musketry fire—of such a galling and invisible kind—we made a show of
manœuvring large bodies of infantry over against the Russian centre, as
if in preparation for an attack in force; and presently we could discern
that this feint movement on our part was responded to by the pushing up
of more of the enemy’s force from either flank into the woods of
Skierniwiçe, for the purpose of giving us a reception lacking nothing in
warmth should we have the temerity to essay an entrance there.
While this renewed concentration in the Russian centre was going on, a
curious incident happened, which puzzled us not a little at first. This
was the sudden emerging from the wood of what appeared in the distance
to be several squadrons of cavalry, which headed straight for our lines,
and came careering down right on the rye-field where the Jäger Battalion
before-mentioned, from its concealed position, was playing such sore
havoc among the Russian gunners with their long range and invisible
fire, and we doubted not that their whereabouts had at last been
discovered. Accordingly, while our guns loaded with shrapnel, word was
passed to the Stendal Hussars, who, acting as cavalry of the 7th
Division, were standing ensconced in a hollow on the rear flank of our
batteries, to prepare for hurling themselves upon these presumptuous
horsemen. But this counter attack proved to be unnecessary; for
presently we could discern that the Russian steeds were riderless, and,
on coming nearer, they turned out to be only a huge herd of very fine
deer, which had been scared out of their leafy haunts in the forest of
Skierniwiçe by the infernal pother going on there. It may be remembered
that, in his narrative of the battle of Königgrätz, the late Count
Moltke referred to a similar incident.
Meanwhile, our real object, which was the delivery of our main attack on
the right flank of the Russians, was being successfully attained. It can
scarcely be expected that I, or any other single eye-witness, should be
able to detail the incidents and development of a battle which extended
along a line of more than six miles, as the reasons which preclude a
General from exercising anything like unity of command over so vast an
area form an equal restraint upon the War Correspondent’s power of
all-embracing observation. Even of conflicts like Königgrätz and Sedan,
a pretty complete description of a general kind could always be given by
one pen by reason of the smoke which betrayed the whereabouts of friend
and foe and the fluctuations of the fight; but now that science has
robbed war of one of its most picturesque appendages, a modern battle by
day is a most bewildering spectacle. You hear the roar of cannon and the
rattle of musketry, but this incessant thunder is accompanied by no
lightning-flash. You see men flinging up their arms and falling around
you, but know not whence they received their death-wounds any more than
if they had been stricken down by the invisible arrows of the Sun-God
Apollo.
Naturally enough this must have a most demoralising effect on all
soldiers, and when Blücher at Lingy said: ‘My men like to see the
enemy,’ he was only characterising the fighting men of most nations.
Still, as far as I could discover, the German Infantry were less
disconcerted by these unseen terrors of modern war than were their
Russian foes, who are most dour and indomitable devils when they can
fight shoulder to shoulder and in the mass, but lose much of their
_morale_ and their dogged powers of resistance when each man has mainly
to rely upon his own intelligence (not a very marked feature of the
Slavonic soldier), his own initiative, and his own isolated sources of
courage. Indeed, we thought we could now and then detect traces of panic
among the soldiers of the Czar; and in one case, at least, we distinctly
saw an officer draw his revolver on some of his men who would rather
have fled than fallen before a foe whom they could neither see nor feel.
In spite, however, of these demoralising influences which were at work
among the scattered ranks of the Russians, they held their ground with
singular tenacity; and the battle had thus raged for hours without our
being able to carry out completely our main purpose, which was, under
cover of the feint attack that we had directed against the enemy’s
centre, to turn his right and roll him up—a manœuvre, as we knew, which
Prince George of Saxony was equally fain to accomplish with the Russian
left.
About noon, however, the scales of victory were suddenly turned in our
favour in the following manner. The day was bright, clear, and warm, and
though the battlefield immediately in front of the knoll occupied by
King Albert and his Staff (to which I had attached myself) was
completely free from powder-smoke, the horizon behind the Russians all
at once began to grow clouded with a long line of thick yellow dust,
which floated ever nearer and nearer to us in dense billowy volumes like
a huge, irregular wave of muddy sea foam. I saw the King exchange
glances of intelligent meaning with the various members of his Staff,
but did not myself comprehend the meaning of the phenomenon, until the
rolling dust-cloud began to be relieved by sparks and glintings such as
are emitted by mica from a grey hillside, and then it flashed upon me
all at once that these coruscations of light in a whirlwind of dust
could only come from the flashing of the sun’s rays on the sabres,
helmets, and lances of our cavalry.
And so it was. For our Two Divisions of Horse, numbering in all
thirty-two squadrons, starting betimes, had stolen away through Lowitz,
up the right bank of the Bzura, and fording this stream above its
confluence with the Ravka, had mounted this other brook and crossed it
at Bolimoff, where they were fairly in the rear of the Russian right, on
which they thus came thundering down. I had seen operations of this kind
repeatedly carried out at the autumn manœuvres in Germany, but deemed
them _Kriegspiel_ in the literal sense of the word—and not to be thought
of or hazarded in real warfare. Yet here was a vivid proof that the
Germans are terribly earnest, even in their military pastimes, and that
they only apply in war what they practise in peace. I daresay, however,
King Albert would never have sanctioned so bold a venture had he not
discovered early in the day that the Russians had shifted the bulk of
their cavalry to their left flank as being the more exposed of the two,
and only left a weak Brigade of Dragoons to strengthen the natural
inaccessibility of their right. It had never occurred to them as a
physical possibility that the Germans, unperceived by their Cossack
scouts, could positively work two Cavalry Divisions round to their rear;
but the Germans had done so, and, riding down the Dragoon Brigade in
question, it rushed with a ringing cheer like a whirlwind upon the
Russian battalions and smote them hip and thigh.
Becoming aware, though all too late, of this impending avalanche of
squadrons in their rear, the Russians had faced about with wonderful
alacrity and steadiness, and delivered a well-directed volley against
their assailants, emptying a very considerable number of saddles; but
though this staggered them a little, it did not in the least stop the
long audacious wave of horsemen, who, couching their lances (for the
German cavalry of all kinds are now armed with this weapon), rode full
tilt at the lines of Russian marksmen, stabbing and spearing them as
they so stubbornly stood their ground. The shock and _mêlée_ were all
over in less time than it takes to tell of it, and having thus performed
their dare-devil and death-dealing ride through the shattered ranks of
Gourko’s infantry, the gallant squadrons put spurs to their jaded
steeds, and with another rousing cheer came galloping across to our
lines, through which they passed amid ringing salvoes of cheers,
retiring into the hollow ground beyond to rally and re-form—though very
much thinned in numbers, it must be admitted. It was an heroic feat,
executed at a great cost of life and limb; but it had completed the
demoralisation among the ranks of the Russian infantry which our
invisible musketry fire had begun, and paved the way for the crowning
manœuvre of the day.
This was performed by our reserve Division of Infantry (the 8th), which,
imitating the strategy of the Prussian Guards at Chlum, had edged its
way round and taken the Russians full on their right flank, which it was
now rapidly rolling up and forcing in upon the centre in huddled masses
of demoralised and defeated troops of all arms. At the same time it was
clear, from certain signs on the extreme right, that our army of the
Vistula had succeeded in performing a similar turning movement in its
particular part of the field (where the bulk of the Russian Cavalry had
bravely, but vainly, attempted to stem the tide of our advance); and by
two o’clock in the afternoon our line of battle had assumed something
like semi-circular shape, which was ever narrowing down upon our
out-manœuvred opponents.
By this time a general advance on our side had been ordered, and our
Corps Artillery, after raining another most awful torrent of shells on
the Russian position, now slackened and gradually stopped its fire, in
order to let our infantry do the rest of the bloody work unhampered by
the fire of their own guns. Our infantry, indeed, were only too eager to
finish its terrible task; and although whole ranks were mown down before
it could succeed in ousting the enemy from the field entrenchments,
which ran bastion-like all round their position in Skierniwiçe, still
Teutonic courage and discipline proved more than equal to Russian
doggedness, and volley after volley of the Mauser repeater soon filled
Gourko’s trenches with heaps of dead and wounded.
[Illustration:
THE STORMING OF SKIERNIWIÇE.
]
The townlet of Skierniwiçe was in flames, and no longer afforded shelter
to its defenders; the chateau itself (with all its three-Emperor
memories) had been converted into a heap of smoking ruins; the Russian
batteries had been reduced to silence as much by our long-range
rifle-fire as by our own field guns; the wood had also been rendered
untenable by our encompassing it on three sides; and so nothing remained
to be done but storm the position at the point of the bayonet. It is
marvellous how troops can so dispose themselves as to escape observation
in a terrain not over rich in natural and artificial cover; for the
general advance had not been sounded long before reserve companies and
battalions seemed to start from out the very earth and join in the
universal rush forward upon the Russians, as they began to waver and
finally give way all along the line. By one battalion a determined stand
was made at the railway station, where there was some desperate
hand-to-hand fighting that recalled the butchery of Bazeilles; but here,
too, German obstinacy and valour carried the day; and as the ‘Old
Dessauers’ had distinguished themselves by the capture of the Russian
battery at Vlokavek, so now it was reserved to the 2d battalion of that
same regiment to storm, with colours flying and kettle-drums beating,
the final foothold of Gourko’s gallant Muscovites on the field which had
been selected by him and his fellow-commander as the Waterloo of this
portion of the war.
By three o’clock the Russians were in full retreat on Warsaw and its
ring of formidable forts, leaving us in undisputed possession of
Skierniwiçe with all its stores and strategical advantages.
It will be impossible to estimate our own losses as well as those of our
foes for some hours yet; but on both sides the carnage has been fearful,
very much heavier, indeed, in view of the relative numbers of troops
engaged, than were ever suffered by any combatants in the Franco-German
or Russo-Turkish wars. But it is some little consolation, at least, to
think that the ambulance arrangements of the Germans have kept pace with
the improved methods of mass-murder called modern warfare, and the
crowds of wounded, both Germans and Russians, are being well attended
to.
The meeting between our victorious commanders, the King of Saxony and
his brother, Prince George, after the battle, was of a most touching and
affectionate kind, recalling the historic scene at Königgrätz, in which
King William and his heroic son, ‘Unser Fritz,’ were the chief figures.
GREAT BATTLE ON THE GALICIAN FRONTIER.
LATER.
Just before sending off this despatch news reaches me of a decisive
battle which has also been fought on the Galician frontier between the
combined Russian forces thereabouts and an Austrian army 250,000 strong,
which is said to have resulted in the complete repulse of Dragomiroff,
who is retreating towards Lublin, on the Warsaw line. Should this rumour
prove true, it is probable that Dragomiroff will also retire on Warsaw
to join hands with Gourko and the Grand Duke Vladimir, in which case it
is not unlikely that the present war will be productive of another
Gravelotte and another Metz.
ITALY MOBILISES HER ARMY, AND TAKES THE FIELD AGAINST FRANCE.
SCENE IN ROME ON THE DECLARATION OF WAR BY FRANCE—‘ITALY WILL FULFIL HER
TREATY OBLIGATIONS.’
(_By Post from an Occasional Correspondent._)
MONTE CARLO, _May 30_.
The telegraph will have already kept you well informed of the various
details in the development of the Franco-Italian portion of the present
great European war; but having been enabled, by a series of lucky
chances, to follow the main incidents of the Italian uprising until now,
perhaps you might care to receive from me, by way of supplement to what
you have already published, a brief general record of my observations.
I happened to be in Rome when the telegram was received there announcing
that France had drawn her sword on Germany. I was first made aware of
the fact by a large tumultuous crowd, which came surging and shouting
past my window (a back one) of the Hôtel de Londres, on the Piazza di
Spagna, shouting out ‘_evvivas_’ for Germany and the Triple Alliance.
This crowd had come rolling down from the Pincio, where the splendid
band of the Carabinieri—second to none in Europe—had been discoursing
delightful music, and where a special edition of the _Popolo Romano_ had
disseminated the news, which was not, indeed, wholly unexpected, that
France, profiting by the embarrassments of Germany on her Eastern
frontier, had risen with a cry of vengeance to spring upon the Rhine.
One man had jumped up on the bandstand of the Carabinieri and read out
this telegram to the listening throng, which then, as if by pre-concert,
burst out into ringing cheers for King Humbert and the German Emperor;
while the band swelled the chorus of these enthusiastic acclamations by
playing the Italian Air and the ‘_Wacht am Rhein_.’
Then, starting off for the Quirinal, the crowd came rolling down by the
Church of La Trinità dei Monti, and through the Via Sistina, where I
hastened to join it, and where it stopped before the house in which
Signor Crispi modestly occupies a third-floor flat. In compliance with
the clamours of the mob, the ex-premier, the advocate and author of
Italy’s share in the Triple Alliance, presented himself on his balcony,
and bowed his acknowledgments to the cheering mass below; but, declining
in the circumstances to make a speech, he only waved his hand, and
pointed in the direction of the Quirinal, to which, accordingly, the
multitude now again headed with tumultuous haste.
After rushing up the flight of steps leading to the Quirinal, we found
the spacious area in front of the Royal Palace already filled with
similar contingents of the populace from other parts of the city; some
of the demonstrationists having even clambered up and taken their stand
on the pedestals of the equine masterpieces of Phidias, familiar to all
visitors to Rome, while a very considerable element in the vast
assemblage was formed by the black-robed and tonsured gentlemen from the
other side of the river, who had come to witness the birth of events
which might be pregnant with consequences for them and their
aspirations. And from these priestly figures, with their pale and
pensive faces, I could not help letting my eye wander across the
intervening valley to the lofty windows of the Vatican, where perchance
the self-imprisoned successor of St. Peter was trying, with the aid even
of a telescope, to make out the meaning of all this popular commotion in
front of the palace of the royal inheritor of all his worldly glory—to
make out the meaning of it all, and wonder whether the stirring events
now being fashioned in the crucible of war might possibly result in
restoring to him some shreds and patches of his temporal power.
But these reveries of mine were speedily dispelled by another roar of
acclamation from the multitude, which had parted and formed a lane, as
did the waters of the Red Sea at the sight of Moses and his mantle, to
let some one pass out from the Royal Palace. It was the Marquis di
Rudini, accompanied by two of his secretaries, who had just left the
Council presided over by the King, and was crossing over to the Ministry
of Foreign Affairs. Cheer after cheer greeted this appearance of the man
who, although he had stepped into the ministerial shoes of Signor
Crispi, was known to have espoused his popular foreign policy; and the
crowd could scarcely be prevented from shouldering him high and bearing
him into his official residence. The crowd had barely closed round the
portal of the Ministry when it had again to open up a lane to admit the
passage of a carriage containing the German Ambassador, Count Solms, who
had hastened hither from his palace on the Capitoline with a very grave
face indeed. But when he re-emerged from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs
in about twenty minutes’ time, the clouds had lifted from his refined
countenance, and he returned the salutations of the crowd with a grave
smile of satisfaction. Quick to draw its own conclusions, the multitude
set up another shout, and began to clamour for Rudini. Yielding at last
to the loud and continuous solicitations of the Roman populace, the
Marquis stepped out upon the balcony of the Ministry, and, after
signifying his wish for silence, addressed his hearers to the following
effect:—
‘Gentlemen, this is at once a serious and a sublime moment, but as it is
a time more for action than for words, my remarks must be brief. France,
as you know, has drawn the sword on Germany, and Italy must be true to
her loyal ally. (A burst of cheering.)
‘Italy entered into certain treaty obligations, which she is now
required to fulfil; and Italy will now fulfil them. (Frantic cheers.)
‘The die is cast, and we must redeem our pledges at all risks; for our
honour is at stake, and our national existence would be nothing without
our national honour. (Loud “_evvivas_.”)
‘This is the first time that Italy, as a united nation, has been called
upon to show the stuff whereof she is made; and with God’s help she will
justify the love that has been lavished, as well as the hopes that have
been placed upon her.
‘I need only add that orders have been issued for the immediate
mobilising of all our brave army; and that the steps of this army will
be accompanied by the fervent prayer of every true Italian—and we are
all true Italians—from the sunny plains of Sicily to the snow-clad peaks
of the Alps. (Great cheering.)
‘Italia farà da se. Evviva il Re Humberto! Evviva l’imperatore di
Germania! Evviva la tripla Allianza!’
Loud and long-continued cheering followed this speech of the Marquis
Rudini (which was presently again to serve as the substance of a more
elaborate oration in the Chamber); but with his exit from the balcony of
the Foreign Office I may fitly drop my curtain on this opening scene of
the Italian War-drama, which your space will only allow me to portray in
one or two representative sketches, but not describe in detail.
THE COUNCIL OF WAR
The scene of the next incident which I have to record was the Ministry
of War, one of the hugest buildings in Rome (for in every country of the
Continent is not the architecture of war rapidly dwarfing the structures
of religion?), where King Humbert presided over a Council composed of
his military and naval magnates, including the Generals commanding the
twelve Army Corps of the monarchy, and the Admirals of the Fleet, who
had been summoned by telegraph to the capital to advise as to the course
of action which should be adopted against France. The General Staff, it
is true, had already worked out a plan of campaign for the contingency
of such a war; but the situation, as it now stood, presented elements of
doubt and difficulty which had not been wholly foreseen, and it was
therefore necessary to deliberate as to how the Italian army should be
divided and disposed of in existing circumstances.
The main question was: how many Army Corps could be hurled against
France? and this question again was subordinate to the consideration of
how many would be required to guard the coasts of Italy against a French
descent. Moreover, the fact underlying both these questions, as pointed
out by the King, was the absence of any hope that England would, for the
present at least, see her way to give the aims of the Triple Alliance
more than her mere moral support. Had England, for a due consideration,
formally joined the Alliance, and placed her fleet at the disposal of
Italy, thus securing her against all danger of French aggression, or
counter-strokes, by sea, the whole Italian army would have been free to
operate in the field against France; but, as it was, Italy had to face
the possibility of a descent at various parts of her open and extensive
sea-board by a French force of at least four Army Corps. France had
already sent thirteen of her twenty Corps towards the Rhine; but the
seven other garrisoning her Southern and South-western Departments had
not yet received their marching orders; and at any moment some of them
might be poured down to Marseilles and Toulon within a few hours’
sailing of the Italian coast.
The opinion of the War Council was very much divided as to what should
be done, Generals Pianell and Bariola acting as spokesmen of the two
divergent parties; but at length, on the motion of General Cosenz, Chief
of the Staff, whose view was supported by the King, it was resolved in
the meantime to intrust the task of falling on the flank of France to
the 1st, 2d, 3d and 4th Corps, while the 6th and 7th would act as a
reserve, and the others remain behind to adapt themselves to the
development of events, especially if the French were to suffer reverses
on the Rhine and be thus compelled to denude the Southern Departments of
their garrisons.
And then as to the line of attack, the line, that is to say, by which
the Italians should seek to enter France, the Council—but here my
informant, who was present, begged me to exercise the patience which I
would now similarly seek to enjoin upon your readers. I may add that by
the time the Council had finished its deliberations, the Marquis Rudini
had sent to the evening papers the text of the German-Italian Treaty of
Alliance, of which the terms are analogous to the Austro-German one
published by Prince Bismarck a few years ago, stipulating for a mutual
guarantee of territorial integrity, and providing that, in the event of
either Germany or Italy being attacked by France, the other Power should
at once take the field in its defence.
ITALIAN ROUTE—THROUGH THE RIVIERA.
From Rome I went to Spezzia, where a friend had promised to take me on
board his yacht; and here I found a formidable ironclad squadron,
consisting of the _Italia_, the _Andrea Doria_, the _Francisco
Morosimi_, the _Re Umberto_, the _Rugiero di Lauria_, the _Affondatore_
(turret-ram), and several other vessels of the second class, preparing
to put to sea. What could be the objective of this fleet? On this point
all the naval authorities were as silent as the grave; but a few more
days were to solve the mystery.