We now come to the siege which, if not the most important it has been
our task to describe, must be the most interesting to our readers. No
siege has ever been conducted under similar circumstances. Such have
been the facilities of communication, and so effective and intelligent
the means employed for collecting information, that the siege of
Sebastopol may be said to have been carried on in the presence of the
whole civilized world. It has been a living and an exciting panorama.
When our ancestors, the Crusaders, were before Antioch or Jerusalem,
their relations at home had no opportunity for mourning losses or
celebrating triumphs, till time, by throwing all into distance, had
weakened the pain or the joy of the intelligence received; whereas, in
this case, there is no half-forgotten friend, no changed or decayed
interests: all is moving, associated with us, and affecting us, as if
the events were passing within the boundaries of our own seas.
May we not, then, ask, without entertaining less commiseration for
the sufferings, or admiration for the deeds of the parties engaged,
whether this circumstance does not heighten, or even, in a degree,
exaggerate the effect of the events? The siege of Sebastopol is
extraordinary and important in all ways; but the readers of this
volume will find instances of deeper and more protracted suffering,
and greater sacrifice of human life, than have been experienced there.
Soliman II. lost 40,000 men in four days before Vienna! The want of
water before Jerusalem produced infinitely more misery than the excess
of it in the Crimea; and the allies have never experienced anything
like real scarcity of food. No siege has ever been placed before the
world in such vivid, such affecting colours. As a poem, the “Iliad” is
doubtless pre-eminent above all such histories; but divest it, or the
“Jerusalem Delivered,” of their poetry and their superhuman agencies,
and they will hear no comparison with Mr. Russell’s extraordinary (I
was about to use a much stronger word) correspondence with the _Times_:
physically and mentally, no man could have been better calculated for
the task he undertook. Collected in a volume, his letters will pass
down to posterity in company with “Drinkwater’s Gibraltar,” the only
work we remember that is worthy of the association.
With his graphic pictures fresh in the minds of every one, it is
discouraging to attempt an account of this noble struggle, but as the
“Great Sieges of History” would be incomplete without it, we must do as
we did with that of Gibraltar, sketch slightly the early scenes, dwell
principally upon the great catastrophe, drawing largely and gratefully
upon a better historian than ourselves; and asserting occasionally our
privilege of commenting upon what passes.
The first thing in this great expedition that strikes a reflective
mind, is the facility of transport. Thought naturally travels
back to the days when an army from Western Europe, on its way to
Constantinople, was diminished by hundreds of thousands in the mere
transit. Compare the march of Peter the Hermit, Walter the Penniless,
and their countless hosts, with the passage of the gallant allies to
nearly the same scene of action--want, fatigue, harassing enemies, and
death,--with privations and inconveniences only felt from habitual
ease and indulgence. But, perhaps, this very circumstance enhances the
cheerfulness and courage with which the armies have encountered and
passed through dangers and difficulties to which their previous life
had not at all broken them in. Never, we believe, did an army better
preserve its spirits; a gleam of sunshine, a scintillation of success,
could always restore the Englishman’s hearty laugh, the Irishman’s
humorous joke, the Scotchman’s sly, sniggering jeer, whilst not even
weather or enemies could silence the music or the gaiety of the French.
Next to the consideration of the troops and the voyage, our attention
is drawn to the _matériel_ with which they were to work. Although
the expedition was long debated, and at last delayed till too late a
period of the year, we are forced to the painful conviction that the
_authorities_ at home threw this great stake without due forethought
or knowledge. Their acquaintance with what they had to contend with
was very imperfect, and their inattention to the probable wants of the
troops and the defectiveness of many of the arms and implements were
disgraceful; but this was soon remedied by our noble _fourth estate_:
without “our correspondent,” Sebastopol would have proved even worse
than a Walcheren.
On the 14th of September, the English and French hosts had become
“an army of occupation” in the Crimea; the English troops amounting
to 27,000, of which number not more than 1,000 were horse. And
here, within four-and-twenty hours, the defects of the commissariat
and the deficiencies of the medical staff were painfully felt. The
disembarkation was effected with comparative ease, only attended
with the usual confusion of such affairs, seasoned with the fun and
spirits of the sailors, accustomed to paddle in the surf. On the 18th
the armies proceeded towards the great point of their destination,
and then, for the first time for five hundred years, the peoples of
the two most enlightened, and in all ways most conspicuous nations of
the world, marched side by side against a common enemy. The result
was worthy of the union--the battle of the Alma was won, with a loss
of 3,000 men, notwithstanding the vast superiority in numbers of the
Russian cavalry. But we must confine ourselves to the siege; and we are
not sorry to shun the description of a battle, as we quite agree with
Mr. Russell, that “the writer is not yet born who can describe with
vividness and force, so as to bring the details before the reader, the
events of even the slightest skirmish.” Amidst alerts and skirmishes,
whilst being awfully thinned daily by cholera, the allies marched upon
and took possession of Balaklava. From this place they had a good
sight of Sebastopol; and here, like Richard I., who got within a short
distance of Jerusalem, but was unable to enter it, Marshal St. Arnaud,
who commanded the French army, was obliged, by sickness, to leave for
France, his goal in view.
The armies then prepared for besieging Sebastopol in due form. An
opinion, almost amounting to a general one, prevails, that the allies
ought to have taken advantage of the panic created among the Russians
by their defeat upon the Alma, and have immediately proceeded against
Sebastopol. We will not presume to say they certainly ought to have
done so, but the calamities of the winter proved greater than any
losses they would have sustained by such a spirited attack; and when we
glance back at the _captains_ of whom it has been “our hint to speak,”
we do not see one who would not have made the bold attempt. The allied
generals seemed to forget that whilst they were making preparations,
they were affording opportunities for the enemy to effect much greater,
because the latter were at home.
On the night of the 10th of October the British troops broke ground
before Sebastopol, fifteen days after they had by a brilliant and
daring march on Balaklava obtained a magnificent position on the
heights which envelope Sebastopol on the south side, from the sea to
the Tchernaya. And here again the advantage of being _at home_ was
evident; the Russians immediately commenced a severe and destructive
fire, whilst the allies were not in a state to respond by a single gun
before the 17th. On that day, however, they began with spirit. The
besiegers soon found that the city was a very different place from
what they had expected, and that they had to deal with brave, active,
and persevering enemies, always on the watch to take advantage, and
evidently commanded by skilful and enterprising officers. All ideas of
a _coup de main_ were over: they had before them a siege which would
test every quality they possessed, either as men or soldiers.
The usual routine of extensive sieges went on, sometimes one side
having the advantage, sometimes the other; the scene being occasionally
varied by splendid attacks of the shipping. But, although the works of
the allies gradually advanced, no decisive advantage was gained: the
Russians knew the vast superiority of earthworks over every species
of fortification, and were indefatigable with the mattock and spade.
Towards the end of the month a great diminution in the numbers of
the troops began to be felt; there was a steady drain, in one way or
another, of from forty to fifty men a day. And in this awful state
they had great cause of complaint of want of most necessaries, and
particularly of the badness of the fusees, so important for their
projectiles.
Unless ours were a volume instead of a chapter, it would be impossible
to follow the daily occurring interest of this struggle. In no siege
have the opponents been better matched: failures, from accident, want
of skill, or disparity of numbers, were frequent on both sides; but
no instance of treachery, or deficiency of courage and endurance,
disgraced either besieged or besiegers: the triumph will be the
greater from being achieved over a brave, energetic, and indefatigable
enemy. But, whilst viewing with heartfelt admiration and gratitude the
almost superhuman exertions and exploits of the allied troops, a sad
conviction creeps into the mind that these efforts were not always
judiciously directed; that there was a deadening paucity of that
military genius in the leaders, to which such gallant hearts would so
nobly have responded if it had existed. A disciplined soldier is little
more than a machine; in all battles his exertions are necessarily
confined to his own immediate small sphere of action, and therefore all
the courage, all the devotion that man is capable of, must lose their
due effect if the general’s head do not well guide the soldier’s arm.
Another chilling reflection likewise arises on reviewing the contest:
the Russians have been, _at least_, quite as well commanded as the
allies; and a despotic ruler has provided better for the comforts of
his tools than a representative government has for those of the brave
soldiers who were fighting for its principle.
By no instance, in the course of this siege, is the want of that
indescribable something called genius more evident than in that
glorious but lamentable day of the action of Balaklava. The firmness
of the brave Scots, who stood “shoulder to shoulder,” unshaken by such
a charge as infantry have seldom sustained--the charge of the heavy
brigade, worthy of the guards who once received the command to “up and
at ’em”--were eclipsed by the desperate onslaught of the light cavalry,
which has secured immortality to the brave devotedness of British
soldiers. But why were these invaluable lives sacrificed? Why, when
every one of such men was worth a host, were these heroes “hounded” on
to death, as a spectacle before two armies? The fault was not in the
brave men, it was not in their officers; but, as fault there was, it
must have been somewhere. We can fancy a Murat, the first _sabreur_
in Europe, in the place of Lord Cardigan; we can believe that with the
eye and judgment of a general, relying on his reputation, he might
have refused to perform such a palpable and wanton sacrifice; but Lord
Cardigan had not the reputation of a Murat to fall back upon; he is
a rich nobleman, commanding a regiment for his amusement, and not a
soldier of fortune who has gained his rank by his meritorious deeds.
With the same spirit with which he would have accepted a personal
challenge he led on his men to the charge; but that is not the spirit
to which the fate of nations should be intrusted in the battle-field:
great captains have not unfrequently obtained honour by remonstrance
against rash orders, and sometimes by disobeying them altogether. But,
whether the fault of the charge lies with Captain Nolan, Lord Lucan, or
Lord Cardigan, we never can conceive how the order for it could have
emanated from a general who was so placed as to have the position to be
attacked, with its defences and defenders, all before his eyes as in
a panorama! Whispers had permeated the armies that our light cavalry
had not maintained the character it upon all occasions assumed; such
feelings are common in large hosts, but no general should consent for
the sake of jealous rumours to sacrifice one of the most efficient arms
under his command.
Lamentable as was this affair, the day of Balaklava was, on the whole,
advantageous to the besiegers; the purpose of the enemy to remove us
from a most eligible position was defeated, and they had such “a taste
of our quality” as taught them to respect, if not to fear us. The worst
result was the awful diminution of a force in which we were before but
too weak: of our brave cavalry, 387 were killed, wounded, or missing;
and of horses, 520.
Very strangely, the Russians claimed as a great victory their taking of
the guns of the redoubts from the poor terrified Turks; and, in their
pride of heart, made, the next day, an attack, with 5,000 men, upon our
right flank; but they were repulsed by the division under Sir De Lacy
Evans, with the loss of 500 men.
The work in the trenches now became very trying to the men. From
the first, the British army was deficient in numbers for such an
undertaking. Severe labour, change of climate, unusual exposure
exhausted them. The French, from their numbers, made more progress in
the works, and our men were overtasked by an endeavour to keep pace
with them. The guns, too, became shaky, from continual use. In this
arm the Russians excelled us: their guns could bear much more frequent
firing, from the excellence of the iron of which they are composed.
This is the first war in which the rifle has been employed to any
extent, but its merits became so fully appreciated, that we have no
doubt it will be generally adopted, and the soldier, instead of firing
at random, will be trained so as to throw no ball away.
One feature of the Russian character has been very prominent in
this great struggle--a brutal want of humanity. They partake of the
attribute of their eastern origin, in the little value they attach
to the lives of their own troops, provided they gain their end; and
they have no particle of mercy for a fallen foe. In the _mêlée_,
arising from the rash Balaklava charge, they hurled the bolts of their
artillery, indiscriminately on friends and enemies; and, after all
contests, it was their invariable habit to bayonet the wounded French
and English.
By the 30th of October, the position of the allies was rendered very
much worse by the closing in upon them of the Russians in their
rear. They might be said to be as much besieged in their lines as
their enemies were in Sebastopol. But the sea is the Englishman’s
constant source of comfort and relief; the port of Balaklava was
theirs, and the sea on that side was free to them. The Russians
removed every combustible part from their houses and buildings, so
that, with the exception of flesh and blood, the allies had nothing
to fire against but stone walls and mounds of earth. The most keen
and active deer-stalker or chamois-hunter could not be more cunningly
and anxiously on the watch for a shot than were the whole bodies of
riflemen in both armies during the long siege. Great skill was likewise
acquired in gunnery; a shot, a shell, or a rocket seemed sometimes to
drop, like magic, _à point nommé_.
But now, as winter approached, the troops became sensible of the
miseries of their situation, and of the culpable neglect of those who
ought to have provided for their comforts. Things, which in England
would have been cast to the dunghill, became valuable, and were sold
at absurd prices: a tattered rug, 50s.; a pot of meat, 15s.; a sponge,
25s.; a half worn-out currycomb and brush, 20s.!
With bad weather, sickness, of course, increased, affecting equally
French, English, and Turks; and, until the matter was forced upon the
_authorities_ at home by the Press, was not duly attended to. But what
is still more strange, men there, upon the spot, were deaf to this
imperative duty, and the eloquent _Times_ correspondent says: “The
authorities generally treat the medical officers with cool disrespect
and indifference.” There is no portion of this siege that will descend
to posterity on the page of history with more honour to us as a
people than that displaying the ready and earnest sympathy felt by
most classes at home for our suffering compatriots: the public voice
thundered in the ears of officials, and forced them to their duty;
individual charity, individual exertion, were instantly put forth; and
woman! constant to her character of “a ministering angel,” forsook the
home of comfort, and the bed of down, for the contaminated atmosphere
of a military hospital, and attendance by the wounded soldier’s couch.
We care not what may be the high-sounding title of the general who
shall achieve the conquest of the Crimea, it will pale beside that of
Miss Nightingale, the leader of the Sisters of Mercy.
At this period of the siege, spies, of a bold and artful kind,
occasionally made their appearance in the allied camps. If the
commanders had read our siege of Antioch, they might have followed the
example of Bohemond: he roasted the bodies of some dead prisoners, and
made it understood that the Crusaders served all spies in that manner;
he cleared his camp of that dangerous kind of vermin, against whom, we
must say, the allies were not sufficiently watchful. How eloquently
does a passage of Mr. Russell’s account of the 4th of November bear out
our frequently-expressed conviction of the incapacity of the leaders!
He says: “Whenever I look at the enemy’s outworks, I think of the
Woolwich butt. What good have we done by all this powder? Very little.
A few guns judiciously placed, when we first came here, might have
saved us incredible toil and labour, because they would have rendered
it all but impossible for the Russians to cast up such entrenchments
and works as they have done before the open and perfectly unprotected
entrance to Sebastopol. Here has been our great, our irremediable
error.” And when we look at the bitter consequences of that error, what
can we say of the commanders by whom it was committed? In all ethics
there is nothing so fallacious and injurious as the constantly-quoted
“_De mortuis nil nisi bonum_;” it is deceptive as to the dead, it is
disheartening to the good, and encouraging to the bad of the living.
Lord Raglan was an amiable gentleman, well-versed, we dare say, in
the routine of office; but by no means fit to head such an enterprise
against such an enemy. But was not all the English policy, at starting,
of this do-nothing character?
Of the same complexion was the disregard to Sir De Lacy Evans’ repeated
representation of the insecurity of the position of the flank of the
second division. But if the British general was deaf, the Russian
commander was not blind, and this led to the attack which brought on
the glorious battle of Inkermann--glorious to our brave troops, but
certainly not creditable to the precaution of their commander. The
Russian generals, on the contrary, seem to have exercised vast skill
and discrimination. A great captain not only considers the battle
itself in his plans, he provides for success by his preparations, and
secures comparative safety in the event of defeat. Bonaparte’s tactics
in that respect were his ruin: he said a general should think of
nothing but conquering--so that whenever he was beaten, he never knew
how to make a retreat. The Russian plans of attack were as perfect as
possible, and nothing but the indomitable courage of our troops could
have prevented their carrying into effect their threat of compelling
us to raise the siege and driving us into the sea. Well-laid plans,
brave men, in overwhelming numbers, immense artillery, superstition and
brandy, with the presence of royalty, were all put in force against
British strength, devotedness and courage,--and all failed. “The Battle
of Inkermann,” says its historian, “admits of no description. It was a
series of dreadful deeds of daring, of sanguinary hand-to-hand fights,
of despairing rallies, of desperate assaults,--in glens and valleys,
in brushwood glades and remote dells, hidden from all human eyes, and
from which the conquerors, Russian or British, issued only to engage
fresh foes, till our old supremacy in the use of the bayonet, so rudely
assailed in this fight, was triumphantly asserted, and the battalions
of the Czar gave way before our steady courage and the chivalrous
fire of France.” The Russians fought with desperation, constantly
bayonetting the wounded as they fell. They had orders, likewise, to aim
at every mounted officer--thence the death of generals Cathcart and
Strangways, and the number of killed and wounded officers of rank: Sir
George Brown was among the latter.
The battle was won--but what again says the historian? “A heavy
responsibility rests on those whose neglect enables the enemy to attack
us where we were least prepared for it, and whose indifference led
them to despise precautions which, taken in time, might have saved
us many valuable lives, and have trebled the loss of the enemy, had
they been bold enough to have assaulted us behind intrenchments. We
have nothing to rejoice over, and almost everything to deplore, in the
battle of Inkermann. We have defeated the enemy indeed, but have not
advanced one step nearer towards the citadel of Sebastopol. We have
abashed, humiliated, and utterly routed an enemy strong in numbers,
in fanaticism, and in dogged resolute courage, and animated by the
presence of a son of him whom they deem God’s vicegerent on earth; but
we have suffered a fearful loss, and we are not in a position to part
with one man.” In this grand struggle 45,000 Russians were engaged, and
their artillery was relieved no less than four times. The Minié rifle
performed wonders on this day.
Sir De Lacy Evans was very unwell on board ship, but revived at the
din of battle. He got on shore, and rode up to the front. And there,
when the fight was over, he stood lamenting for the loss sustained by
his division. One of his aides-de-camp was killed, another wounded;
of his two brigadiers, Pennefather had a narrow escape, and Adams was
wounded:--“and there lay the spot, the weakness of which the general
had so often represented! It was enough to make him sad!”
The siege of Sebastopol reminds us of the adventures of one of Dibdin’s
sailors--
“By and bye came a hurricane, I didn’t much like that,
Next a battle, which made many a poor sailor lie flat;”
only the events are reversed. While the glories and the misfortunes of
the 5th of November were still tossing in the minds or grieving the
hearts of the allies, they were visited by a terrific hurricane, which
gave them a complete foretaste of what they were to undergo during the
winter. We would fain give our readers an extract of the sufferings
endured by the armies; but, alas! we _condensers_ are obliged to be
satisfied with serving up dry facts,--we are not allowed space for
anything that is interesting. And yet, in this case, we have nothing
but our own dull labour to regret, as the exciting story is familiar
to every Englishman or woman. We take this opportunity of begging our
readers to place our omission of the various incidents of the siege
to the same account: they would fill a volume, as sorties, attacks,
bombardments, shelling, and rocket-flying were constantly going
on:--but we are confined to a few pages. The sufferings of the men
overworked in the trenches were extreme; and, sorry are we to say, the
neglect of the “authorities” still continued as reprehensible as ever.
But the presents from their _home_ friends began to arrive, and the
relief from the “_Times_ fund” was extensive.
At the end of September the siege was practically suspended. All the
troops had to do was to defend the trenches at night, and return shot
for shot whenever the enemy fired; the Russians, in the meanwhile,
taking advantage of every temporary lull to increase their internal
defences.
“Rain and misery everywhere--the fortifications of
Sebastopol strengthened--privations of the army--scarcity of
food--impassability of the roads--disasters the results of apathy and
mismanagement--indescribable horrors of the town and hospitals of
Balaklava--the camp a wilderness of mud--pictures of dirt and woe--the
Slough of Despond--misery effaces the distinctions of rank--painful
reflections--mortality among the Turks--mode of burial--attempted
surprises and skirmishes--dismal prospects.” Such are the heads of
two chapters of the historian we follow,--and what more can we add
to them? Are they not sufficiently eloquent? Do they not tell the
story completely? And among all this, winter set in with severity:
they had no means of getting up the huts sent them; it was as much
as every man could do to provide his food. Some of the warm clothing
sent from England went down in the _Prince_, some was burnt in a ship
at Constantinople, and lighters full of warm great-coats for the men
were left to be saturated with wet in the port of Balaklava, because
no one would receive them without orders. Such an army, and in such
a situation, was to be left to die of misery from “etiquette” and
“service regulations.” “No one would take responsibility upon himself,
if it were to save the lives of hundreds.”
With Christmas came little Christmas cheer or Christmas
merriment--neither Christmas-boxes nor New Year’s gifts. They went
from England, but the army did not receive them at the appointed
season or in the hour of need. Whilst friends were despatching more
than warm wishes to the Crimea, the “ill-fated army was melting
away--dissolved in rain. On the 2nd of January, there were 3,500 sick
in the British army before Sebastopol, and it is not too much to say
that their illness was, for the most part, caused by hard work in bad
weather, and by exposure to wet without any adequate protection.” The
Russians not only opened their new year on the 12th of January with
the usual ringing of bells and other gaieties, but with a tremendous
cannonade and a spirited sortie. They were, however, expected, and
were vigorously repulsed and driven back close to the town; so close,
indeed, that had the allies been in sufficient force upon the point,
they might have entered with them.
At this inclement season the Cossacks, in sheepskin coats and fur
caps, mounted on their rough, wiry ponies, with deal lances and coarse
iron tips, were much better able to keep their piquet-watch than our
cavalry. Though brilliant in their charges throughout the campaign, our
cavalry certainly played a more subordinate part than was expected of
them. Before the introduction of railway travelling, we used to think
the English, as a nation, the best horsemen in the world, though we
never thought our military seat comparable with a Yorkshire seat; but
this is an irrelevant question--beyond the famous charges, our cavalry
are certainly not prominent in this great year’s campaign.
On the 19th of January, the historian of the war makes this striking
remark: “Except Lord Raglan, Lord Lucan, and Sir R. England, not one
of our generals now remain of those who came out here originally:
the changes among our brigadiers and colonels have been almost as
great--all the rest have been removed from the army by wounds,
sickness, or death--and so it is of the men.” What an eloquent and
sorrowful comment is this upon the severity of the service! Would that
we could say that was the only cause! Did we indulge in a description
of the horrors of hospital and camp, we should leave no room for the
glorious triumph.
The superior resources of the French, as regarded numbers, began now
to be felt; ground was gradually relinquished to them, and the front,
which it cost the British so much strength and health to maintain, was
necessarily abandoned to the more numerous and less exhausted army. The
French received reinforcements continually, whilst we, alas! were not
dwindling, but being swept away: the grave and the hospital swallowed
our brave men by thousands--between the 1st of December and the 20th
of January 8,000 sick and wounded men were sent down from camp to
Balaklava, and thence on shipboard!--from the battle of Inkermann to
this period, 1,000 men of the brigade of guards had been “expended,
absorbed, used up, and were no more seen!”
Every night was enlivened with a skirmish, and with sharp-shooting
behind the parapets, and in the broken ground between the lines. The
Russians, throughout, had plenty of men, with a superabundance of
_matériel_--we have not space for a hundredth part of the cannonades,
bombardments, fusillades, sharp-shooting, sorties, and all kinds of
annoyances kept up by the enemy: in justice, it must be said, that no
place was ever more earnestly, actively, and bravely defended. With the
exception of a few instances of ferocious brutality, the Russians have
proved an enemy worthy of our best and most valiant exertions.
Towards the middle of February, the earthworks on both sides had been
so nearly perfected, that even the bombardment from mortars of great
size produced but little apparent effect. The Russian force, in rear of
the allies, was now estimated at 35,000 men: the allies were completely
besieged; but “the sea, the sea” did not allow its brave rulers to
perish.
At this time Lord Lucan was recalled; upon which circumstance we will
not venture a comment, for fear of being seduced into a long discussion.
As soon as the 21st of February, the allies became aware of the immense
labours being carried on by the Russians in the north division of the
city, on the other side of the harbour. There were not less than 3,000
men employed in the works, and the correspondent of the _Times_ then
foretold the exact purpose for which they were preparing: they were
securing themselves a place of retreat. They received almost boundless
supplies, without the allies being apparently able to hinder them.
This siege was not unmarked by some of those occasional intercourses
which teach men that, although opposed in deadly strife, they are human
creatures. Now and then an hour’s truce, for the purpose of burying the
dead, brought Russian officers out of the town, and civilities were
exchanged. But there was certainly something _rusé_ in the demeanour of
these gentlemen, and doubtless the most observant were selected for the
_duty_. There was nothing of that heartiness of mutual respect which
has, upon similar occasions, distinguished French and English officers.
The railway, between Balaklava and the camp, now began to be in
operation, and was a source of intense wonderment to the Cossack
piquets.
The rifle-pits, which are no novelty in siege warfare, next became
the objects of constant struggle. They were simple excavations in the
ground, in front and to the right and left of the Malakoff tower,
about six hundred yards from the works of the allies. They were faced
round with sand-bags, loop-holed for rifles, and banked up with earth
thrown from the pits. They were, in fact, little forts or redoubts,
to act against the besiegers, armed with rifles instead of cannon.
Each could contain ten men, and there were six of them. They were so
well protected and covered by the nature of the ground, that neither
English rifleman nor French sharp-shooter could touch them. Some of
the severest fighting of the siege took place for the possession of
these pits, which were peculiar objects of French interest, as being in
front of their lines. On the 22nd of March our brave allies obtained
three of these important holes, and immediately commenced a sharp
fusilade against the Mamelon and Round Tower, from the sand-bags.
Towards the end of March, a happy change was effected for the
besiegers: food became plentiful, and camp comforts were even
superabundant; the officers were absolutely oppressed by the _woolly_
kindnesses of their fair countrywomen, particularly as the ground was
covered with crocusses and hyacinths, and the weather began to “wax
warm.”
On the 9th of April, the long-expected second bombardment was opened
simultaneously by the allies upon the defences of Sebastopol, amidst
wind and torrents of rain, with an atmosphere so thick, that even the
flashes of the guns were invisible. They were warmly responded to by
the Russians.--Repeated complaints of the fusees of the British. By the
18th, however, the fire slackened on both sides: each seemed glad to
avail themselves of a little respite.
On the 19th, _a grande reconnaissance_ was made by the Turkish
forces, assisted by the English and French. It was a picturesque
march, answered all the intended purpose, and was a great relief to
the monotony of the siege. Contests were daily and nightly taking
place, each worthy of being made episodes in a great poem. “Deeds of
derring-do,” of firm courage and devotion, were enacted in numbers by
officers and men: the contest on both sides was truly “a strife of
heroes;” but it must be left to the bards of future ages.
In these awful circumstances, the British army had again to complain of
the _authorities_, whilst _funds_ and individuals were sending stores
of comforts they did not now want: the brave fellows were badly off for
shells and fusees:--“there were no fusees for such shells as they had,
and plenty of fusees for such shells as they had not.”
The French lines were now within a few hundred yards of the Mamelon,
and our advanced parallel inclined towards the Round Tower. The
progress was steady, but it was dearly bought: the Russians contested
every inch of ground bravely.
The abortive Kertch expedition took place early in May, and was said
to result in nothing, from orders unfortunately received from Paris.
The chagrin of Sir Edmund Lyons was so great as to produce illness.
When this great siege shall take its due place in the page of history,
bright will be the renown of this noble specimen of a British sailor.
But for Sir Edmund Lyons, we might look throughout this war in vain
for the successors to our Blakes and Nelsons--for the commanders of
the true arm of our nation. Jack,--immortal Jack! has well maintained
his character for dauntless courage, kindness of heart, devotedness,
and whimsicality; but what is become of the race that used to lead him
through “the battle and the breeze?”--with the exception of Sir Edmund
Lyons, echo answers, “Where?” All honour to him!--a grateful people’s
honour!
The Russian night-attacks were more frequent, but they were, in all
cases, repulsed with loss, although well planned and bravely carried
out. The principal disadvantage to the British arose from the havoc
made among their best soldiers; the bravest would go to the front, and
were the first victims. Races and cricket matches were got up--but,
after a few trials, died out. The gallant troops tried all they could
to keep up their spirits; but the real game going on was too serious.
On the 16th of May the allies were delighted by a welcome
reinforcement. The Sardinian troops began to arrive; and, in addition
to the gratification derived from such a circumstance, they were
surprised by their warlike and splendid appearance. It was something
new to the weather-beaten warriors, to see troops so newly and
handsomely equipped.
By the middle of this month the army became sensible of a deficiency
which we, who are fresh from the study of Eastern sieges, had always
dreaded: they were short of water, and that for an army of men and
horses is a calamity a thousand times worse than a deluge of rain. They
were put to some inconvenience; but Artesian wells, and supplies from
the fleet, prevented the want from being severely felt.
On the 22nd of May started the second expedition to Kertch, which was
attended with complete success. The command of the British contingent
was intrusted to Sir George Brown, Sir Edmund Lyons leading the
naval forces. All was glorious, all was easy, and all appeared well
conducted. The forts were forced, the magazines were exploded by the
Russians themselves; but all their guns, with a prodigious quantity of
corn, grain, munitions of war, naval stores and military equipments,
fell into the hands of the allies. This triumph was stained by great
excesses, but these were attributed to Tartars, Turks, merchant-seamen,
and others of the usual followers of such expeditions: the French and
English regular troops claim to be exonerated from this stain,--we hope
justly.
A squadron was sent into the Sea of Azoff, the success of which was
signal. Within four days they destroyed 245 Russian vessels employed
in carrying provisions to the Russian army in the Crimea, many of
them large, and fully equipped and laden. Magazines were destroyed
containing more than seven million rations. Arabat was bombarded, and
the powder-magazine blown up. At Kertch the enemy destroyed upwards of
4,000,000 lbs. of corn and 500,000 lbs. of flour. These articles should
be all remembered when we are summing up the immense sacrifices Russia
has made in this war.
An expedition to Anapa was planned and prepared; but the Russians,
very perplexingly, saved us the trouble. They, on most occasions,
carry out the system they adopted in their war with Buonaparte: they
prefer destroying their own cities and stores to allowing their
enemies the honour of doing it. “We have inflicted great ruin on the
enemy, but they have emulated our best efforts in destroying their own
settlements.”
After these events there was a lull--the siege seemed to stand still.
There was a little occasional fighting, but the French were constantly
advancing their works. The Russians seemed particularly idle, as
regarded us, and yet it could be seen that they were assiduously
employed in strengthening and provisioning the fortress on the north
side.
This quiet, however, was soon over. On the 6th of June, for the third
time, the fire of the allies was opened along the whole range of
positions; the thunders of 157 British guns and mortars, and above 300
on the side of the French awakened the echoes, and hurled their bolts
against Sebastopol. “Like greyhounds in the slips,” the two armies,
who felt their strength, were eager and anxious for the decisive
struggle. The advantages gained by the fleet, wonderfully increased the
confidence of the troops.
On the 7th of June, our brave attack upon the Quarrries came off, and
our heroic allies, the French, made their immortal capture of the
Mamelon. The British succeeded in taking and retaining the Quarries,
but had to sustain six attacks of the Russians, who fought not only
bravely, but with desperation. We wish we could afford space for the
details of the taking of the Mamelon by the French, as nothing but
details can do it justice; but we must content ourselves with saying,
that complete as the success was, never was success more richly
deserved. We doubt whether history can furnish a more exciting scene
than the conflict for this important post; great was the glory, but
dear the price paid for it! Had we had a larger body in reserve, it was
the general opinion that the Redan would have shared the fate of the
Quarries. When we recollect what this fortress cost us on the memorable
8th of September, we have additional cause to lament the miserable want
of generalship so often occurring in this siege. The men were equal to
anything, but there was no military star of genius to lead them on. The
loss, on all sides, was very great. The next day the Russians solicited
a truce, to bury the dead. This truce disappointed the troops, as it
was believed both the Redan and the Malakoff Tower might have been
captured. It is not unlikely that there was more policy than humanity
in the Russian request, for, before the truce of a few hours was ended,
these posts were strongly reinforced. The French immediately made
every exertion to fortify their acquisition; but the retention of the
Mamelon and the Quarry, though exceedingly important, was not a very
easy matter. The Russians were, perhaps, more aware of their value than
we were. A flag of truce came out of the harbour to request the allied
commanders not to fire on certain ships, as they were converted into
hospitals. This, although complied with, was by many thought to be a
ruse to save the ships.
On the 18th was made the unsuccessful attack upon the Malakoff and
Redan. This was preceded by a hail of shot and shells to an amazing
amount, beneath which the Russian fire grew weak and wild. The French
obtained possession of the Malakoff, but were unable to hold it.
This was a disastrous affair, producing heavy loss and depression of
spirits. Let those who idly talk of war, and over their libations
sing of its triumphs and victories, study the picture given by the
wonderfully-graphic correspondent of the _Times_ of the effects of
this bravely-carried-out attempt--to think of them is sufficient to
penetrate the hardest heart: we cannot dwell upon them.
This was followed by a kind of tacit suspension of hostilities--both
sides were “supped full with horrors;” humanity resumed its empire,
and mournful thoughts and bitter reflections displaced the madness of
strife and visions of glory.
It has been our painful task, in the course of our short narrative,
whilst with pride attempting to do justice to the bravery of our
gallant troops, to comment severely upon the conduct of their leaders.
There is an incident related which took place after the unsuccessful
attack upon the Malakoff, that appears to us a perfect epitome of the
whole conduct of the war, and which our national feeling would not
allow us to repeat, if there were not mixed with it high honour, as
well as imbecility. The taking of the Cemetery was the only trophy of
the great attack, and that, if properly followed up, might have been
of incalculable advantage; the cost of it was dear in brave hearts
and strong arms. Mr. Russell does not hesitate to say: “And this we
should have abandoned from the _timidity_ of one of our generals. It
was left to a general of division to say what should be done with the
Cemetery, _and he gave orders to abandon it_. On the following morning,
Lieutenant Donnelly, an officer of engineers, hears, to his extreme
surprise, that the position for which we had paid so dearly was not
in our possession. He appreciated its value; he saw that the Russians
had not yet advanced to reoccupy it. With the utmost zeal and energy
he set to work among the officers of the trenches, and begged and
borrowed some thirty men, with whom he crept down into the Cemetery
just before the flag of truce was hoisted. As soon as the armistice
began, the Russians flocked down to the Cemetery, which they supposed
to be undefended, but, to their great surprise, they found our thirty
men posted there as sentries, who warned them back, and in the evening
the party was strengthened, and we are now constructing most valuable
works and batteries there.” Far, far be it from us to harbour a thought
or utter a wish inimical to free institutions or representative
governments, but there are times when the will of one strong mind will
work more nobly than official routine: Mahomet II. would have reversed
matters here--the general and the lieutenant would have changed places.
The apparent rest, but real secret activity of both parties, was at
first painfully broken in the British camp by the death of General
Estcourt, the Adjutant-general of the army, which was quickly followed
by that of the Commander-in-chief. Lord Raglan was too old, and too
little accustomed to field-work and anxiety of mind to sustain the
post he was placed in. Forty years’ life of a British nobleman, in
an official situation, could not have prepared him for a struggle
which would have taxed the energies of his master in his prime.
Kind-hearted, amiable and gentlemanly, we believe him to have been,
but these were scarcely the qualities to be pitted against Russian
ambition, artifices, energies, and dogged courage, or to enable him,
at an advanced age, to contend with a climate, exposure, fatigue, and
privations to which he had never been accustomed. Lord Raglan must
have been more conscious than anybody else of his unfitness for the
trying post he occupied: the better the man the more likely was he to
suffer from this feeling. It was the failure at the Malakoff, more than
disease, that terminated the career of one of whom we can speak with
more pride as an English gentleman than as a great English general.
But the great end began to approach; it had been bought dearly, but it
loomed above the horizon. Supplies of men and material were constantly
arriving in the Allied camp, nor can it be said that their powerful
enemy relaxed his efforts in these respects; but, however protected by
earthworks, walls cannot endure battering for ever. With their hosts
of sappers, the French made daily approaches to mining the principal
fortifications, and in July, the Russian commander became so aware of
the peril of his situation, that he informed his Government he could
not hold the city much longer. The Court of St. Petersburgh appeared to
be desperate rather than prudently firm, and ordered the rash assault
to be made on the lines of the Tchernaya, in the hope of compelling
the allies to raise the siege, and of once more regaining Balaklava.
We have had cause to wonder, throughout the siege, at the number of
guns and the abundance of all kinds of warlike munitions that were at
the command of the Russians. But the capture of Sebastopol has greatly
diminished this feeling; for that city may be thought to have been
constantly receiving stores in order to carry out the project of taking
Constantinople, ever since it was conceived by Peter, and cherished by
Catherine II. Instead of a fortified city at the remote boundary of a
great empire, it was like the metropolitan arsenal of that empire. The
Russians then put forth their energies in one more desperate attack.
But the position was too strong and too well defended. The battle of
the Tchernaya was entirely in favour of the allies; not only physically
but morally, for their prestige of victory was well supported; the
Russians were forced to retire back to the heights on either side of
Mackenzie’s farm.
The next fortnight Prince Gortschakoff may be said to have devoted
to providing for the safety of his army. He had great reason to
fear the next bombardment would be fatal; he established a means
of communication between the battered ruins of the South side of
Sebastopol and that North side upon which so much labour and time had
been expended; he built a strong raft-bridge across the harbour, threw
up earthworks along the cliff to protect it, and drew his army together
in compact lines between the sea and the heights of Mackenzie.
On the 5th of September the awful catastrophe was entered upon. All was
preparation with both besiegers and besieged; the former girding up
their loins for the great struggle, the latter doing all that could be
done to meet it manfully. General Pellissier had had a long interview
with General Simpson the preceding day, in which, no doubt, the plan of
attack was settled.
The French began by exploding three _fougasses_ (small mines, shaped
like wells), to blow in the counterscarp and serve as a signal to
their men. “Instantly, from the sea to the Dockyard-creek there seemed
to run a stream of fire, and fleecy, curling, rich, white smoke, as
though the earth had been suddenly rent in the throes of an earthquake,
and was vomiting forth the material of her volcanoes.” This iron
storm made awful havoc on the works and in the city; in its terrible
course it “swept the Russian flanks, and searched their centre to
the core.” “Such a volley,” says the historian and eye-witness, “was
probably never before uttered since the cannon found its voice.” It
paralysed the Russians, and was well described by their General as _un
feu d’enfer_ (an infernal or hellish fire); the batteries were not
prepared to respond to such a destructive and appalling attack. But
it was no temporary spirt with the French; they kept to their guns
with astonishing energy, rapidity, and strength, filling the very
air with the murderous hail poured upon the enemy; there were more
than 200 pieces of artillery of large calibre, admirably served and
well-directed, playing incessantly on the hostile lines. The stone
walls were like houses of card before this tempest, but the huge
mounds of earth seemed quietly to ingulf all the missiles that could
be hurled against them. For a short time the Russians were either
so astonished or unprepared, that they made no reply; but at length
recovering, their artillerymen went to work. Mr. Russell says, “They
fired slowly and with precision, as if they could not afford to throw
away an ounce of powder;” but the immense stores of the “villainous
saltpetre” found in Sebastopol, prove that could not have been the
cause of their slackness. As such a circumstance was sure to act
upon generous natures, the Russian reply only animated the French to
additional exertions; their shot flew along the lines of the defences
and bounded among the houses with incredible rapidity. During this
magnificently-awful scene the British, in their siege-train or in their
famous Naval Brigade, were satisfied with pounding away, at their usual
pace, at the Malakoff and Redan, but certainly rendered their brave
allies some assistance by their shell practice from the Creek to the
Redan. The want of unanimity in the attacks is unintelligible: in this
last chapter of the great work in the carrying out of which we had
been so energetic, and which had cost us so much, we seemed doomed
not to have our share of honour; although we were fully prepared,
in every way, to support it creditably. The French commander, with
characteristic warmth, perhaps, confident in his numbers and means,
thought best to begin alone; and yet this conclusion scarcely agrees
with the excellent understanding and regard to each other’s reputation
which had subsisted between the two armies. Unfortunately our General
Jones, who directed the siege works, was laid up with a severe attack
of rheumatism.
The Russian works began to display a most dilapidated appearance. They
had been finished off in an almost ornamental style, but they now
looked ragged; the parapets were pitted with shot and shell, and the
sides of the embrasures were considerably injured. After two hours and
a half of furious firing, the French suddenly ceased, to cool their
guns and rest the men. This moment of peace the poor Russians employed
in repairing, as fast as they could, their damaged works; but their
gunners took “heart of grace,” and opened an attack upon our sailors’
battery and “the crow’s nest.” With another explosion of fougasses, the
French resumed operations with a still fiercer fire than before, and
continued it till twelve o’clock at noon, by which time the Russians
had only a few guns to reply with. The English from their camp could
see them, in great agitation, sending men across the bridge and back
again, and at nine o’clock a powerful body of infantry crossed over, in
expectation of the attack of the allies; other troops were afterwards
brought back, evidently from the same fear. From twelve till five
the firing was slack; but then it seemed to revive with greater fury
from the comparative lull, and never ceased pouring in shot and shell
till half-past seven, when all the mortars and heavy guns, English
as well as French, with the darkness, opened with shell against the
whole line of defences. We can fancy the sight now beheld can be
compared to nothing but a tropical thunder-storm, or to one of those
autumnal spectacles of aërolites, which astronomers and meteorologists
describe so vividly. “There was not one instant in which the shells
did not whistle through the air--not a moment in which the sky was not
seamed by their fiery curves or illuminated with their explosion.”
The British had gained great skill in their practice, and every shell
seemed to fall exactly _à point nommé._ The Russians scarcely attempted
a reply. At five o’clock, in the evening, a frigate in the second line,
near the north side, was perceived to be on fire. These ships had been
a great source of annoyance to the allies; and the rising flames were
hailed with shouts and congratulations. The cause of this conflagration
was doubtful. The burning vessel was not only an object of interest, it
was a splendid spectacle.
All night a steady fire was kept up to prevent the Russians repairing
their damages. Orders were sent to the English batteries to open
next morning with dawn; but, alas! they were limited to fifty rounds
each.--Why, oh! why was this?--At half-past five A.M. the whole of the
batteries, from Quarantine to Inkermann, opened with one grand crash.
As before, the Russians were comparatively silent. The cannonade was
continued for about the same period as the preceding day. Several
gallant officers had fallen on the 5th. The attention of the Russians
seemed more than ever directed to the north side; but they kept large
masses of men in the town. The bombardment continued all night.
With the rising of the sun the cannonade was resumed. A council of
generals was held at head-quarters; the sick were cleared out of the
field-hospitals; and it was confidently whispered that the assault
would take place next day at twelve o’clock. The fire was kept up with
the same intensity all day. About three o’clock a two-decker was set
on fire, and burnt all night. Vessels near her were towed away by a
steamer to the dock-yard harbour, but the lines of men-of-war remained
untouched. Flames broke out behind the Redan in the afternoon. The
bombardment was renewed at nightfall. A Sardinian corps was marched up
to reinforce the French. About eleven P.M. a heavy explosion was heard
in the town. The men intended for the assault were ordered to take
forty-eight hours’ provision, cooked, with them into the trenches--all
was preparation, and feverish anxiety prevailed, even in the stoutest
hearts.
It has been observed that the Russians generally indulged in a
_siesta_ at twelve o’clock, and that hour was fixed upon for the
assault; but the intended surprise was considerably lessened by the
British general ordering the cavalry regiment up to the front. This
injudicious movement evidently excited the suspicions of the Russians,
who, besides, must have expected the extraordinary cannonade and
bombardment were the precursors of a general assault.
General Pellissier during the night collected about 30,000 men in and
about the Mamelon, who were reinforced by 5,000 Sardinians. It was
arranged that the French were to attack the Malakoff and Little Redan
about noon, and that the British were to attack the Redan at the same
time. At half-past ten the second division and the light division of
the English were moved down to the trenches, and placed in the advanced
parallels as quietly as possible. About the same time, General Simpson
moved down to the second parallel of the Green Hill Battery.
The French had brought their sap close to the Malakoff, and, at a few
minutes before twelve, issued in masses from their _place d’armes_,
swarmed up the face of the Malakoff, and passed through the embrasures
like thought. From their proximity, they had but seven metres to
cross to reach their enemy. Column after column poured through the
embrasures, and scarcely had the head of their column cleared the ditch
when their tricolor floated over the Korniloff Bastion. The French
had evidently taken the Russians by surprise, but they soon recovered
themselves, and fought manfully to expel the intruders. Glorious was
the struggle made by the French to hold their prey; and, fortunately,
they were commanded by a general who understood the importance of
the acquisition, and did not desert them. While the main body of the
French attacked the Malakoff, another division was to attack the
Redan of Careening Bay, and a third was to march against the Curtain,
which unites these extreme points. General Bosquet commanded a strong
division, to support these. The English were to attack the Great Redan,
by scaling it at its salient. General Salles, strengthened by a body
of Sardinians, was to make a lodgment in the town, if circumstances
permitted. Admirals Lyons and Bruat were likewise expected to make a
powerful diversion, but the state of the sea prevented their leaving
their anchorage. The English and French mortar-boats, however, did good
service.
After a terrible hand-to-hand struggle, McMahon’s division succeeded
in making a footing in front of the Malakoff, notwithstanding the
storm of projectiles poured upon them by the Russians. The Redan of
Careening Bay, after having been occupied, was obliged to be evacuated,
in consequence of being exposed to a cross fire, and the fire of the
steamers. But another French division held a portion of the Curtain,
and McMahon’s division kept gaining ground in the Malakoff, _General
Bosquet pouring in reserves, by the order of General Pelissier_.
The Malakoff being the principal object, when the French general
perceived that it was safe, he gave the signal agreed upon to General
Simpson to attack the Redan. Why General Simpson should thus have
abandoned the British share in the great triumph, we are at a loss to
guess. In every toil and danger of the war, the English had taken more
than their part, because they had not sufficient numbers to keep pace
with their brave allies in the works, and their men had been obliged
to work double. From the closeness of their trenches to the Malakoff,
from the immense numbers of men they poured in at once and continued
to supply, the conquest of the Malakoff was not so severe and trying a
task as the British attack upon the Redan, although, from the magnitude
of the fort, the cost of life was enormous.
Convinced that the capture of the Malakoff was all that was to be
wished, the French general would not allow a further waste of good men
to be made, by persisting in the other attacks by his troops.
But the Malakoff was not yet safe: General Bosquet was struck by a
large fragment of a shell, and was obliged to give his command to
General Dulac. A powder-magazine in the curtain, near the Malakoff,
blew up, and serious consequences were apprehended.
Hoping to profit by the accident, the Russians advanced in dense
masses, and in three columns, and attacked the centre, left, and
right of the Malakoff. But they were prepared for within the work.
McMahon had troops he could depend on; and after, as their own general
says, six desperate attempts, the Russians were compelled to beat a
retreat. From that moment they relinquished any offensive attack: the
Malakoff was taken, past fear of recapture. It was then four o’clock
in the afternoon.--A few short sentences thus tell the result of the
contest for this key of the fortifications; but the fact can only be
duly appreciated by reflecting that _seven thousand_ brave men were
sacrificed in it on the part of the French, and as many, no doubt, on
the part of the enemy. War and its horrors were never duly painted till
they came under the eye of Mr. Russell; his picture of the hospital of
St. Paul throws all the terrific scenes of Dante into shade.
We now proceed to a portion of our story in which Englishmen, we are
grieved to the heart to say, can take no pride. Never did an army go
through the fatigues and dangers of a campaign with more courage, more
devotion, more firmness, or more patient endurance; and at the last to
be cut off from partaking of the great honour of the closing triumph,
is disheartening to their future endeavours, and a source of deep
regret to their countrymen at home.
At a few minutes past twelve the British left the fifth parallel. The
enemy’s musketry commenced at once, and in less than five minutes,
during which they had to pass over two hundred yards, from the nearest
approach to the parapet of the Redan, they had lost a large portion of
their officers, and were deprived of the aid of their leaders, with
the exception of acting Brigadier-general Windham, and Captains Fyers,
Lewis, and Maude: the rest had been struck down by the volleys of grape
and rifle balls which swept the flanks of the work towards the salient.
As they came nearer, the enemy’s fire became less fatal. They crossed
the abattis without much trouble: it was torn to pieces by our shot;
the men stepped over and through it with ease. The light division made
straight for the salient and projecting angle of the Redan, and came
to the ditch, which is about fifteen feet deep. The escalade party
proceeded to plant their ladders, but they were found too short!--had
they not been so, they would not have been of much use, as there were
but six or seven brought to the place. In ancient times, when men only
fought hand to hand, seven ladders have achieved wonders; but where
all who mounted could be swept off by musketry, such a number was
useless. But the gallant officers set their men the example of leaping
into the ditch, scrambling up the other side, and thence getting on to
the parapet with little opposition; whilst the Russians who were in
front ran back, and opened a fire upon them from behind the traverses
and breastworks. When upon the parapet, strange and new it is to say,
the soldiers seemed bewildered; their gallant officers cheered them
on, coaxed them on, but instead of following them, they persisted in
firing, loading and firing! The officers began to fall fast. The small
party of the 90th, much diminished, went on gallantly towards the
breastwork, but they were too weak to force it, and joined the men of
other regiments, who were keeping up a brisk fire upon the Russians
from behind the traverses. Colonel Windham had got into the Redan with
the storming party of the light division, below the salient on the
proper left face, but all his exertions were as futile as those of the
gallant officers of the 90th, 91st, and the supporting regiments.
As the light division rushed out in the front, they were swept by the
guns of the Barrack Battery, and other pieces on the proper right of
the Redan, loaded heavily with grape, which thinned them grievously
before they could reach the salient or apex of the work they were to
assault. The columns of the second division issuing out of the fifth
parallel, rushed up immediately after the light division, so as to
come a little down on the slope of the proper left face of the Redan.
The first embrasure was in flames, but running on to the next, the
men leaped into the ditch, and, with the aid of ladders and of each
others’ hands, scrambled up on the other side, climbed the parapet, or
poured in through the embrasure which was undefended. Colonel Windham
was one of the first men in on this side. As our men entered through
the embrasures, the few Russians who were between the salient and
the breastwork retreated behind the latter, and got from behind the
traverses to its protection. From this place they poured in a thick
fire on the parapet of the salient, which was crowded by the men of
the light division, and on the gaps through the inner parapet of
the Redan; and the British, with an infatuation which all officers
deplore, began to return the fire of the enemy without advancing behind
the traverses, loaded and fired as quickly as they could, producing
little effect, as the Russians were all covered by the breastwork.
Groups of riflemen likewise kept up a galling fire from behind the
lower traverses, near the base of the Redan. As soon as the alarm of
the attack was spread, the Russians came rushing up from the barracks,
and increased the intensity of the fire, from which the English were
dropping fast, and increasing the confidence of the enemy by their
immobility. In vain their officers by word and deed encouraged them
on; they were impressed with an idea that the Redan was mined, and
that if they advanced they should be blown up: and yet many of them
acted in a manner worthy of the men of the Alma and Inkermann. But
what availed these few?--they were swept down by the enemy’s fire the
moment they advanced to the front. In the same manner, the courage
of the officers only made them a mark for the Russian fire, and they
fell as soon as they advanced. All was confusion, regiments were
confounded, and men refused to obey any but their own officers. We are
at a loss to account for the conduct of Colonel Windham, it was that
of a hero,--indeed, he is the British hero of the day; but he must
have seen that with such a handful of men his efforts were unavailing:
he gathered together one little band after another, only to have them
swept down by the enemy’s guns: his own escape was miraculous. The men
kept up a smart fire from behind the lower parts of the inner parapet,
but no persuasion or commands could induce them to come out into the
open space and charge the breastwork. Whilst our men were thus being
terrifically thinned, the Russians gained reinforcements, not only
from the town but from the Malakoff, which had now been abandoned to
the French. But Colonel Windham did not blench; he sent three times to
Sir E. Codrington, who was in the fifth parallel, to beg him to send
up supports, in some order of formation; but none of his messengers
reached the general in safety: all were wounded and disabled. Supports
were sent, but they came in disorder from the fire they had to pass
through, and they were in such small numbers, that they appeared only
to be sent to feed the slaughter. Seemingly rendered careless of life,
the colonel passed from one dangerous position to another, exposed to
a close fire, and, wonderful to relate, untouched, but he found the
same confusion everywhere--all firing away at the enemy from behind
anything that could screen them, but all refusing to charge. He, at
length, got some riflemen and a few men of the 88th together, but as
they did not, as he appeared to do, “bear a charmed life,” they were
no sooner out than they were swept away like chaff: the officers, as
conspicuous by their courage as their dress, going down first. This
carnage lasted an hour. The Russians were now in dense masses behind
the breastwork, and Colonel Windham went once more back across the
open space to the left, to make another attempt to retrieve the day.
In his progress he had to pass through the fire of his own men and
the incessant volleys of the Russians, but he still was safe. Within
the inner parapet of the left, he found the men becoming thinner and
thinner. A Russian officer stepped over the breastwork, and tore down
a gabion, to make room for a fieldpiece. Colonel Windham exclaimed to
the soldiers who were firing over the parapet, “As you are so fond of
firing, why don’t you shoot that Russian?” They fired a volley, but
all missed him; and soon the fieldpiece began to play on the salient
with grape. Finding no time was to be lost, and seeing nothing of
his messengers, Colonel Windham determined to go himself in quest of
supports. “I _must_ go to the general for supports,” said he to Captain
Crealock, of the 90th, who happened to be near him. “But, mind that it
be known why I went, in case I am killed.” He crossed the parapet and
ditch, and succeeded in gaining the fifth parallel, through a storm of
grape and rifle-bullets in safety. Sir Edward Codrington asked him,
if he really thought he could do any good with such supports as he
could afford him, and said he might take the Royals, who were then in
the parallel. “Let the officers come out in front--let us advance in
order, and if the men keep their formation, the Redan is ours,” was
the ready reply of this truly British soldier; but the game was ended:
as he spoke, the men were seen in full flight from the Redan, by every
means of egress, followed by the Russians, who not only bayonetted
them, and shot them down with musketry, but even threw stones and
grape-shot at them. Large masses of Russians, supported by grape from
several field-pieces, had poured upon the broken, confused parties of
the British, and crushed them as if beneath an avalanche. When it came
to this point, their native courage revived, and they had recourse
to their national weapon. The struggle was desperate, but, from the
numbers of the Russians, necessarily short. Officers, only armed with
swords, had little chance in such a mêlée; they fell like heroes amidst
the gallant part of their men. The pursuing Russians were soon forced
to retire by the fire of the English batteries and riflemen, and, under
the cover of that, many escaped to the approaches. General Pelissier,
on becoming aware of the failure of the English attack, sent over
to General Simpson to ask if he meant to renew it; but the British
Commander-in-Chief is reported to have said that he did not feel in a
condition to do so. The reserve was certainly strong enough to have
returned to the attack, and General Simpson talked of making it the
next morning; but the Russians saved him the trouble.
The French had a long and severe contest in the rear of the Malakoff,
but, although they failed in the other two attacks, they nobly
maintained their footing in their grand prize.
When the siege of Sebastopol becomes a subject of remote history, we
have no doubt that it will be viewed in this light:--The Malakoff Tower
was known to be the key to the place, and the capture of it was the
principal object with the allies. The French being by far in greatest
numbers, were alone able to undertake this capture, the British army
not being in a condition to sustain such a drain as the attempt was
sure to produce. But, “to make assurance doubly sure,” diversions were
necessary, and it was agreed that the British should attack the Redan,
whilst the French attacked the Little Redan and the Curtain. These
last will all be supposed to be mere diversions, and that they fully
answered their purpose.--Now, whether the allied generals had thus
laid their plans, we will not presume to say; but such is a very fair
assumption. But Englishmen will ask, Why were so many of our brave
countrymen made _enfans perdus_ in an attack that, from beginning to
end, was so mismanaged as never to have a chance of success? To which
the reply will be: Your loss has certainly been grievous; but remember,
it was a common cause, and, in this attempt, which brought about such
glorious results, where you had 2,447 men placed _hors de combat_,
your brave allies had 7,000. There is another circumstance that gives
countenance to this idea. In all Oriental warfare, it has been the
practice to place the worst troops in the van; they were flogged up
with whips, and pricked up with lances to meet the enemy, whom they
were supposed to fatigue and exhaust before the _élite_ of the army
engaged. Now, though General Simpson sent in to the Redan regiments of
nominally great experience and tried courage, he really sent in the
rawest part of his army; for these regiments had been so thinned by the
campaign as to contain very few of the men who came out in them: the
Guards, the Highlanders, the third and fourth divisions were untouched.
But whether they served as _enfans perdus_, or were lost in what was
meant to be a successful attack, the friends of those who fell in this
disastrous affair must console themselves in their grief by reflecting
that no honour is lost--the means, and the method of employing those
means, appear to have been quite inadequate to the object in view.
However great was the triumph of the French, they never dreamt that it
would be so speedily followed by such important consequences.
At eight o’clock, the Russians began quietly to withdraw from the town,
after having placed combustibles in every house, with a view of making
a second Moscow of Sebastopol. With great art, the commander kept up a
fire of musketry from his advanced posts, as if he meant to endeavour
to regain the Malakoff. Before two o’clock in the morning the fleet
had been scuttled and sunk. About two o’clock flames were observed to
break out in different parts of the town, and to spread gradually over
the principal buildings. At four, explosion followed upon explosion,
and the Flagstaff and Garden Batteries blew up; the magnificence of
the scene being heightened by the bursting of the numberless shells
contained in the magazines. During all this time, the Russian infantry
proceeded in a steady, uninterrupted march over the bridge to the
north side, so that by six o’clock the last battalion had passed over:
the south side of Sebastopol was thus evacuated, and left to its
persevering and brave conquerors.
In his retreat, the Russian general, Prince Gortschakoff, maintained
the character for generalship he had so fully earned in his defence
of Sebastopol. As the place was no longer tenable against the troops
and artillery brought against it, nothing could be better than his
arrangements for the safety of his army. He fought till the place
crumbled away beneath him, and then made a judicious retreat with a
very small loss of men. The amount of stores found in the town, after
such a contest, seems almost incredible,--the capture of 4,000 cannon
is a thing unheard of in the history of war.
And so far has this important siege terminated: right and civilization
have so far triumphed over wrong and barbarism; “vaulting ambition
hath o’erleaped itself,” and the arrogant schemes of the Romanoff race
have met with such a check as must, at least, retard them for half a
century. Great has been the cost,--severe has been the struggle,--but,
as the cause is holy, let us trust that Providence will make the end
correspond with the beginning, and that the result of all will be PEACE.