Part 61

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.