Part 11

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.

Our own destination was Monte Carlo, where we anchored our yacht in the pretty little bay of Monaco, and, going ashore, found the army of the Prince—consisting of about sixty-five carabineers—in no small state of excitement, owing to the prospect of its being forced perhaps by circumstances to abandon its attitude of armed neutrality, and sucked into the whirlpool of hostilities, whereof the Riviera might so soon become the sanguinary scene. But such a prospect had not the least apparent terror for the visitors to the beautiful Inferno at Monte Carlo—men and women of all nations—Jews and Gentiles, Elamites and Assyrians—who, in spite of the military bustle going on around them—French battalions of Chasseurs and Alpine troops arriving and departing by road and rail—continued to frequent the tables of the Casino with an all-engrossing passion for their occupation worthy of the abstruse philosopher of Syracuse. ‘_Noli turbare circulos meos_,’ also exclaimed these lost-to-all-else worshippers of the roulette wheels.

It is not, perhaps, generally known in England, but the fact is that during the last few years the French have been busy constructing a formidable line of forts all along the Riviera from Marseilles to Mentone; and every commanding peak and mountain-top overlooking the sea and the seaside road is capped with one of these terrifically strong stone-works. Careless pleasure-seekers on the Riviera are not likely to take special notice of these mountain-crowns, with heavy long-range guns for their jewels; but there they are, all the same. They form, indeed, France’s silent answer to the Triple Alliance, and were placed there since the conclusion of that pact to bar the advance of Italy, should that Power, in fulfilment of her treaty engagements with Germany, be called upon to assail the flank of France, and select as her line of attack the sea-board rather than the mountain route.

An important reason why the Italian army should prefer the Riviera road into France with all its perils was that, apart from the natural difficulties of the Alpine routes, which had rather increased than diminished since the time of Hannibal and Cæsar, they were unwilling—such was their loyalty to public law—to expose themselves to the charge of infringing the neutrality either of Switzerland or of Savoy. For it must be remembered that, even after it had changed hands with Nice in 1860, Savoy, this section, so to speak, of the Franco-Italian Alsace-Lorraine, continued subject to the Treaty of Vienna (1815) as neutral territory, part of which, Chablais and Faucigny, might even be occupied with Federal troops ‘in the event of Switzerland’s neighbours being in a state of open or imminent warfare.’ Indeed, a portion of the Federal Army had already made bold to brave the displeasure and even the reprisals of France by occupying as it was, theoretically speaking, entitled to do, the upper part of Savoy; and this had introduced into the military situation an element of complexity which the Italians would have been foolish to ignore. Consequently, they resolved to force the passage of the Riviera road—the more so as their fleet could cover their march to some extent, and even land troops at particular points, as long at least, at the other portions of the French navy, at present engaged in the Baltic and elsewhere, should not be free to make for the Mediterranean.

The Italians had also resolved to send another smaller army, consisting of their 1st and 3d Corps (whose places in the army of the Riviera were to be taken by the 6th and 8th), across the Alps by the Mont Cenis route, so as thus to attempt to turn the flank of the French Army, consisting mainly of the 7th, 14th, 15th, and 16th Corps, which were now pretty well all the French could spare from the further draft they had had to make on their military resources with a view to repair their reverses on the Rhine.

BATTLE OF COSTEBELLE.

MOUNTAIN WARFARE.

I need not describe to you in detail, for that has doubtless already been done for you, the incidents of the preliminary fighting between the two armies—French and Italian—since the first outpost collision at Ventimiglia, and the first serious collision near Mentone. You are sure to have heard of all the thrilling incidents forming the prelude to the drama—the splendid but unavailing defence that was made by the 24th Battalion of French Chasseurs from Ville-Franche against the irresistible onslaught of the Bersaglieri of the 4th Italian Corps; the brilliant cavalry encounter between the 5th Italian Lancers and the French Dragoons of Tarascon (Tartarin’s native place on the Rhone); the exploits of the Italian Alpini, or Alpine Sharpshooters, in scouting and hill-climbing that would put to shame the records of the Alpine Club; the wonders of marching and ‘milling’ (if I may use a slang word) done by the mule-borne mountain-batteries of either belligerent: the obstinate artillery duels between the Italian ironclads which steam along the coast and the bastioned stone-work batteries that crown the mountain-tops; with all the other novel features in this almost fascinating picture of bloody war set in such a beautiful framework of blue sky and purple hills, o’erlooking a paradise of flowers.

* * * * *

The Battle of Hyères, or rather of Costebelle (where Queen Victoria lately passed a few quiet and peaceful weeks), though it resulted in the repulse of the French, and their retirement on Toulon, is not quite decisive of the campaign, as it will be next to impossible for the Italians to possess themselves of this formidable and important place, even with the aid of their fleet, before getting reinforcements from Italy, which cannot for the present be spared; and meanwhile the Brest Squadron of the French Fleet may be able to get rid of its embarrassments elsewhere and come round to the Mediterranean.

The situation, no doubt, will be simplified if General Ricotti, with his two Corps, manages to debouch from the Alps on the Mont Cenis side, and, disposing of all opposition in that quarter, come down the valley of the Rhone to co-operate with the army of the Riviera. But, in the meantime, the issue of the whole war may have been decided on the Vistula and the Rhine; and, if so, then the Italians will have accomplished their chief aim, which was to distract and hamper the forces of France, by creating a diversion on her flank and rear, and thus render her defeat by the Germans all the easier and all the more certain.

In any case, the victories already achieved by the Italians show them to be possessed of splendid soldierly material, both in men and officers—material in no single respect inferior to that of France; and when, after the late battle of Costebelle, the German Emperor telegraphed to King Humbert that ‘his troops had done things of which their Prussian comrades themselves might very well be proud, and which at least they had never surpassed even at Rossbach and Sedan,’ it must have been felt by all the world that His German Majesty, in employing the phrases of compliment, was only using the language of truth.

_To the Editor of ‘Black and White.’_

SIR,—I observe that some confusion has arisen as to the authorship of the letters from the Baltic and North Sea relating to the terrible war now raging. They are not mine. The author is my friend, Sir Rambleton Seaforth, who was on his wedding trip, and has certainly had a remarkable experience in that way. He is only a yachtsman, not a naval man, or he would have no doubt been able to give us fuller details, and a more correct view of the situation. The letters were written to me, and not intended for publication, and I much fear I shall be hauled over the coals when he comes home. But I shall answer him with the truth, which was that his sister stole them off my desk and sent them to you without asking my leave.

I am sorry to say that the pair did not come to the end of their adventures in the _Thames_. On her way into Sheerness she was ordered by signal to transfer her despatches into a picket-boat, which was sent out to her, and to proceed at once to Plymouth. As Sir Rambleton’s place is in Devonshire, he and his wife decided to go on in her. Unfortunately, when she made her number off the Start, she was signalled to proceed at once off Cape Finisterre for the protection of commerce, and to coal at Ferrol, but not to call there till actually short of coal. She asked leave to land her passengers, and was refused, so Sir Rambleton and his wife are at sea off Finisterre now, if they have not been captured and carried into a French port, as it was stated that quite a cloud of French cruisers had been ordered to rendezvous at that point.—I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

P. H. COLOMB.

_May 10, 189—._

THE LANDING AT TREBIZONDE.

LORD SALISBURY ON THE SITUATION—DEBATE IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS.

LONDON, _Saturday, May 14_.

It was not till May 7th that our Correspondent’s letter (_see page 102_) announcing the reported arrival of English troops in Trebizonde was published in London. It had been delayed in transmission. Meantime, on May 3d, the day following the debate in the House of Commons, the proclamation calling out the Reserves was posted throughout the kingdom. It appears that warning notices, issued as secretly as possible, had been sent out four days earlier, following the precedent set in 1882. On May 6th Mr. Balfour gave notice that he should on May 10th ask for a credit vote in the House of Commons for ten millions, and for authority to call out the Militia. On the reception of the news received from our Correspondent, however, a hasty conference of the Liberal leaders, which met at Mr. Gladstone’s house, decided that, as it would be inconvenient to have a debate in the House of Commons prior to that on the credit vote on May 10th, Lord Kimberley should on Monday night, May 9th, ask for explanations of Lord Salisbury, and notice was at once sent to Lord Salisbury to that effect. On the afternoon of May 9th the House of Lords was crowded from floor to ceiling. All the Princes were in their places. The House of Commons occupied the whole of the space at the bar in a dense mass. The galleries were filled with the Princesses and Peeresses.