleased had the
Russians delayed their parting twelve hours longer, and given the
Highlanders and their comrades a chance of retrieving the disasters of
the previous day. Nothing else could wipe away the soreness of defeat,
or compensate for the better fortune which had befallen our allies the
French.
The news of the evacuation of Sebastopol soon carried away all traces
of yesterday's fatigue. For weeks past I had been offering bets to
every one that I would not only be the first woman to enter
Sebastopol from the English lines, but that I would be the first to
carry refreshments into the fallen city. And now the time I had longed
for had come. I borrowed some mules from the Land Transport
Corps--mine were knocked up by yesterday's work--and loading them with
good things, started off with my partner and some other friends early
on that memorable Sunday morning for Cathcart's Hill.
When I found that strict orders had been given to admit no one inside
Sebastopol, I became quite excited; and making my way to General
Garrett's quarters, I made such an earnest representation of what I
considered my right that I soon obtained a pass, of which the
following is a copy:--
"Pass Mrs. Seacole and her attendants, with refreshments
for officers and soldiers in the Redan and in
Sebastopol.
"Garrett, M.G.
"Cathcart's Hill, Sept. 9, 1855."
So many attached themselves to my staff, becoming for the nonce my
attendants, that I had some difficulty at starting; but at last I
passed all the sentries safely, much to the annoyance of many
officers, who were trying every conceivable scheme to evade them, and
entered the city. I can give you no very clear description of its
condition on that Sunday morning, a year and a half ago. Many parts of
it were still blazing furiously--explosions were taking place in all
directions--every step had a score of dangers; and yet curiosity and
excitement carried us on and on. I was often stopped to give
refreshments to officers and men, who had been fasting for hours.
Some, on the other hand, had found their way to Russian cellars; and
one body of men were most ingloriously drunk, and playing the wildest
pranks. They were dancing, yelling, and singing--some of them with
Russian women's dresses fastened round their waists, and old bonnets
stuck upon their heads.
I was offered many trophies. All plunder was stopped by the sentries,
and confiscated, so that the soldiers could afford to be liberal. By one
I was offered a great velvet sofa; another pressed a huge arm-chair,
which had graced some Sebastopol study, upon me; while a third begged my
acceptance of a portion of a grand piano. What I did carry away was very
unimportant: a gaily-decorated altar-candle, studded with gold and
silver stars, which the present Commander-in-Chief condescended to
accept as a Sebastopol memorial; an old cracked China teapot, which in
happier times had very likely dispensed pleasure to many a small
tea-party; a cracked bell, which had rung many to prayers during the
siege, and which I bore away on my saddle; and a parasol, given me by a
drunken soldier. He had a silk skirt on, and torn lace upon his wrists,
and he came mincingly up, holding the parasol above his head, and
imitating the walk of an affected lady, to the vociferous delight of his
comrades. And all this, and much more, in that fearful charnel city,
with death and suffering on every side.
It was very hazardous to pass along some of the streets exposed to the
fire of the Russians on the north side of the harbour. We had to wait
and watch our opportunity, and then gallop for it. Some of us had
close shaves of being hit. More than this, fires still kept breaking
out around; while mines and fougasses not unfrequently exploded from
unknown causes. We saw two officers emerge from a heap of ruins,
covered and almost blinded with smoke and dust, from some such
unlooked-for explosion. With considerable difficulty we succeeded in
getting into the quarter of the town held by the French, where I was
nearly getting into serious trouble.
I had loitered somewhat behind my party, watching, with pardonable
curiosity, the adroitness with which a party of French were plundering
a house; and by the time my curiosity had been satisfied, I found
myself quite alone, my retinue having preceded me by some few hundred
yards. This would have been of little consequence, had not an American
sailor lad, actuated either by mischief or folly, whispered to the
Frenchmen that I was a Russian spy; and had they not, instead of
laughing at him, credited his assertion, and proceeded to arrest me.
Now, such a charge was enough to make a lion of a lamb; so I refused
positively to dismount, and made matters worse by knocking in the cap
of the first soldier who laid hands upon me, with the bell that hung
at my saddle. Upon this, six or seven tried to force me to the
guard-house in rather a rough manner, while I resisted with all my
force, screaming out for Mr. Day, and using the bell for a weapon. How
I longed for a better one I need not tell the reader. In the midst of
this scene came up a French officer, whom I recognised as the patient
I had taken to Spring Hill after the battle of the Tchernaya, and who
took my part at once, and ordered them to release me. Although I
rather weakened my cause, it was most natural that, directly I was
released, I should fly at the varlet who had caused me this trouble;
and I did so, using my bell most effectually, and aided, when my party
returned, by their riding-whips.
This little adventure took up altogether so much time that, when the
French soldiers had made their apologies to me, and I had returned the
compliment to the one whose head had been dented by my bell, it was
growing late, and we made our way back to Cathcart's Hill. On the way,
a little French soldier begged hard of me to buy a picture, which had
been cut from above the altar of some church in Sebastopol. It was too
dark to see much of his prize, but I ultimately became its possessor,
and brought it home with me. It is some eight or ten feet in length,
and represents, I should think, the Madonna. I am no judge of such
things, but I think, although the painting is rather coarse, that the
face of the Virgin, and the heads of Cherubim that fill the cloud from
which she is descending, are soft and beautiful. There is a look of
divine calmness and heavenly love in the Madonna's face which is very
striking; and, perhaps, during the long and awful siege many a knee
was bent in worship before it, and many a heart found comfort in its
soft loving gaze.
On the following day I again entered Sebastopol, and saw still more of
its horrors. But I have refrained from describing so many scenes of
woe, that I am loth to dwell much on these. The very recollection of
that woeful hospital, where thousands of dead and dying had been left
by the retreating Russians, is enough to unnerve the strongest and
sicken the most experienced. I would give much if I had never seen
that harrowing sight. I believe some Englishmen were found in it
alive; but it was as well that they did not live to tell their
fearful experience.
I made my way into the Redan also, although every step was dangerous,
and took from it some brown bread, which seemed to have been left in
the oven by the baker when he fled.
Before many days were passed, some Frenchwomen opened houses in
Sebastopol; but in that quarter of the town held by the English the
prospect was not sufficiently tempting for me to follow their example,
and so I saw out the remainder of the campaign from my old quarters at
Spring Hill.