violating Swiss territory to attack France, Germany would certainly,
immediately on the declaration of war, throw an Army Corps into Belgium.
It was supposed that a German First Army Corps could be concentrated at
Aix-la-Chapelle on the eleventh day of mobilisation, and that it would
be established on the Meuse and on the Sambre to the south of Namur at
latest by the evening of the fifteenth day—that is to say, twenty-four
hours after the Second German Army Corps had deployed before the
position on the Othain.
This has no doubt been Germany’s intention. A huge army is being
concentrated on the Eastern frontier. But France is likely to forestall
the movement, and to reach Namur before her adversary. The extraordinary
rapidity of her mobilisation may be said to be due in great measure to
the perfection of her railway system on the Belgian frontier. She has
established between Dunkerque and Mezières no less than seven lines of
railway, of which four are double lines, which place her in direct and
immediate communication with Belgium. These roads are linked and tapped
by a transversal line that follows the whole length of the frontier as
far as Longwy. Then she has, moreover, on this frontier four huge
entrenched camps capable of serving as manœuvre pivots for her army, and
as supports to her base of operations. These camps are Dunkerque (with
its annexes—Bergues and Gravelines), Lille, Valenciennes (centre of a
system of defence which comprises Condé, Bouchain, and Le Quesnoy), and
Maubeuge. To ensure the retreat of her army in case of failure, she has
created a first line of defence, formed by Valenciennes, Maubeuge,
Landrecies, Hirson, and Mezières. For her second line she has the town
of Reims, surrounded by forts commanding the valleys of the Aisne and
the Marne, and the iron-bound triangle La Fère, Laon, and Soissons which
defends the valley of the Oise, and with the support of Peronne, the
valley of the Somme.
Thus encouraged by the rapidity of mobilisation—a rapidity certainly
never anticipated by Germany, and probably a little unexpected by her
own officers—France has decided to attack Germany by Belgium. The seven
natural obstacles in her path are not in themselves formidable. She has,
indeed, to cross the Meuse, the Lower Rhine, the Teutoburgerwald, the
Weser, the Hartz, and the Elbe. The Teutoburgerwald checked, it is true,
the Legions of Varus, but to-day the great roads pierce it in several
broad cuttings, and it is, moreover, traversed by two railway lines,
running from Hamm to Hanover and Magdeburg. The Hartz also is traversed
by good roads and girdled by two railway lines running to Berlin, one of
which is the line which places the German capital in communication with
Coblentz and Metz. Thus her advance should unquestionably be more rapid
than by the inter-Moselle and the Rhine. If, moreover, she can make good
her footing in Belgium before the German army, she will undoubtedly find
there better roads, better cantonments, and far greater resources of
every kind than she would find in Lorraine and Oldenburg and the
Palatinate.
With this object, we hear that the 1st and 2d French Army Corps are
being concentrated at Maubeuge, the 3d and 10th at Hirson, the 4th and
9th at Givet, and it is expected that all these forces will be united in
the neighbourhood of Namur in the course of the next four days—that is
to say, sooner by five days than any military authorities have believed
possible.
The entire interest in this country is, therefore, centred in Namur, for
which place I start at once.
NAMUR, _May 8_.
The wildest excitement animates this place. Garrison and townsfolk alike
are filled with generous enthusiasm for the French cause, a rapid change
of feeling which may be attributed in some degree to the Antwerp
episode. The most extravagant rumours are abroad. Belgian co-operation
with the French forces is talked of openly, and with a grandiloquent
disregard of consequences that would be almost amusing if it were not so
grave. It is loudly proclaimed that Chartreuse and the old citadel of
Liége are determined to resist the German advance, and here at Namur
itself the populace (not the army) declare their intention of holding
the ‘Key of Belgium,’ if need be, until their French allies can support
them. As for Namur, its strategical position might well entitle it to be
considered as one of the keys of Belgium. Till lately, however, the
fortifications were in no condition to resist modern artillery. Thanks,
however, to the wisdom of the Belgium Government in adopting the plans
of General Briamont all this has been changed. Within the year 1892 the
fortifications were so far completed as to furnish means for a strong
defence. I give these rumours merely for what they are worth, and to
show the temper of the populace.
As I write this telegram a report reaches me that French troops have
crossed the frontier at Maubeuge and Valenciennes, and it is alleged
that the small Belgian garrisons at Mons and Philippeville, after giving
a wildly enthusiastic reception to their visitors, have valiantly
offered their services to General Saussier.
THE MEETING OF THE FOUR FLEETS.
THE DUKE OF EDINBURGH IN COMMAND OF THE ENGLISH SQUADRON.
We are favoured with another letter from Admiral Colomb, who has been
fortunate enough—in one way—to observe the remarkable naval transactions
in the North Sea:—
‘Not knowing what would happen, or quite what to do, I lay at Colberg,
as being a place less likely to be interfered with by the Russians by
way of blockade than some of the other ports, and to get intelligence of
what was going on. It was here I heard of the violation of the Belgian
territories by France. I thought that the drawing of France into this
step was equally an example of German shrewdness and of French rashness.
I was not at all surprised that we should so suddenly have been brought
into it, in the occupation of Antwerp, which is now being hastened on,
and of course we were bound to mobilise everything we could put our
hands on. I was sure we could never stop at the defence of Belgium. It
seemed equally sure that we could not leave the Baltic, the Belts, and
the Sound in the hands of the French and the Russians, for that would
almost certainly sacrifice Germany. I had seen her hesitate to attack
the Russian Fleet alone, and I was sure that against Russia and France
together, she could only shut her main fleets up in her ports as she did
in 1870 though she is so much more powerful now than she was then. There
was a small German cruiser at Colberg; she trusted to get into shoal
water if a superior Russian found her out—and her captain told me that
he believed the German Government thought as I did in reference to the
policy of attacking the Russian fleet; but that, beside this, they were
alarmed at the crowds of small vessels with heavy guns, which, it was
assumed, might be associated in any naval action in Russian waters. I
only say this as I am told it,—I don’t know anything of the real facts.
‘I thought the appointment of the Duke of Edinburgh to the command in
chief of the North Sea Fleet was a very natural one. His reputation as a
tactician, I had always heard, was first-rate, and naval officers always
seemed ready to depend on and follow him. I was told the command had
been offered to Sir Geoffrey Hornby, but that his medical advisers
absolutely forbid his accepting it; however, he seems to have had a good
hand in the programme.
‘The German officers entirely calculated on France making such an attack
on their Baltic shores as she had proposed to make in 1870. The German
papers rather made light of it, and hammered away on the two points that
France would find it difficult to get transport and appliances, as
Cherbourg and Brest were really her nearest ports; and that England
would step in and prevent a descent if it got as far as that. But the
Germans were everywhere full of preparation on land, and troops were
concentrating at Colberg and elsewhere. I had read in one of our papers
last year that for a long time the bulk of the French Fleet had been
kept at Toulon, and so I was not surprised to see it stated in an
English paper that only five battle-ships had left Brest for the North
Sea, with, however, a good proportion of cruisers and small craft. If,
then, this were really so, it would follow that, supposing the Germans
had been able to bring forward any more ships in the time, and had
repaired the _Oldenburg_, they must be either _à cheval_ between the
French and Russian Fleets—able to strike at each before the other could
assist—or else between two fires; according to how they looked at it. I
had seen them retire before the Russian Fleet on the apprehension of a
French approach. Would they now, with more complete knowledge of the
forces against them, reverse their policy and strike at either? Or would
they remain quiescent; shut themselves up in Wilhelmshaven, and trust to
their land defences to repel all attacks? There seemed almost an even
chance, and I made up my mind to go on to Kiel, and to the Jahde, if I
made out nothing at the first-named port.
‘I had hoped to have made Kiel in daylight, but the wind failing me, it
was dark when I got off the port. I could only guess where I was, for
the Bülk Light did not show, and all I could make out in the way of
lights seemed to be about the works of Friedrichsort, though the regular
light there was also extinguished; thereupon I lay-to. I had the usual
side-lights burning, and I suppose they were seen, for we had not been
there ten minutes lying-to when a ship without lights of any sort came
out of the gloom, and a voice hailed us in an unknown tongue first, and
receiving no response, then in French, asking what we were. I answered,
and presently a boat with a Russian officer boarded us. He was very
polite; told us there were no German warships in Kiel except some small
craft; that a squadron of Russian cruisers was blockading the place; and
that I must get out of it. So there it was, and all I could do was to
make sail for the Sound.
‘Off the Jahde we found quite a strong combined French and Russian
Fleet. We counted seven large French ships and six large Russians, so
that it was clear that the Germans had made no attempt to interfere with
the junction. There were many smaller vessels, chiefly French, and the
whole fleet, except some small vessels, was at anchor.
‘We made for the vicinity of a French flagship, and were soon boarded by
a boat from another ship with some sort of flag up. The officer warned
us that the Jahde was blockaded, and that though, on our promise not to
try to slip in, we might remain with the fleets, we should assuredly be
captured or sunk if we tried to break blockade. As we only wanted to see
what was going on, I readily gave a promise, and then we learnt that the
Russian ships had only joined the French a few hours before we came in
sight, and that no one knew what was going to be done, but it was
ordered that the whole fleet must weigh before dark. The officer told us
they expected transports and troops daily, but that he did not know what
was intended.
‘Immediately after dark; accordingly, the whole combined fleet got under
weigh. Lights were shown during the process, but then all were
extinguished and the ships disappeared without our having the least idea
which direction they had taken.
‘We were astonished soon after daylight next morning to see not only our
friends the Russians and French steaming slowly in from the northward,
but to see an apparently still greater fleet in the haze to the
westward.
‘There was an evident check and hesitation in the Franco-Russian Fleet,
and presently we well understood why, when we distinctly made out the
English white ensign flying in the Western Fleet. Our ships came on
quite slowly. We could make out that they were grouped in three great
masses. I counted fifteen in the most advanced portion, all very large
ships, and I soon made out that they were in three lines, with a
flagship at the head of each. Soon I made out the middle one to be
certainly the _Alexandra_ with an Admiral’s flag at the main. On her
right I supposed was the _Camperdown_, with Vice-Admiral Seymour’s flag;
and on the left the _Anson_, with that of Rear-Admiral Adeane. I had
seen them both before I left England, and supposed they retained their
commands. There were several small vessels near this great mass of
ships, and then to the right of them was a group of seven large ships,
three of them as if partly rigged, and four of them like turret-ships.
Then, again, on the left of the main fleet I could make out what seemed
to be a cluster of smaller vessels.
‘We had barely made out all this, when out of the cloud of mist
overhanging the mouth of the Jahde there came clearly the body of the
German Fleet—ten of them I counted.
‘Never was such an exciting time as this. It seemed to me that I was
about to witness the greatest sea-battle that the world had ever seen,
and when I noticed the Franco-Russian Fleet separating its bigger from
its smaller ships, and drawing the latter into one long line, facing
west, and stretching north and south, I made certain they were going to
run right at the English Fleet pell-mell, in the way I had always read
about.’
RETREAT OF FRENCH CRUISERS.
SINKING OF THE ‘ELAINE.’
But yet I had not heard of any declaration of war by England, and it
seemed a terribly reckless thing for the French and Russians—of whom I
could only count fourteen in the line they had drawn out, to run down
upon what seemed to be twenty-two English ironclads, when they could be
joined, in a couple of hours perhaps, by the ten Germans. The three
fleets were each about ten miles from my yacht, and I was in the middle
part. There was not much wind, and what there was being from the
southward, left smooth water, but brought down a good deal of mist from
the flat land of which one could only get indications by buildings and
trees sticking up above the horizon. I could not help thinking how wise
the Germans were to have their fleet here rather than at Kiel. Nature
sheltered them from attack at Wilhelmshaven in a way that no sort of art
could do at Kiel, and here they were quite safe behind their shoals, and
yet ready to fall upon their enemies at a moment’s notice.
Nevertheless, they were hemmed in fast enough. That was made plain by
the fact that at least five small French cruisers had turned up at
daylight a long way inshore of where I was, and had evidently been there
all night keeping watch on the port. While I was weighing, these
cruisers, some of which seemed much nearer to our own fleet, appeared to
be coming out—I supposed in obedience to signal—and then I saw that
several German ships were evidently coming out after them, and steaming
at speed. I had hardly realised the state of affairs when I saw I was in
for a hot skirmish, and that we should be in the middle of it ourselves.
However, we put on full speed, and steamed as hard as we could, straight
for the _Alexandra_. Some of the French now passed us in retreat, firing
their stern guns; and presently we were passing between an advancing and
retiring line, and were between two fires. My wife gripped my arm tight
and stood and looked, but never a word she said. Nor I either, for I had
a horror of what might happen, and was powerless.
[Illustration:
SINKING OF THE YACHT ‘ELAINE.’
]
‘What’s that?’ cried my wife presently, pointing to the sky over the
German ships. What, indeed? I was only conscious that some monstrous,
roaring, and very relentless thing had passed me, and made a crash
somewhere, and that my steward had torn up the hatchway, crying, ‘Good
God! the bottom’s out of the ship!’
Then I knew that a German projectile had passed through our deck and
planking below, and that we were sinking. I holloaed down to the
engineer, ‘Keep her going as long as you can!’ dashed down for my wife’s
jewel-box, collared it, and was up again to find the men clearing away
the boat. I knew the engine-room compartment was by way of being
water-tight, and that we had a little time to spare in consequence; but
I wanted to run out of the fire, which I could not do in the overcrowded
boat. My engineer was as cool and white as marble. ‘She’ll go a bit yet,
sir!’ he called up through the skylight; ‘the water’s leakin’ in through
them sluices pretty, but there ain’t more nor six inches yet.’
The boat was down, towing alongside, and I gave the word to quit the
yacht as she was sinking markedly by the stern. The engineer came
regretfully last into the boat before myself. ‘Them blooming engines ’ll
go a bit yet,’ he muttered as he passed me. ‘I’m glad it worn’t a
Rooshian shot anyhow.’ It was no use sticking to the yacht, but she had
done us the good turn of carrying us out of the line of fire, which,
indeed, was slackening by reason of the approach of the French to their
own fleet.
The whole thing was such a scurry that one hardly knew what had, and
what had not happened, but we understood it when my poor _Elaine_, with
a great snort and splash, suddenly threw her nose into the air and went
down stern first, leaving us in the overcrowded boat, clear now of the
cross fire which had, indeed, nearly ceased. Then I became aware of two
things; one, that a heavy English cruiser, with a flag of truce flying,
was steaming towards the Franco-Russian Fleet; and next, that a smaller
ship was steering direct for my boat. In a very few moments we found
ourselves safe on board the _Blonde_, kindly welcomed and commiserated
by Commander Pretyman, who told us he had been signalled to pick us up
and take us to the flagship.
ON BOARD THE FLAGSHIP.
ACCEPTANCE OF THE ENGLISH TERMS BY THE RUSSIAN AND FRENCH ADMIRALS.
The change was sudden and unexpected enough when we found ourselves
greeted by the Duke the moment we put foot on board the _Alexandra_. My
old friend Keppel had, we found, already turned out of his cabin to make
room for my wife; and the Duke led us—still rather dazed—into his
after-cabin, assuring us that we were his welcome guests till he could
send us home. I could not help wondering at the moment at the quietness
of his manner and his exceeding urbanity on the brink of such tremendous
occurrences and with such awful responsibilities on his shoulders. I
found I was by no means alone in my admiration of this amiable _aplomb_,
but I soon learnt that not only the Duke, but most of the officers did
not apprehend a collision.
For the situation was that war with France had not yet been formally
decreed, and that the flag of truce had gone with the Duke’s Flag
Captain, Brooke, to ‘invite’ the French to withdraw their forces, in
which case no attack would be made, and the Russians might retire
unmolested to Cronstadt. If, however, in three hours the Russian
Squadron had not separated from the French, and the French had not
signified their acquiescence, the united English and German Fleets
together would enforce compliance. The Duke’s secretary, Mr. Rickard,
showed me the copy of the message. It was exceedingly firm, but
exceedingly conciliatory; praying the French Admiral Planché and the
Russian Shestakov to reflect that, in presence of forces so enormously
superior, their honour could in no way be touched, and that common
dictates of humanity forbade the awful effusion of blood which would be
so uselessly shed in the event of a refusal.
The ships were all prepared for action,—those with masts appearing to be
nearly stripped,—and now I saw that the German Fleet was well out, and
steaming directly for us. The officers all seemed a good deal more
excited than the Admiral, but still I found that no one believed in the
possibility of resistance. The latest news by a despatch vessel
represented that the embarkation of troops at Cherbourg, which was
closely watched by several of our cruisers, had apparently been stopped,
and this, it was felt, gave additional cause to believe in a peaceable
solution, as it was made clear that even if the English Fleet only
stopped the transports, the whole Franco-Russian game was up. A last
telegram from Paris, _viâ_ Madrid, expressed belief that the French
Admiral Prémesnil had sailed with orders to return to Brest if the
English appeared in observation off the Jahde in greatly superior force.
Notwithstanding, there was not a glass in the ships that was not
persistently directed upon the _Immortalité_—now about ten miles off,
and stopped close to the French Flagship—and her great white flag, for
it had been arranged that she should hoist the Dutch ensign under it as
the signal that the terms were rejected.
The hours drew on, and for perhaps two there was no sign. The distance
was too great to make out ordinary flag signals, but sometimes it could
be seen that such were hoisted, and one of the signal midshipmen created
a fresh stir by affirming that the ships in view were ‘stoking up.’
My heart was in my mouth with the excitement of the moment, but if I was
as cool and unconcerned in outward appearance as the officers and men
surrounding me, I must have wonderfully belied my real feelings.
Suddenly the head signalman called out in a hurried voice, not taking
his eye from his glass: ‘The Russians are moving, sir!’
We could not in fact distinguish French from Russians at the distance,
but I had told them that the Russians were on the right wing, and as
they looked, they could see the right wing opening out from the left. A
sort of disappointed sigh passed round the group, as by a single impulse
they dropped their glasses and looked at one another. I am sure I saw an
impatient gesture of the Duke’s right arm, and a certain setting of his
lips which confirmed it. There was no Dutch ensign. Common sense had
overcome the sentiment of the allies; the terms were accepted, and the
Russians were off to the Gulf of Finland.
All this surmise was confirmed when Captain Brooke returned on board;
but I never saw complete disappointment so unmistakably betrayed as it
was on his face, that of the Admiral and the other officers who received
him at the gangway.
I have little more to say. The French Fleet presently passed us,
steering to the westward. The Duke detached twelve of his battle-ships
under Sir Michael Seymour with seven or eight cruisers—all newest types
of ships—to follow up the Russians into their own waters, while he
himself followed up the French with the remainder of his fleet. My wife
and I were sent on board the _Thames_ which came home full speed with
the news.
I remain in a kind of mental paralysis. No one had ever suggested to me
that in the presence of British power, naval war was to become but naval
peace. All the naval people whom I had ever heard talk about it always
seemed to have in their minds a certainty that in naval war, no two
hostile fleets could ever see one another without rushing to a mutual
destruction pell-mell. And yet I could get away from the fact that to
every Frenchman and every Russian in the combined fleet I had seen, it
must have been clear that no one but a madman could have pursued any
other course than that which their Admirals followed. Of course it might
have been different had war been actually declared.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE LANDING OF BRITISH TROOPS AT TREBIZONDE.
THE PROTECTION OF ERZEROUM—TURKS, LIKE THE ENGLISH, AS USUAL, TOO LATE.
(_From our Special Correspondent, Mr. Francis Scudamore._)
KARAKURGHAN, _April 29_.
I owe the opportunity afforded me for writing to you from this wretched
place to an accident which has befallen my best horse, and will delay me
possibly for another couple of days. The mischance is doubly unfortunate
at this moment, inasmuch as reports from our front lead to the
supposition that an important engagement is at hand. Any adequate
analysis of the rumours that reach me constantly, contradictory as they
are, continually varied, chequered with additions and omissions, and
burdened with the extravagant local interest environing some wholly
trivial circumstance, would be as entirely out of the question for me as
for any of your readers at home. Indeed, your readers are certainly
infinitely better informed than I am as to current events.