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Title: The Great War of 189-
Author: Forbes, Archibald, Maurice, J. F., Colomb, P., Maude, F. N., Lowe, Charles P.
Language: English
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THE GREAT WAR OF 189—
[Illustration:
THE BOMBARDMENT OF VARNA.
‘A black mass of some kind was seen to drop from the Russian balloon;
as it reached the level of tallest buildings it suddenly exploded,
its course being marked by crashing buildings and falling ruins.’
_Frontispiece._
]
THE
GREAT WAR OF 189—
_A FORECAST_
BY
REAR-ADMIRAL P. COLOMB COLONEL J. F. MAURICE, R.A., CAPTAIN F. N. MAUDE,
ARCHIBALD FORBES, CHARLES LOWE, D. CHRISTIE MURRAY AND F. SCUDAMORE
_WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS FROM SKETCHES SPECIALLY MADE FOR ‘BLACK AND
WHITE’ BY F. VILLIERS_
[Illustration]
LONDON
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
1895
_SECOND EDITION_
_First Edition, December, 1892_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOTE.
The following narrative appeared originally in the pages of _Black and
White_, the work being the outcome of consultations between some of the
most eminent authorities upon modern warfare and international politics.
The story has been carefully revised, and is now reprinted in response
to a general wish that it should be available in a convenient form.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Attempted Assassination of Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria, 1
Russian Movement upon the Austrian Frontier, 26
Interview between General Caprivi and the French Ambassador, 30
Departure of Troops to the East, 32
Banquet in the Schloss, 33
Ill-treatment of a War-correspondent by the German Hussars, 37
The Austrian Plan of Campaign, 40
First Collision of Russian and German Troops, 43
Warlike Excitement in Paris, 44
Declaration of War by France, 52
The German Plan of Campaign, 61
The French Plan of Campaign, 65
Public Feeling of England, 66
Battle at Alexandrovo, 71
Occupation of Alexandrovo by the Germans, 74
Capture of Czenstochau by Prince George of Saxony, 76
Night Attack by the Russians, 78
Repulse of the German Army, 85
Excitement in Brussels, 86
The Meeting of the Four Fleets, 92
Retreat of French Cruisers, 96
On Board the Flagship, 99
Preparations for the Landing of British Troops at Trebizonde, 102
Repulse of the Russians, 106
The Russo-German Campaign—Great Battle at Skierniwiçe, 110
Italy mobilises her Army, and takes the Field against France, 121
The Council of War, 124
Italian Route—Through the Riviera, 126
Battle of Costebelle, 129
The Landing at Trebizonde, 132
Mobilisation of the First Army Corps, 138
Russia declares War against England, 147
Declaration of War in London, 148
The Position of Affairs, 158
Preparations in the Mediterranean Fleet, 160
The Battle of Sardinia, 165
The Franco-German Campaign—Cavalry Engagement near Ligny, 171
Engagement at Vaux Champagne, 178
The Battle of Machault, 184
The War in the far East—The Capture of Vladivostock, 193
Events in the East of Europe, 199
Arrival of British Troops in the Sea of Marmora, 201
Feeling in Australia, 206
Instructions from the Admiralty, 211
The Franco-German Campaign—The German Advance, 213
Advance of the Second and Third Armies on Paris, 221
The March upon the French Capital, 223
British Campaign in Bulgaria, 225
The Bombardment of Varna, 228
Rout of the Russian Army, 234
The Battle of Kosluji, 236
Enthusiasm in Cairo, 241
French Intrigues in Egypt, 248
Fierce Battle near Wady Halfa, 252
The Franco-German Campaign—Rescue of Paris, 258
Advance of General de Galliffet, 262
Brisk Cavalry Engagement, 265
Great Victory of the French, 267
The General Situation, 274
Capture of Sierra Leone by the French, 279
Siege of Herat, 281
Dispatch of Troops by the Canadian Pacific Railway to India, 282
Cessation of Hostilities—France and Germany, 287
England and Russia, 289
The Services of England, 293
General Effects of the War, 295
APPENDIX.
Sir Charles Tupper on Imperial Defence, 299
An Interview with the Right Hon. Sir Charles Dilke, 303
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
The Bombardment of Varna, _Frontispiece_
The Attempted Assassination of Prince Ferdinand of 11
Bulgaria,
M. Stambuloff, Prime Minister of Bulgaria, appointed 13
Regent after the attempted Assassination of Prince
Ferdinand,
The Bulgarian Mobilisation—Troops marching through the 15
streets of Philippopolis,
The Servo-Bulgarian Campaign—Through Pirot to the Front, 17
An Affair of Outpost—The First Shot in the 19
Servo-Bulgarian Campaign,
The Occupation of Belgrade—‘Here at Last!’ 21
With the Turks: Admiral Woods Pacha’s Fleet of Torpedo 24
Boats steaming through the Bosphorus,
Russian Infantry Landing at Varna, 25
The Knights of Malta at Ambulance Work, 41
Extraordinary Scene in the Place de la Concorde: The Mob 47
tearing the Mourning Emblems from the Statue of
Strasburg,
The Naval Battle off Dantzig—The Sinking of a Russian 58
Torpedo Boat and Rescue of the Crew by an English
Yacht,
The Naval Battle off Dantzig—Wounded Russians on Board 60
the English Yacht,
A Scene in the House of Commons—Sir William Harcourt 68
questions the Government,
British Troops in the Place Verte, Antwerp, 88
Sinking of the Yacht ’Elaine, 97
British Troops landing at Trebizonde, 103
The Storming of Skierniwiçe, 119
Italian Artillery crossing the Mont Cenis, 128
Lord Salisbury addressing the House of Lords on the 134
Question of Peace and War,
The Mobilisation of the English Army—Troops marching 139
through the Dock Gates, Portsmouth,
Reserve Men served with the New Magazine-Rifle, and off 143
to the front to-morrow,
Reading the Mobilisation Order, 145
Declaration of War against Russia from the Steps of the 149
Royal Exchange,
Calling Out the Volunteers—Parade of the Signallers of 155
the St. Martin’s Le Grand Corps,
Our Correspondent at the Battle of Vaux Champagne, 180
The Battle of Machault: The German Cavalry charging the 186
Rallying Squares of the French,
The Taking of Vladivostock: Goorkas Protecting the Guns, 197
British Transports passing the Dardanelles: Fort Chanak 202
saluting the English Ships,
The Sultan, Lord Wolseley, and Sir Clare Ford watching 205
the Passage of the British Fleet through the Bosphorus
from the Steps of the Dolma Baghtche Palace,
German Cavalry Attack by Night on the French Bivouacs, 220
Scene in the Streets of Rheims: German Troops clearing 222
the Streets of French Rioters,
The Battle of Kosluji: Sir Evelyn Wood’s Attack on the 238
Russian Forces,
Map of the Fight near Varna, 239
Scene outside Shepheard’s Hotel, Cairo: Tommy Atkins 243
about to quit Egypt,
Soudanese Attack upon a Reconnoitring Party, 254
French Cavalry charging the Prussian Infantry, 270
Our New Route to India: A Sleeping-Car on the Canadian 283
Pacific Railway,
Tommy Atkins bargaining with the Indians on the Canadian 285
Pacific Railway,
Our New Route to India: Rations on the Canadian and 286
Pacific Railway,
Sir Charles Tupper in his Private Office in Victoria 300
Street, Westminster,
The Right Hon. Sir Charles Dilke, 304
THE GREAT WAR OF 189—
A FORECAST.
In the following narrative an attempt is made to forecast the course
of events preliminary and incidental to the Great War which, in the
opinion of military and political experts, will probably occur in
the immediate future. The writers, who are well-known authorities on
international politics and strategy, have striven to derive material
for their description of the conflict from the best sources, to
conceive the most probable campaigns and acts of policy, and
generally to give to their work the verisimilitude and actuality of
real warfare.
ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRINCE FERDINAND OF BULGARIA.
FULL ACCOUNT OF THE MURDEROUS ASSAULT; CRITICAL CONDITION OF THE WOUNDED
PRINCE.
(_By Telegraph from our Own Correspondent, Mr. Francis Scudamore._)
CONSTANTINOPLE, _Sunday, April 3_ (_viâ_ VARNA).
_Noon._
A report has been current here since a late hour last evening, to the
effect that an attempt has been made to assassinate Prince Ferdinand of
Bulgaria, at a mining town named Samakoff, about forty miles south of
Sofia. It is said that the Prince, who had been shooting in the
Balabancha Balkans, was driving into Samakoff towards evening yesterday,
when his carriage was stopped, and he was attacked by a number of men
armed with knives and pistols. The Prince’s attendants succeeded in
saving their master’s life and in beating off some and capturing others
of his assailants, but not before His Highness had been severely
wounded.
Prince Ferdinand was carried into the house of an American missionary
resident in Samakoff, where he now lies. His Highness’s condition is
serious, and is rendered the more critical from the fact that there is
no very adequate surgical aid obtainable in Samakoff, and it was
necessary to telegraph for doctors to Sofia and Philippopolis.
The greatest excitement reigns in Constantinople since the receipt of
this intelligence, and very grave anxiety is expressed in diplomatic
circles as to the possible consequences of this terrible misfortune.
EDITORIAL COMMENTS.
It is impossible to overrate the grave significance of this attempted
assassination at Samakoff, which in the light of our Correspondent’s
telegrams would seem to be the prelude to very serious complications in
the East. It is, of course, too early to estimate its influence upon
general European politics, but we are quite within reason in saying that
the dramatic incident may prove to have endangered the peace of Europe.
We have long familiarised ourselves with the thought that the Great War
of which the world has been in constant dread for some years back, and
which is to re-adjust the balance of the Continent, is much more likely
to break out in the region of the Danube than on the banks of the Rhine,
and the incident at Samakoff may well precipitate the catastrophe. The
situation is most perilous, and it is to be hoped that strenuous
endeavours will be made by the Powers to chain up the ‘dogs of war,’ and
spare this dying century, at least, the spectacle of their release.
Since the Treaty of Berlin patched up the last serious disturbance in
Europe, there has been peace; peace, it is true; but a peace subject to
perpetual menace, and weighty matter for the consideration of statesmen.
Europe has lived, as it were, in armed camps, neutral and watchful; and
all the time the nations have prepared against war as though war were at
their doors. The dastardly outrage at Samakoff comes at a sorry time.
For we repeat our firm conviction, based on long and close attention to
the political motives at work among the nations, that it is on the
Danube and not on the Rhine that the torch of war will first be kindled.
To a pessimist, indeed, if not to an unbiassed observer, we may well
seem of late to have been drawing nearer and nearer to a general war.
The world has never been afflicted with more persistent rumours of war.
No single day has passed without bringing us its perturbing crop of
tremors and apprehensions about the stability of the European peace.
From week to week the Jewish speculators on all the Bourses of
Christendom have been robbed of their sleep, and, worse still, of their
dividends, by telegrams as to the secret massing of troops on this or
that frontier, and of ruinous uprisings in various subject and
down-trodden countries. Now it is the Black Sea Treaty that is going to
be forcibly robbed of its entire Dardanelles clauses, and again the
Bargain of Berlin is about to be perforated, for the sixth time, by the
sword-point of the Czar. Then the Roumanians wake up to find the
Russians beginning to hem them in on three sides; while, again,
newspaper readers are horrified by a revelation of the rapacious
passions which some dignify by the title of ‘principle of nationality,’
and others denounce as criminal ‘lust of land,’ that are on the verge of
outbreak at Athens and Sofia, at St. Petersburg, at Belgrade, at Vienna,
at Paris, and even at Rome.
Where is the wisdom of highly-placed men like the German Emperor and his
new Chancellor assuring the world, in addresses from the throne and
after-dinner speeches, that the peace of Europe was never more assured
than at present, and that the political horizon is without a cloud even
of the size of Elijah’s ominous and initial speck of vapour? What is the
truth or the wisdom of such assurances, when the thorn of
Alsace-Lorraine is still sticking in the flesh of the unforgiving and
revengeful French; when Italy still has some territory ‘unredeemed;’
when Denmark still harbours a deep grudge against her truculent
despoiler; when even the peaceful Swedes, who are still animated by the
spirit of the Great Gustavus, long to free their former subjects, the
Finns, from the tyrannical mastery of the Russians; when the Spaniards
would gladly profit by a European complication—even if they shrank from
the thought of an audacious _coup de main_—to repossess themselves of
Gibraltar; when the Portuguese, following suit, would never hesitate to
kick their British rival in Africa, if they deemed him to be down; when
the Cretans, egged on by the Greeks, are firmly resolved to throw off
the galling yoke of the Turks; when ex-ministers like M. Tricoupis stump
about the Balkan Peninsula, openly preaching Pan-hellenism and Balkan
Federation against the advocates of disunited nationalities; when the
Servians secretly vow to settle up old scores with their Bulgarian
vanquishers, and when these Bulgarian victors themselves, with their
Prime Minister more than their Prince at their head, are sternly
determined to be free and independent alike of Sultan and of Czar; when
Austria continues to cast longing eyes in the direction of Salonika; and
when, above all things, the Colossus of the North, with his head
pillowed on snow, and his feet swathed in flowers of the sunny South,
has sworn by the soul of his assassinated and sainted father that he
will ever remain true to the intention of his sire in exacting a solid
equivalent of power, prestige, and territorial foothold on the Balkan
Peninsula for all the blood and treasure spent by Russia in the task of
‘liberating’ the Bulgarians; when all these things, all these slumbering
passions and meditated schemes of aggression and revenge are duly
considered, how is it possible for any one, be he sovereign or subject,
to lull the world asleep by false assurances of peace which is sooner or
later doomed to be broken?
The Triple Alliance will no more succeed in terrorising the souls of all
these secret plotters and designers, and in giving them pause, than
three inter-locked mountain oaks or firs could stay the downward course
of an extended series of separate avalanches, which rend away with them
pines, and oaks, and all, in their resistless rush. But has the
avalanche, which we thus dread, really and truly at last begun to move?
We sincerely trust not, but for the present at least, the omens in the
East have an exceedingly ugly and alarming look, and we shall await the
arrival of further telegrams with the greatest anxiety. The Triple
Alliance is not an embankment that can bar the advancing flood of war,
but rather a detached fortress which must itself soon incur the danger
of being surrounded and even submerged by the rushing, whirling waters
of European strife. Though the parties to this three-cornered pact have
agreed to place their fire-engines, so to speak, at each other’s
disposal in the event of external danger from fire to their respective
domiciles, it is beyond the reach of these Powers to prevent the
outbreak of a conflagration, from accident or arson, among the rickety,
wind-swept, and thatch-roofed mansions of their neighbours; nor is there
any fact better established in connection with fires than that they are
used by thieves and anarchists for the purpose of sudden plunder and
disorder, at once upon the persons and property of the victims and
beholders of such catastrophes.
Let us suppose, for example, that as a consequence of this most alarming
incident at Samakoff, hostilities should ensue between Russia and
Austria, the former being the aggressor. In that case Germany—in virtue
of her published Treaty with the Hapsburg Monarchy—would almost
immediately have to take the field. Now, in such a contingency, is there
not a grave danger that France, seizing the golden opportunity for which
she has so long been waiting, would at once mobilise her army, and march
the greater part of it towards the Rhine? And is it not certain that the
immediate result of such a revengeful step on her part would be that
Italy, true likewise to her Treaty engagement with Germany, would make
haste to spring upon the flank of the Republic?
It is not well to forecast evils, but at the same time it is well to
look clearly ahead. We know surely enough the real nature of the
feelings with which the Bulgarians are regarded by their ‘Liberators,’
just as we are equally cognisant of the true character of those who
profess to be the Sultan’s ‘friends,’ and who, with the privilege of
most intimate amity, have repeatedly helped themselves to disintegrating
slices of his dominions. We need not remind our readers of that
bitterness which still rankles in the breasts of the Roumanians at the
memory of the manner in which they were ‘rewarded’ for services rendered
at the Gravitza Redoubt and elsewhere during the war against the Turks;
a bitterness which was only equalled by the rage of the Russians when
they recognised the supreme folly of their conduct in forcing Roumania
to accept the Dobrudja in exchange for Bessarabia, and thus depriving
themselves of a _pied à terre_ and strategical base of operations south
of the Danube, in the direction of the grand goal of their ultimate
ambition—the Golden Horn. It is as much the desire of Russia to undo
this unfortunate bargain as it is to shake herself free from the
intolerable shackles that restrain her liberty of action in the Black
Sea, and seal up the outlets thereof against her ships of war. Russia is
only awaiting a proper opportunity for accomplishing these two other
stages in what she deems to be her destiny (and does not everything come
to him who can wait?) just as she continues to pursue her anti-English
policy in Central Asia with steady, disdainful, unresisted strides, ever
lessening the distance between her own frontiers and those of India, and
thus paving the way for the execution of her policy of preventing the
forces of England from being thrown into the balance should any
complication arise in the East of Europe. ‘And ever,’ as Tennyson sang,
‘upon the topmost roof the banner of England blew;’ but that proud
banner has now, at last, been blown away by Cossack colonels from the
topmost roof of all—the ‘Roof of the World’ itself, thus enabling Russia
to overpeer our very Indian plains, and thence despatch her Calebs and
her Joshuas to spy out this other land of promise.
It may be quite true—and, indeed, from all we know of the character of
the Czar, we think it is quite true—that Alexander III. has a holy
horror of war, into which he is determined not to plunge his people; and
we have been assured by the greatest master of modern war, the late
Count Moltke, that the period of dynastic conflicts, or struggles
resulting from the personal passions and petulance of rulers, has come
to an end, and been succeeded by wars between peoples and nations. This
is also quite true; but it is precisely herein that the greatest danger
lurks. For a ruler—as witness the case of the present Czar’s own
father—may prove too weak to restrain or deflect the set of the popular
tide, and he plunged into a war against his own will. It is also
conceivable that the French Government might find it impossible to
resist the clamours of the Chamber to embrace the first opportunity—and
what could be a better one than a general European conflagration? for
ousting the English from Egypt—an object which all good Frenchmen deeply
have at heart. But it is on the Balkan Peninsula, where there are no
rulers or restraining influences to speak of, that popular passions and
aspirations must enjoy most unbridled sway; and therefore it is that we
look with anxiety for the further development of this tragic event at
Samakoff, which has already thrown the Balkan countries into a state of
wild excitement, and all Europe into a fit of ever-increasing alarm.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Francis Scudamore._)
PHILIPPOPOLIS, _April 4_.
(_Sunday Night._) I date this message from Philippopolis, whence indeed
it will be despatched on our arrival there to-morrow; but, as a matter
of fact, it is written in the sleeping car of a special train by which I
am travelling to Ichtiman _en route_ for Samakoff, in company with Drs.
Patterson, Stekoulis, and Lelongt, who have been invited by telegraph to
meet their Bulgarian colleagues in consultation at the bedside of the
wounded Prince. It is to these gentlemen’s courtesy that I owe the
privilege of my passage.
I am enabled, by the kindness of my friends at the United States
Legation, which, as is natural in the circumstances, has received minute
information as to the occurrence, to give you a fuller and more
authentic account of the Samakoff tragedy of yesterday by which Prince
Ferdinand of Bulgaria so nearly lost his life, than is likely to have
been transmitted as yet, and of which no doubt garbled first reports
have already thrown consternation into every European capital. I have
already stated that it is in the house of an American missionary that
Prince Ferdinand is at present lying. I must now explain that Samakoff,
which is nestled in the heart of a picturesque valley formed by the
rough triangle of the Kilo Dagh, the Kadir Tèré, and the De mir Kapou
Dagh at the head of the Balabancha range of Balkans, is not only one of
the wealthiest towns in the principality,—thanks to the iron mines by
which it is surrounded,—but is also famous and dear to Bulgarians by
reason of the presence there of the American Mission School, whose
principals rendered such devoted and signal service to the oppressed
Christians throughout the terrible time of the massacres of 1876 and the
war of 1877. At that time, when, as will be remembered, to be a
Bulgarian was all-sufficient reason for being summarily hanged (if a
man), or foully outraged (if a woman), the principal of the school and
his courageous wife snatched many victims from the gallows, and rescued
from a terrible fate, by harbouring in the mission-house, numerous young
girls and children, fugitives from the devastated villages of the Balkan
slopes. And when brighter days dawned for Bulgaria, and it became a
principality, the services of the American Mission at Samakoff were not
forgotten. It became a custom, inaugurated by Prince Alexander and
studiously maintained by his successor, for the Ruler of Bulgaria to
visit Samakoff in an informal manner once or twice a year, for the
purpose of inspecting the mission school and complimenting its
directors.
The snows which have held Samakoff isolated from the rest of the world
throughout the past four months, are now just melted, and thus it
chanced that Prince Ferdinand, who for a week past had been shooting in
the hills around Philippopolis, decided to pay his first visit of the
year to the missionaries of Samakoff, and had, unfortunately as it turns
out, announced his intention of so doing.
The Prince, with this purpose in view, left Philippopolis on Friday
evening, passing the night in his sleeping-car, and yesterday morning
started in a _calèche_ from Ichtiman-i-Vakarel, formerly the boundary
between Bulgaria and the province of Eastern Roumelia, to drive to the
little township in the mountains.
His Highness has usually been accompanied on these visits by one or
other of the ministers, but on this occasion, owing partly, no doubt, to
his hurriedly-formed plans, he had with him only one of the
aides-de-camp who had been of the shooting-party. The Prince’s carriage
was preceded by half-a-dozen mounted guards, and followed by a like
number, as an escort. This is a precaution which Prince Ferdinand’s
advisers have prevailed with him, much against his will, to adopt of
late, in view of the renewed activity of Russian agents and
sedition-mongers throughout the Principality and the neighbouring
States, where, indeed, a great anti-Bulgarian and anti-Turkish
propaganda has been actively carried on for the past year; and in view
also of the growing apprehension of his advisers that the recent success
in this city of assassins in Russian pay, coupled with the immunity from
punishment which the Czar’s representatives have shown their ability and
readiness to secure for them, would prompt the conspirators, soon or
late, to fly at higher game than either M. Stambuloff or the late Dr.
Vulkovitch. That his Highness’s advisers were in the right has been
proved by the attempt of yesterday. The event, however, may be said to
offer encouragement at once to would-be regicides and to their intended
victims, inasmuch as it has been shown yet once again to the former, how
useless as a protection against assassins is the presence of an armed
escort, and to the latter, how apt is a well-matured plot to be
frustrated by a commonplace accident.
The Prince’s carriage was expected to reach Samakoff about noon, and
shortly before that hour a considerable number of persons had collected
in the main street, while small crowds had gathered round the gates of
the Prefecture and about the door of the American Mission-house, which
is situated in a side street leading off the high road, and where the
usual modest preparations had been made for the princely visit.
His Highness, on arrival, after halting for a moment or two at the gate
of the Prefecture where he did not alight, drove on through the town
towards the Mission-house. At the moment when the carriage turned the
corner into the narrower street, a man wearing the long black gown and
brimless stovepipe hat of a priest of the orthodox church stood forward
from the crowd, in which were several other persons dressed as he was,
and, raising a revolver, took deliberate aim at his Highness. And then
occurred the accident to which, in all probability, Prince Ferdinand
owes his life. The cartridge did not explode. The sham priest lowered
his weapon slightly, raised it once more, and again pulled the trigger;
but as he did so the pistol barrel was struck up—the ball burying itself
in the wall of a house across the street—and the assassin was seized and
firmly held by many willing hands.
The whole occurrence had taken but a moment. The Prince, when he saw the
pistol levelled at him, had leapt to his feet, with the evident
intention of throwing himself upon his murderer. As it was, his
Highness’s intervention seemed very necessary on behalf of the baffled
assassin, who stood in no small danger of being lynched incontinently by
his furious captors.
The carriage had stopped; the escort was hastily dismounting, and the
Prince, shouting orders to the people to spare their prisoner’s life,
had alighted, and turning, was in the act of throwing his heavy pelisse
to his companion, when sudden as thought a second ruffian sprang from
amid the vociferating mob, hurled himself upon the Prince, and thrusting
a great, broad-bladed Circassian _khanga_ into his bosom, was away and
out of sight almost before any of the bystanders had recovered from this
second shock of horror and surprise.
His Highness, who had sunk to the ground under the blow, though he did
not lose consciousness, was at once carried into the Mission-house,
distant a few yards only, and very speedily all the best medical advice
obtainable in Samakoff was at hand, while telegrams for further
assistance were at once despatched to Sofia and to Philippopolis, the
latter place being perhaps more rapidly accessible than the capital. The
first examination of the wound showed that the broad knife had turned on
the point of a rib—very fortunately—and had therefore missed, by a
hair’s-breadth the envelope of the heart. It was not till to-day that a
persistent recurrence of internal hæmorrhage aroused the gravest fears
of the Prince’s surgeons, and prompted them to appeal to Constantinople
for further advice.
[Illustration:
THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRINCE FERDINAND OF BULGARIA.
]
The pretended priest, when searched, was found to be costumed beneath
his robes in the ordinary dress of the petty trader of the towns here.
His long flowing locks proved a wig, and his thick unkempt beard was
also false. Upon him, among other papers said to be of great importance,
but as to which I know nothing, was found a passport issued by the
Russian Consulate at Odessa no less recently than last month, and
bearing the _visé_ of the Russian Chancellor at Sofia. The passport is
made out in the name of Ivan Bendukdjieff, and belongs, the fellow
avows, to a man, a stranger to him, who left it with him by mistake a
week ago. But the authorities entertain few doubts as to the scoundrel’s
identity with one of the men implicated with Shishmanoff in the recent
murder of Dr. Vulkovitch.
I have said that the news of this dastardly attempt on Prince
Ferdinand’s life caused the greatest excitement in Constantinople. There
is indeed no doubt that both the Palace and the Porte are very seriously
alarmed, as, in view of the Sultan’s disgraceful action in the
Vulkovitch affair, it is only just they should be. It is significant of
his Majesty’s state of mind that, when early this (Sunday) morning,
first the French and then the Russian Ambassador drove to the residence
of the Grand Vizier, they were unable to see him, orders having been
sent from Yildiz ordering the Pasha not to receive them. Sir Clare Ford,
on the other hand, had a long interview with the Sultan this morning.
PHILIPPOPOLIS, _April 4_.
When the train steamed into the station here, I learned in the
restaurant, where every one was eagerly discussing the events of the
past two days, that the second assassin was captured yesterday afternoon
at Banja, as the result of an order widely circulated by both telegraph
and horse messengers throughout the country, calling upon all
Tchorbadjis, or headmen of villages, to detain any stranger found within
their jurisdiction, and at once communicate with the nearest central
authority. The man has been identified as one Nicholi Nāoum, a very
well-known character who, besides being suspected of participation in
the murder, last spring, of M. Beltcheff, is known to have been acting
for the past six months as a revolutionary agent on the Macedonian
frontier. Nāoum, who, as leader of a gang of border brigands, has gained
a bloody notoriety in connection with various dastardly outrages against
society, is believed to have been recently engaged in distributing arms
and ammunition among Macedonian villages, and in inciting the
Macedonians to molest the Bulgarians dwelling among them. Nāoum, when
arrested, was found to be provided, like his accomplice, with a Russian
passport executed in regular form. He was immediately carried back to
Samakoff and confronted with Bendukdjieff, against whom he at once began
to rail as a bungler, making no attempt to exonerate himself, or to deny
his share in the tragedy. In this course, perhaps, he was guided by the
knowledge that his life was already forfeited for many atrocious crimes
before he set his hand against Prince Ferdinand. As a consequence of his
last admission of guilt, a very brief trial was necessary, and the two
wretches were hanged this morning outside the house in which they had
lodged on Friday night in Samakoff.
[Illustration:
M. STAMBULOFF
Prime Minister of Bulgaria, appointed Regent after the attempted
assassination of Prince Ferdinand.
]
The Prince is apparently doing well. M. Stambuloff, who, on receipt of
news of the disaster, hurried to his master’s bedside, remained but one
hour in Samakoff, during which time, despite the doctors, the Prince
insisted on seeing him, and returned direct to Sofia. Late on Saturday
night, at a meeting attended by most of the Ministers, hurriedly
convened, he was declared Regent during the serious illness of the
Prince, and for such time as might be necessary, and the formal
proclamation in accordance with this decision was issued yesterday
morning.
SOFIA, _April 6_.
Instead of accompanying Dr. Patterson and his colleagues on a, to me,
fruitless expedition to Samakoff, I bid them good-bye at Ichtiman, where
they left the train, and came on here. As might be expected, I have
found this city boiling with tumultuous emotions, and not only—though
that were sufficient cause—on account of the outrageous attempt on
Prince Ferdinand’s life.
It appears that the Cabinet has received news of the greatest importance
from the Macedonian frontier. The assiduous efforts of Russian agents,
who have been actively engaged for the past six months or more not only
in the provinces itself, but also in the Greek and Montenegrin borders,
in fomenting an anti-Bulgarian rising, are now on the eve of being
crowned with success. Already reports have reached the capital of
disturbances, caused apparently by raids made across the border at
Petrovich and Melnik. That there is a great shifting of troops at
present in progress as a result of this intelligence, is not denied. It
is said, indeed, though I cannot as yet tell with what truth, that a
half division has been ordered to Petrovich, and another like force to
Strumnitza. The latest rumour here is to the effect that the movement in
Macedonia is as much anti-Turkish as anti-Bulgarian, and that Turkey is
also despatching a large military force to Salonika. If this report be
true, it is surely an instance of the irony of fate. In this country it
is a matter of common talk that any anti-Bulgarian movement in Macedonia
is mainly due to the attitude of Zuknir Pasha, the Vali of Salonika,
towards the large Bulgarian element of the population of the province
under his control. This functionary’s persistent ill-treatment of
Bulgarians has been very frequently represented to the Porte in notes
from this capital as being contrary at once to the interests of Turkey
and of Bulgaria. The Principality, it has been said, has consistently
refused to take side with those who seek the dismemberment of Turkey,
and has claimed a right to expect that the development of the Bulgarian
element in Macedonia would not be crushed by Pashas who, by their
arbitrary actions, paralyse the intentions of the central government,
and prepare the way for events which had better, in the common interest,
be avoided. It is needless to say these sensible warnings have been
altogether disregarded by the Porte, with the present inevitable result.
[Illustration:
THE BULGARIAN MOBILISATION—TROOPS MARCHING THROUGH THE STREETS OF
PHILIPPOPOLIS.
]
It is further rumoured here—for the place is full of suspicion—that in
view of certain movements of Servian troops, a large Bulgarian force has
been hurriedly thrown forward to strengthen the troops at Radomir, Trn,
and Zaribrod.
SOFIA, _April 8_.
The latest reports as to Prince Ferdinand are more favourable than could
have been hoped for. The dangerous symptoms have subsided. Internal
hæmorrhage has been checked. The Prince sleeps and takes nourishment,
and his pulse and temperature are satisfactory. Hopes are held out that
in a week’s time His Highness may be moved from Samakoff. Meanwhile,
during the past few days, events have marched so rapidly that people
here are prepared for almost any eventuality. There is no longer any
attempt to conceal the movements of Servian troops. Great numbers of men
are already massed at Nisch and Vranja, and at points on the line of
railway between Nisch and Pirot. The main body of the Servian army has
its headquarters at Knuzevatz. From Belgrade, we learn of the steady
despatch of war material and siege-train to Negotin on the frontier
against Widdin, and a telegram from the same source announces the
arrival at Nisch of a train of the Red Cross Society, consisting of
eighteen carriages furnished with all the necessary equipment for active
service.
News from Constantinople is to the effect that the Porte, alarmed at the
aspect of affairs in Macedonia, has, in addition to the calling out of
the last class of rediffs, decided on the formation of five new Army
Corps. Fresh levies are to be made in order to form a strong reserve.
The transport of rediffs, mainly from Smyrna, Skanderoun, and the
Tripolitaine, is being carried on on a large scale. Over 27,000
reservists have already passed through Smyrna. Many of the Austrian
Lloyd vessels being engaged in the transport of troops to Salonika to
guard the frontier line and to reinforce the Bitolia garrison, the
Seraskierate is negotiating with some English shipping companies for
additional transport. More than fifty thousand troops are to be employed
on the Macedonian border in a line stretching from Mitrovitza on the
north, all round to Raslok on the south-east. Their chief stations will
be Palanka, with Uskub as base, and Djuma and Neurokoy with Strumdja as
base. No further disturbances are reported from the frontier.
[Illustration:
THE SERVO-BULGARIAN CAMPAIGN—THROUGH PIROT TO THE FRONT.
]
M. Stambuloff left here last night to inspect the troops on the
frontier. I am, of course, unable to give any information as to their
numbers or disposition, but it may be said that Bulgaria is well
prepared to resist any attack. It is infringing no rule to say that the
Prince’s army possesses no fewer than 400 pieces of ordnance of all
calibres. The report that his appointment as Regent has met with
disapprobation among a large section of the community here is absolutely
without foundation.
A trusted agent of the Government has also left here for Berlin, for the
purpose, it is understood, of raising a loan in that capital.
SOFIA, _April 10_.
We are now at war, and fighting is going forward even as I write. This
morning rifle-shots were exchanged between Servian and Bulgarian
patrolling parties on the frontier, near Trn, without result on either
side. A body of some 300 Servians then crossed the frontier and advanced
about a mile, seeking to cut off a party of fifty Bulgarians, who,
however, retreated and escaped. Later on heavy fighting was reported in
the neighbourhood of Vlassina. How it originated is immaterial. The
Bulgarians lost 17 men killed and 54 wounded. This set fire to the torch
all along the frontier line. Some time before the official declaration
of war, which, though it announced that hostilities would begin at noon
to-day, did not reach the Minister for Foreign Affairs here until nine
o’clock this evening, reports had been posted up in the cafés announcing
fighting in the vicinity of Planinitza, Beuskedol, Miloslawtzi, Zelene,
and Gard, in the Trn district. The Servian Minister, who had twice
telegraphed to his Government for instructions during the afternoon,
demanded a special train as soon as he had presented the declaration of
war, and left half an hour later, under escort, for the frontier.
A solemn _Te Deum_ was sung this evening in the Cathedral, M. Stambuloff
and the Ministers being present. The streets are crowded—no one shows
any intention of going to bed; the popular enthusiasm and confidence are
immense, and there is apparently a general sensation of relief at the
relaxation of the strain of the past few days, and a feeling of
satisfaction that the dastardly attack on the Prince will be promptly
avenged. I am, by the way, authorised to state that, by order of Prince
Ferdinand’s physicians, all news of these exciting events is rigidly
withheld from his Highness.
Fresh troops are hourly leaving Sofia and Philippopolis for the front.
[Illustration:
AN AFFAIR OF OUTPOSTS—THE FIRST SHOT IN THE SERVO-BULGARIAN CAMPAIGN.
]
At the moment of closing this despatch, news comes of an important
action near Dragoman, with reported defeat of the Servians with heavy
losses.
SOFIA, _April 11_.
There is to be no more fighting. The brilliant and most sanguinary
engagement at Dragoman, which I reported in progress last night, in the
course of which the Bulgarians, who were completely successful, drove
the enemy back from all their positions on the heights above the pass:
an incessant artillery duel, maintained ever since the commencement of
hostilities between the heavy Servian batteries before Negotin and the
Bulgarian forces garrisoning Widelin, and a very successful unopposed
advance along the Vranja road as far as the Morava river by a Bulgarian
force, composed of three brigades from Sofia, from Trn, and from
Radomir, make up all there is to report of the campaign. For when
hostilities were about to be opened this morning near Kumareno, which
was evidently held by a large Servian force, an officer bearing a white
towel, with a pink fringe, tied to a hedge stake, as a flag of truce,
rode out from the Servian lines and demanded a _pourparler_. It then
transpired that the Servians found themselves in a terrible quandary,
and were at their wits’ end what to do.
Late last night a large Austrian force had, without warning, crossed the
Save into Belgrade, which city they had taken so completely by surprise
that it was not until the morning that the populace was made aware of
the presence of the strangers in their midst by the sight of the troops
bivouacking in the squares, and the officers quietly breakfasting
outside the principal cafés. An Austrian force, said the parlementaire,
had also crossed the Danube to Semendria, and there were rumours that
another force had crossed the same river at Orsova. In these
circumstances, with their capital cut off from them, and their young
king and government in a manner locked up, the Servian generals
considered they had no alternative but to demand a suspension of
hostilities, at least for forty-eight hours. An armistice was therefore
granted, much to the Bulgarian leaders’ annoyance and disgust.
We learn that Austria has notified the Powers that she has occupied
Semendria and Belgrade as a precautionary measure, in view of the wanton
aggression of Servia.
It is here considered unlikely that Bulgaria will have any more trouble
from this quarter. On the other hand, however, grave rumours reach us
from Constantinople, where apparently there is very great anxiety as to
certain mysterious and as yet undefined threats by Russia. The Turkish
capital is, as matters stand at present, likely to be the chief centre
of interest for some time to come, and I shall therefore return there
to-morrow morning.
[Illustration:
THE OCCUPATION OF BELGRADE—‘HERE AT LAST!’
]
All through the day long trains of Bulgarian and Servian wounded have
crept one after another into Sofia. It is noteworthy that a considerable
percentage of the sufferers are bright and lively and make light of
their injuries. These are men who have been struck by the small nickel
bullets of the new rifle, which has been used in pretty equal
proportions on both sides.
CONSTANTINOPLE, _April 15_.
There is no doubt good cause for the grave fears at present agitating
Porte and Palace. By his foolishly near-sighted policy of pandering to
the wishes of whatsoever Power bullies him with most brutal persistency,
at the risk though it be of injuring a friendly State, the Sultan has,
as he is beginning to realise, succeeded in alienating, for the moment
at least, the sympathies of all his legitimate friends. By his
attitude—wilfully perverse and undignified—throughout the varying phases
of the Vulkovitch episode, his Majesty has aroused throughout Bulgaria
deep distrust of himself, and fierce indignation against his ministers
and his methods. The inane and futile strivings of the Porte to throw
difficulties in the path of the young Khedive, and to cheat him, if
possible, of rights clearly accorded and amply paid for, have produced
similar sentiments in Egypt and in England. And having, at the cost of
much labour and intrigue, achieved this wholly unsatisfactory position
of being an object of contempt, suspicion, and obloquy, the Sultan finds
himself suddenly but decidedly thrown over by the very Powers with whom
he had sought to curry favour. The Russian Ambassador is now too
thoroughly pre-occupied with the immediate policy of his own Government
to have any further care to wear gloves in his dealings with the Porte,
and his mood has so affected M. Cambon, the French Ambassador, that that
astute personage, unable to find those sweet professions and gracious
persuasion—half unmeaning promise, half veiled threat with which he has
been wont to _dorloter_ the Ministers at Bab Aali—come readily to his
tongue, has ceased for a fortnight past to hold any other than mere
chancellerie communication with the Turkish Government.
Let it be said at once that, despite very natural indignation, Bulgaria
shows every disposition to behave well towards the Suzerain Power.
Officially, indeed, her attitude has been in every way admirable. When
the Servians opened hostilities, when they declared war, when they asked
for an armistice—in every phase, in short, of the quarrel, M. Stambuloff
apprised, and asked counsel and aid of, the Sultan. To be sure he got
nothing for his pains, but it must have been a satisfaction to the
Sultan to receive proof that, in one quarter at any rate, he is not
regarded as a European Power of merely sentimental importance.
CONSTANTINOPLE, _April 16_.
Fresh alarm was caused here this morning by the discovery that our
telegraphic communication has been interrupted at once with Odessa and
with Batoum. All inquiries as to the cause of the rupture made by other
routes failed to elicit any explanation. Later in the day a vessel of
the Cunard line arrived in the Bosphorus, and her captain has stated
that the Russian harbour-master at Odessa is detaining all ships, of
whatever nationality, in that port. His own vessel, he says, was the
last to leave Odessa, and only got away by a chance, the order having
reached him when he had already got under way. He states that there were
several Russian ironclads, and quite a fleet of torpedo boats at Odessa,
all with steam up, and says that when he was on shore there the day
before yesterday the town was full of soldiers, and the approaches to
the dockyards crowded with a constantly-increasing mass of guns, horses,
ammunition, and other war material.
CONSTANTINOPLE, _April 18_.
I have received a telegram from my correspondent in Sofia, who tells me
that the Bulgarian Government understands that the Russians are
preparing an expedition for sea at Odessa, and intend to occupy some
portion of Bulgarian territory. The Princely Government has reason to
expect the attack will be directed against Varna, and has called upon
the Sultan to aid Bulgarian arms by sending his fleet to guard the Varna
roads. The Sultan has as yet made no reply to this request, says my
correspondent, but it is not difficult to guess what His Majesty’s
action will be, inasmuch as Turkey has no single ship of war in
condition to be got to sea under a month at the least, and it is more
than questionable whether even then any of the ironclads could be
completely manned or provided with serviceable ammunition. There are,
indeed, some torpedo boats—unprovided, I understand, with torpedoes—and
a couple of the monitors that did some service in the Danube in the last
war. If the Admiralty should elect to place these vessels at the service
of the Bulgarian Government, they might be of some use as scouts. But
that is about all that Turkey can hope to do for her vassal.
[Illustration:
WITH THE TURKS: ADMIRAL WOODS PACHA’S FLEET OF TORPEDO BOATS STEAMING
THROUGH THE BOSPHORUS.
]
Here there is terrible anxiety lest the Russian expedition be directed,
not against Varna or Bourgas, but against the Kavaks, and the
Seraskierate is busily taking precautions to meet such a contingency
with all the forces available.
Despite the recent draining of the Stamboul camp by the despatch of a
large force to Salonika, there are still some 45,000 men in and around
the capital. These, with the exception of the Sultan’s guard of about
15,000 men, have been distributed along the chain of forts extending
from Roumelie Kavak to the Golden Horn. The telegraph is kept busily at
work summoning troops from all parts of the Empire. 15,000 men from the
Adrianople garrison are expected to arrive here to-night.
The Russian Ambassador is said to be ill. He has not left the Embassy in
the Grand Rue de Pera for now almost a week, and refuses to receive any
one. Even his French colleague found the door closed to him yesterday.
[Illustration:
RUSSIAN INFANTRY LANDING AT VARNA.
]
CONSTANTINOPLE, _April 19_.
A Russian force, variously computed at from 50,000 to 70,000 men,
occupied Varna this morning. There was some smart resistance, but the
comparatively small Bulgarian force was powerless against the heavy
metal of the Russian fleet, and after an hour’s fighting was compelled
to abandon the position.
Coincident with the receipt of this news is the delivery of a note by
the Russian Ambassador—suddenly restored to health—to the Minister for
Foreign Affairs, setting forth that, as a result of the extraordinary
and uncalled-for position taken up by Austria, the Czar’s Government
feels the necessity of acquiring a material guarantee for the
maintenance of peace, and will therefore effect a peaceful occupation of
Bourgas and Varna with that end in view.
RUSSIAN MOVEMENT UPON THE AUSTRIAN FRONTIER.
MOBILISATION OF GERMAN ARMY CORPS—WILD EXCITEMENT IN BERLIN.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
BERLIN, _April 21_ (8.50 P.M.).
Never since the fateful days of July 1870 has so much excitement been
caused here as by the news—which now seems to be beyond all doubt—that
Russia, having received an evasive, or, as other telegrams put it, a
flatly negative reply to her peremptory demand for the immediate
evacuation of Belgrade by the Austrians, has already begun to move down
immense masses of troops towards her south-western frontier; and it is
even rumoured that a division of cavalry has suddenly made its
appearance near the border, on the Warsaw-Cracow road, at a place called
Xiaswielki. This is a grave situation, indeed, as alarming as it is
sudden. The Unter den Linden, which is a perfect Babel with the bawling
voices of the newsvendors, is rapidly filling with crowds rushing
hither, as to the main channel of intelligence, from all parts of the
city, and the Foreign Office in the Wilhelm-Strasse is besieged by a
huge throng clamouring to hear the truth.
For on this depends the issue of peace or war for Germany. Let but
Russia lay one single finger of aggression on Austria, and Germany must
at once unsheath her sword and spring to her ally’s aid. Pray let there
be no mistake as to the terms of the Austro-German Treaty of 1879, which
was published a year or two ago, for it has often been misinterpreted.
Under this instrument a _casus fœderis_ does not arise for Germany in
all and any circumstances of a war between Russia and Austria, but only
in the event of the former being the aggressor; and it looks very much
as though Russia were now seriously bent on taking the offensive. Does
she really mean to do this? is the question on every one’s lips here,
and the excitement of people is equal to their suspense. It is known
that an active correspondence by wire is proceeding between here and
Vienna, but the authorities are very reticent, and only beg the crowds
to keep calm and hope for the best.
9 P.M.
I have just returned from the Schloss, whither the multitude, which
was unable to gratify its curiosity at the Foreign Office, had surged
along to pursue its eager inquiries, but only to find that the Emperor
was closeted with his Chancellor, General Count von Caprivi, and his
Chief of the Staff, Count von Schlieffen. It was remarked that when
both these magnates emerged from their interview with His Majesty, and
drove off at a rapid rate, they looked very serious and pre-occupied,
paying but little heed to the cheering which greeted their appearance.
This only tended to deepen the apprehension of the vast crowd in front
of the Schloss, whose fears were further augmented by a rumour (a true
one, as I found on tracing it to its source), which spread like
lightning, that the Emperor had telegraphed for the King of Saxony,
Prince Albrecht of Prussia, Prince-Regent of Brunswick—both
Field-Marshals—as also for Count Waldersee, Commander of the Ninth
Army Corps in Schleswig-Holstein, whom the Emperor, it may be
remembered, when parting with this distinguished officer, as Chief of
the General Staff, publicly designated as the Commander of a whole
army in the event of war.
10 P.M.
After despatching my last message, which I had the utmost difficulty in
doing owing to the frantic mass of newspaper correspondents of all
nationalities struggling desperately into and out of the Telegraph
Office, I had the good fortune to meet Baron von Marschall, the amiable
and accomplished Foreign Secretary, who favoured me with a brief
conversation on the momentous subject of the hour. Yes, he said, it was
unfortunately quite true that the Russians were rapidly concentrating
their forces towards the Austro-German frontier, and that a sotnia of
prying Cossacks, coming from Tarnogrod, had even pushed forward on the
Austrian side of the border towards Jaroslav, an important railway
junction point in Galicia. He had just received intelligence to this
effect from Prince Reuss, the German Ambassador in Vienna, who added
that things indeed looked their very worst. ‘But this,’ I remarked, ‘is
an act of invasion on the part of Russia, is it not, and means war?’ The
Baron shook his head ominously, and, with a kindly ‘come and see me
again to-morrow morning,’ squeezed my hand and hurried off to see Count
Syéchényi at the Austrian Embassy, which stands over against the former
home of M. Benedetti, with all its associations connected with the
beginning of Germany’s last great war.
On my way back to the Telegraph Office, where I write this, I
encountered, just at the entrance to the Russian Embassy, Unter den
Linden, its genial and honest occupant, Count Schouvaloff, who was good
enough to return my greeting by motioning me to stop, and telling me
that he had just been to see Count Caprivi, and assure him, on the part
of his Imperial master, that all these warlike preparations in Western
Poland implied no menace whatever to Germany, with whom Russia had not
the least cause of quarrel, but that, nevertheless, so long as Austria
threatened to derange the balance of power in the Balkan Peninsula for
her own selfish ends, Russia would be incriminating herself in the eyes
of history if she stood by with folded hands and sought not to safeguard
her most vital interests by all the means at her disposal. And as Pitt
had created a new world to redress the balance of the old, so Russia was
now compelled to re-establish equilibrium in one part of the Eastern
Continent of Europe by giving the would-be disturber of this equilibrium
work enough to engross all his attention in another. ‘These were not, of
course, the very words,’ added the Count, ‘which I used to the
Chancellor, but they express the exact sense of my communication.’
MIDNIGHT.
Berlin, which has poured all its teeming million-and-a-half into the
streets, is at this hour a scene of the wildest excitement, owing to a
rumour (and a friend of mine in the General Staff, whom I chanced to
meet, confirmed the truth of the rumour), that the awful and
electrifying words ‘_Krieg, mobil!_’ had (as in 1870) been already
flashed again to no fewer than seven of the twenty Army Corps
constituting the Imperial host—viz., to the 1st, or East Prussian; the
17th, West Prussian; the 3d, Brandenburg; the 4th, Province of Prussian
Saxony; the 5th, Posen; the 6th, Silesian; and the 12th, Kingdom of
Saxony.
Loud and long was the cheering in front of the Schloss—which is thronged
by an ever-increasing and excited multitude—when this intelligence oozed
out, and with one accord (for your Germans are a most wonderful people
of trained choral-singers) the whole mighty assemblage burst forth with
a battle-ballad, in which some deft patriotic poet had been quick to
embody the fears and determinations of the last few days under the title
of ‘_Die Weichsel-Wacht_,’ or the ‘Watch on the Vistula’—a war-song
which promises to fill as large and luminous a page among the lyric gems
of the Fatherland as Schneckenburger’s immortal ‘_Wacht am Rhein_.’ When
the frantic cheering which followed the chanting of this stirring
battle-anthem had subsided, the Emperor (who has now completely
recovered from the accident to his knee) came out to bow his
acknowledgments from the front balcony of the castle; and on his arm was
the Empress holding the hand of the pretty little flaxen-haired Crown
Prince, who had been routed out of his warm bed at this late and chilly
hour to add one crowning touch of spectacular effect to the _tableau_
which, amid another frenzied outburst of ‘hochs’ and ‘hurrahs,’ thus
closed the drama of a most exciting and momentous day.
INTERVIEW BETWEEN GENERAL CAPRIVI AND THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR.
DISPOSITION OF THE GERMAN TROOPS.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
BERLIN, _April 23_.
The excitement of the last few days has now calmed down into the serious
and stolid determination, which is the most striking characteristic of
the German race, and though it is known that, since the order to
mobilise seven Army Corps was issued, M. Herbette, the French
Ambassador, has had repeated interviews with General Caprivi, the nation
is meanwhile content to suppress its suspicion with regard to the
possible—nay, probable—policy of its western neighbour, and devote all
its attention to the development of events on its eastern border.
Certain official telegrams which I have been allowed to peruse leave
little doubt that, while the Russians are making a show of massing
troops in the direction of Cracow, the real line of their strategic
advance is towards the Lemberg side, whence a railway leads across the
Carpathians to Buda-Pesth. It is argued here that, had the Russians
merely to deal with Austria alone, the likeliest line of their advance
would be by way of Cracow and its fortress, which they would endeavour
to turn, and then strike for Vienna by the route which has been deemed,
on the whole, the easier for them, namely, that which leads to the
valley of the Danube across Austrian Silesia, and through the gap
between the Bohemian and Carpathian mountains. But with a German army
massed in Silesia, and menacing their right flank, the advantages of
this route would be more than countervailed, and so the Russians seem to
have chosen an invading route as remote as possible from the German base
of attack, namely, _viâ_ Lemberg and Stryj.
Meanwhile the mobilisation of the seven German Army Corps, enumerated by
me in a previous despatch, is in full swing, the reserve men hastening
to the colours with great alacrity; and as the railways are working
night and day, all public traffic being suspended, the troops will soon
be in the various positions assigned them. The 12th, or Royal Saxon
Corps, it seems, is to be sent over to strengthen the Austrians, which
will appear a wise and tactful disposition, when it is remembered how
the Saxons fought shoulder to shoulder with the Austrians at Königgrätz;
while Field-Marshal Prince George (brother of the King of Saxony) has
been intrusted by the Emperor with the command of what is to be called
the Army of Silesia, consisting of the 5th and 6th Corps, now swiftly
concentrating between Breslau (which, being at present an open town, is
undergoing rapid circumvallation by a ring of earthwork forts armed with
Schumann gun-turrets) and Neisse, the Prussian Crown Prince’s point of
departure for Bohemia in 1866. On the other hand, a Second Army,
consisting of the 3d and 4th Corps, to be called ‘of the Vistula,’ and
to be commanded by the King of Saxony, is swiftly massing round Thorn,
that Metz of the East; while a Third Army, compounded of the 1st and
17th Corps (East and West Prussia), and denominated ‘of the Baltic,’ has
been assigned to Count Waldersee, and is fast taking position on the
line flanked by the fortresses of Königsberg and Lötzen, the task
assigned to it being evidently an invasion of the Baltic Provinces and
the consequent splitting up and diversion of the Russian forces from
their southern objective. As to the First and Second German Armies
(those of Silesia and the Vistula), a glance at the map will show that,
roughly speaking, they form the base ends of a triangle whereof Warsaw
is the apex, and that a well-timed advance by road or rail, for both are
available, would enable them to effect a junction (on Moltke’s principle
of marching separately and fighting combined, as applied with such
brilliant success at Sadowa), and give decisive battle to the Russians
somewhere near Warsaw.
But I may not indulge at present in a more detailed forecast of the
impending campaign and its incidents. Suffice to say that the Germans
promise to keep General Gourko, commanding the Russian forces in Poland,
quite as busy as General Dragomiroff, commander at Kieff, and chief
director of the operations against Galicia, will be kept by the
Austrians themselves on their particular side of the seat of war.
DEPARTURE OF TROOPS TO THE EAST.
‘THE WATCH ON THE VISTULA.’
BERLIN, _April 24_.
I hear that the Guard Corps is also about to be mobilised as a
precautionary measure. This will, of course, be followed by similar
orders to all the rest of the German Army should France assume a
threatening attitude, and the signs that she means to do this are
increasingly ominous.
Meanwhile, the armies of the East are pouring towards the frontier with
machine-like order and rapidity. All night and all day long,
heavily-laden trains conveying the troops of the 4th Corps have been
passing through Berlin, one at the tail of the other, towards Thorn; and
there was tremendous cheering this afternoon at the Central Station,
which is littered about with beer barrels and piles of edibles offered
by the citizens for the refreshment and encouragement of the ‘_tapfere
Krieger_’ who are going at last to measure their strength with the
Muscovites, when the Bismarck Cuirassiers from Halberstadt steamed
slowly up to the platform for a stoppage just long enough to let the
couple of powerful engines water. Rolls and sausages were showered into
the carriages containing these splendid heavy troopers (in whose ranks,
by the way, Lieutenant Campbell of Craignish, a young Argyllshire
laird—now Rittmeister, like Dugald Dalgetty, and _aide-de-camp_ to the
Grand Duke of Coburg-Gotha—had captured a French eagle at Mars-la-Tour);
and when their heavy train again began to move away there arose another
ringing cheer mingled with ‘Hochs’ for Bismarck (and I wonder how the
exile of Friedrichsruh feels at the contemplation of all this!)—cheers
and ‘hochs’ that were responded to by these big, deep-chested fellows
roaring out the ‘Watch on the Vistula,’ which has already spread like
wildfire throughout the nation, and kindled its heart into a fine
warlike glow.
BANQUET IN THE SCHLOSS.
OMINOUS SPEECH BY THE EMPEROR.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
BERLIN, _April 25_.
To-night the Emperor gave a grand military banquet in the White Saloon
of the Schloss previous to his starting for Thorn—that tremendous
bulwark on the Vistula over against the Russian frontier, where the work
of concentrating the German troops is proceeding rapidly. At this
banquet I was favoured with a seat in the gallery, from which I have
witnessed so many pomps and pageants at this Court; and when the third
course had been reached, His Majesty (who wore the gala uniform of the
Gardes du Corps) rose, and, amid a silence in which you might have even
heard the fall of a hair, addressed his guests as follows, in a most
resolute and rasping voice:—
‘_Meine Herren_, God has willed it that Germany should draw her sword in
defence of her ally, and to God’s high, holy will we all must bow.
German loyalty (‘_Deutsche Treue_’) has ever been one of the most
conspicuous virtues of our race, and, if we now failed to prove true to
our treaty engagements, we should justly deserve to become a mockery and
a bye-word among the nations. Remembering, as I do, the very last words
almost which were addressed to me by my beloved grandfather, now resting
in God, who conjured me to be considerate towards and cultivate the
friendship of Russia, it is with a heart full of exceeding heaviness
that I look forward to the events that are ahead of us. Nevertheless, it
shall be in the power of no one to say that the German Government was
ever wanting in fidelity, or the German army deficient in courage.
‘Gentlemen, that courage has been displayed on a thousand glorious
battle-fields, and never more so than in those stupendous and heroic
encounters which made of us a great and united nation—a nation whereof
the safety and integrity would be gravely imperilled by disaster,
involving, perhaps, disruption to the dual monarchy of our allies. Such
a result, gentlemen, we cannot endure; and it is to obviate the bare
possibility of such a thing that we are now about to respond to the
solemn call of treaty obligations, by placing some of our heroic troops
side by side with the brave army of my august friend and ally, His
Majesty the Emperor Francis-Joseph; nor is it to be doubted that this
companionship-in-arms, among other things, will have the blessed effect
of wiping out all memory of our past conflicts and estrangements, and of
re-uniting, in the bonds of fraternal love and loyalty, the two greatest
sections of the mighty and invincible German race.
‘_Meine Herren_, God is above us, but uncertainty, to some extent, is
before us. Within the last few years the science of war has been
completely revolutionised, and we are all now about to grapple with
military problems which never taxed the powers of our predecessors. As
the Supreme War-Lord (‘_oberste Kriegs-Herr_’) of our armies, I mean to
make inspection of such of our forces as are now marshalling themselves
on our Eastern marches and also to remain at their head unless—which God
forfend!—the course of events should call me elsewhere. (Sensation.)
‘But, gentlemen, I do not require to tell you that the duties and
functions of a commander are very different now from what they were at
the beginning of this century, not to speak of the time of my invincible
and immortal ancestor, Frederick the Great, who inspired his troops by
his very presence and directed them _in_ battle; whereas now all that is
nearly left to the modern commander-in-chief is to lead his forces up
_to_ battle and then leave them to the charge of his subordinates—an era
in the science of warfare which was inaugurated by that great scientific
soldier, lately, alas! taken from us, who has written his deathless name
in indelible letters of gold on the tablets of his country’s history.
‘Forbidden by the nature and necessities of warfare, as now practised,
to be a tactician—such as Cæsar, or Frederick, or Napoleon, or
Wellington—the modern commander-in-chief must restrict himself to the
task of strategy, and intrust his colonels and his captains with the
duty of beating the enemy in detail. And as a modern battle must
necessarily stretch over a vast extent of front, it really resolves
itself into a hundred separate combats, in which even company leaders
become independent commanders; and thus, gentlemen, to all of you there
is opened up a glorious prospect of doing your duty to your country and
achieving a distinction which was reserved to the generalissimos of
yore. But though thus every colonel and every captain among you is now a
commander-in-chief, it behoves you to remember that, what with smokeless
powder, magazine rifles of vast range, and other innovations, the
conditions of fighting have altered immensely even since Germany last
took the field; but I doubt not that you will all prove true to our
highest traditions, and that our brave army, with God’s blessing, will
once more show the stuff of which it is made.
‘Gentlemen, this is a solemn moment, and it is not in a spirit of
festive mirth, but rather under the influence of the serious feelings
which dominate us all, that I ask you to drain your glasses to the
health of my august ally, His Majesty Francis-Joseph, Emperor of
Austria-Hungary. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!’
To-morrow the Emperor will leave for the frontier, and I have been
graciously permitted by His Majesty to attach myself to his
Headquarter-Staff.
DEPARTURE OF THE EMPEROR FOR THE EAST.
BERLIN, _April 26_.
It is long since the Linden Avenue witnessed such a scene of crowding
and excitement as it presented to-day, when the Emperor (who wore the
drill uniform of his Silesian Bodyguard Cuirassiers, named of the Great
Elector), drove from the Schloss to the Central Station to take train
for Thorn. His Majesty was accompanied by the Empress, who looked very
sad, where her august husband only wore a serious mien. The fine sunny
weather, balmy already with the fragrance of the budding spring, had
lured thousands and thousands into the streets to see the away-going of
the Emperor on his first campaign; and it was only with great difficulty
that the demi-squadron of cavalry (Gardes du Corps) escorting the
Imperial victoria could advance through the packed and cheering masses
of people who thronged every inch of standing-space in Unter den Linden,
and reached up to the very house-tops.
At one point of its route, just opposite Café Bauer, the Emperor’s
carriage was even brought to a stop; and it was then that a very excited
gentleman (who turned out to be an American admirer of His Majesty)
profited by the opportunity to throw a laurel wreath into the Imperial
equipage. Quick as thought, the Emperor placed the wreath on the point
of his sword-scabbard and tossed it back to his adulator, saying with a
smile, ‘Wait a little, my friend; let us earn this first’—a sally that
was the signal for a perfect storm of cheers on the part of the
witnesses of this charming incident, which furnished them with
additional reason for lauding the Emperor’s modesty and good sense.
There was much cheering, hat-waving and fluttering of handkerchiefs
as their Imperial Majesties—who never ceased bowing their
acknowledgments—threaded their way to the station, on the platform
of which was assembled Headquarter-Staff, with the great Household
officers and Ministers of State (who looked very grave indeed), and
others whom duty or curiosity had brought to see the Emperor off.
After conversing for a few minutes with Count Caprivi (who, unlike
his predecessor in office, is not to go to the front in the
meantime, pending the development of French schemes), His Majesty
turned to his sad-eyed consort, whom he embraced with great warmth,
and then entered his travelling saloon carriage. In another moment,
amid three parting ‘hochs,’ the train had glided away, carrying with
it the first German Emperor who has unsheathed his sword against the
Czar of all the Russias.
ILL-TREATMENT OF A WAR-CORRESPONDENT BY THE GERMAN HUSSARS.
THE BIVOUAC AT THORN.
SIGNIFICANT REMARK OF THE EMPEROR.
(_By Post from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
THORN, _April 27_.
Following the route taken by the Emperor, I arrived here this morning,
thanks to the courtesy of Baron von Tauchnitz (a son of the great
Leipzig publisher of the well-known Continental edition of our English
classics), who kindly allowed me a place (it was only a standing one) in
the train conveying to the front the Magdeburg Artillery Regiment of his
command, as well as the Train, or Army Service, Battalion of the 4th
Corps.
While crossing the bridge from the railway station to claim the quarters
that had been assigned me at the ‘Black Bear,’ my eye and ear were
suddenly struck by a strange hubbub going on below. A troop of
red-tunic’d Zieten Hussars (‘Duke of Connaught’s’) were watering their
horses in the Vistula, which has here a broad, placid, and majestic
course; and while these thirsty animals were revelling in delicious
draughts of the first water they had tasted since leaving Rathenow
(their garrison townlet, near Bismarck’s native place), their riders
were amusing themselves by roaring and laughing at the frantic efforts
of what seemed to me to be a big Newfoundland dog to extricate himself
from the stream. Presently the poor brute, which to my great
astonishment gradually assumed human shape, struggled, spluttering and
gasping, on to the shelving bank; and then it was that I recognised in
this buffeted and bedraggled creature, Solomon Hirsch, the well-known
correspondent of the _Berliner Tageblatt_, whose shock head of hair, all
touzled and dishevelled, had given him the semblance of canine form and
feature alluded to. It appears that poor Hirsch, fulfilling his
functions with more zeal than discretion, had already made himself an
object of universal execration at the front by communicating to his
paper most minute details as to the massing and position of the German
troops towards the Russian frontier, and that being recognised by these
rollicking and resentful Zieten Hussar fellows, to whom he had, in an
evil moment for himself, appealed for information as to their ultimate
destination, this ‘curse of modern armies’ was at once set upon,
hilariously tossed in a horse-rug, and then contemptuously heaved into
the Vistula. I have made a point of dwelling on this serio-comic
incident, which I myself was quick to take to heart, as it will serve to
explain the absence from my telegrams of all but the most meagre and
general references to the positions and movements of the German troops;
and, indeed, I should be worthy the fate of my hapless colleague did I
abuse the hospitality which has been so graciously extended to me by
revealing unexecuted plans.
Indeed, I have only been promised the use of the field and other
telegraph wires on the strict condition that my messages never exceed a
limited number of words, which will necessarily restrict my reports to
the briefest and barest, yet, I trust, sufficient summaries.
The Emperor (who was accompanied by the King of Saxony and other high
general officers) has just returned from a rapid ride round the circle
of the outer forts, within which the troops are all lying under canvas;
and from the top of the Garrison Church Steeple, the highest point in
this mighty fortressed town, nothing can be seen but endless vistas of
tented bivouacs. Never before has the German soldier been allowed any
other night covering in the field but the canopy of heaven, though,
indeed, in a country like France, which is, in truth, a land flowing
with milk, wine, and honey, and teeming with villages and other
opportunities of cantonment, he had comparatively little need of tents.
But it is quite a different thing in Russia, with its raw and rigid
climate, its vast, uncultivated, and uninhabited spaces; and it was in
view of the probable contingency of a campaign in such a foodless and
roofless wilderness that the General Staff, with that remarkable
foresight and wisdom which has always distinguished it, resolved to
equip all the Army Corps lying nearest the Eastern frontier with the
very best tents procurable—namely, such as were at once waterproof,
windproof, and even fireproof. For otherwise what ruin might not a spark
from a bivouac fire entail upon the tented fields which stretch away in
every direction towards the horizon, both here and at Posen, at Neisse,
and at Königsberg, reminding one of the hosts, countless as the sands on
the sea-shore, of the five kings who encamped over against Gibeon.
But I must not omit to record a curious incident which happened as the
Emperor was riding past the statue of Copernicus, whose birthplace was
Thorn. Just when abreast the monument of that immortal astronomer, His
Majesty remarked to his suite: ‘_Ja, meine Herren_, there you see the
man who first opened the eyes of the world to the true nature of the
solar system; and I think that with God’s help we shall equally be able
to assign Russia her proper place in the system of nations.’
THE AUSTRIAN PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.
DETAILS OF PREPARATION.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
THORN, _April 29_.
To-night the Emperor (who continues to display wonderfully good spirits
and energy) gave a banquet in the hastily furbished-up rooms of the
gloomy old Schloss, in honour of Feldzeugmeister Baron Beck, the Chief
of the Austrian Staff, who, pending the progress of his well-thought-out
mobilisation and massing scheme, which he had set a-going by a simple
order from Vienna, had hastily run up here by rail to concert united
action with his German colleague, Count von Schlieffen, the present
occupier of Moltke’s high and responsible office. From a trustworthy
source I gather that this was the substance of Baron von Beck’s
communication:—
It had been discovered, beyond all doubt, that the main objective of the
Russian invasion was Lemberg, in the direction of which Dragomiroff was
concentrating immense masses of troops, drawn from the 4th, 8th, 9th,
10th, 11th, 12th Army Corps, in the rear of whom other forces, furnished
by the remoter 13th, 16th, 17th and other Corps, were pushing up as fast
as the defective railway system of the country would allow them.
Austria, on her part, had resolved to combine her defensive forces into
three armies—one of about 300,000 strong, in East Galicia, on the
Dniester; another, about as half as strong (150,000), on the San, with
its back on Przemysl, that tremendous bulwark of Middle Galicia; and a
third, of about 120,000, near Cracow, that almost equally formidable
_place d’armes_, and key of Western Galicia on the Upper Vistula.
But these numbers do not include a force of eight independent Cavalry
Divisions, each of four Brigades, or four regiments, which are to be
ranked along the Galician frontier at the likeliest points of danger
from the mass-raidings of Russian horsemen.
[Illustration:
THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA AT AMBULANCE WORK.
]
Such were meanwhile the relative dispositions and prospects on either
side of the Austro-Russian border, while, on the other hand, General
Gourko, the hero of the Balkans, was concentrating at Warsaw an army
consisting of the 5th, 6th, 14th, 15th Corps, and other troops, for the
double purpose of holding the Germans in check, and of operating towards
Cracow, on the Austrian left flank. Moreover, the 2nd Russian Corps from
Wilna, and the 3rd from Riga, seemed to be marshalling on the lower
Niemen with the view of looking over into Königsberg; and of these
Muscovite troops in the Baltic Provinces, no less than in Western
Poland, Baron Beck trusted that the Germans would give a good and
satisfactory account.
As a token of his complete satisfaction with the Baron’s lucid and
hopeful exposition of the military situation, the Emperor, at parting,
which was very cordial on His Majesty’s part, conferred on the
distinguished Chief of the Austrian Staff the Red Eagle of the first
class (with swords), and, at the same time, intrusted him with an
autograph missive for his august master at Vienna.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
THORN, LATER.
From my correspondent with the Army of the Baltic at Königsberg I learn
that its mobilisation is now complete, and that Count Waldersee (who has
had a bad fall from his horse, but is better again) is burning to make a
dash across the frontier and pluck a leaf from the laurel-wreath of
General Gourko.
The 2nd, or Pomeranian Corps, has meanwhile been appointed to cope with
any descent from the Russian Fleet on the Baltic shore; while the 9th
Corps has been similarly left in Schleswig-Holstein for the double
purpose of frustrating any attempted landing in that quarter, and also
of keeping an eye on Denmark, whose hearts are practically with the
Russians, and who have not yet forgotten the Redoubts of Düppel.
On the other hand, the fortification of Breslau is proceeding at a rapid
rate, Prince Pless and the Duke of Ratibor having lent a little army of
their miners to do the necessary pick and spade work; while the Army of
Silesia (under Prince George of Saxony) is now echeloned along the
railway line, parallel to the Russian border, between Kreuzburg and
Tarnowitz—_in utrumque paratus_—that is to say, ready either for a front
march across the frontier on Czenstochau, on the Warsaw railway, or for
a flanking movement of support in the direction of Cracow, as occasion
may demand.
The Austrians, we know, are well forward with their concentration; but
owing to the fact that the telegraph wires of the Russians have now
ceased to speak to the outer world, and that travellers are neither
allowed into nor out of Russia, we are still very much in the dark with
regard to their massings and their movements. To-morrow, however, we
mean, if possible, to try and penetrate a little the veil of this
mystery.
FIRST COLLISION OF RUSSIAN AND GERMAN TROOPS.
SKIRMISH AT ALEXANDROVO.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
THORN, _April 30_.
I have just returned from a reconnoitring ride with two squadrons of the
Zieten Hussars, who pushed across the Russian frontier to within sight
of Alexandrovo, the scene of the meeting (of which I had the good
fortune to be an eye-witness) between the old German Emperor and the
late Czar Alexander II., in September 1879, shortly before the signature
of the Austro-German Treaty of Alliance.
It is a curious coincidence that the first blood in the present campaign
should have been drawn within view of the spot to which the old
Emperor—greatly against the advice of his irate Chancellor,
Bismarck—then hastened to conjure the Czar to desist from his warlike
operations, and assure him, on the other hand, of his own unalterable
determination to keep the peace.
When we had advanced by the road skirting the railway to within about a
mile of Alexandrovo, a gun attached to a body of Cossacks (they were of
the Don, as I could make out through my glass, from their blue tunics
faced with red) opened fire on us; and the shell, bursting right in
front of our leading troop, killed two horses and seriously wounded one
man (a Wachtmeister). So having thus caused the enemy to give tongue, we
turned bridle and trotted back, carrying with us the intelligence—the
rich fruit of our reconnaissance—that Alexandrovo was strongly occupied
by troops of all arms. Four sotnias of Cossacks came pelting after us,
but we were quick to outrun these rampaging gentry, to whom a gun from
one of our horse-batteries sent hurtling over a few shells as a parting
souvenir of our hasty yet successful visit.
WARLIKE EXCITEMENT IN PARIS.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. D. Christie Murray._)
PARIS, _April 30_.
Paris to-night is in a state of the maddest ferment. For some days past
the public have followed with breathless interest the rapid development
of events on the Russo-German frontier, and the news of the first
skirmish at Alexandrovo, which was printed in _Le Soir_ this evening,
has roused the wildest enthusiasm. Long and anxious consultations of
Ministers have been held daily, and the Press, with hardly an exception,
have been urging on the Government an immediate declaration of war. Many
of the better-class Germans have been hurrying from Paris—a precaution
which, in the issue, has been shown to be judicious. When to-day’s news
became known, every trade and artifice was instantly abandoned, and the
streets since three o’clock till now have been thronged by vast crowds,
pulsating to a more and more impassioned excitement. By four o’clock
there were literally fifty thousand people standing in the street with
newspapers in their hands, and every reader was the centre of an excited
throng. I was standing opposite the Vaudeville when a man, bearing a
prodigious bundle of newspapers wet from the press, came staggering
swiftly towards the kiosque. The mob fell upon him, despoiled him of his
burden, and tore open his parcel. There was such a wild hurry to learn
the news, and everybody was so eager to be first with it, that scores of
the journals were torn to ribbons, and hundreds more were trampled into
the mud of the pavement. The proprietress of the kiosque wrung her hands
and wept over the spectacle, and a gentleman who, by pressure of the
crowd, was forced half-way through one of the windows, vociferously
demanded to know the value of the lost journals. The woman instantly
became business-like, and appraised them roughly at a hundred francs.
The gentleman produced a pocket-book and paid her twice over, shouting
noisily, ‘I present this glorious news to Paris! _Vive la Russie! A bas
la Prusse!_’ That was the first signal I heard, and in one minute the
whole boulevard rang with frenzied roar on roar. Omnibuses, public
carriages, and vehicles of every description were wedged immovably in
the crowd which thronged the horse-road. The drivers rose from their
seats, the passengers and occupants of the carriages stood up in their
places and roared and gesticulated with the rest. Hundreds of people at
once strove to make speeches, and the combined result was such a
_charivari_ as can scarcely have been heard since the great day of the
Confusion of Tongues.
I, myself, had occasion to be thankful for that inconquerable English
accent which has always disfigured my French. A blond beard and
spectacles have always helped me to something of a German look, and
to-day has given the few Germans who happen to be left in Paris such a
scare as the bravest of them is not likely to forget. At one moment I
was surrounded by a wild section of the mob, whose yells of ‘Down with
Prussia!’ were far too obviously intended to be personal to me. There
was nothing for it but to join in the shouting, and I cried ‘_Vive la
France!_’ and ‘_A bas la Prusse!_’ as lustily as any of them. There was
an instantaneous laugh at the English accent, and I was left alone; but
I could not help thinking what would have happened had I chanced to
learn my French mainly in Berlin rather than in London. One unfortunate
German is reported fatally injured by the violence of a mob at the Gare
du Nord. He had booked for London, and is said to have carried with him
only a small handbag, and to have left all the rest of his belongings at
the hotel, in his hurry to catch the train for Calais. The director of
the Opera came near to paying with his life for his artistic allegiance
to Wagner. Happily for him he was able to take refuge in the house of a
friend, and the mob contented itself by keeping up a ceaseless
boo-hooing for an hour or more.
EXTRAORDINARY SCENE IN THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.
The wildest manifestation of the afternoon was in the Place de la
Concorde, where an immense mob fell to dancing about the statue of
Strasburg. Everybody knows the sullen threat with which that statue has
been placarded for so many years. It runs ‘L. D. P. (the initials
standing for “Ligue de Patriotes”) Qui Vive? La France. 1870–18—.’ When
the prodigious noise created by the mob seemed at its highest, it was
cloven, as it were, by a din still greater, and a solid phalanx of men
forced a way into the already crowded square. In the centre of this
phalanx twenty or thirty men marched, bearing a long ladder, the heads
of many of them being thrust between the rungs. In the middle of the
ladder was seated a working painter in a blue blouse. The man was
literally wild with excitement, and was roaring ‘Quatre vingt douze’ to
a sort of mad, improvised tune, in which the packed marchers about him
joined with the fell stress of their lungs. In one hand the man
flourished aloft a pot of red paint, with the contents of which he
occasionally bedewed his unheeding companions, some of whom had
playfully bedaubed their own and others’ features, so that they looked
as if they had just come fresh from some scene of massacre. In the other
hand the man held aloft a sheaf of brushes, and in an instant the vast
crowd seized the motive of his presence there, and the meaning of the
rhythmic repetition of ‘Quatre vingt douze!’
[Illustration:
EXTRAORDINARY SCENE IN THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE:
THE MOB TEARING THE MOURNING EMBLEMS FROM THE STATUE OF STRASBURG.
]
A way was cleared for the advancing cohort as if by magic. The ladder,
still supporting the painter, was drawn up lengthwise before the statue,
and the workman knelt to his task. At first it was impossible for him to
work, for the bearers of the ladder were jigging to the tune they sang;
but by and by they were persuaded to quiet, and a very striking and
impressive silence fell upon the crowd. The man, with great
deliberation, and with a much firmer hand than he might have been
supposed to own at a time of such excitement, drew the outline of the
figures 9 and 2 in white chalk, at as great a size as the space of the
placard admitted. His movements were watched with an actually breathless
interest, and when, after the completion of his drawing, he rose and
clasped the knees of the statue in his arms with a joyful and
affectionate cry, two or three people in my neighbourhood sobbed aloud.
The man knelt down again and filled in with red paint the outline he had
drawn. One grim personage, with a squint and a pock-marked face, who
held a short, well-blacked clay between his teeth, shouldered me at this
moment, and said, ‘_C’est le sang de la France, ça_.’ He thought so well
of this that he moved away among the crowd repeating it, nudging his
neighbours to call attention to the saying, and pointing a dirty
forefinger at the red paint of the figures to indicate its meaning. I
was waiting for an outburst of enthusiasm when the figures were
completed, but to my amazement the mob accepted the proclamation they
conveyed with a grave silence, as if it had been in some way authentic
and official, and as if for the first time they recognised the terrible
significance of the hour. Their quiet did not endure long, for one of
their number, having contrived to scramble on to the ladder, clambered
up the statue, and amid great cheers tore from it the ragged emblems of
mourning which have so long disfigured it.
Then came an episode, the like of which would be possible nowhere but in
Paris. The whole thing might have been arranged for scenic effect, and
the distinguished artist who made the _coup_ had never, brilliant as his
triumphs have been, arrived on the stage at so opportune a moment, or
encountered so overwhelming a reception. The new-comer was no other than
M. Jean de Reszke, who was on his way to dine with a friend before
appearing as Faust in Gounod’s masterpiece this evening. His coachman
was slowly making way along the crowded road when the great singer was
recognised. He was greeted with a roar of applause, and a dozen members
of the crowd threw open the closed landau he sat in, while a thousand
voices clamoured for the _Marseillaise_. The statue had, at that
instant, been denuded of its last rag of mourning, and M. de Reszke, who
had risen bareheaded in the carriage, was whipped out of it in a trice,
and borne, _nolens volens_, to the figure, and placed aloft on the
pedestal. His companion, a lady attired with much distinction, was at
first evidently alarmed, but soon gathered the peaceful intention of the
crowd, and seizing the meaning of the moment, she stripped from her own
shoulders a handsome scarlet cloak, and threw it towards M. de Reszke.
It was immediately passed on to him, and he, with considerable
difficulty, and at the risk of a tumble on the heads of the people below
him, succeeded in casting the cloak over the shoulders of the statue. At
this, all the previous noises which cleft the air of Paris this
afternoon seemed as nothing. The cheering was simply deafening and
maddening, and lasted for full three minutes. At length perfect silence
was restored, and M. de Reszke began to sing the _Marseillaise_. He was
pale at first, and obviously unstrung at the spectacle of this
prodigious audience, and for the first few notes his voice was broken
and ineffective. He gathered confidence, however, before he had
completed the singing of the first line, and gave the rest of the song
with an inspiring vigour and _élan_.
From the beginning of the whole extraordinary scene people had been
flocking in from every quarter, and I believe that I am well within
bounds when I say that the singer had an audience of a hundred and
twenty thousand. The chorus was one of the most stupendous and moving
things which can ever have been heard by human ears. It rose from the
densely-packed mass of humanity in one amazing roll and roar of sound,
and its echoes came straggling faintly from the Rue de Rivoli and the
Tuileries Gardens, from the Avénue des Champs Elysées, from the Rue
Royale, from the Pont de la Concorde, and the embankment on the further
side of the river. When the whole song was finished it was redemanded,
and was sung through again with undiminished relish both by the soloist
and the chorus. Finally, the singer was permitted to descend from the
pedestal, and was escorted to his carriage. The crowd had taken out the
horses, and M. de Reszke and his companion were drawn away by some
hundreds of volunteers. The great singer’s nationality has made him the
idol of Paris during all the late days of strained expectation. Every
night the Opera-house has been thronged, and every song from his lips
has been received with literal thunders of applause.
THE PRESIDENT SPEAKS—‘A BERLIN!’
LATER.
The crowd had already begun to thin when the news passed round that the
Ministers were in conclave at the Elysée. I acted immediately on the
first hint I received, and with great difficulty made my way across the
Place. I found myself almost at once wedged in anew, this time in a
streaming current which set steadily towards the Elysée. The crowd grew
vaster every moment, for by this time all Paris seemed to have been
drawn to that quarter of the town. For a long time there was silence, or
what seemed like it after the torrent of noise which had roared so long
in all ears, but at last the babble of excited tongues began again, and
was intermixed with occasional cries of impatience. These grew in a
steady crescendo, until no single voice was audible. But before things
reached that point I had heard a hundred excited conjectures as to the
course which would be adopted by England at this crisis. By seven
o’clock the patience of the mob was quite outworn. The building, so far
as could be seen from the outside, was in complete darkness, and the
rumour of the meeting of the Ministers seemed likely to be practically
denied. At length, however, a sudden swell in the storm of sound greeted
the appearance of light at three windows, and certain ill-defined
shadows were seen moving on the blinds. One profile was distinct and
stationary for a moment, and there was a roar of ‘Ribot!’ A minute later
the blind of the centre window was drawn up, the window itself was
thrown open, and the figure of M. Ribot, Minister of Foreign Affairs,
was seen. This apparition was the signal for a new outburst in which
only the name of the President of the Republic could be distinguished.
The air rang with shouts of ‘Carnot! Carnot!’ and M. Ribot having braved
this incredible tempest for a few seconds only, bowed and retired. A
minute later the President himself appeared. From where I stood his
features were invisible, but his attitude was erect, and he stretched
out his right hand with an impressive gesture to command silence. It was
some time before this injunction was obeyed, but when he was allowed to
speak his voice was firm and unusually clear. His words were few and to
the point. ‘Citizens! Germany has declared war upon the ally of France.
Those gentlemen whom you have appointed as the guardians of the national
honour have debated the serious intelligence which has to-day awakened
the heart of Paris. It is my duty to tell you that there is no
dissentient voice amongst them. France will fulfil her pledges!’ At this
point M. Carnot was interrupted by a unanimous outburst of applause,
which made speech impossible for a space of at least five minutes. Again
and again, when it seemed about to quiet down, it was taken up from
distant quarters, and came rolling along like a wave, again to subside
and again to be renewed. When order was once more restored the President
continued: ‘France speaks to-night, and demands of her neighbour that
the menace against her ally shall be withdrawn. She couples with that a
demand for the surrender of those provinces which were torn from her
twenty years ago!’
There was at this more cheering, and yet more. The President retired,
and a great deluge of rain which had been threatening to fall all day
speedily cleared the streets. The latest and most important of the day’s
events is yet hardly an hour old, but we seem now to be living in a city
of the dumb. Everybody is hoarse with four hours’ almost continuous
shouting, but the popular excitement is as great as ever.
The house of M. Ferry has been guarded by the military, and only the
_entente cordiale_ existing between the troops and the populace has
saved it from attack. At the moment of writing the Boulevards are again
crowded. The reply of Germany is, of course, a foregone conclusion, but
it is awaited with intense eagerness.
DECLARATION OF WAR BY FRANCE.
DRAMATIC RECEPTION OF THE NEWS BY THE GERMAN EMPEROR.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
THORN, _May 1_.
For this morning the Emperor had ordered a review of all the troops,
amounting to about 60,000 men concentrated hereabouts—the scene of the
parade being a long sweep of meadow-land, not unlike the Champ de Mars
at Paris, on the right bank of the Vistula. His Majesty and his Staff
took their stand on a convenient knoll commanding all the ground, and
scarcely had the serried battalions of the 3d Corps, with their
bristling bayonets glittering in the bright sun, begun to stride along
in all their martial and magnificent array, when the march past was
interrupted by a most dramatic and thrilling incident.
I was standing on the outside fringe of the brilliant circle of His
Majesty’s suite, quietly chatting to Dr. von Leuthold, the Emperor’s
body physician, when suddenly we saw an orderly officer dash up to his
Majesty and deliver a message, which we could discern from the colour of
the envelope to be a telegram. The Emperor tore it open, glanced through
the contents, then looked up, and let his eye wander all round the
circle of his suite, as if to note the impression produced upon their
minds by the news which His Majesty felt had already been intuitively
divined by those about him. ‘_Ja, meine Herren_,’ he at last said; ‘it
is just as we all expected. This is a telegram from General von Caprivi;
France has declared war against us’ (_Frankreich hat Uns den Krieg
erklärt_.) There was a moment’s pause, each man looking at his neighbour
to study the effect of this terrible announcement, and then all eyes
were again turned on the Emperor, who looked a shade paler than before,
but not a whit less calm and resolute.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said at last, ‘this is a serious moment for us all, but
the news dismays just as little as it surprises us. Yet I must now leave
you, for the danger to the Fatherland is much greater on its western
than on its eastern frontier; and where the danger to the Fatherland is
greatest, there also must Germany’s Kaiser be.
‘_Meine Herren_, my place as Commander-in-Chief of our armies here will
now be taken by that tried and gallant soldier, my dear friend and
brother, the King of Saxony, who will, I am sure, bring honour and
victory to our arms. One foe at a time is quite enough, and the sooner
we can help our allies to dispose of their invader, the sooner shall we
be able to concentrate all our forces and inflict a crushing blow on our
hereditary enemy (_Erbfeind_), who has again, in the most wanton manner,
broken loose against us.
‘Gentlemen, this is no time for words, when the call to action is
tingling through all our veins, so I will only invoke the blessing of
God upon the course of our arms in this quarter, and hasten myself to
where the peril of our Fatherland is sorest. Adieu, and may each and all
of us do his duty throughout the coming period of grievous trial and
tribulation!’
So saying, the Emperor put spurs to his steed and, accompanied only by
his immediate suite, galloped off back to Thorn, receiving as he went
three enthusiastic ‘hochs.’
Just as I am closing this despatch information reaches us from Berlin of
a naval engagement in the Baltic between our fleet and some Russian
ships; but you, in London, will probably hear all the details before
they reach us here.
WITH THE GERMAN FLEET IN THE BALTIC.
We have been favoured with the following letter, under date April 30,
from Rear-Admiral Philip Colomb, who has been an eye-witness of the
naval operations in the Baltic:—
I was at Kiel with my yacht when the news of the attempt on Prince
Ferdinand’s life reached us. The successive telegrams and published news
created the greatest excitement among all classes, but especially
amongst those connected with the navy. Simultaneously with the news that
Russia had crossed the Austrian frontier, several German cruisers went
to sea, and in a day or two a regular fleet began to assemble in the
port. I don’t understand German, but my wife does, and she told me
whenever we met an eager crowd discussing, that it was all about whether
the fleet would not be kept to defend the place, and the danger of an
attack by the Russian Fleet if the German Fleet did not remain.
I thought I had better get out of it, as if such an attack were made it
might be awkward for me. I think my wife was so excited about it that
she wanted to stay where we were and see it all; but I thought we might
see all there was to be seen in greater safety from the seaside. And
then from the conversation of some German naval officers which my wife
overheard, I gathered that the navy, at least, believe that it would try
to carry war into the enemy’s country. There were, however, great
discussions about some German coast defence vessels that had not coal
supply enough to go up the Baltic, and great arguments as to what ships
would go and what would stay. As every day more heavy ships arrived and
stayed, while only small ones came and went, I began to think that after
all it was most likely that the Germans would not stay quiet to let the
Russians ravage their coasts. Then, by the time that nine or ten large
turret-ships and others, besides several smaller ones, had assembled, I
understood that the German armies were about attacking Russia by way of
Königsberg, as well as to the south. I thereupon made sure that the
German fleet would go up in support, even if they were not ready to do
more.
So the end of it was that I waited till ten big ships and five or six
smaller ones got under way, and then I did ditto, and steamed out with
them. I was afraid I might be left behind, as my coal supply did not
allow me to go at any speed; but I found the Germans, after putting
their big ships into two lines a good distance apart, with some of the
smaller ones close at hand on each side, and two or three others a long
way in front, steamed quite slowly along, not more than five or six
knots. I went inshore of them, and kept them in sight a couple of miles
off.
We passed close to Rügen Island the afternoon succeeding our departure,
and the south end of Bornholm in the night. I made out that we were
steering straight, for Libau, which is about 450 miles from Kiel. We
scarcely had seen anything in the shape of a ship except a couple of
homeward-bound English trading steamers; but on the second morning at
daybreak I noticed all the German ships had been stoking up, and were
making an immense amount of smoke. There was a good deal of signalling
going on between the German flagships—there were two of these yesterday,
one at the head of each line—and one or two of the cruisers, which sped
away nearly out of sight, and then came slowly back, signalling as they
came. The same sort of thing went on on the third morning, when we had
got beyond Dantzig, with the difference that two German cruisers were
seen steaming up, one from the southward, and one from the
south-westward. The fleet stopped, and a boat from each of these went to
the flagship and returned, after which there was more signalling, and a
boat from every ship went on board the flagship. I suppose the other
Admiral and the captains were in them, but I was too far off to make
certain.
After a couple of hours we all went on again slowly as before, but
electric and other lights were flashing about all night, so that we were
very excited, and made sure that something was in the wind. As a
consequence, long before daylight on the fourth morning we were on deck
looking out in all directions, and with a good head of steam so as to
get out of the way in case of accidents. Sure enough at daybreak there
was a great bank of smoke to the northward, and presently I could make
out a mast or two sticking up. The two German cruisers, which were five
or six miles in front, at once became very busy with their signals, and
soon afterwards the whole fleet formed into a single line and turned to
the westward, not steaming any faster, but making such clouds of black
smoke that they almost hid themselves from me. It did not seem that the
Russian Fleet—I was not sure whether it was or not—was closing much, but
one or two ships appeared to draw more in front as if to close the two
German cruisers. Presently the other cruisers that had kept closer to
the fleet also drew out in front, but none of them seemed more inclined
to close the strangers than the strangers were to close them.
I could not make it out at all. I had always understood that in a modern
naval battle, everybody would immediately run at everybody else, and
this looked so little like the sort of thing that I was inclined to
think that what I saw was only an advance guard of the Russian Fleet.
Yet it looked too large a mass for that, and my doubts were presently
set at rest.
Signals were made to one of the German cruisers that had come to us the
day before, and she presently turned and slowly steamed to the
southward. She passed us so very close that I took heart of grace to
call out—
‘Is that the Russian Fleet?’
And the answer came back—
‘Oh! ye-es, zat is ze Russians—ve sall fight zem! So!’ and the steamer
went on her way.
I began to have some sort of an idea that, perhaps, neither fleet was
able to make out the force of the other, and was, therefore, not in a
hurry to bring it to action. And this might easily be so. Though the sky
was clear overhead and the water quite smooth, it was misty round the
horizon, and so far as the Russian Fleet was concerned, it seemed to me
very likely that even the advanced German cruisers were not able to
discover more than I could, between the mist and the smoke.
But as I puzzled myself over this, I also thought that, perhaps, as the
main attack of Germany was going on by land, it might be her game merely
to watch the Russian Fleet. For if the Germans were badly beaten at sea,
Russia might be left free to land and cut their communications. I had
never thought of this kind of thing before, and I quite woke up with a
new sort of idea, for I saw quite well that the Russian Fleet could not
do anything unless they first thoroughly beat the Germans.
ENGAGEMENT OFF DANTZIG—SINKING OF A RUSSIAN TORPEDO-BOAT.
I was so keen on my new ideas that I wanted to know more about it, and
so steamed well to the N.E. to see what the Russian Fleet was like. Just
as I did so, I saw a very small Russian steaming away to the
south-eastward as if to get the look at the German Fleet which I was
going to get at the Russian. She was stoking up tremendously, and
evidently going at great speed. Two of the German cruisers in front
immediately turned to the eastward to cut her off, but the plucky little
Russian did not seem to mind; they closed one another very rapidly, and
some puffs of smoke, followed by distant bangs, showed a little game of
long balls. The Russian had evidently much greater speed than the
others, and was drawing them astern, but quite away from her own fleet
or supports of any kind. All of a sudden I saw she was blowing off steam
furiously, and that her speed had slackened, if not dropped altogether.
She began to fire more rapidly, and so did the Germans. All three were
hidden by the cloud of smoke they raised. My engineer was frightfully
excited; he said, ‘It was one of them new boilers a-priming,’ and that
it was all up with the Russian. Sure enough it was, for all three ships
presently came out of the smoke, the little Russian with the German flag
flying over her own.
[Illustration:
THE NAVAL BATTLE OFF DANTZIG—THE SINKING OF A RUSSIAN TORPEDO BOAT AND
RESCUE OF THE CREW BY AN ENGLISH YACHT.
]
I had got far enough now to see that the Russian Fleet was much more
numerous than the German, but I could only make out six or seven really
big ships. But there were a crowd of small ones, and behind, eight or
nine little things like those we had seen taking the _Excellent’s_ men
for training. I thought it might be dangerous to get mixed up with such
a crowd, so I returned to the southward and eastward of the German
Fleet. I had noticed that the Russians were steering slowly parallel to
the position of the Germans, and night closed, leaving all things in
this position. Both sides never left off flashing their electric lights
up into the sky and all over the sea, and it really seemed to me as if
they must all be a good deal confused by such things.
So matters went on till eleven o’clock, when I made my wife go below,
while I lay down for a sleep on deck. I was awoke at one o’clock by such
a row as never was, the whole German Fleet was a blaze and a roar of
artillery. I supposed, of course, a Russian torpedo-boat attack, but it
was impossible to tell what had happened,—all one knew was that an
attack of some kind had been made. After a very few minutes the fire
began to slacken, and some of it I noticed, with an unpleasant
sensation, was coming my way. But that, too, soon came to an end. My
wife was at that moment beside me again, and she suddenly cried out,
‘Hark! what’s that?’ I could hear a rushing and a panting sound drawing
close to us, and then the ball of white foam that I had seen one night
from a torpedo boat. The panting suddenly stopped, and the rushing
became fainter and fainter until out of the dark came a torpedo-boat
evidently making for the yacht, but very slowly. Just as she was coming
alongside there was a sort of wild cry, and I saw she had suddenly gone
to the bottom. Our little boat was down in an instant, and I got hold of
somebody floating at once, while the men helped in two Russian sailors.
I found I had hold of a Russian officer, but he was evidently unable to
help himself. I could not get him in but we drew him alongside and the
men carried him up. I then saw that the poor chap was badly wounded in
the shoulder. No one on board could speak Russian, but we laid him down
on the deck, and my wife threw herself down beside him with her scissors
and began to cut away his dress, while she cried to her maid to bring
her water and linen. It was of no use, however. The poor fellow was
quite unconscious and bleeding to death. It was all over in ten minutes,
and we could do nothing but reverently commit the body to the deep. Our
other two Russians were unwounded, but could not make us understand
anything. We put them next day into an English vessel bound to Revel.
[Illustration:
THE NAVAL BATTLE OFF DANTZIG—WOUNDED RUSSIANS ON BOARD THE ENGLISH
YACHT.
]
We were eager enough in the morning to see what had happened, but there
seemed to be no ships absent. One of the battleships was, however,
evidently very much down by the head, and in the course of the morning
we saw her quit the fleet for the southward. Everything else was, in
fact, in the same position on both sides, and it was evident that a
regular battle was no nearer.
I presently saw a vessel—I think it must have been one of the German
Emperor’s yachts, from the look of her—coming up fast from the
southward, and as soon as she got near enough, she began making a long
signal. Almost directly, the German ships all turned towards her. They
stopped when she reached them, and after she had sent a boat to the
flagship, the whole fleet put on good speed, and stood nearly due west,
as if for Kiel again. I could not keep up with them, so I am going to
Colberg to post this and hear the news.
_P.S._—I have learnt at Colberg that the Emperor’s yacht brought news of
the declaration of war by France, and orders for the whole German fleet
to return to the Jahde at full speed, to avoid being caught between the
Russian and French fleets. The Germans say they sank several of the
Russian torpedo-boats, and that they had their broadside nets out. Only
the _Oldenburg_ was struck by a torpedo, the one I saw. She got into
Kiel all right, but was badly damaged. It is said that the Russians are
spread along the whole German Baltic coast, and descents are expected.
THE GERMAN PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.
PROPOSED LINE OF INVASION THROUGH BELGIUM.
LONDON, _May 3_.
The declaration of war by France was the inevitable result of the action
of Germany in regard to Russia. Events, indeed, have marched with a
ruthless and tragical directness ever since the day, barely four weeks
since, when Prince Ferdinand narrowly escaped death from Russian
intrigue. In Germany, least of all, can there have been any doubt as to
the course France would take. The experience of 1870 must have made
abundantly clear to her what would be the outcome of the scenes on the
Paris boulevards which our Correspondent has so graphically described.
With powerful enemies on either flank, Germany cannot afford to adhere
to punctilio. With the double contest on her hands she cannot now hope
to bring into the battle-fields superior numbers, as in the wars of 1866
and 1870–71; prospects of success, as her chiefs well know, lie for her
in promptitude of action, in blows struck in unexpected places, in
carefully planned efforts to bewilder and divide the forces opposed to
her.
To strike anywhere at the eastern frontier of the French adversary,
barred as it is with almost continuous fortresses from Verdun to
Belfort, must necessarily involve prolonged delay, even if the heavy
siege-work which is inevitable should be ultimately successful. True,
Germany will no doubt be able to foil any offensive on the part of
France from the base of the fortified eastern frontier, but merely to do
this would be to confine herself to that defensive which is intensely
repugnant to her military character. Yet her only opening for the
offensive, unless she were to force or obtain by diplomacy a right of
way for her armies through neutral territory, of necessity must be by
that eastern frontier of France which is coterminous with her own
territory, and through or over the chain of fortresses which loom out
sullenly from behind that frontier line.
The ideal line of invasion of France by Germany obviously lies through
Belgium. It would turn and negative the chain of French fortresses on
the eastern frontier, and give the shortest route through hostile
territory to the French capital. Belgium is neutral ground; her
neutrality guaranteed by the Great Powers; but how vain a pretence is
this guarantee is already proved by the latest news from our Berlin
Correspondent. It is believed (he states on credible authority), that
Germany has been successful in exacting or obtaining from Belgium a
secret Convention, whereby the armies of the Empire shall be free to
traverse the former State, and to utilise for their purposes the Belgian
railway system. The advantages of this arrangement may be said to fairly
compensate Germany for the numerical superiority of the French forces
over those which she herself is able to bring into the field.
The German plan of campaign, as explained by our Berlin Correspondent,
is as follows:—Seven of the twenty Army Corps are engaged on the Russian
frontier under the King of Saxony. To cope with France there remain
thirteen corps, with a proportionate number of independent cavalry
brigades. The First Army, under the command of Prince Albrecht of
Prussia, is to advance through Belgium by Verviers, Liége, Namur, and
Charleroi, and cross the northern frontier of France between Maubeuge
and Rocroy, at and about Hirson. The fortresses on the French northern
frontier east of Maubeuge are of little account, and there are none on
the section specified. The Ardennes and Eifel districts are regarded as
affording considerable protection to the line of communication as far as
the frontier, and a further protection will presently be mentioned. It
is unfortunate that between Aix and Liége there is available but one
line of railway, but the accommodation is copious on either side of this
section, several lines being serviceable right to the frontier.
This First Army is to consist of six Army Corps, the Guards, 7th, 8th,
10th, 11th, and 16th being those whose respective provinces are nearest
to the region of concentration west of Cologne. Among its
Corps-commanders are such men as Generals Meerscheidt-Hullessem, Von der
Burg, Von Versen, Albedyll, Von Loë, all distinguished names in the war
of 1870–71. The Emperor himself, who of course is Commander-in-Chief of
all the German forces in both fields of operations, accompanies this
army, after leaving the eastern frontier with General von Schlieffen,
the Chief of the great General Staff, and a number of the German
princes. The cavalry commander is General the Grand Duke Frederick of
Baden.
The Second Army is to consist of the 9th, 14th, and 15th Army Corps. The
course of action prescribed for this is to advance from Trèves through
Luxembourg, with the consent of the Grand Duke, following the
Trèves-Brussels railway as far as Arlon, whence it is to approach the
French frontier between the fortress of Montmedy and Sedan, and in this
vicinity, while covering the communications of the main army, draw on
itself the attention of the French field army presumably lying behind
the northern section of the French frontier fortresses from about Verdun
southward, so hindering it from marching westward to swell the forces
opposing themselves to the main German army moving by Namur and
Charleroi. Having accomplished this ‘holding’ operation, whether with or
without a battle, it is to disengage, move westward below Mezieres, and
approach that army after it has crossed the frontier. In performing this
arduous task the Second Army will have to encounter the physical
difficulties of the Eastern Ardennes, and protect its line of
communication running perilously near the frontier. To aid in this work,
severe at once, and delicate, it is to be furnished with a strong
cavalry force, under the command of Lieutenant-General von Kleist.
If from behind the curtain of their eastern frontier fortresses the
French are bent on taking the offensive, German strategists, says our
Correspondent, freely recognise the impossibility, owing to the
diversion through Belgium of the bulk of the German force, of hindering
them from over-running Alsace and Lorraine up toward the left bank of
the Upper Rhine, where the German fortresses would give them halt. Yet
such an advance, if attempted, they will not find quite an unchequered
promenade. In Lorraine, Metz, for instance, will somewhat interfere with
free transport by rail. In the chain of frontier forts the French
engineers have designedly left between Toul and Epinal an undefended gap
or _trouée_ of considerable breadth. Because of the fortifications of
the second line of defence this specious interval is greatly in the
nature of a trap, but its debouche toward France nevertheless needs to
be watched by a strong field force on either flank.
Confronting this gap, on the plateau behind the Meurthe, between
Luneville and St. Die, with advanced posts about Ramberville, and a
strong wide-stretching cordon of cavalry still further forward, the
Third German Army, consisting of the 13th Würtemberg, and 1st and 2d
Bavarian Army Corps, under the command of Leopold, Prince Regent of
Bavaria, is to take up its position. The Prince is to make
demonstrations from time to time to hold in position the French
field-forces on its flanks and rear. If threatened in palpably
overwhelming strength, the army has a line of retreat across the Middle
Vosges open, striking back in the passes as it retires. Should the gap
be judged practical by-and-by because of the withdrawal of the French
field-forces to participate in the _mêlée_ in the interior of France,
instructions how to act will, of course, be sent from the Imperial
Headquarters. As soon as the mobilisation of the active army is
complete, the Landwehr is to be mobilised with all speed to the last
man, and got into readiness to reinforce the armies already in the
field, for the Fatherland will be contending against heavy odds, and
will need the devotion of all its sons. It should be said that the 2d
(Pomeranian) Army Corps is retained in Germany for the protection of the
northern coast.
THE FRENCH PLAN OF CAMPAIGN.
While these preparations have been made by Germany, France has not been
idle. According to the latest telegrams from Paris, the original plan of
campaign devised by the French Etat-major has undergone modification,
now that it has become virtually certain that the main German advance is
to be made through Belgium. The contingency that a contributory stroke
may be made in that direction had, indeed, been in a measure provided
for originally. To meet it four Army Corps were to take up an initial
position in the fortress-bound triangle, La Fere-Soissons-Laon. Two were
to be on the Meuse between Mouzon and Dun to confront a possible German
entrance between Montmedy and Longwy. Three were allotted to the
frontier on the extreme south-east, since Italy is a member of the
Triple Alliance. The garrison of the Government of Paris was not to
move. The remaining ten corps were destined for the eastern frontier
from Verdun to Belfort.
But these arrangements have been dislocated now that it has become
apparent that a great German army is gathering on the eastern frontier
of Belgium, with plain intent to strike for Northern France through that
State. General Saussier, who holds the high position of
Commander-in-Chief of all the French armies, and the chief of staff,
General Miribel, have had the sudden task of planning other
dispositions. No fewer than seven Army Corps, the 1st, 2d, 3d, 4th, 9th,
10th, and 11th, all furnished by the most adjacent territorial military
‘regions,’ are now to constitute the army to be massed in and beyond the
La Fere-Soissons-Laon triangle, and beyond toward the northern frontier
west of the Givet salient, and this army Saussier himself is to command.
An army of two corps, the 5th and 6th, commanded by General Carre de
Bellemar, is to line the Meuse on the northeast, as in the original
disposition. Seven corps, the 7th, 8th, 12th, 13th, 17th, and 18th, are
to constitute the field forces and garrisons of the eastern frontier,
divided into two armies, the northern army of three corps commanded by
General de Galliffet, the southern of four by the Duc de Auerstädt
(Davoust). Three corps, the 14th, 15th, and 16th, all of south-eastern
domicile, are to watch the Italian frontier from Albertville to Mentone,
under the chief command of General Thomassin. The French mobilisation
was set about appreciably later than the German; but once begun, no time
has been lost, and the rapidity with which it has progressed and is
being completed has surprised even those who were most strongly
convinced of the regeneration of military France.
PUBLIC FEELING IN ENGLAND.
DEBATE IN THE HOUSE.
LONDON, _May 3_.
While, thus armed and fortified, France and Germany stand watching each
other across the Rhine, we in England remain in a suspense profounder
than we have experienced any time this side of the Napoleonic wars. The
political excitement during the last few days has been intense, and at
the prospect now imminent of the violation of the neutrality of Belgium
has set the country by the ears. The people, the Press, and the
politicians of England are deeply stirred, and the crowded public
meeting, called at a few hours’ notice, which was held yesterday in
London is a proof, if proof were needed, that the Government will be
compelled by popular feeling to strain every nerve to avert from
‘gallant little Belgium’ the violation of that neutrality, to the
maintenance of which Britain stands pledged. The opposition press,
ablaze with zeal for the honour of England now that there seems an
opening for the charge of supineness against the Government, shrieks in
scathing leaders that the voice of the nation should enforce on the
_fainéant_ Ministry its imperative duty of addressing vehement
remonstrances to the Great Teuton power. The journals favourable to the
Government cannot refrain from addressing strong representations to the
Cabinet regarding the uncertain future of Antwerp if Belgium is again to
become the cockpit of Europe, and the standing menace to Britain which
that great fortress will become if it pass into other hands than those
of the Belgians. The House, too, appears equally moved, and not a day
has passed but at the question hour a rattle of shrewish interpellations
has been shot across the House at the target of the Treasury Bench. The
inexplicable composure of Her Majesty’s Ministers has, however, at
length, broken down before the insistence of the Opposition.
On Tuesday, when the German mobilisation over against the eastern
frontier of Belgium was well forward, and when there remained no longer
any doubt that the army gathering there would traverse that State, Sir
William Harcourt rose in his place, every eye in the House centred on
him, and with portentous earnestness of aspect and manner, demanded that
the Leader of the House should name an early day for a debate on ‘the
grave international questions and eventualities connected with the
imminent violation of the neutrality of Belgium, and the attitude of the
ministry in relation to those questions and eventualities.’ Sir William
reseated himself with, indeed, a brow of care and gravity, as beseemed a
statesman dealing with a momentous crisis; but the lower section of his
expressive visage mantled with a conscious complacency which seemed to
indicate a conviction that he had propounded something in the nature of
a ‘settler’ for this apparently inertest of Governments. ‘Take
to-morrow, if you like,’ drawled the Leader of the House without rising,
and then he actually and visibly yawned. The smirk faded out of Sir
William’s face at the roar of laughter, irrepressible on the part of the
Liberals and Conservatives alike, which followed Mr. Balfour’s drawl and
yawn.
[Illustration:
A SCENE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS—SIR WILLIAM HARCOURT QUESTIONS THE
GOVERNMENT.
]
The Opposition papers have vied in vituperation of Mr. Balfour’s
_insouciance_, which they described as ‘insolence,’ ‘impertinence,’ and
‘insult.’ One provincial journal congratulates Sir William Harcourt on
his self-restraint in having refrained from pulling Mr. Balfour’s nose,
and another, with startling novelty, compares the latter to Nero
fiddling while Rome was burning. But yesterday’s scene in the House has
shown, at least, that the Government, though composed, has not been
indifferent. It must have been galling to many of the hot-brained to
have observed that when in the afternoon Mr. Balfour lounged into the
crowded House, he showed no symptoms of being crushed, or even
perturbed, by this avalanche of invective. In opening the debate, the
ordinarily bland and gentle Sir William Harcourt displayed a truculent
aggressiveness which startled all listeners, so foreign was it to his
previously disclosed nature. When he had finished, and the dust had
settled a little, Mr. Balfour slowly rose. He spoke as follows:
‘Her Majesty’s Government were confidentially informed a year ago, both
by Germany and Belgium, that those two States had concluded a secret
convention, in terms of which, in case of war between Germany and
France, Belgium was to permit German troops to pass through her
territory and to utilise her railways. It no doubt is a question whether
Belgium has any right thus to permit the violation of her neutrality
guaranteed by the Great Powers, but the question in the circumstances is
an abstract one. Who is to intervene to hinder her? Not Germany, who has
made a bargain with her for the right of violation. Not France, who
violated Belgian neutrality with impunity in 1870, and who, if she now
is ready in time, will, in her anxiety to fight the Germans outside the
French frontier, assuredly violate it again—if, indeed, the act can be
termed violation when the neutrality is virtually dead already by
Belgium’s own act. In eastern Europe there is other business on hand
just now, than solicitude for the protection of Belgian neutrality. Does
the right hon. baronet propose that England should undertake this task
single-handed, and, _inter alia_, force Belgium against her will to
co-operate with us in retrieving the neutrality she has already
surrendered? We should, and in hostility to Belgium, stand alone, in an
attempt to make good the guarantee we entered into conjointly with other
Powers; and I say frankly that this is not a Quixotic Government. But
when we were informed, in strict confidence, of this convention, we took
measures for the interest and protection of Great Britain. Those
measures may give umbrage in certain quarters; that we cannot help. We
claimed and obtained from Belgium the right to occupy and garrison the
great fortress of Antwerp if the convention alluded to should become
operative, and to hold that fortress pending the solution of the
momentous events now clearly impending on the Continent of Europe. We
recognised the impossibility of enduring in Antwerp a possibly hostile
neighbour so close to our own street-door, and we resolved and have
secured the right to be our own neighbour over the way in the troublous
times approaching. During the past week we have been quietly and
unostentatiously making some needful preparations. These are now so
forward that I may inform the House that a complete division of British
infantry and artillerymen 15,000 strong will be embarked at sundry of
our ports on the day after to-morrow, and will land at Antwerp on the
following morning, being conveyed swiftly in steam transports under the
convoy of the Channel Squadron. The division will sail fully equipped
with an adequate supply of stores. Its commander will be a soldier whose
name and fame are familiar to us all; I refer to that distinguished
officer, Sir Evelyn Wood. The Belgians hand us over Antwerp as it
stands, with fortress, artillery, ammunition, and all appliances for
defensive operations which we fervently pray and trust that there shall
be no occasion to engage in.’
The cheering throughout Mr. Balfour’s short but pregnant speech had been
frequent and hearty; when he sat down it swelled in volume and force
that seemed to shake the roof. Sir William Harcourt, with the best grace
he could assume, professed himself satisfied, and the debate collapsed.
Late last night it was reported that the Government asked and received
powers to enlist 20,000 men, and to call out for duty a large number of
militia battalions.
BATTLE AT ALEXANDROVO.
DEFEAT OF THE RUSSIANS.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
ALEXANDROVO (IN RUSSIAN POLAND), _May 2_.
As a result of the scouting ride undertaken by a squadron of Zieten
Hussars from this place, as mentioned in a late telegram of mine, it was
resolved at Headquarters here (and the decision was sanctioned by the
Emperor before his return to Berlin _en route_ for the Rhine) to make
another reconnaissance, this time in force with the view, if possible,
of ousting the Russians from Alexandrovo and possessing ourselves of
that important frontier position; for that the best defensive is an
energetic offensive is a maxim which still forms the chief guiding
principle of German warfare.
To-day, accordingly, a force consisting of the 6th Infantry Division,
under Lieutenant-General Von Schnabeltitz, a combined Cavalry Brigade
(Zieten Hussars and 3d, or Kaiser Alexander II. von Russland, Uhlans),
under Major-General von Säbelschlucker; and two sections (comprising six
batteries each, of six guns) under Major Count von Donnerkeil; to-day, I
say, this force, starting at dawn, made a rapid march eastward, and was
soon across the little stream forming the frontier, where the Russian
outposts—who seemed to be singularly supine—were quickly driven in by a
few shots from our advance guard. From a wounded Muscovite, who was shot
in the thigh and had to be left behind by his comrades, we learned that
Alexandrovo was, after all, not quite so strongly held as our late
reconnaissance had led us to suppose, its entire defending force
consisting of only one Infantry Brigade, under Major-General
Grodnovodsky, with several guns, a few sotnias of Cossacks, and two
squadrons of Dragoons. Perceiving, therefore, that we were considerably
stronger in all our arms—especially our infantry and artillery—we made
haste to push on towards our objective, and managed, by advancing at the
double, to gain the rising ground on our side of Alexandrovo before the
enemy could anticipate our design. But it was a close race; nor was it
won by us without a sharp brush, involving several casualties on either
side, between one of our Hussar squadrons, under Rittmeister Von
Rummelsburg, and a sotnia of Don Cossacks, who were very bravely led,
whoever was their commander.
Von Rummelsburg, who was sent forward with his Hussars to feel the
ground in front of our infantry, had just gained the brow of the
acclivity in question when he perceived the Cossacks making for the same
vantage-ground from the opposite side, and at once charged down upon
them in the gallantest style, emptying a few Russian saddles even before
the shock, for his regiment was one of those that had been
experimentally armed with the new combination lance-rifle—the invention
of an ingenious locksmith at Potsdam—of which the Emperor became
enamoured last year, and several of the brave Cossacks had thus
succumbed to the impact of lead before they could come within stabbing
distance of the equally fatal German spear—a notable feature this in
_fin de siècle_ warfare, and one that is likely to impress itself still
more vividly in the course of the present campaign.
The Cossacks being thus flung back on their infantry, whose movements
were of an unaccountably slow and confused kind, our guns dashed up to
the top of the bluff, which had formed the bone of contention between us
and the Muscovites, and, unlimbering like lightning, began to blaze away
at the retreating horsemen with shrapnel which seemed to do further
execution amongst them. Then, laying their pieces at long range and
loading with percussion-fuse shells, Donnerkeil’s gunners hastened to
rain a terrific torrent of destructive projectiles on the railway
station of Alexandrovo, behind which Grodnovodsky’s infantry had retired
for temporary shelter. His guns planted on a rising bit of orchard
ground on his left, were energetically enough worked against our
batteries, but did us little or no harm, as the Prussian artillerists,
always very careful in their selection of a firing position even in the
tumult of action, showed little more than the mere muzzles of their guns
over the crest of the land-wave, in the rear dip of which the infantry
of the 6th Division were lying prone and scatheless in eager readiness
to rush on as soon as the cannon of the Russians should be reduced to
silence.
Nor had they long to wait for this result, for the furious artillery
duel had barely lasted an hour when Grodnovodsky’s guns were seen to
limber up—such of them as had escaped dismounting—and lumber off; and
then our impatient battalions, throwing out their first fighting line,
fanlike, in skirmishing order, with supports behind and reserves
following, all in as machine-like and magnificent order as at a
field-day on the Tempelhof Common, began to push forward, the guns
firing over their heads all the while as they swarmed down the
Russian-ward slope of our eminence and across the rye and potato fields,
still rather wet and cloggy from last night’s rain, in front of
Alexandrovo. The Russian infantry attempted to debouch from their
shell-shattered position behind the railway station and other adjacent
buildings, and deploy in line of purpose to stem our steadily advancing
tide; but our guns, which were still able to pound away over the heads
of our own battalions, played dreadful havoc with their shrapnel charges
among Grodnovodsky’s out-manœuvred troops, who were also mown down in
great numbers by the fearful fire of our magazine-rifles, of which the
murderous volleys appeared to inspire our opponents with a feeling of
panic as unfamiliar to them as the effects of smokeless powder; and, for
the first time probably in all the military history of Russia, the
soldiers of the Czar positively turned tail and fled before superior
numbers and unaccustomed terrors.
Yet the dead and wounded whom they left behind amply attested the
tenacious bravery with which they had fought; and the losses on our
side were not insignificant, including, as they did, the
death of Colonel von Degenzieher and Lieutenant Prince Zu
Sonnenwalde-Drachenfels-Schinckenstein, a young man as brave as he was
handsome, both of the 8th Brandenburg (Prince Frederick Charles’s)
Infantry Regiment.
Still, the loss of these two gallant officers, and other brave men on
our side, was more than compensated for by the capture of Alexandrovo
(into which we marched, or rather rushed, with colours flying, and drums
beating) with its rich accumulation of railway rolling stock, which will
be far more precious to us than acres upon acres of military stores.
How in the Heaven’s name the Russians could ever have failed to
concentrate, at the very outset of this war, a more formidable defending
force around so very important a strategic point as Alexandrovo, is a
bewildering puzzle even to those who have busied themselves with the
systematic study of the Russian character; but, at any rate, there
_they_ were and here _we_ are, thanks to the incredible supineness of
our foes, their contemptible outpost service, the audacity and sudden
swiftness of our movements, and the disastrous surprise which we then
sprung upon them.
My courier returns with this despatch to Thorn, where I trust he will be
able to commit it to the wires.
OCCUPATION OF ALEXANDROVO BY THE GERMANS.
ALEXANDROVO, _May 3_.
It is not yet twenty-four hours since the victorious 6th Division of the
German Army occupied this place, and already it is bristling on the
Warsaw, or south-eastern side, with a most formidable line of
earthworks, thanks chiefly to the marvellous exertions of the Engineer
Battalion of the 3d Corps, which was quick to arrive here by rail
yesterday, within an hour of our triumph—the first of the campaign. But,
indeed, the spades of all our infantry have also been incessantly at
work since they piled their rifles here, it being thought certain that
the Russians will endeavour to get a double amount of work out of their
cranky, creaking mobilisation machine, and hasten to deliver a desperate
counter-attack, with the view of repairing the disastrous error they
have committed—an error that has placed us in possession of a railway
base of operations of incalculable price. Among other spoils we captured
123 railway waggons of various kinds, and nine locomotives, which, added
to the rolling stock that is hourly pouring in from the direction of
Thorn, with the remainder of the German Army of the Vistula, now rapidly
massing here, render us certain of the means of transport in the event
of our deciding to carry the torch of invasion deeper into the heart of
Russia.
It is true that the railway from here to Warsaw consists of only a
single track, but the gauge, unlike that of all Russian lines on the
right bank of the Vistula, is of the ordinary European size, and that in
itself is a tremendous advantage for us. Our Army of the Baltic, under
Count Waldersee, will be hampered in its forward movements into Russia,
if it decides to push across the frontier also, by the fact that the
line from Eydtkuhnen is a broad-gauge one, though, indeed, it is
understood that the General Staff—prescient in all things—has also made
provision for adapting the axles of German lines to the broader gauge of
Russian; but, on the other hand, the Army of Silesia, under Prince
George of Saxony, will enjoy the same transport facilities as ourselves,
if it can only manage to effect, like us, a _pied à terre_ on the Warsaw
and Vienna line, and we are anxiously awaiting news of its movements.
CAPTURE OF CZENSTOCHAU BY PRINCE GEORGE OF SAXONY.
PRINCE ALEXANDER OF BATTENBERG A PRISONER.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
ALEXANDROVO, _May 4_.
There is great jubilation among the troops here, for, following hard on
the telegram announcing the Emperor’s departure from Berlin to the Rhine
amid an unparalleled scene of excitement and enthusiasm, came a despatch
reporting that Prince George of Saxony, by dint of forced marches of
immense difficulty through the devious moors and marsh-grounds east of
Rosenberg and Tarnowitz on the Kreuzburg-Tarnowitz line, had also
succeeded in surprising the Russians at Czenstochau, on the
Warsaw-Vienna Railway, and, capturing that important place, after a
desperate but unavailing resistance on the part of its defenders, who,
incredible to relate, consisted of not much more than its usual
garrison—a brigade of infantry and two brigades of cavalry. But the
German losses here were much more serious than with us yesterday, one
infantry regiment in particular—the 22d Silesian—being more than
decimated in its desperate, yet successful, endeavours to drive the
enemy from a clump of wood, surmounted by a battery—a proof that it
still continues to be animated by the heroic spirit of its name-chief,
Field-Marshal James Keith, whilom of Inverugie and Dunnottar, in the
Kingdom of Scotland, who, at its head, met his own death, under the eye
of Frederick the Great, when saving the surprised right flank of the
Prussian Army from utter annihilation by the Austrians at Hochkirch in
the Lausitz.
These two engagements, then, though on a smaller scale, have been the
Wörth and Spichern of the present war; and it now only remains to be
seen whether we shall be able to improve upon these initial
successes—which were due to a great extent, I repeat, to the exceeding
swiftness and daring of our own movements, as compared with the
incredible slowness of our foes, and the faultiness of their
mobilisation process, no less than to the fact that the Russians,
imagining the Germans would never dare invade Poland, but remain upon
their guard and form a flanking reserve support in Silesia to their
Austrian allies, directed the main stream of their mobilisation further
to the east, towards Dragomiroff’s line of hostile advance upon Lemberg
and the Carpathian Passes to the south thereof at Stryj.
How Gourko, who is known to be still at Warsaw, though the bulk of his
forces must now be well in front of him, will endeavour to cope with the
situation thus so suddenly created for him, is naturally the question
which occupies all minds here, and it cannot be very long before his
intentions are made manifest.
Meanwhile the telegrams from Galicia, where our Austrian allies have
concentrated the bulk of their forces, are not quite so encouraging,
indicating, as they do, less initiative and promptitude of action on
their part, as well as considerable difference of opinion in the minds
of the Corps and Army Commanders as to whether they ought to remain on
the defensive, or espouse an audacious policy of invasion like
ourselves, and essay to beard the lion, or rather the bear, in his den.
Count von Schlieffen, who proves to be as amiable a man as he is an able
Chief of the Staff, tells me that news reached the German Headquarters
this afternoon of a tremendous conflict between no fewer than five
Cavalry Divisions, three on the Russian side and two on the Austrian,
somewhere near Brod, on the Volhynian frontier—a conflict which
resulted, as it could scarcely otherwise have done from the relative
proportion of numbers, in the total defeat of the Austro-Hungarian
horsemen. The latter, it seems, were covering the movements of the 3d
Austrian Corps, which had been appointed to head an advance in the
direction of Dubno; and when they had been overthrown in a _mêlée_
which, in its colossal magnitude, recalled the mounted conflicts of the
Crusaders, the victorious Russians, rallying and reforming line, swept
down upon a detached portion of the Austrian infantry, regardless of the
smokeless volleys from the Mannlicher repeating rifle, and made awful
havoc among the sturdy men from the Steiermark, taking one whole
battalion prisoners, including, it is rumoured, the colonel of the
regiment, the 27th, who is none other than Count Hartenau, better known
as Prince Alexander of Battenberg, ex-Prince of Bulgaria—a wonderful
piece of luck, indeed, for the Russians, if the rumour proves true.
LATER.
Later despatches confirm the rumour of Prince Alexander’s capture by the
Russians, and add that, when the news became known at Dragomiroff’s
headquarters—which are said to be at Dubno—there was almost as much
jubilation as when the intelligence of Napoleon’s surrender flew like
wildfire around the German lines at Sedan.
The ex-Bulgarian Prince is to be sent to St. Petersburg, where rooms are
being already prepared for him at the Katherinenhof, and meanwhile he
has been allowed to retain his sword in order that his unforgiving and
exultant cousin, the Czar, may have the satisfaction of receiving it
from the humiliated captive’s own hands—a picture that will eclipse in
interest all the romantic incidents which have already marked the
Prince’s strangely chequered career.
NIGHT ATTACK BY THE RUSSIANS.
FIGHTING BY THE ELECTRIC LIGHT—ROUT OF GENERAL GOURKO—RETREAT UPON
WARSAW.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
ALEXANDROVO, _May 7_, 5 A.M.
The German Army of the Vistula has just inflicted on the Russians
another Plevna, and they are now in full retreat towards Warsaw. Such,
in brief, is the result of the sanguinary night battle of which I have
just been a witness. The Russians were the first to practise night
attacks as a means of obviating the dreadful losses certain to result
from magazine-rifle fire during the day, but they will long have cause
to remember their first serious application of the nocturnal principle
of modern warfare.
By seven o’clock last night the 3d and 4th German Corps had completed
their concentration at and near this place, and, after extending the
lines of entrenchment begun by the 6th Division on capturing
Alexandrovo, had gone into fireless bivouac on both sides of the railway
line, their tents extending for about a couple of miles in either
direction. Several reconnaissances executed by us during the day had
elicited that the Russians were marshalling in great force at a place
called Waganiek, and were receiving reinforcements from the right bank
of the Vistula, by means of a pontoon bridge which had been thrown
across the stream a little higher up, at Dobrowniki; but, owing to the
dense masses of cavalry which hovered on their front, concealing their
movements as a stage curtain hides from view the shifting of the scenes
in a theatre, it was impossible for our scouts to bring back more
definite information. One item, however, of their intelligence, gathered
from a captured Cossack, had a special interest for us, to wit, that the
Russian forces immediately in front of us consisted mainly of the 5th
and 6th Corps, with part of the 4th (including the relics of
Grodnovodsky’s Brigade), and were under the personal command of General
Gourko, the hero of the Balkans. On the strength of this information it
was decided to attack Gourko before he got his preparations complete,
and for this purpose to break bivouac, and start in quest of him at the
dawn of day, as Prince Frederick Charles had done with Benedek at
Sadowa.
I had spent the evening with a particular friend of mine, Captain von
Jagdkönig, of Stülpnagel’s Brandenburg Infantry Regiment, and was just
on the point of setting out with him on a visit of inspection among the
fore-posts, when a Uhlan dashed up with the intelligence that there were
signs of a mysterious commotion in front, and that something was audible
in the otherwise noiseless night like the distant rumbling of waggon and
cannon wheels. Anon other messengers from the front came spurring in
with similar news, and as the general purport of all these ‘_Meldungen_’
could no longer be doubted, the bugles were at once set to work, and
presently all the silent bivouacs, taking up the shrilling war-note one
after the other, like the multiplication of a distant echo, were
resonant with the thrilling call to arms; and thanks to the severe
training in the discipline of ‘alarms’ which the German army has been
put through by the present Emperor since his accession to the throne,
the army of the Vistula had all started from its sleep and was standing
in perfect battle array, with its face to the suspected foe, within ten
minutes of the first trumpet summons.
The night was intensely dark, the moon having just gone down behind an
impenetrable bank of pitchy clouds, and all fighting seemed to be
utterly out of the question. Presently, however, the inky darkness all
around us was pierced, one may almost say scattered, by a sudden blaze
of light, which, appearing to possess all the illuminating power of the
mid-day sun, flashed lightning-like upon us its blinding beams from the
murky forehead of the midnight sky. ‘The electric light!’ ran from mouth
to mouth, after a moment’s bewildered pause, while every one
instinctively shaded his eyes from the glare of this all-irradiating and
all-penetrating lamp which modern Science had thus hung up to facilitate
the work of slaughter, as if the very sun refused to look any longer
upon human carnage. For some moments the more than mile-long rays of
this blinding ball of light, this detective bull’s-eye of modern
science, swept round the horizon in front of it, as if uncertain where
to fix its focus—now shooting beyond, now falling short of us, and anon
settling on us and suffusing us with a sea of dazzling light. Presently
another, and yet another such luminary burst forth from elevations of
pretty equal distances in front of us, and the process of their groping
about for our lines revealed to us dense masses of grey and dark-green
coated battalions picking their cautious way down the distant slopes in
front of us. For the electric light has this disadvantage, that in
flinging its beams about to discover the locality of foes, it frequently
at the same time unveils the whereabouts of friends. This was the case
here, but our gunners were on the alert, and next time the focus of the
light, in its jerky search-movement, fell on the Russian troops in the
course of their stealthy advance towards us, we opened the concert with
a screaming chorus of shells, accompanied by a rattling orchestration of
small-arms. Nor had we long to wait for the antiphone; for next time the
search-light managed to flood us with its blinding effulgence, the
Russian batteries, which had been planted on the same elevations, gave
lusty voice, and bellowed away at us in most leonine fashion, though
their projectiles, being aimed at much too long a range, flew high over
our heads and left us scatheless. Not so, however, the rifle-rain of our
enemies, which, first in intermittent showers, and then in a steady
downpour, began to fall among our ranks with deadly effect; and the word
was passed from flank to flank for all the infantry to lie down and
court the shelter of our field entrenchments, which crested the ridge of
our line of battle.
Between us and the Russian infantry there intervened a depression in the
ground, a little deeper than that which separates Mont St. Jean from
Belle Alliance; but what enhanced the value of this ground to our foes
was the fact that their batteries in the rear, planted as they were on
the electric light elevations overlooking the terrain, could fire over
the heads of their infantry till the latter was pretty well within
storming distance of our position, much in the same way as the guns of
the 6th Division had been able to do the other day on the occasion of
our first engagement, which resulted in the capture of Alexandrovo.
The Russians advanced against us with a steady, stolid courage worthy of
the men who had essayed to capture the Sand Bag Battery and storm the
redoubts of Plevna; and as the fitful flashes of the electric light
revealed to us, for a few moments at a time, their dense battalions
advancing and deploying into the fighting-lines demanded by modern
tactics and the rules of fire-discipline, I could not help thinking of
that cold and dark November morning when, without the aid of the
electric light, they crowded to their doom, with the same dreadnought
and devoted bravery, up the slippery slopes of Inkerman.
It was not long before the roar of the cannon on both sides became
outvoiced almost by the reverberating rattle of musketry, which was all
the more bewildering, as only the very faintest flashes of flame from
the smokeless powder of both sides served to indicate the exact position
of the opposing lines of infantry fire; and it was only when a new turn
of the electric light (which, by-the-bye, might have changed the course
of Egyptian history, had Arabi enjoyed the advantage of it at
Tel-el-Kebir) registered the progress of the Russian advance, that we
could make out the development of a battle in which unity of command was
simply impossible, and each captain had to be his own general officer.
The development of a modern battle is a very slow process, and this one
was doubly so from the fact, due to the utter darkness in which each
side was occasionally enveloped, that there was much random and
ineffective firing on both parts. But there came a point of time in the
Russian advance when the manipulators of their electric lights found it
impossible to illumine our lines without also including the Russians
within the Asmodean sweep of their rays, and then it was that our men,
seizing their opportunity, plied their magazine rifles with infernal
industry and effect.
But this opportunity did not last long, for suddenly the four midnight
suns of Science, of far more dazzling splendour than the tourist orbs of
the North Cape, which had been rendering possible the work of slaughter,
disappeared from our firmament as completely as if they had been blazing
torches plunged into a pool of ink; and their disappearance was followed
by a brief period of almost painful silence which overspread the broad
and lengthy field of battle.
We never doubted that this pall of pitchy darkness had thus been
suddenly thrown around the battlefield to enable our foes to make
another rush towards us, unimpeded by the accurate aim of shell and
bullet; and a curious thrill, half of pleasure, half of undefined dread,
went shooting through our veins when, as we were listening intently,
peering into the impenetrable darkness beyond, our ears were struck by a
faint peculiar tinkling as if of jangled metal rods, and the meaning
thereof at once became clear to us. The Russians were fixing bayonets,
preparatory to a charge on our position; and the sound was quickly
answered by the loud and stern command: ‘_Aufpflanzen!_’ which ran all
along our lines, and was likewise followed by a repetition, on our side,
of the clinking and sharp clicking above alluded to.
Scarcely had silence in the ranks been again restored when another
order: ‘Load for magazine-fire!’ rang out in stentorian tones, and at
the same time, almost, the electric lights were again flashed full upon
us, converting darkness into open day, and showing us the Russians
striding swiftly towards us in successive irregular waves of
ever-increasing volume, the nearest to us being hardly more than a
hundred and fifty yards off. On they came firing all the way, equally
regardless of the awful volcanoes of shrapnel which our batteries
belched forth against them and of the terrific torrent of our small-bore
bullets, aimed from behind the comparative shelter of field-trench
parapets, which incessantly tore through their stolid ranks, mowing them
down and massacring them by thousands. It was impossible for them to
preserve anything like their proper formation under these trying
circumstances, and disorder was spreading rapidly among their irregular
ranks; but the swaying, struggling masses of the grey and green-coated
soldiery of the Czar still came surging stubbornly up the slope, ever
lessening the distance between them and our entrenchments, till the
moment at last seemed come when they should hurl themselves upon us and
try conclusions with the cold steel. And then, as if by instinct more
than pre-concert, the whole surging masses raised a tremendous shout,
and rushed full upon us with the bayonet.
But when only about twenty paces in front of us, their onward career was
suddenly stopped short by some invisible barrier, which made them crowd
upon each other like penned cattle, passive targets for the bullets of
our repeating rifles that rained upon them thick and fast as hail,
knocking them over like so many rabbits in a ride. This barrier, which
thus strangely stemmed the rush of their storming tide, was composed of
fencing wire of several coils, strongly stretched and impaled, which had
been run along all the front of our entrenched lines as an additional
measure of defence against the contingency of such an attack, and formed
one of the most recent innovations in the field warfare of the
Germans—an innovation which had commended itself to the Emperor, who
himself put it to a practical and approved test at the autumn manœuvres
of last year.
A yell of savage fury rose from the storming columns of the Russians,
who had thus been stopped in their career and baulked of their objective
in this most bloody and calamitous manner; and though the impact of
succeeding waves of assailants soon levelled all the wire fencing with
the ground, still the mass momentum of their charge had been diminished,
their dogged courage had also been shaken by the busy doings of Death
among their huddled ranks during their temporary check; but worst of
all, before the Russians could recover the force of their forward rush,
the Germans were out of their entrenchments and upon them with the
bayonet.
A few moments of grim and ghastly hand-to-hand fighting then ensued—and
let it never after this be said that the bayonet has been entirely
supplanted by the bullet; but I had only time to observe that Gourko’s
brave,—I was almost going to say indomitable,—troops were beginning to
waver, to go down, to yield before the forceful push of the Teutonic
pike, when suddenly again the electric lights of the Russians were
turned off, and the dark curtain of night, in mercy to the vanquished,
fell upon the bloody drama.
Pursuit by the Germans in such circumstances was quite impossible, but,
recovering their ranks with singular precision, they sent salvo after
salvo of artillery and musketry in the direction of the retreating foe,
until the ‘Cease firing’ was sounded all along our victorious line as
the faint and startled dawn began to blush—as if for very shame at such
infernal work; and the bugle-sounds were supplemented by the shrill
whistles of the company commanders, reminding me of the days when I
loved to listen to the clear piping of the darting water-ousel among the
rocky streams of the Grampians, amid scenes unsullied by the bloody hand
of war.
When the day broke the results of the nocturnal battle revealed
themselves in all their ghastly horrors; but, beyond saying that about
10,000 dead and wounded Russians lay in front of our extended lines, and
nearly a third of that number of Germans in and about our own
entrenchments, I will not disgust your readers with a realistic
description of the ghastliness of the battlefield—the first of its kind,
and one which has resulted from an endeavour to neutralise, or at least
minimise, the destructive effects of the murderous magazine-rifle.
REPULSE OF THE GERMAN ARMY.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
ALEXANDROVO, _May 5_, 7 P.M.
This first great victory of ours over the Russians has been somewhat
damped by the news, just received, that our army of Silesia, which had
begun to marshal around Czenstochau preparatory to a further push
forward, has suffered a rather serious reverse at the hands of the Grand
Duke Vladimir, commanding the 14th and 15th Russian Corps d’Armée, who
fell upon Prince George of Saxony before he had completed his
concentration, and compelled him to fall back.
On hearing, however, of Gourko’s crushing defeat by us, and his retreat
towards Warsaw, the Grand Duke Vladimir, like the victorious Wellington
at Quatre-Bras (who desired to effect a junction with Blücher, on the
latter being worsted by the French at Ligny), resolved to forego the
immediate fruits of his triumph and retire to a point that would enable
him to join hands with the retreating Gourko, and thus give combined
battle to the Germans. This point will probably be Skierniwiçe, the
junction-point of the railway lines from Alexandrovo and Czenstochau to
Warsaw, famous in modern history as the pacific meeting-place of the
three Emperors and their Chancellors several years ago.
Skierniwiçe, therefore, will probably be the Waterloo of the
Russo-German portion of the campaign, whoever proves its Wellington; but
Skierniwiçe is very much further from Alexandrovo and Czenstochau than
Quatre-Bras and Ligny were from Mont St. Jean, and some little time,
therefore, must necessarily yet elapse before I shall have it in my
power to chronicle the Waterloo of the present war.
EXCITEMENT IN BRUSSELS.
(_By Telegraph from our Special Correspondent._)
BRUSSELS, _May 5_.
Brussels to-day is rent by conflicting emotions. Frenzied rage, poignant
anxiety, and boiling excitement are struggling not so much for mastery
as for satisfactory expression. The news of the forthcoming occupation
of Antwerp by a British Army Corps has not been received here with
expressions of unmixed satisfaction. The very fact that the negotiations
were kept wholly secret, with the result that the announcement of so
important a decision first reached us through the public report of the
debate in the House of Commons, has, whether justly or otherwise matters
not, set a vast number of well meaning people by the ears. When the news
reached Brussels yesterday it produced an extravagant sensation which
grew as the night advanced. By tacit consent people refused to go to
bed—clubs and cafés were kept open till morning, and all through the
principal thoroughfares the noise of heated discussions might be heard
in full blast round the tables outside the cafés and at every street
corner. A large section of the population, in which ranked many of the
better classes, were greatly incensed against the King’s Government. ‘It
is not astonishing,’ they said, ‘that the measure was kept secret;
otherwise the people would never have permitted so infamous a traffic!’
All the old arguments of 1859 and the half dozen succeeding years were
revived, and in every group of angry disputants the name of Adelson
Castiau continually recurrent, was flung passionately on the night with
every varied accent of which the human voice is capable. ‘_Il l’a bien
dit, Castiau._ He knew, he foresaw what must happen, and idiots that we
were, we would not listen.’ This was the prevailing cry.
It must be explained that M. Adelson Castiau—who is just at present
given posthumous rank as a hero and patriot—was an eminent lawyer and
ex-deputy, who, from the first, vehemently opposed the fortification of
Antwerp. From the day when in 1859 a committee of twenty-seven officers
were appointed to discuss the subject until the completion of the
immense work some six years later, M. Castiau waged war against the
scheme. He spoke, wrote, organised committees, and headed deputations
protesting against the plan. His argument was that, from a military
point of view, the project involved in principle the abandonment of the
country and a shameful flight by the army towards the ‘Polders de
l’Escaut,’ where certainly no one would ever come to molest it, but
would be quite content to leave it to be destroyed by marsh fevers. The
fortification of Antwerp, he said later, meant the destruction of our
neutrality. Antwerp offers to-day, with her forty kilometres of
heavily-armed works, her citadel and her dozen attached forts, a
standing invitation to invasion. It was handing over the country to the
first comer, and building up one of the finest military and commercial
positions in the world, only for the benefit of England, which had
coveted it for over a century.
And to-day the good people of Brussels, and, I fear of Belgium
generally, are regretfully recalling his words and indorsing his
opinion. Hence the frenzied rage of which I have spoken leaping
flame-like all the length of the Boulevards.
BRUSSELS, _May 7_, 10 A.M.
[Illustration:
BRITISH TROOPS IN THE PLACE VERTE, ANTWERP.
]
I have just heard that the British Army Corps, under Sir Evelyn Wood,
has reached Antwerp, and that disembarkation is rapidly going forward.
Until the transports with their escort of cruisers and torpedo boats
actually steamed up the river, people here affected to believe that they
would not come. Chatterers in the clubs boasted loudly that the wind of
popular opinion would drive the English vessels back from the shores of
the Scheldt. The obvious absurdity of this anticipation is but
emphasised by the fact that the worthy Antwerpers have received the
invaders, if not with enthusiasm, at any rate with a demeanour at once
friendly and business-like. Telegrams in the clubs here comment rather
bitterly on the fact, that instead of visiting them with haughty
resentment, the townsfolk are doing a lively trade with the alien
soldiers in light beers and other cheap beverages, which the troops are
freely purchasing beneath the Rubens Statue in the Place Verte, where
they are being rendezvoused before proceeding to their billets.
The fear has now grown into dread certainty that what we have always
expected is about to happen. France intends to invade Belgium, and we
have before us the prospect of another Waterloo. Why have the German
troops delayed? It has been set forth again and again by strategists
that Germany’s most obvious plan would be to concentrate her Army Corps
of the North upon the Belgian frontier of France, that it would
therefore be to her advantage either to make use of the two railway
lines which, from Cologne and Aix-la-Chapelle, run to Luxembourg,
Thionville, and Virton—one by way of Trèves and the other by
Verviers—or, and by this even more important results might be obtained,
she might combine with this movement the seizure of the line of the
Meuse, when, by debouching a part of her forces by Chimay into the
Entre-Sambre-et-Meuse, she would be able to attack in flank the French
forces engaged in preventing the Northern Army Corps forcing the passage
of the Meuse between Dun and Mezières.
It was always considered as certain, therefore, that instead of
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.
When I left Trebizonde, five days ago, the town was in a state of
fevered anxiety, of enthusiastic anticipation, tempered in some sober
quarters by a quiet but not ungenerous scepticism born of previous
experience. The English were coming, cried the enthusiasts. Three
English Army Corps (Heaven alone knows whence it was proposed to get
them) were on their way to Trebizonde, to Samsoun, and to Shumla to aid
their Turkish and Italian allies. The eastern division of the
Mediterranean Fleet had already entered the Black Sea, as much to the
surprise (and perhaps, somewhat to the chagrin) of the Turkish
commanders at the Dardanelles and the Kavaks as of the generals of
Russia and of France. In Trebizonde and the surrounding villages a
certain basis of probability was built beneath these rumours by the fact
that English agents had, for a week, been purchasing mules, sheep, and
cattle, at, as is usual with British agents in times of stress, some
five times their market value to any other purchaser. Nor have the
native producers profited more than usual by this large-handed
generosity, for some two or three Greek and Armenian traders,
anticipating, as is their wont, honest English procrastination, have
been beforehand with the army agents, with whom they are now dealing at
altogether fancy prices. This, however, is after all but a small matter
beside the great question of our intervention. That England’s action
should invariably be delayed almost (but never quite) until too
late—that her transports should reach their destination empty, her
troops be either unprovided with cartridges, or supplied with those of
some obsolete and useless pattern—that by every mistake ineptitude can
secure or official ignorance produce, all arrangements connected with
the disembarkation and provisioning, and general welfare of whatever
forces have been tardily despatched, must inevitably break down but for
the tireless energy, the unfailing resource, the unremitting good temper
and never-flagging loyalty of all the officers and men thus maltreated,
are matters which have long since come to be as well known abroad as
they are beginning to be recognised at home. ‘The English,’ said the
good people of Trebizonde, while awaiting the expected Army Corps, ‘are
good but careless. They are richer than the Russians, and they are less
corrupt, but they are also more stupid.’ This, as the independent
criticism of allies, more than anxious to be generous, is worth at least
a second thought.
[Illustration:
BRITISH TROOPS LANDING AT TREBIZONDE.
]
I would gladly have witnessed the disembarkation of our troops (for
aught I know it may have already taken place), but, after fruitlessly
waiting many days in dreary Trebizonde, I no longer dared to delay. News
had come that a large Russian force was advancing from Kars westward
towards Erzeroum, and, although there are in and around that place some
50,000 Turkish troops, yet, save at Keupru Kui, a place about nine
hours’ ride from Erzeroum on the Kars road, little or no preparation
appears to have been made to resist an enemy. Erzeroum, let it be
remembered, is entered by three posterns, called respectively the
Stamboul, the Ardahan, and the Kars gates. The roads from them lead to
Ardahan, Kars, Van, Erzinghan, and Trebizonde. On the south of Erzeroum,
at a very short distance from the walls, a mountain descends steeply
towards the city, which it altogether commands, and a direct road runs
from Van to Moush, and from that town to the mountain, from which two
water channels lead into Erzeroum. If an enemy once had possession of
the eminence—and, so far as I can learn, there is little or nothing to
prevent him—he would be able to turn these water-courses off from the
city. There are, it is true, a few wells within the walls, but the
supply from them is already insufficient for the requirements of the
population, without taking into account the troops quartered in and
around the town. It seems typical of Turkish apathy that so little
should have been done to secure this their last great stronghold in Asia
Minor from attack. I am going, of course, merely by what I hear from
Turkish officers, as I have as yet been unable to see for myself; but I
have hitherto had no reason to discredit their information.
It appears that from time to time, since 1878, proposals have been made
for fortifying various strong natural positions, but that, with a
procrastinatory belief in the protection of Providence that is wholly
Turkish and almost English, these plans have been continually set aside
until it is now too late to execute them. Thus on the Van Road, about
five miles from Erzeroum, there is an admirable position known as the
Palandukain defile. This position was protected after a fashion in 1876,
when a fort was constructed capable of offering sturdy resistance.
Another fort had been built also at that time at Gereguzek, eighteen
miles from Erzeroum, on the Ardahan road. Another position, that of the
Devé Boinou Bogaz, five miles from Erzeroum, on the Kars road, was
considered at that time to be a good place for a fort, and yet further
defences were then constructed at the Loghana defile, which is some
twenty-four hours from Erzeroum, on the Kars road. There are, no doubt,
also important positions on the Bayazid road, as, for instance, at Deli
Baba—a narrow gorge through high mountains, which the Turks declare to
be impregnable—at Taher Gedi, five hours’ march further on, and at Kara
Kilissa, beyond which there is a level road to Bayazid. Since the war,
however, it appears that little or nothing has been done to strengthen
or even to maintain these positions in an adequate state of defence.
There has been much talk of late in Constantinople of extensive
armaments on this frontier. Krupp guns have, it has been said, been sent
to supplement the bronze cannon manufactured at Tophané, with which the
forts of Erzeroum were in the last war mainly armed. As to whether any
such material has reached its destination I am as yet uninformed. People
on this road, which it must surely have traversed, profess to know
nothing of it. It is to be feared that we may expect a repetition of the
famous story of the million liras expenditure said to have been incurred
in the fortification of Erzeroum in the last war.
I did not journey from Trebizonde alone, but took advantage of the
departure of a huge straggling convoy of mules and pack-horses laden
with ammunition for Erzeroum. There were also with us half a dozen
English doctors who have taken service with the Porte, and have
volunteered to attend the wounded under fire. Owing to the accident to
my horse, who slipped, poor brute, through a ragged hole in the wide
stone bridge across the Kara Su, close to this place (a terrible pitfall
for artillery), and badly scraped both his own shin and his master’s,
these gentlemen have perforce abandoned me until such time as I can
obtain another beast.
The traffic through this little place, which is the point of junction of
the Trebizonde and Erzinghan roads to Erzeroum, and as a rule at this
season is almost deserted, is in itself indicative of stirring events in
our front. All through the day there has been a continuous passage of
nondescript wayfarers in either direction. Turkish soldiers—stragglers
or deserters may be—some sick, some slightly wounded; Koordish
Bashi-bazouks, pure bandits for the most part, flashing great arsenals
of gleaming weapons in their waist-belts, and armed, many of them, with
Winchester rifles, remnants of the last war; slim, evil-visaged
Circassians on lean, wiry horses, and gaunt Zaibeks, ferocious beneath
their extravagant headgear, have tramped and clattered continuously past
the miserable khan where I am established. Some of these gentry, I note,
have Russian great-coats with regimental numbers on the shoulder strap,
flung either across their cruppers, or around their shoulders. This is a
sure indication that there has at least been some skirmish or
reconnaissance in which Russian arms have suffered not a little.
REPULSE OF THE RUSSIANS.
THE TURKS PURSUE ESKI ZAGRA—THE GRIM REALITIES OF WAR.
NEAR KEUPRU KEUI, _May 2_.
I am profiting by an opportunity to send you a hurried message by a
Turkish officer on his way to Erzeroum with despatches. Soon after
writing last to you, I managed to pick up a horse—a poor beast enough
truly, in place of my stalwart grey—and pushed on to Erzeroum. There I
found all in confusion. Certain news had arrived of a Russian advance in
force along the Kars road, and every available man had been thrown
forward to meet it. It was but natural that the Russians should seize
the earliest possible opportunity of hurling themselves against the
Turkish stronghold, which they might very reasonably expect to find
unprepared to receive them. More or less unprepared the Turks indeed
were, but Ghazi Moukhtar Pasha—the hero of ’77—who had himself reached
Erzeroum but a few days since, was fully determined not to permit his
traditional enemy to win an easy triumph. As I have said, every
available regiment was ordered to meet the attack, and hurried forward
to Keupru Keui, where the stand was to be made. I have as yet no
details—indeed, as I stayed but an hour or so in Erzeroum to feed my
horses, I have hitherto been able to see no one in authority; but so far
as I can gather, the Turks, though outnumbered, were not greatly
inferior to their adversaries, over whom they had the additional
enormous advantage of being in a position which tradition has taught
them to regard as well-nigh impregnable. In any case Turkish arms seem
to have gained a signal victory.
Very soon after leaving Erzeroum, which I did shortly before mid-day
this morning, I began to meet with unmistakable evidences that a big
battle had either been fought or was in progress. First a knot of some
twenty infantrymen, weary, haggard, and ragged, met me on the steep
slope of the hill some five miles beyond the town. They were all jaded
beyond expression—every one was wounded more or less grievously—several
were using their rifles as crutches, and some who had lost or abandoned
their rifles were helping themselves along either by the aid of their
comrades’ shoulders, or by stakes, or waggon-boards, or rammers, or
indeed any of the miscellaneous articles of wood or metal that are to be
found strewn along the line of a straggling fight. I gave them a
water-skin, and offered a bottle of brandy (as _ilitch_—medicine for
their wounds). The water they took, but none would touch the spirit save
one gaunt, white-moustached veteran, who mumbled incoherencies about
Algeria, by way seemingly of excuse. While they drank I asked them what
was doing. ‘A great battle was being fought,’ they said, but their
opinions were divided as to the course of the action; several men (weak
from loss of blood) opined that the enemy was too strong for them. But
one broad-shouldered, bright-eyed little fellow, who had had all the
flesh of one cheek torn from him by a shell splinter, and had bound the
wound with a strip from his rough serge jacket, was loud in his derision
of this view. ‘It was Eski Zagra again,’ he said. The Moskoffs were
driven back, beaten hopelessly, and pursued by agile Bashi-bazouks
through the slippery passes, the precipitous fastnesses, the treacherous
paths of the rugged route, a pursuit without cess or quarter—where every
enemy, whether wounded or not, was exultingly slaughtered as soon as
caught. The little veteran illustrated with horribly realistic gestures
his own views as to the treatment of Russian wounded. With a foul gusto
that raised wild enthusiasm in his weary comrades, he demonstrated how
he would hew off the noses and lips of his enemy; how he would gouge out
their eyes with his bayonet before he plunged it into their throats and
twisted it till the victims died suffocated with their own blood. He
outlined other horrors, but I had had enough, and left him posing in
anticipation as a hero among his fellows, while I rode on towards this
place.
That this fierce implacable Moslem had been right in his conjecture I
soon had ample—ay, terrible—proof. In every mile, even on the rugged
track itself, as I neared the spot from which I write, the horrible
evidences of deadly carnage multiplied and repeated themselves.
Disembowelled horses, broken limbers, little mounds of dead, fallen one
on another, their still, calm, white faces in cruel contrast to the
extravagant distortion of their scattered and twisted limbs; and
everywhere traces of that ruthless hatred vowed by the Turk to his
hereditary enemy. Hideous featureless corpses stared at me out of
eyeless sockets from the roadside, their hands uplifted and bloody,
showing that wounded, not dead Russians, had been thus maltreated;
occasionally a movement, slight though perceptible, caused me to
dismount, eager to aid some mutilated sufferer, but all to no
purpose—the Turks had done their work too well. As I advanced, the
spectacle of these recurrent horrors increased in its revelations of
barbarism and malignant cruelty. The number of Turkish dead diminished
step by step, as that of the Russians augmented, and by the time I
reached this place I had had such a surfeit of ghoul-feasting (for the
eye) as I envy no man.
While talking to Salem Bey Agris—the gentleman to whose good offices I
am indebted for the conveyance of this hurried despatch, at least, as
far as Erzeroum—a poor horse hobbled up, browsing its way along the thin
coarse grass which covers the bank on which I was seated. Something in
the animal’s movements attracting my attention, I looked up and noticed
to my infinite horror that the poor brute, which was still saddled and
bridled, had but three legs—the off fore leg being from the shoulder
downwards nothing but a sliver of white bone splintered to a pencil
point. Horror-struck, I seized my revolver—my first thought being to put
the poor creature out of its pain. But as it browsed on placidly,
seemingly indifferent, I called Salem Bey’s attention to its condition.
‘Poor horse,’ he said (and note that he had surveyed mutilated Russians
with placid indifference), ‘a suffering animal, indeed, tears the
breast, but I have seen, only two hours since, a sight far more
heartrending than this. I was charging with my squadron a troop of
Cossacks. It chanced that a shell burst right over the first line, and,
killing two troopers, tore away the whole muzzle of one of their horses.
All was destroyed in the poor beast, right up to the eyes, and you might
have supposed it would fall dead at once. Nothing of the kind. It held
its place in the ranks, spouting torrents of blood and foam from its
ghastly shattered head, until, fortunately, some stray Russian bullet
laid it low. Until then, I will own,’ he added, ‘I was afraid for my
men.’
The Bey, leaving me to digest this tale, strode away in the dusk to get
his horse. ‘Where is your army?’ I have shouted to him, and his reply
is: ‘_Bilémem_ (I do not know). INSHALLAH, it has gone to KARS.’
THE RUSSO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN—GREAT BATTLE AT SKIERNIWIÇE.
ROUT OF THE RUSSIANS AND THEIR RETREAT ON WARSAW—HEAVY FIGHTING ON THE
GALICIAN FRONTIER.
(_From our Special Correspondent, Mr. Charles Lowe._)
SKIERNIWIÇE, _May 18_.
Strange is the irony of events. In the month of September 1884, this was
the friendly meeting-place of the Emperors of Russia, Germany, and
Austria, who were accompanied by their respective Chancellors—Bismarck,
Kalnoky, and Giers; and now the chateau where they so ostentatiously
feasted, embraced, and exchanged their pledges of peace, is a heap of
smoking ruins. After this, who shall say that there is any stability in
human affairs, or any trustworthiness in human foresight?
The united Russian forces, consisting of the 5th and 6th Corps under
General Gourko, and the 14th and 15th Corps under the Grand Duke
Vladimir, have to-day suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the
combined German armies of the Vistula and Silesia, commanded by the King
of Saxony, and are now in full retreat on Warsaw. As I predicted in my
last despatch, this has been the Waterloo of the Russo-German portion of
the campaign, and it has been brilliantly won by the Germans—thanks
mainly to the disconcerting effects of smokeless powder on the tactics
of an enemy who fights better in the mass than in detail, no less than
to the fact of the Russians having committed the radical error of
provoking a war before they were completely equipped with the new
magazine rifle, which, even with the aid of the French factories that
received orders for half a million of the new weapon, will not be served
out to the entire army of the Czar before the summer of 1894.
In my last despatch I recorded how the Grand Duke Vladimir, in spite of
his victory over the German Army of Silesia at Czenstochau, had
refrained from following up his success in consideration of Gourko’s
repulse at Alexandrovo, preferring—like Wellington, who had similarly
beaten Ney at Quatre Bras, but was yet desirous of succouring the
retreating Blücher, who had come to grief in front of Napoleon on the
same day at Ligny—to retire towards Warsaw for the purpose of joining
hands with his fellow-commander, on the latter being worsted by the King
of Saxony. The distances, of course, were infinitely greater in the
present case; but otherwise the principles of strategy were the same.
A glance at the map will show that the junction-point for Gourko and the
Grand Duke Vladimir could only have been Skierniwiçe, where the railways
from Alexandrovo and Czenstochau converge; and it appears that, though
the Grand Duke’s line of retreat to the common rendezvous was
considerably the longer of the two, nevertheless the bulk of his forces
had reached it first, by reason of the fact that he enjoyed a double
line of rails, whereas Gourko had to move as best he could along a
single track.
The German Army of the Vistula, with which I had thrown in my lot as a
witness of the war, was not slow to gather itself together after the
battle of Alexandrovo, and start in pursuit of Gourko’s shattered
forces, but much precious time was lost by us in repairing bridges which
our retreating foes had blown up; and though at last, by dint of great
exertions on our part, the railway proved not altogether unavailable to
us for transport purposes, still the earlier stages of our advance on
Warsaw simply assumed the form of an ordinary march along, and parallel
with, the line, the engineers pontooning or planking any bridgeless
stream or ravine which obstructed our progress.
At Vlokavek, which our advanced guard reached on the fifth day after the
battle of Alexandrovo, though the distance is only about thirty miles,
we were considerably hampered, and even hurt, by the flanking fire of a
Russian battery, which had established itself in a safe position on the
right bank of the Vistula—a battery, strange to say, which was
unsupported by any body of infantry of which we could discover trace;
and the King of Saxony, who, in spite of his sixty-four summers, is
still almost as vigorous and alert as when he commanded on the Meuse,
determined to imitate, though, of course, on a very much smaller scale,
the celebrated passage of the Douro by Wellington (of which, by the way,
this was, curiously enough, the anniversary, the 12th May). Accordingly,
the 3d battalion of the ‘Old Dessauers’ Magdeburg regiment, under Major
von Wusterhausen, was stealthily ferried over the Vistula, which is here
both broad and deep, at the dead of night; and, performing a silent and
circuitous march to the rear of the Russian battery, it opened a heavy
fire on the bewildered Muscovites, just as the latter, profiting by the
breaking dawn, were about to begin their usual day’s work of pounding
away at our advancing columns; and, charging with a cheer up to the
emplacements, before the pieces could be reversed, the ‘Old Dessauers’
killed or captured every one of the gunners. For this smart and
effective feat of arms Major von Wusterhausen will doubtless receive the
Iron Cross of the first class and the rank of colonel.
This was the main incident which marked the course of our advance,
though I might fill columns by recounting the minor vicissitudes of our
march, especially the intolerable botheration which was occasioned us by
the clouds of Cossacks and Dragoons—the latter little more than mere
mounted infantry—who pertinaciously hovered on our flanks in search of
fitting opportunities for harassing us, and had ever and anon to be
brushed away like so many troublesome swarms of mosquitoes.
In the meantime the telegraph had kept us duly informed of the various
stages in the forward movement of the army of Silesia along the other
and longer side of the triangle, of which Skierniwiçe is the apex, and
it was naturally enough our endeavour so to time our junction with it as
to render it impossible for the Russians to attack our two armies
severally and beat them in detail, even if they should have the stomach
to assume the offensive, which we gravely doubted.
When our headquarters had reached Lowitz, which is only about fourteen
miles from Skierniwiçe, and established itself in a pretty chateau,
Arcadia by name, belonging to the Radziwill family, an officer of the
Empress Frederick’s Posen Hussars (Death’s Heads), who had made a long
and venturesome ride across country from Lipce, came spurring in with a
despatch from Prince George of Saxony, announcing that the combined
Russian forces under Gourko and the Grand Duke Vladimir had taken up a
strong defensive position behind the Lupta brook (which runs into the
Bzura, an affluent of the Vistula), with their left resting on a
village, Stryzboga, and their right on another hamlet, Dromiloff, their
centre being Skierniwiçe. The left half of their line, defended by the
troops of the Czar’s eldest brother, was formed by the Lupta itself, a
brook about the size of the Bistritz at Sadowa; while the right half was
thrown back from this streamlet at an angle of about twenty-five
degrees, so as to profit by some ridgy ground in its rear. Prince George
of Saxony, therefore, invited his royal brother to attack General Gourko
with all energy on the morrow, while he himself would simultaneously
assail the position of the Grand Duke Vladimir, a proposal which King
Albert, after brief consultation with his Staff, declared his readiness
to act upon.
Accordingly, two hours before dawn, all our troops were under arms, and
in motion for the various positions which had been assigned them. On our
half of the Russian front the 3d (Brandenburg) Corps, with the 7th
Division, advanced to open the attack, while the 8th Division acted as
reserve, and our two Cavalry Divisions were directed to keep a look-out
on our left flank, adapting their action to the nature of the ground and
the development of the infantry portion of the fight. Between us and the
enemy the terrain was pretty wavy with occasional patches of crops and
cover, while in front of Skierniwiçe it rose into a gentle slope, on the
top of which spread the extensive wood forming the deer park and game
preserves of the castle (famous for its Three Emperors’ Meeting), of
which the turrets were just visible above the tree-tops. This, as I
said, formed the centre of the Russian position; and it was by opening
our guns in this direction that we began the battle, with the view of
making the enemy believe that our main objective was the middle of their
line.
For a couple of hours or so the fight was nothing but an artillery duel
at long range, and it was plain that although the Russian artillery was
more advantageously posted, it had the utmost difficulty in finding the
range, and even the exact position of our guns, owing to the comparative
smokelessness of their discharges. On the other hand, after the Russian
outposts had been driven in, the Jäger Battalion of the 3d Corps, which,
courting every dip in the ground, had stealthily crept forward for some
considerable distance in a hollow beyond our batteries, and lined the
edge of a rye-field, within about 3000 metres of the Russian guns,
opened fire at this very long range, and not without fatal effects; for
with a good glass we could see the Russian artillerists dropping beside
their pieces, a fact which made us realise the truth of the German
Emperor’s remark that, if field guns are to hold their ground as weapons
of modern warfare, their range must still be further increased beyond
that of the newest form of small bore rifle.
To emphasise the impression produced by this combined artillery and
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.
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.
[Illustration:
ITALIAN ARTILLERY CROSSING THE MONT CENIS.
]
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.
Amid breathless silence, Lord Kimberley rose. In a few cautiously worded
sentences he expressed a hope that Lord Salisbury would be able to give
an unqualified contradiction to the ridiculous rumour which had reached
England. He referred, of course, to the report of a correspondent that
as long ago as April 29th, English troops, the forerunners of an English
expedition, either had landed, or were immediately about to land, at
Trebizonde. The House was ready to support the Ministry in every measure
which they might take to safeguard the honour and interests of England.
No part of the House was more zealous in that respect than those noble
Lords with whom he had the honour to be associated. But a landing at
Trebizonde implied something which in no way concerned the honour and
interests of England. It was impossible that their Lordships should not
be led by it to suppose that the noble Marquis, the head of the
Government, considered himself bound by that ridiculous compact, the
Cyprus Convention, and that he now felt himself called upon to draw the
sword of England in defence of Turkey, because Russia had crossed the
Asiatic frontier of Turkey. However few the Liberal Peers in that House
might be, they felt that they expressed the mind of England in declaring
to the noble Marquis that, in behalf of the corrupt Government of
Turkey, the sword of England ought never again to be drawn. As for the
Cyprus Convention, it had been abrogated by Turkey herself. It was
conditional, and the conditions had not been fulfilled. Speaking with
the authority of many able military men, he could assure the noble
Marquis that if he contemplated a campaign amid the mountains of Asia
Minor, a campaign which, even if successful, could only lead up to a
long and dreary siege of the Russian fortress of Kars, he was involving
the country in military difficulties of untold magnitude and limitless
duration. He was doing this at a time when, amid a universal
conflagration, we required all our forces for the complications which
were sure to arise both in Europe and in Asia.
[Illustration:
LORD SALISBURY ADDRESSING THE HOUSE OF LORDS ON THE QUESTION OF PEACE
AND WAR.
]
There was rather a buzz of excitement than any definite applause when
the noble Lord sat down. It was promptly hushed, as Lord Salisbury
immediately rose to reply. He spoke as follows:—
‘My Lords, I do not require the assurance of the noble Earl that your
House is ready to support Her Majesty’s Government in any steps which
may be indispensable to safeguard the honour and interests of England. I
cannot discuss with that freedom which the noble Earl, naturally as an
independent Peer, allows himself, the character of the Government of our
ally, the Sultan of Turkey, or the present position of the Cyprus
Convention. Happily for the explanation which I am glad to have this
opportunity of offering to your Lordships, it is wholly unnecessary for
me to refer to either. We have never professed ourselves ready to
support the Government of the Sultan against his Christian subjects,
should that contingency arise. But there is one thing on which I think
it is well that Europe should understand, that not only this House, but
the whole of England, is agreed. We do not desire to see the independent
Balkan States crushed beneath the heel of Russia. We do not desire to
see the population of Asia Minor pass from the Government of the Turk to
that of the Czar. I am unwilling to say all that I easily might say on
that subject at the present moment. War between us and Russia has not
been declared. Our relations are in so delicate a condition that I
should have asked the noble Earl to postpone his question, but that I
feared that might give rise to misunderstanding. We live in hope that
such a dire calamity as a war between us and Russia may yet be averted
by the wisdom and the notoriously peaceful disposition of the Czar. But
the situation is this. Russia has commenced by sea an attack upon
Bulgaria. In order to say nothing that may tend to aggravate the
difficulties of the present moment, I refrain from referring to the
circumstances which preceded that invasion. In any case, it has been
impossible for us to allow Bulgaria to be crushed when the support of
our fleet would be of the most material importance to her. We, on
hearing of the Russian invasion, at once issued orders to Sir George
Tryon to act under the instructions of our ambassador at Constantinople.
With the consent of the Sultan, the fleet under Sir George Tryon entered
the Black Sea five days after the Russians had effected their landing in
Bulgaria. We then intimated to the Czar that we could not allow any
further reinforcements to be carried to Varna, and we heard yesterday
that the Russian fleet, yielding to the superior force of ours, had
retreated to the harbour of Sebastopol. The roadstead of Varna is in
occupation of our cruisers. The Russians have advanced inland, leaving a
force to cover the siege of Varna, which is held by about 5000
Bulgarians. It was in consequence of the Turks having announced their
intention of supporting their vassal State, Bulgaria, that the Russian
troops, without any declaration of war, crossed the frontiers in Asia
Minor. As it had been at our instance that Turkey had agreed to give
support to the Bulgarians, it was impossible that we could leave her
without a pledge of our support when this aggression took place. It is
not a political question of the future destinies of Asia Minor as
between Turkey and the Armenian population. It is simply a question of
giving military support to a valuable ally during actual warfare. We
cannot afford to throw away the assistance of thousands of most valiant
soldiers, who are ready to support our just demand that the Balkan
States shall be allowed to pursue in tranquillity that orderly
development which has excited the astonishment and the admiration of
Europe.
‘As to the military dangers which the noble Earl apprehends, I think
that it would be highly inconvenient, at a time when it is at least
possible that actual war may follow, that we should discuss, for the
information of those against whom we may have to fight, our military
projects. It will, I think, be sufficient for me to say that we have
intrusted the conduct of the whole of these operations to a member of
your Lordships’ House, in whom we have complete confidence, and whose
name will be a guarantee to the country that nothing will be wanting in
the command of the war, should it unfortunately be forced upon us, which
will tend to the honour and success of the British arms. The gallant
Viscount, the present Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, whom I am glad to
see in his place to-night, will, I have no doubt, be quite prepared to
accept responsibility for any dangers which trouble the imagination of
the noble Earl. But I should suppose that he will prefer to discuss his
plans with him after rather than before the war. It is not in presence
of armies which, as we have recently seen, are conducted with absolute
secrecy, and are able to deliver unexpected blows, because no one knows
what is going to happen till the stroke falls, that we can afford to
discuss our arrangements in the face of the world. The gallant Viscount
has at least fully satisfied Her Majesty’s Government that he has a
complete grasp of the whole situation, that he knows his own mind, and
we accept full responsibility for all that he proposes to do. If you do
not trust us, replace us by those whom you do trust. But, in Heaven’s
name, let me implore you not to allow the strength of England at this
moment to be weakened by divided counsels or by want of confidence in
those to whom the conduct of military affairs is intrusted. At this
moment it may make the whole difference between our obtaining by
peaceful means the acceptance of our just demands and a war which must
be terrible and may be long. In any case, should war break out, the firm
attitude of the whole country, its patriotic resolve and a temporary
abstinence from feeble criticism will have a most decisive effect upon
the future.’
When Lord Salisbury sat down there was a momentary and most impressive
hush, as of awed silence, in presence of the tremendous events which
appeared to be imminent, and then there came from all parts of the House
a burst of general and enthusiastic cheering, all the more striking
because of the usually impassive attitude of that august assembly. The
ladies in the gallery for a moment rose altogether as by a single
impulse, and when they sat down not a few of them burst into tears from
excitement, while a buzz of eager talk filled both House and galleries.
When the excitement had a little quieted down, Lord Rosebery, in a few
short sentences, expressed his entire sympathy with the general policy
enunciated by Lord Salisbury. He could not, however, refrain from hoping
that we were not about to be committed to a dangerous and difficult
campaign in Asia Minor, where the roads were bad, the country difficult,
and the end uncertain. He had, however, complete confidence in the
prudence and military genius of the gallant Viscount, and had no wish to
hamper either him or the Government with untimely criticism.
The general effect throughout the country of the debate in the House of
Lords decided the Liberal leaders to allow Mr. Balfour’s application for
the credit vote to pass unchallenged. Mr. Labouchere, however, moved the
rejection of the vote, and was seconded by Sir Wilfrid Lawson. The
credit was voted by a majority of 412 to 17. We do not propose to
trouble our readers with the details of the debate. No one took Mr.
Labouchere very seriously, and Sir Wilfrid Lawson’s jokes, which by no
means suited the temper of the House, may be found scattered through his
previous speeches. With the exception of two or three peace-at-any-price
members, nearly the whole of those who followed Mr. Labouchere consisted
of Parnellite members, who avowedly voted only in order to show their
independence of Mr. M‘Carthy and of both political parties. The funniest
incident occurred when Sir Wilfrid Lawson, whose own position was an
absolutely isolated one, repeated his old proposals to boycott the army.
The humour of the situation took the fancy of the House, and a general
titter gradually broke into a roar of laughter as the honourable member,
either not appreciating the point, or wilfully blind, exclaimed, ‘Well,
I shall!’ It was the only opportunity which members had for relieving
pent-up feeling, and they indulged it freely.
MOBILISATION OF THE FIRST ARMY CORPS.
CALLING OUT THE RESERVE.
Meantime the mobilisation of that portion of the 1st Army Corps, which
was not moved with Sir Evelyn Wood to Antwerp, proceeded. It is
necessary to explain what was and was not done in the case of the
regiments that went to Antwerp. The troops at Aldershot were gradually
increased, with a view nominally to the summer drills, till they
numbered something under 12,000 men. To these, for the purposes of the
expedition, were added three battalions of the Guards from London, two
of the regiments of Household Cavalry, and two batteries of Field
Artillery from Woolwich.
[Illustration:
THE MOBILISATION OF THE ENGLISH ARMY—TROOPS MARCHING THROUGH THE DOCK
GATES, PORTSMOUTH.
]
It must, however, be understood that in the proper sense of the term
these regiments could not be ‘mobilised.’ _There is at this moment no
battalion in the whole kingdom, except those of the Guards, that is fit
to go on active service as it stands on parade._ The battalions are
filled with recruits who, when mobilisation is ordered, have, in the
first instance, to be replaced with men from the Reserve. This cannot be
done without a proclamation, and without the fact of the Reserves being
called out being known to everybody. For such a sudden movement as Mr.
Balfour announced in the House of Commons on May 2d, there are no troops
but the Guards ordinarily available; but when application was made to
the military authorities to know how soon it would be possible to carry
out a move of this kind, it was pointed out, in the first instance, that
the occupation of a fortress like Antwerp is a very different thing from
a campaign in the field. It would do no harm to the young troops to be
moved across sea to Belgium. There they would be comfortably housed, and
when mobilisation was ordered it would be easy to send over to that
quarter the Reserve men to take their place in the ranks. Indeed, it was
pointed out that this course would be positively advantageous. For
supposing that Sir Evelyn Wood’s troops were required for a campaign
elsewhere, it would be best to replace them in Antwerp by forming depôts
there of recruits who with, perhaps, a few Militia regiments, who might
be induced to volunteer for the purpose, would form a sufficient
garrison; since it was in the last degree unlikely that, with all they
had on their hands, any of the armies in the field would attempt a siege
of such a fortress as Antwerp, occupied by English troops, even though
young and raw. As soon as the probability of the Eastern expedition
arose, we believe that Lord Wolseley pointed out that it was
indispensable to carry out this plan. As the Reserves for the battalions
now at Antwerp came in at the home stations they were shipped over to
that town, and in fact all arrived there about the 9th of this month.
Sir Thomas Baker has, we understand, been sent over to Antwerp to take
command of that garrison as soon as the depôts can be formed. Thus,
about the time that we write, the whole of Sir Evelyn Wood’s force ready
to take the field will be available for service elsewhere. From the
all-important point of view of facilities for embarkation and provision
of shipping, this has been a decided gain. Enormous as are the
mercantile resources of England, and patriotic as has been the readiness
of all our great companies to place their vessels at the disposal of
Government, it has always been assumed that we could not reasonably
calculate on moving off from our ports at one moment more than about
35,000 troops, or the force of one _corps d’armée_. To move such a
force, with all the carriages, horses, and stores necessary to make the
army available for the field, will require 135 large steamers. Warning
and provisional arrangements had, we understand, been made, for as many
as this, by the transport department of the Admiralty, when the
Government first began to apprehend the possibility of our having to
employ them, nearly a month ago. But the facilities of the Port of
Antwerp have enormously increased our means of transport. By far the
larger portion of the shipping of that great port is in the hands of
English firms, and the commercial relations between these firms and
Germany have enabled the Government to charter, in addition to a large
mass of Antwerp shipping, many German ships which have been laid up by
the high war rates now ruling for insurance. Thus, virtually without
touching our own shipping or the facilities for embarking at our ports,
Sir Evelyn Wood’s troops, forming about half of the 2d Corps which he is
destined to command at the Seat of War, will be embarked probably before
these words see the light.
Meantime the troops of the 1st Army Corps have already left our shores.
On May 8th the Duke of Connaught, who is to command the 1st Army Corps,
sailed with the Headquarter Staff of that Corps and the 2d Battalion
Scots Guards from the Royal Albert Docks, North Woolwich, in his old
ship, the _Orient_, which had been recently docked. His Royal Highness
had asked that, if it were equally convenient, he might travel with the
captain and in the ship in which he had sailed for Egypt in 1882. It was
a point of _punctilio_ with the captain to clear out at exactly the same
hour as in 1882; and accordingly, at twelve o’clock on May 8th, amid the
cheers of a vast crowd, the _Orient_ sailed from Woolwich as in 1882,
just five days after the issue of the order calling in the Reserve men.
The other portions of the Corps have sailed within the last week.
So far all speaks well for the efficient working of our system, but from
our different correspondents at the points where mobilisation has been
taking place, we hear of not a few blots which mar the harmony of the
picture.
In the first place, an undoubted and severe strain has been put upon our
resources. It is not usual for more than three battalions of the Guards
to leave England at the same time for active service. The zeal and
patriotism of the London Scottish, the Inns of Court Volunteers, the
20th Middlesex, the Artists’ Corps, induced them to volunteer to take up
several of the day guards in London; special arrangements having been
worked out to make the duties as little irksome as possible, and to
arrange for a free interchange of the men. With the exception of the
Bank Guard, all-night duties have been handed over to the police, and it
is hoped that this arrangement may become a permanent one. Thus
relieved, the single battalion of the Grenadiers left in London will, it
is believed, be sufficient for the indispensable remainder of the day
duties, though we have seen solemn old heads gravely shaken from the
windows of ‘The Rag,’ as they looked across the way at the policeman
who, even for day duty, has assumed the protection of the War Office and
Horse Guards.
Thus, in addition to the brigade of Guards which moved with Sir Evelyn
Wood to Antwerp, a second Guard Brigade has been formed for the corps
which His Royal Highness is to command.
According to the method intended to be the normal one for our
mobilisation, as soon as the 1st Corps has moved off to the ports of
embarkation, their places are to be taken at the stations they have
vacated by the regiments of the 2d Army Corps, who will then be
mobilised, and will subsequently be embarked from the same ports as the
others. This arrangement has been disturbed by the fact that Sir Evelyn
Wood’s troops, forming about a division and a half of the 1st Army
Corps, as originally intended, were prepared for movement in ample time,
it having been known for nearly a year that such a movement might be
required at any moment. When it was subsequently known that it would be
necessary to send two Army Corps to the seat of war, as the troops from
England would necessarily precede those from Antwerp, the places vacated
at Aldershot were taken up by regiments of the proper 2d Army Corps, and
their Reserve men sent to them there.
[Illustration:
RESERVE MEN SERVED WITH THE NEW MAGAZINE-RIFLE, AND OFF TO THE FRONT
TO-MORROW.
]
As regards the equipment of Sir Evelyn’s force, there was nothing to
find fault with,—the material for the necessary transport and stores was
actually at Aldershot, and, for the Guards, in London. The troops
embarked complete in every respect, except for the unavoidable absence
of their Reserve men, which has now been supplied. On the whole, the
Reserve men have come in very well, and the deficiency in the calculated
numbers is very slight. The contrast in their age and physique to the
boys of the battalions as we have known them, is very marked. On the
other hand, it is reported that those who have left the colours for some
years show sadly the defects of their not having been called out
regularly for training. Many of them have certainly seen and handled the
magazine-rifle. Others have not even done that. A certain falling off
also in military habits and discipline is perhaps better indicated in a
description which has been given by one of the correspondents of a trip
he took in a railway carriage, with five men going to join their depôt
from certain quarries in the north. We shall abridge his graphic sketch
of the men in order to record the conversation he details.
One of them, a big man with sandy whiskers and indifferently shaved, but
evidently a good-natured fellow, clapped him familiarly on the knee
after certain gifts of baccy and a little nip from his flask, which
latter was, however, refused by two out of the five, had made them all
disposed to be communicative. ‘Look ye here, sir, I doesn’t mind a bit
going back for a little soldiering, but it seems strange like. Why, a
few months ago, one of the officers of my old regiment came down to see
us at the quarries where we was. He was a very nice young officer, had
been adjutant, and if I’d seen him by myself on the road, I’d have liked
nothing better than to touch my hat to him, and get a bit of a chat
about old times. But, lor’ bless yer, if I’d saluted him down in the
quarries I shouldn’t have heard the last of it this side of Christmas.
He seemed rather worried like at the way we treated him, though we was
all glad to see him, and he asked me about it. “Well,” says I, “the
reason the chaps don’t salute you, is just that they darn’t for fear of
the chaff.” “What do yer salute him for? yer needn’t, yer know,” that’s
what all the other men in the quarries would want to know. Well, yer
know, sir, ’tain’t that. It’s a kind of way of saying as you belong to
the same body like as he does. He’s got his dooty and you’ve got yours.
But, lor’ bless you, you never could make the quarry chaps see that.
“See what John Morley says,” they’d say, “he tells yer it’s rank
slavery, and that’s just what it is. You make believe to like it, cos
you’ve lost yer tail and ’ud like to see other chaps lose theirs.” Well,
yer know, sir, when you’ve been five or six years among that sort o’
thing, and all the time you haven’t had the chance of so much as seeing
a regiment, and feel that you don’t know nothing about this here
blooming new drill, and about these yer magazine rifles and smokeless
powder as they talks about, well, it seems strange like. You feel as if
your blood had got changed since you was with the regiment. However,
when we went off with a chance of going away to the war, and even when
the Proclamation was fastened upon the village inn, and the women was
howling fit to split, one old quarryman claps me on the back, and says
he, “I’d like to be going with you, my lad; good luck for old England,”
for their blood got up pretty quick when they heard of the row, and they
like fighting as well as any one.’
[Illustration:
READING THE MOBILISATION ORDER.
]
We must reserve for next week the reports we have heard from the Militia
and the state of the proper 2d Army Corps, half of which will now become
the 1st Army Corps under the Duke of Connaught, and the other half will,
with Sir Evelyn’s troops, form the 2d Army Corps under him.
At the last moment we hear that the titles of the Corps which Sir Evelyn
and the Duke of Connaught are to command are changed. It has been
naturally assumed that the Duke of Connaught would command the 1st
Corps, and Sir Evelyn the 2d. All the correspondents during the week
have so reported it, and we understand that, as a matter of courtesy,
this would have been arranged if possible. But, as Sir Evelyn’s troops
all belong to the 1st Army Corps in the mobilisation scheme, and the
waggons and stores were all marked for the ‘1st Army Corps,’ it was
found that to have changed this order would have introduced endless
confusion. On the matter being explained to the Prince, he is reported
to have said that ‘he was a soldier, and could only wish that what was
best for the Service should be considered. He was proud to serve as
brother Corps-commander with so distinguished a soldier as Sir Evelyn
Wood.’
RUSSIA DECLARES WAR AGAINST ENGLAND.
SIR GEORGE TRYON EVACUATES THE BLACK SEA.
LONDON, _May 21_.
Events have ripened fast since last week. Russia, on May 16, on hearing
of the dispatch of our troops to the East, declared war against us. The
excitement against us in France has reached boiling point. There can be
no doubt that our great fleet of convoys would not have been allowed to
leave England had there, at the time of their departure, seemed to be
any prospect of France declaring war against us, because from Algeria
and her southern ports, she so threatens our movement through the
Mediterranean that that opportunity is in itself an additional incentive
to her to declare war. For a long time, however, it appeared as if the
Ministry, prudently anxious not to add further to the enemies France
already has on her hands, would temporise with us. Public feeling will,
however, it is to be feared, prove too strong for the Ministry, and for
some time the gravest anxiety was felt at home as to the fate of the
expedition in the event of the fleet being attacked whilst escorting so
great a convoy of ships, while Sir George Tryon was known to be fully
occupied in the Black Sea. On the 18th, however, a telegraphic message
arrived announcing that Sir George Tryon had withdrawn the entire fleet
from the Black Sea immediately after the retreat of the Russian Fleet to
Sebastopol; that his flag-ship had arrived at Malta, that the Duke of
Connaught, in the _Orient_, had reached Cyprus after a very rapid and
successful voyage; and that all the transports sailing direct from
England had either arrived at or passed Malta. It is understood that the
greater part of the troops of the 1st Army Corps will for the present
rendezvous at Cyprus, where extensive preparations have for a long time
past been made for their reception. Alarm was at first excited in some
quarters lest the troops should suffer as they had done at the time of
the first occupation of Cyprus. But according to the reports from the
island it appears that a great improvement has taken place in its
sanitary condition—thanks to the British occupation; that the chief
cause of the ill-health of the troops at the former time was the want of
proper hutting arrangements, provided for them beforehand. Large
quantities of roofing felt have been sent out, and labourers have
constructed, under the direction of the engineers, large huts admirably
roofed, and now practically ready for about 30,000 men. In case the
necessary huts should not be ready for the whole of the troops, it is
understood that the remainder of the force will land in Egypt. It is
obvious that no expedition can be carried into the Black Sea until the
great Naval action, which will almost certainly follow the French
Declaration of War,—which is expected whilst we write,—has decided which
flag is to be supreme in the Mediterranean.
Meantime, Sir Evelyn Wood’s troops, which sailed from Antwerp on May
13th and 14th, have temporarily put into Gibraltar and Cadiz, where they
have been received in the most friendly manner by our present allies the
Spaniards.
The departure from England of the second half of the 2d Corps has been
postponed. The ships are ready, but it is obviously inadvisable to
accumulate more troops on the long line to the East till the question of
the supremacy of the Alliance in the Mediterranean has been settled. The
detachment of troops which was landed at Trebizonde has necessarily been
withdrawn. They would have been exposed to attack by indefinitely
superior force as soon as the command of the Black Sea passed into the
hands of the Russians. It appears that the detachment never consisted of
more than half a battalion, and a few sappers from the garrison of
Cyprus, which had been reinforced with a view to such a movement.
DECLARATION OF WAR IN LONDON.
MOVEMENT BY THE CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY.
London has had the excitement of a pageant unseen since 1854, and
therefore unknown to most of our generation. On May 18th the
Sergeant-at-Arms, attended by the whole of the city functionaries,
declared war against Russia from the steps of the Royal Exchange.
[Illustration:
DECLARATION OF WAR AGAINST RUSSIA FROM THE STEPS OF THE ROYAL
EXCHANGE.
]
It is obvious that we may have before long to expect some aggression of
Russia upon Afghanistan. But Russia has already involved herself in such
a number of campaigns, against Germany, against Austria, against
Bulgaria and Turkey, and also against Turkey in Asia, that it seems in
the last degree improbable that, with her resources impoverished and
weakened by the effects of the great famine, she can employ great force
in Afghanistan also. On our part, however, it is indispensable that we
should in India not expect to carry on a great aggressive campaign
against Russia. For, whereas for a forward campaign large
reinforcements, both of men and officers, would be required, we cannot
at present afford to send any large number of men from home, and even
the possible supply of officers will be very limited.
We understand, however, that arrangements have been made with the
Canadian Pacific Railway for the immediate dispatch to India by that
line of about 200 retired officers who have volunteered their services,
and who having large Indian experience will be invaluable for many of
the appointments that will become indispensable. One of our ablest and
best known artists has made arrangements to accompany this party. We
hope in a future issue to give a number of graphic illustrations of the
new route, which, now that the Suez Canal is no longer available, from
the risks attending it, fully shows its importance to the safety of the
Empire. We understand that, also by the Canadian Pacific line, enormous
stores of magazine rifles were, none too soon, dispatched to India about
a month ago. Furthermore, about 500 million cartridges of smokeless
powder for the rifles were dispatched about a fortnight ago by the same
route. It was found impossible to obtain these from the Government
factories, which up to the eve of the war were still experimenting on
the form of powder. The ‘Smokeless Powder Company,’ however, undertook
to provide 1000 million cartridges as a first instalment. Five hundred
million of them have been assigned as the first provision for home and
the Eastern expedition, and the second instalment was sent off in hot
haste to the East, _viâ_ the West, special arrangements for its security
having been undertaken by the Canadian Pacific.
MOBILISATION OF THE SECOND CORPS.
Meantime it is certainly not to be regretted that we have been compelled
to delay the dispatch from England of the second half of the 2d Corps.
The trooping season to India being now over, nearly all the drafts had
been sent out before the risk of war appeared imminent. A certain number
were, however, kept back towards the end of the season. Nevertheless,
the Reserve men have barely sufficed to make up the Corps and a half
which have already sailed. It would have been impossible to make up the
remaining half Corps at all, but for the fact that, specially for the
war, a large number of Militiamen and of ‘efficient volunteers’ have
offered their services. The ‘efficient volunteers’ have enlisted under a
special clause which expressly limits their services to the period of
the war, and, as a maximum, to a period of two years. Furthermore, the
strength of the Artillery is deplorably deficient.
A short time ago there was fear lest the miscellaneous collection of
weapons with which the Artillery was armed would produce confusion. This
was remedied by activity in the Arsenal, and by giving out contracts to
private firms. The result was the production of numbers of the so-called
12–pounder gun both for the Indian and home batteries. Unfortunately
this gun has been condemned by the unanimous report of our ablest
artillerymen. It is too heavy for the Horse Artillery, which loses
mobility. On the other hand, the Field Artillery will have to meet the
guns of Foreign Powers, no one of which throws a shell of less than 15
pounds. Most of the foreign field guns are even more powerful. The
ammunition is most unsatisfactory. Everything has been sacrificed to
securing an excessive muzzle velocity, which commends itself very much
to mere experimentalists, but is regarded as useless by practical
soldiers.
There has been a dangerous tendency to leave these questions altogether
in the hands of an Ordnance Committee of men without experience of the
requirements of an army. For a sporting rifle, the sportsman says what
he wants, and the manufacturer applies his skill to furnishing what is
asked for. For our Artillery the shopman decides. The men who have to
handle the gun in war, or who have studied the experience of others who
have handled it in war, are simply ignored.
EMBODIMENT OF THE MILITIA.
The general embodiment of the militia has shown serious defects in our
system. These are glaring enough among the English and Scotch militia
regiments, but among the Irish they are appalling. Many of the Irish
militia battalions are now in the neighbourhood of Aldershot in a
special camp. Some of them, like those of Antrim, Tipperary, Tyrone, are
a splendid body of men. The great deficiency in some of the battalions
is in the correspondence between their numbers and the muster rolls. One
correspondent reports having ascertained that there are not a few Irish
militiamen who have been in the habit of belonging to as many as five
different corps at one time. ‘The way the thing has been done is this:
It has never been the practice to call out simultaneously the militia
battalions for training; it would interfere inconveniently with the
labour market. Certain men, taking advantage of this fact, have made a
regular trade of getting the money allowed for one battalion after
another as it has been called out. Indeed, so well has the fact been
known that it is reported that not infrequently the Sergeant-Major has
requested the adjutant of certain battalions to beg that the time of
muster might be postponed till after the end of the training of another
battalion, in order to ensure a full attendance. Now, however, that the
battalions are gathered together the effects are visible enough. I am
told that in some battalions nearly half the proper strength is wanting.
Some steps are certainly required to cure this evil. The men, it must be
observed, don’t “desert” their proper battalion because they attend all
their drills. Perhaps now that the militia is embodied it might be
possible, legally, to try these men as deserters from the corps with
which they do not appear. That, however, is a question for the military
powers, not for your humble correspondent. What I am quite certain of is
that they will not be tried. Our already slender numbers would be most
formidably reduced if all these men were treated as criminals. Moreover,
they are not at bottom bad fellows many of them. The idea that it is a
crime to get a little more pay out of the public in return for doing a
little more drill never entered their minds. The general effect of their
action, of course, does not affect them at all. “Why, yer honour, didn’t
I put in me toime honest for me pay?” one of them with whom I was
expostulating said to me the other day. They are, of course, the best
drilled men we have. They have had so much of it. For this war, at all
events, it is too late to devise a remedy for this sham.’
Just at present the headquarters of the militia are in the Staff
College, that institution having been broken up for the war, and the
sixty officers usually there have been sent to rejoin their regiments,
or to fill up billets where they are badly wanted. The tents of the
militia battalions cover the ground in the neighbourhood. Aldershot is
occupied with the brigades that are being formed in hot haste to
complete the force in the field. The stores for the 2d Army Corps were
by no means in the same state of readiness as those for the 1st. But in
Aldershot, at least, many of the waggons were actually ready, and,
thanks to the delay which has taken place, and the costly and feverish
purchases all over the country of stores, probably this portion of the
two corps will be ready when it is required to move.
We hear from all parts of the world of enormous purchases of transport
material of all kinds which will be hurried into the Levant as soon as
it is safe to send them there. Mules especially are being everywhere
purchased.
The horses that have been of late years registered with the Government
for purchase for war have proved invaluable. Indeed, without them we
could not possibly have equipped the troops. Many of them are splendid
animals, and will greatly assist in making up our deficiencies in
draught horses for the artillery and train.
CALLING OUT THE VOLUNTEERS.
As soon as the excitement in France began to be realised in this country
two opinions strove for mastery. At first there was some little
disposition to insist on the recall of the troops from all distant
expeditions. But in a short time every one saw that for this it was
practically now too late. A very large portion of our force was in the
Levant already. That force had been dispatched with the full assent of
the country, because in whatever way it was to be employed, as to which
there were all kinds of conflicting rumours, it was felt that we were
now bound in honour to assist in resisting the Russian attempt to crush
Bulgaria. There was also a certain speculative interest of the ‘What
will he do with it?’ kind, as to the nature of the campaign which Lord
Wolseley has designed. On the whole, though croakers, some of whom were
known not to be altogether exempt from personal and private pique, are
to be heard here and there, a general confidence prevails. Men record
how in ’82, at a time when everyone thought that Arabi’s power in Egypt
was too great for the English force to overcome without a long campaign,
he had announced and allowed it to be published, before he left England,
that ‘whatever resistance Arabi might offer, the campaign would be over
in three months,’ and how exactly that prediction had been fulfilled by
the return of the English troops within that time. It is recalled again
that, though, after all the delays that had taken place, it was
impossible to say, before the Nile Campaign started, whether we should
be in time to save Gordon. Lord Wolseley had announced before leaving
England that we should reach hand to Gordon about Christmas time; and
that this promise again, despite all the difficulties of the Nile, had
been exactly fulfilled by the dispatch of Stewart and the steamer
expedition, which, not by any fault of his, did not ‘reach hand’ the few
days earlier that were necessary to save Gordon. Others have recalled
how this exactness of calculation and prediction had attended all his
earlier campaigns. It is felt that now or never we must settle the
pretensions of Russia on India and in the East; that if we did not take
advantage of the rashness of Russia in attacking us whilst she was
engaged with Germany and Austria, we could never again count upon the
support of those allies. The alliance with Italy is immensely popular. A
few manly sentences from Mr. Balfour in announcing his proposal to call
out the volunteers, and one of the finest speeches which Mr. Chamberlain
has ever made in reply to a rather snappish little speech of Lord
Randolph, expressed the popular sentiment, and with general consent on
May 17th, the day before the Declaration of War against Russia, the
volunteers were called out.
[Illustration:
CALLING OUT THE VOLUNTEERS—PARADE OF THE SIGNALLERS OF THE ST.
MARTIN’S LE GRAND CORPS.
]
The response to the call has been very remarkable. It has, of course,
been necessary everywhere to make special arrangements for the
marshalling of the volunteers interfering as little as possible with
business. But, whereas with the militia, unfortunately, the contrast
between the peace effective and those who now show on parade is
melancholy, with the volunteers it is almost startling. A few men have
been with great reluctance, and probably only for a time, obliged by
business necessities to withdraw from the ranks. Their places have been
filled over and over again by passed ‘efficients,’ who have returned to
the battalions. But that is not all. The change that has come over the
spirit of the men is reported from all quarters. During quiet, peace
times it was very difficult to get any response from the volunteers if
appeal was made to them as representing the purpose of the British
people to take the defence of the country on their own shoulders. Those
did not understand the volunteers who so addressed them. They were
volunteers because they liked it, because others joined, because they
were good shots, and liked competing for the prizes, because they liked
the fun of skirmishing and outdoor practice of all kinds, because it was
a change from the sedentary habits of ordinary life. But now that the
nation is roused, when all men feel that they would like, if they could,
to play their part in the service _of England_ here, when Scotland does
not intend to lag behind, and when the blood of Irishmen is up, the talk
is different. ‘What other men want to do, _we_ can’ is rather the
feeling.
At the same time the contrast between different corps is certainly a
marked thing. The steady work of some, the indifference of others now
tells. No past ‘butter’ compensates for present weakness. It is quite
extraordinary what has been done by some corps to prepare for present
events. The Lord Mayor’s subscription has greatly assisted the
Metropolitan Corps to be ready for the field. Generally, the town corps
have had great facilities for turning out promptly. The Government
grant, which has been defined already as payable on mobilisation,
suffices to provide most that is required. In the big towns, where some
steps have been taken beforehand to ascertain where waggons, carts,
horses, stores, could best be obtained, and where some of the officers
responsible knew just what was wanted and had it all tabulated
beforehand, the battalions and brigades have formed up ready to move, so
that they could live anywhere, with wonderful rapidity.
In the country districts, on the other hand, the differences between
different brigades is most marked. Many of them have been telegraphing
up to the Horse Guards to know where they are to obtain this, that, and
the other. The Horse Guards is overwhelmed with work. Local knowledge is
what is wanted. Here and there officers have been sent down from London
to assist the more helpless corps; but few can be spared. The result in
almost all these cases is slow and unsatisfactory. On the other hand,
from some of the country brigades we hear the most encouraging reports.
It appears that a system has been worked out in certain corps in
accordance with suggestions thrown out in some articles in the _United
Service Magazine_. It has even been practised during peace time. In
accordance with this, first of all, long ago application was made to
certain owners of carts and horses to know whether, in case of the
volunteers being mobilised, they would be ready to dispose of their
property at a certain fixed price, and whether they would undertake
always to have a cart, for instance, of that description ready. There
has been found to be no practical difficulty in making these
arrangements beforehand.
Then a set of printed papers of different colours has been drawn out and
kept in the Brigade office. These take a form of this kind:—
‘Private ——. On receiving by telegraph the word, “Mobilise,” you
will....’
On the lists of names kept in the office those men who are to fetch
carts, horses, etc., are detailed. On the printed papers prepared for
these it is recorded, ‘You will at once go to No. X. Y. Street, where
you will find a horse with such and such harness ready for you. You will
take it to No. A. C. Street, where you will find a cart ready for you.
You will harness in the horse and proceed to Mr. Jones’s, No. F. E.
Street. There you will find Privates Blank and Dash, who will have ready
for you the stores to be loaded on the cart, and will load them. As soon
as the cart is loaded you will drive to the rendezvous of the corps at
Anywhere Park.’
This will give an indication of the method which has been pursued. The
Government grant on mobilisation suffices to cover the necessary
expenses. The contrast between the rapidity with which this system works
and the confusion which exists where it has not been adopted; the ease
with which the whole thing is done, is, from all the accounts we have
received, most striking. Unfortunately, where no such preparation has
been made the delay and confusion which result are not the only evil
effect. The discouragement of the men from finding that they have not
been as well looked after as others, the want of confidence in their
officers, has a most demoralising effect. They hear that other brigades
have already marched to the great camps which are being formed all over
England, and they see that they have no prospect of being ready for a
long time. The praises which are daily lavished on other corps for their
extraordinary promptitude and smartness are gall and wormwood to them.
The women chaff them mercilessly. It will not do to throw the blame on
the ‘system’ or ‘the authorities,’ those convenient phrases which are
commonly employed to disguise the absence of a man. Others have managed
well enough under the present system and with the present authorities.
British self-help, guided by forethought and knowledge, has been the
secret.
THE POSITION OF AFFAIRS.
LONDON, _May 28_.
Certainly we have been fortunate in the passages which our transports
have made. It only shows what can be done under favourable conditions of
weather, with selected coal and selected stokers. We understand that the
Admiralty pressed on the Government the importance of attending to these
points in a matter in which it might come to be a question of a run
against time across a danger zone. As we anticipated in writing our last
account of the events of the week, the Declaration of War by France was
issued after we had gone to press on Thursday, May 19th. It was
therefore only barely in time that our great mass of transports safely
passed into the Levant. For, as will be seen from the telegraphic report
of our correspondent—received last night, so that it has somewhat
delayed our issue—the French Fleet has lost no time in following up the
Declaration of War. The telegraphic dispatch, which was sent off on the
very evening of the greatest naval engagement of modern times, explains
clearly the sequence of events which has for some time to come made the
Mediterranean once more a safe highway for us. We need not dilate on the
vast importance of this event. In the present case it is not merely that
our flag is once more supreme at sea; it means that the terrible
anxieties, which had been awakened in the public mind as to the possible
fate of our Eastern expedition, in case Sir George Tryon should not
secure a complete triumph, are now at rest. With the Mediterranean
secure it will be a very easy matter to regain possession of the Black
Sea.
Whatever may be the ultimate purposes of the Italians in regard to an
Algerian expedition, we think that there will now be no injury to the
public service in letting it be known that the preparations which were
recently made with that apparent object were only a _ruse de guerre_. Of
course, in order that they might attain the object which they have so
successfully achieved of drawing the French Fleet out into the open sea,
it was necessary that these facts should be known only to Sir George
Tryon. Our correspondent, therefore, telegraphs under the impression
which prevailed in the fleet at the time. The rule is a sound one, even
in regard to fleets where they have communication with the land, that
what is believed among your own people will very soon be believed by the
enemy. But the Italian Government, as much as our own, recognises the
importance of the principle of concentrating its efforts at one point at
one time as far as that may be at all possible. The Italians have quite
enough on their hands in their war by land and sea with France. Our
efforts are already directed to the East. All those most desirable
objects, which the people ‘who know,’ or ‘have been there,’ or have been
‘ten years resident’ in various places, have been of late pressing upon
the Government through the newspapers, really must wait till we have
time, and armies, and fleets to attend to them. ‘One thing at a time’ is
a simple principle of military and naval affairs, but it is one which
the casual correspondents of newspapers never keep before their minds.
Meantime we have received news of the great battle between France and
Germany, a report of which we have been expecting.
PREPARATIONS IN THE MEDITERRANEAN FLEET.
THE ALLIED FLEET AT PORT MAHON.
(_From an Officer in Sir George Tryon’s Fleet._)
I may begin the story of our great success by reminding your readers
that when the French violated the Belgian Frontier, and we mobilised our
fleet, Sir George Tryon had ten battleships with him, while the French
were supposed to have about eighteen available for sea at Toulon, for
they had withdrawn thither the Mediterranean and Levant Squadrons
simultaneously with their demand upon Germany.
Sir George Tryon seems to have been very early informed that if war
arose the Home Government must depend greatly on the alliance of Italy
and Austria to maintain command of the Mediterranean Sea, for a great
naval force would be necessary in the North to counteract the designs of
Russia and France on the German sea-coast. Sir George Tryon, on his
part, talked quite openly—which was said to be a wonder for him—of the
fact that he was not desirous of large reinforcements. He did not
believe, he said, that, if it came to the point, the French would bring
out their older wooden ships, such as the _Colbert_, the _Suffren_, or
even the _Richelieu_. The Italians, on the other hand, would most
probably be able to complete eight of their very fine ships, while
Austria might bring four or five vessels, which, though inferior, would
not be ineffective. As it turned out, Tryon was only reinforced by two
ships, the _Ajax_ and the _Benbow_. Thus, supposing the eight Italians
could be brought into line, and supposing the French produced eighteen
ships, Tryon’s fleet would be but two sail stronger than that of Admiral
Rieunier. As events developed themselves, it was plain that Sir George
grew anxious; but it was, both with himself and Admiral Markham, the
anxiety of eagerness, and we were all very well assured that if it came
to blows we should be daringly, as well as efficiently, led.
On the withdrawal of the fleet from the Black Sea, we were all assembled
at Malta, where the garrison was labouring night and day in constructing
out-works and exercising in the batteries. For us, on the other hand,
there was absolutely nothing to do, except to keep our coals and stores
complete day by day, which was not a very arduous undertaking. There
were, however, constant and long conferences between the Admirals and
the captains of the battle-ships, and it was no secret that every one of
these took the form of discussions over possible or probable forms of
attack or defence by the fleet at sea. It came to be accepted that if we
met the French in open fight we should be numerically inferior, and the
question was, how we should act from that point of view? The discussions
amongst us, who were not directly responsible, took every variety of
form. Sometimes a hot party would arise, claiming that it was perfectly
useless to make plans until the enemy disclosed his. This was met by
another party declaring that, if plans were not carefully made
beforehand, there would be no plans at all. This, again, was taken up by
a third party, which claimed that there was only one plan of any use,
and that was, as soon as the hostile fleet was seen, to make a general
signal, ‘Ram the enemy,’ and leave each ship to fight it out with its
fellow. When it was pointed out that perhaps the enemy would not stay to
be rammed, the general answer was, ‘Well, it is all the same. There is
nothing like the ram.’
Two things made themselves clear in these arguments; first, that hardly
any one—even amongst the captains—had ever thought seriously on what now
seemed to be drawing so very close to us; and, secondly, that the
Admirals were beginning to lay down certain definite principles, which
the captains were inclined to accept as being very likely to turn out
sound. Before very long the whole result came out in a general order
which was confidential to the captains, the commanders, and the
first-lieutenants of the battle-ships.
Without professing to give the exact wording, I am able to say that the
first principle laid down was the necessity of avoiding giving a friend
the ram, or firing into him either by gun or torpedo. The second
principle was the desirability of so arranging that, if possible, an
enemy’s ship should sustain the fire of more than one of our own ships;
or at least so guarding things that no one of our ships should find
herself opposed by two of the enemy’s.
The memorandum went on to say that, as a consequence of these
principles, ships attached to one another were on no account to separate
unless forced to do so; but that if confusion arose, ships were to keep
their speed and pass out of the enemy’s fleet in the direction opposite
to that from which they passed into it, with the view of reforming out
of the smoke, in order to renew the attack.
In any case, said the order, the enemy will be approached by the fleet
in two or three columns in line ahead, at a speed of about ten knots.
The flag or senior officers will lead their columns, and in whatever
form the enemy may approach—if he does approach—they will endeavour to
cut through at different points, using their guns, torpedoes, and rams
indiscriminately as circumstances offer. In order to avoid all chance of
injuring friends, the columns will be arranged in echelon. The
Commander-in-Chief will lead the first column, and the leaders of
succeeding columns will not be expected to enter the enemy’s fleet until
the rear ships of the preceding column may be supposed to have passed
through. After passing through, the ships not disabled will re-form and
renew the attack in the same way.
If the enemy retires, making use of his stern guns, the fleet will be
formed in line abreast or quarter-line, and every endeavour must be made
to close with him, to ram his ships upon their sterns or quarters, or,
in the event of failure, to carry them by boarding from that position.
The general opinion on this memorandum was that it said quite enough,
and yet not too much. It was quite clear and plain, and nothing seemed
wanting but the declaration of war and the attack of a superior French
Fleet.
We were very much surprised to hear from England that troops were on
their way out, with the idea of operations in the Black Sea. It seemed
very risky, when France might declare war at any moment. But the general
belief is that the Ministry must have had some assurances from the
French Government which we know nothing about. Anyhow the transports
began to arrive at Malta in a continual stream, and there received
orders to proceed to Cyprus, where we hear preparations are being made
for the reception of the troops. The _Orient_, with the Duke of
Connaught on board, did not come in; she only closed sufficiently to
receive a signal changing her destination to Cyprus, and went on.
Several cruisers from the Channel appeared at intervals, watching over
the safety of the troopers; they were not interfered with, and went on
to Cyprus.
News of the Spanish alliance and orders to proceed to Spezzia to form a
junction with the Italian Fleet came simultaneously, and as the ships
steamed out of the harbour the whole population swarmed over the forts
and walls and cheered in the wildest way, which, on a signal from the
Admiral, the ships returned heartily. At Spezzia we found six ships
ready, with orders from home to watch Toulon, but not to make any
attacks upon the French unless they should attempt to attack Italy by
sea. Simultaneously with these orders we heard of the Duke of
Edinburgh’s wonderful and bloodless success in the North Sea. But there
was a general sound of congratulation that our force in the
Mediterranean was not powerful enough to compel such obedience as we had
enforced in the North. The Italians, ashore and afloat, were in a
wonderful state of enthusiasm. They crowded our ships during the few
days we lay at Spezzia, and the women were so demonstrative of affection
that some of the older officers did not half like it.
It soon became known that Sir George Tryon had decided to make Port
Mahon the headquarters of the fleet, and to send cruisers only before
Toulon. I should have said that we were now very fairly supplied in this
way. They had been arriving from England almost daily while we were at
Malta, and we had now fourteen, large and small, with the fleet.
For a reason which I did not at first understand, we only took four out
of the six Italian ships that were ready with us to Port Mahon, namely,
the _Andrea Doria_, the _Francisco Morosimi_, the _Re Umberto_, and the
_Rugiero di Lauria_. Moreover, we left at Spezzia the _Thunderer_,
_Ajax_, and _Agamemnon_. We noted that the Italian ships we took with us
were the newest, and that those of our own we left were, in a sense,
‘lame ducks.’ But still there was a good deal of wonder that we should
deliberately reduce our force to fourteen sail when we were almost
closing with the enemy. It was whispered about later that orders from
home had dictated the detachment, that war would be immediately declared
by England against France, and that an attack would be made by Italian
troops carried chiefly in the _Italia_ and _Lepanto_, and supported by a
combined Anglo-Italian squadron against Algiers.
However, we steamed away to Port Mahon, and in this magnificent harbour
found a fresh relay of colliers and two more cruisers, the _Apollo_ and
_Sappho_, which showed us that there was a good deal of foresight at
headquarters. We had the declaration of war immediately, and then we
began to see where we were. We were, in fact, at bay. In no case was the
French Fleet strong enough to hope to prevent our putting to sea, and
there was practically nothing that France could do with her fleet, as
long as ours was intact. And now, too, I began to see that we were, at
Minorca, in a position to cover the proposed attack on Algiers. Any
attempt of the Toulon Fleet to drive off our attacking forces would be
liable to be met by a counter attack from ourselves. Yet if France could
really produce eighteen battleships out of Toulon, while we could only
furnish thirteen, we were running very great risks.
However, we went to work in a very business-like way. Tryon placed five
of his largest cruisers, including the _Amphion_, _Australia_, and
_Undaunted_, on the line to Toulon, giving orders that Lord Charles
Beresford in the _Undaunted_, with Dunlop in the _Australia_ to back him
up, were to undertake the watch on the Toulon Fleet, closing with the
harbour after dark, and drawing off before daylight each morning, but
not so far as to lose touch with the port. Then the other three were to
spread themselves towards Minorca, and to work backwards and forwards,
so as to signal to each other and to Minorca at least once in every
twenty-four hours.
For us at Port Mahon it again became a time of inaction; nothing to do
but exercise and keep our coal supply up. But we now lay with fires
banked and steam at half an hour’s notice.
We soon learnt that the seven ships had left Spezzia with several
transports and cruisers; and we began to think that if France had any
chance at all, she might have it by falling suddenly and swiftly on this
weak detachment. The Admirals seemed sure that she would, and the utmost
anxiety attended the reports from the signal station.
THE BATTLE OF SARDINIA.
THE RAMMING OF THE ‘AMIRAL BAUDIN.’
It was just after daylight on the morning of the fourth day that a sort
of cheering cry of ‘The enemy are at sea!’ ran all through the ships. Up
went the simple signal, ‘Weigh,’ and there was really a horrible
contrast between our anxiety and eagerness and the unmoved grind and
crunch as link by link the cables came slowly in. But this was soon
over, and we were at sea, forming at once in two lines ahead, as before
arranged. The report was that the French had left Toulon twelve hours
before, steering about S.E., but it had not been possible to count their
numbers owing to the darkness. We steamed due east at half-speed; but it
was plain to us all that if the French passed through the Straits of
Bonifacio we might easily miss them, even though our cruisers were well
spread out both ahead and astern. While we were in the middle of debate,
down there rolled upon us as dense a fog as ever I saw in the
Mediterranean. The Admiral had provided for this as for everything else,
and we knew that we must preserve order with the steam syrens only,
without the aid of guns; but as it was no use keeping speed, we slowed
down. We were like this all day and all night, and at daylight it seemed
as thick as ever. The ships had of course been all cleared for action,
and we were ready to open fire in a minute, though one naturally prayed
that the fog would lift before the enemy appeared. At 8 A.M. it began to
clear, and at 9 we distinctly counted twenty-one steam-ships to the
south of us. The flag-ship immediately made the signal for eight knots,
and gradually altered course towards the strange fleet. We were soon
able to make them out as sixteen French battle-ships, in the indented
line abreast, steering south, with five cruisers in front of them. They
were smoking up a good deal, but at ten or twelve miles distance we
could not tell whether they were going at speed.
We soon found they were not, for we began to gain on them, and the
signal was made for ten knots. We could tell by the position of the
steam cones, that every ship had steam to spare, and I suppose it was
the desire of making sure of a compact fleet which kept us at
comparatively low speed. Even at ten knots we continued to gain
considerably. We were quite two miles off when the French began to open
fire from their stern guns, and I am bound to say we were all very much
surprised at the bad shots. They fell short and over, right and left,
but after quite an hour few ships apparently had been badly hit.
We were still in two lines ahead and were making no reply at all to the
French fire. We could not understand, when we had got within 3000 yards,
why the Admiral did not put us in line abreast and open fire. But in the
middle of our wonder we suddenly saw the French ships open out to right
and left, and before we knew where we were the whole mass of the
battle-ships were coming right down upon us. We saw at once that it was
in anticipation of some such manœuvre that we had not quitted our first
formation.
But the wisdom of our Admirals was at once shown. Orders were given to
train the guns abeam and to let the enemy have it at the closest range,
abstaining from fire till then. The French, on the other hand, never
ceased to fire; but the smoke they made so surrounded them that it was
plain they were wasting their ammunition, and did not see so well where
they were going. But their rapidity of approach was tremendous, and I
could note it as I had no guns to look after and could see nearly all
round from the sheltered spot I had chosen.
My ship was near the middle of the port line, and I soon saw the great
jet of smoke from the _Trafalgar_, followed by the roar which denoted
the simultaneous discharge of a whole broadside. In less than half a
minute there was the puff and the roar of the second ship, the
_Collingwood_, and almost immediately I saw that the _Nile_, at the head
of the other line, had fired. But then I directly saw what I had not
been prepared for. I saw the _Nile_ turning round sharp to port, and,
looking to the head of my own line, I saw the _Trafalgar_ steaming along
our line on the opposite course to ours. It flashed through my mind like
a shot, that every ship was turning round after she had fired her
broadside, and that consequently the heads of the French lines or
groups, after running the gauntlet of our lines, would be met by the
ships that had first fired on them, and that as the battle had begun by
the ships passing in opposite directions, it would be continued by all
the ships with their heads in the same direction.
I do not pretend to say that I knew what all this meant at the moment;
indeed, I did not know anything in another minute, for the roar and
shake of the whole of our guns, trained on the port beam, knocked the
power of thinking out of me. Recovering myself in a cloud of choking
smoke, I was first aware that there must have been very little reply to
our fire, but two signalmen were stretched on the deck beside me, both
quite still; one with his shoulder torn entirely away, and the other
bleeding profusely from a wound in his head. There were also, as if
through the ship, new sorts of voices which, in hurried and confused
utterance, warned me that there were death and wounds elsewhere.
But there was no time to think of it. We were wheeling round after our
next ahead; and out of the dense smoke which we were leaving, issued
stray missiles tearing past, and sometimes striking davits or
stanchions, or shattering the planking of a boat. There was nothing, in
fact, now but a roar of guns all round us, and we were covered with a
canopy of smoke. The sole design perceptible was that we were only
firing into the smoke to starboard, and no missiles were coming from the
port side, while every now and then we got a glimpse of our next ahead
and next astern.
As we steamed on, messages went from the captain to the lieutenants not
to fire any more till they could see the enemy; and it was becoming
clear that the French fire was ceasing, though whereabouts they were
could hardly be ascertained. Presently, however, we found ourselves
quite clear of smoke and could see then that the French ships must, most
of them, have stopped, for our vessels—as well as could be seen—were
nearly in their old formations, while the French were well astern, still
somewhat entangled by the smoke, and evidently in some confusion.
Out of this smoke there quickly emerged a ship, which we made out to be
the flag-ship _Formidable_ with a considerable heel to port and steering
to the N.W.
With the general signal flying that the Division was to continue its
course, the _Trafalgar_ suddenly put on steam and went after the
_Formidable_ full speed. The two ships were now in close action and
enveloped in smoke, so that we could only make out their positions
occasionally, the _Trafalgar_ apparently hanging on the starboard
quarter of the _Formidable_. The firing did not last more than ten
minutes or a quarter of an hour, when, the smoke clearing away, it was
seen that the _Formidable’s_ colours were down.
What had happened we only knew afterwards. The _Formidable_ had been
badly torpedoed in passing, and was steaming as she hoped out of action
when we saw her. As the _Trafalgar_ approached, she made a short gallant
defence with her guns, and fired two torpedoes at her; but the water was
rising in the stoke-holds, and it was impossible to keep steam. Admiral
Markham, seeing plainly what the case was, passed close under the
_Formidable’s_ stern, and hailed to claim surrender in the interests of
humanity, or he would ram and sink her. It was the chance of war, and
there was nothing but surrender before our gallant opponent.
Meantime it was plain to be seen how well Sir George Tryon’s orders had
worked. Some of our ships were frightfully knocked about, and the
_Benbow_ was almost in a sinking state from a number of shot-holes
between wind and water; while the _Edinburgh_ was all down by the head,
having caught a torpedo near the stem, but the whole of the ships were
in two lines as they entered into action, and they now re-formed and
headed towards the French, leaving the _Benbow_, _Edinburgh_, and the
prize French flag-ship together, attended by two or three of the
cruisers.
But the most frightful incident of the battle took place in the other
line, and I was not an eye-witness of it. I have not mentioned the
_Polyphemus_ before, but she was with us and sailed with us. It seems
Sir George Tryon’s orders to her were simply to keep out of the way in
the first instance, and to strike home should any opportunity offer.
Captain Brooke, it appears, running out to starboard of the Admiral’s
column, saw his chance in the smoke, and ran straight at the nearest
French ship, whose attention was taken up by the fire of our ships on
her other side. The shock was horrible, and she scarce had time to
extricate herself, when the _Amiral Baudin_ reeled and sank.
FLIGHT OF THE FRENCH SQUADRON.
It did not appear that the rest of the French ships were as much knocked
about as we were, but we afterwards learnt the cause of this. It was
simply that the heavy shell of the French had made a greater show on us
during our first approach than we had been aware of; but, in passing,
our light guns had made terrible havoc amongst the unprotected guns’
crews in the French batteries, while, as they had not reserved their
fire, it was not so destructive to us. Then, too, it seems that our
manœuvre was entirely unexpected, and paralysed the action of the
leading ships after they had, as they supposed, passed through our
fleet. It was, again, our light guns which produced effect, but without
making it so visible to outside observers.
The loss of the flag-ship, of the _Amiral Baudin_, and the great loss in
killed and wounded did, however, act in demoralising the ships’
companies, so that three or four of the ships had already drawn off to
the north-eastward, and there was for the time a good deal of confusion;
but they turned their heads from us and gradually drew out into a line
abreast, nearly as we met them at first.
No doubt fearing a repetition of their former manœuvre, Sir George Tryon
kept his fleet still in two lines; but as the French swept round,
steering first N.E. and then nearly due north for Toulon, we were broken
up into four short columns, and these were presently put into quarter
line.
And now we had a game of long bowls for some time, without apparently
much damage to either side. We were always being checked in our pursuit
by the failure first of one ship, and then of another, to keep steam;
and it seemed to be precisely the same with the French, so that darkness
closed upon us without either the French being able to draw out of
action, or our being able to make it a close one.
Before daylight, our reckoning brought us so close up to Toulon, that,
as we had lost sight of the enemy three hours before, signal was made to
slow down, and at daylight we could just make out the French closing
into the land and disappearing.
Such was the Battle of Sardinia, as I made it out. The French risked it
in the hope of falling on the weak Anglo-Italian squadron, and so saving
Algeria. It was almost as great a risk for us, being so numerically
inferior; but, accepting the position all along, our Admirals so managed
that we suffered much less loss in the end. But the feature which struck
us all as most remarkable was the fact that while we had two ships
practically disabled, and the French had suffered but the same loss, yet
we were victorious by reason of the terrible carnage which our lighter
guns had caused in the enemy’s ships.
_P.S._—I have just learnt that the real cause of the French retreat was
news that reached them by a cruiser of the approach of the squadron from
Algiers. This Sir George Tryon expected all along, but we knew nothing
of it. We met the ships next day. News from England has just come by the
_Blonde_. The German Fleet has joined that of Sir Michael Seymour in the
Gulf of Finland, and he has sent home five of his ships. The Duke of
Edinburgh has detached two of his, and the whole seven are making the
best of their way, with several cruisers, to reinforce us. All idea of
further attack on Algiers is given up, and Admiral Markham will sail
with ten battle-ships and six cruisers to the Levant, to convoy the
troops into the Black Sea, and then to mask the Russian Fleet in
Sebastopol. So the Black Sea expedition is to go on. Yet the general
opinion amongst us is that our Government are running considerable
risks, and that we are relying on the principle of ‘Nothing venture,
nothing have.’
THE FRANCO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN—CAVALRY ENGAGEMENT NEAR LIGNY.
DEFEAT OF THE FRENCH.
(_From our Special Correspondent with the Germans._)
NAMUR, _May 5_.
A report reaches me to-night that the Germans from Metz light siege
train since early on the morning of the 3d. The guns in the annex
batteries of the French defences not being mounted yet, each fort was
surrounded by a circle of fire, to which it could only return a
divergent reply. The forts are now shapeless heaps of ruin, the
cavaliers cut down, and the guns either dismounted or buried under the
earth thrown out by the bursting shells. No attempt at assault has yet
been made.
An attempt at a raid by the German cavalry from the direction of
Luxembourg—Dun is also reported, without great results. Two squadrons
have managed to slip round the Verdun defences, and re-entered German
territory near Mars-la-Tour, last night, destroying railways and wires
as they went.
NAMUR, _May 9_.
There has been a smart cavalry action to-day in the vicinity of Ligny
and St. Amand, names so well known in the Waterloo campaign, in which
the French have very decidedly had the worst of it.
Before commencing my account, I will add that the censorship here is
very strict indeed, and that no mention whatever is permitted of numbers
of corps or regiments, or of the names of their commanders; as these
data are invaluable to an enemy in enabling him to check the truth of
information received, and it is always possible that the wires between
here and Brussels may be tapped.
Yesterday afternoon I found a place in a train going to Gembloux, where
our Cavalry Division had arrived during the morning. Arrived there, I
met an old friend in the Hussars, who told me that he and three other
officers had been selected for a reconnaissance ride next morning, and
that a place in their carriage was at my service. The idea of driving
out to a real cavalry action struck me as singular, so I asked for
information, and was told by my friend that he and his comrades, who
were all noted steeplechase riders, had had several horses in training
for a meeting, to which the war had put a stop, and had been told by
their colonel to train the horses a little ‘fat’ and bring them along to
the front—he would be glad of their services, and find them an
opportunity for distinction greater than any to be won between the
flags. They were to have their horses led out for them, and, as soon as
the expected collision occurred, to mount, slip through the enemy’s
scouts in the confusion of the scrimmage, and ride as far as possible to
the south and westward to see what was going on behind the cavalry
screen.
Needless to say, I accepted the offer, and 2 A.M. found me with my
friends driving out along the road to Ligny, where lay the outposts.
Latest reports indicated the enemy’s cavalry, at least a division
strong, between Fleurus and Charleroi. The advance-guard of our
Division, the Hussar brigade, moved off about an hour before sunrise,
following the line of the great road. We stayed behind to await the
arrival of the main body, and presently moved over in the direction of
St. Amand. Soon the main body was seen approaching, and about the same
time we could see the Hussars falling back across the railway, and a
report arrived that the French were coming on in force.
The Divisional Commander rode forward to reconnoitre the ground in
front, and left orders to the main body to form for attack under cover
in a hollow in rear; the same, by chance, in which Blücher had stationed
the reserves of his right before the battle of Ligny in 1815.
It was a perfectly faultless morning, and the sun was just beginning to
rise when we saw three batteries of French Horse Artillery cross the
railway and come out into the plain. Our own batteries were in the act
of unlimbering, at double intervals, to allow for the melinite shells;
and as they crossed the sky-line the French, too, saw them, and came
into ‘action front.’ The two first shots on each side fell almost
simultaneously, and the duel began. The hollow in our front and the
blinding rays of the sun full in the eyes of the enemy gave us an
immense advantage, and in five minutes our side had ‘ranged,’ and one
French gun was sent flying. Meanwhile our Hussars had been falling back,
and were wheeling up into position as second and third lines to the two
heavy brigades.
The French Cavalry were now crossing the railway in line of squadron
columns and immediately afterwards formed ‘line,’ and the signal to
advance was given by our Commander. As our horse crossed the plateau on
which the guns were in action, ‘Troops half left’ was sounded, and the
French hearing the signal, no doubt, and seeing also that we were not
quite in line, must have guessed our intention to attack their left, and
endeavoured to meet it by ‘Shouldering.’
Reaching the hollow our cavalry again wheeled into line, crossed the
little brooklet without disorder, and then, by silent signal, broke into
column of troops to the right, and galloped up the hollow in a long
sweeping stride—their distances perfectly preserved. This movement
promised to bring them out right on the flank and rear of the French
left, but the next moment we saw the French Reserve, which had hitherto
been hidden by trees along the lane from Perwin to Bry—moving in a
direction that would bring them right on the flank of our first line.
The situation was most critical—we all held our breath—but the next
moment we heard the regimental call of the leading regiment, followed by
the long ‘G’s’ of ‘line to the front,’ and we knew that the danger was
seen and met.
Simultaneously also the tail of the column still in sight wheeled into
line, and came dashing forward to the attack.
The French were already in a poor condition to meet it. The attempt to
‘shoulder’ the long line had loosened their order, and from the moment
they came in sight our gunners had turned their full power upon them
with results almost indescribable. Out of the dust and smoke of the
bursting shells we saw limbs and bodies thrown high in the air, and the
right and second line of the enemy was already in hopeless confusion
before the blow fell on their left. This wing had escaped our shells,
for to fire on it would have imperilled our own men. They saw the danger
coming, and two squadrons endeavoured to wheel up to meet it, but they
were too late, the next moment our trumpets rang out the ‘charge,’ and
with a roar of cheering our men dashed forward; we heard the crash of
the collision, for a moment saw horses rear up and fall backward, and
then the dust rose and shut out all further vision. But the French did
not bolt, the wreck of their right and second line wheeled up, rallied
on their officers as best they could, and dashed into the _mêlée_, where
they too were lost to sight. From time to time we saw groups of our
white-coated Cuirassiers and the dark blue Uhlans emerge from the
dust-cloud, then wheel and go back again, and for some moments the fight
here became stationary, for the French on this point outnumbered us two
to one. Then suddenly from out of the hollow we again heard the charge
sounding, and for a second or two caught sight of the left of our third
line, as with perfectly closed ranks they dashed into the _mêlée_. This
blow settled the matter. The mass again came into motion; first a few
files, followed by more, began to drop off to the rear, and presently
the whole cloud, gathering pace as it went, swept down right on to the
flank of their horse batteries, who, seeing the danger coming, had
endeavoured to limber up in the full fire of our artillery. But they
were too late, the crowd swept over them, and when it had passed we saw
eight guns still on the ground, with some Hussars and Uhlans busy around
them.
What happened on our right I could only partially see, the trees
interfering with my line of vision. I am therefore dependent on the
testimony of others.
The regiment that had ‘front formed’ was one of the heaviest in the
army, and prided itself on riding even closer knee to knee in the charge
than the regulation sanctions; and well was it for them that they did
so, for the odds against them were very heavy. The shock was perfectly
direct; the French wavered a little at the last moment, and the
Cuirassiers burst through them, maintaining their formation almost
intact; then, wheeling round, attacked the overlapping French squadrons,
and drove them back towards the hollow, where the second line of
Hussars, warned of what was happening in front, had taken ground
outwards, and then charged the _mêlée_ from the northwards, setting it
in motion again towards the south.
By degrees the forces began to disentangle themselves, and the Germans
rallied again in closed squadrons, while the French got away as best
they could towards the woods of Lambusart.
The losses due to the lance appear to have been trifling, for at the
moment of actual contact the men could not reach each other; the horses
fairly breasted one another, and the lighter ones went over backwards,
many being found with fractured spines. In the _mêlée_, too, the lance
proved useless,—the crowd was too dense. Men wrestled and fought with
their fists. The French loss caused by our artillery was perfectly
appalling; but, thanks to the dexterity of our leader, who managed
always to keep the enemy between him and the guns—thus effectually
masking their fire—we have escaped their shells almost entirely. I may
also call attention to the advantages we secured by having the sun at
our backs, which gave the French gunners—excellently trained as they
are, and gallant beyond a doubt—hardly the chance of inflicting injury
on us.
No one can accuse the French this morning of showing anything but
perfect gallantry, but we have again an instance that more than
gallantry is required for cavalry efficiency. The reason why the Germans
won is because they manœuvred with perfect precision, and were so
thoroughly in hand that even the most unexpected occurrences could be
met and dealt with. Here the French were outmatched, and their leader,
too, seemed hardly equal to his task. He formed line too soon; had he
stayed in squadron columns a little longer he could have changed front
without the unsteadiness entailed by the endeavour to do so after the
line had been formed.
Whilst writing this one of the General Staff has kindly come round to
tell me that there is room in a special train starting to-night in two
hours—destination not to be breathed—and I fancy within a very short
time you will hear of something startling; more I dare not say at
present.
My friends of this morning are back again safe and sound, having ridden
some sixty miles. They tell me the French had thirty-six squadrons
against our twenty-four this morning. But about the rest of their
information I must be silent.
VOUZIERS, MIDNIGHT, _May 12_.
The curtain has at last fallen on the first act of this great national
tragedy—the first strategical problem has been solved, and I am again
free to write.
Briefly what has happened is this:
All the available troops of the Metz (or 3d Army) have been drawn off
under cover of the operations described in my telegram of the 5th inst.,
to the neighbourhood of Luxembourg—Thionville.
The five Corps of the 1st Army have been concentrated from Namur, and
districts northward, behind the frontier north of Mezieres, Sedan, and
the 2d Army (four Corps) has formed between them. Three other Corps are
following in rear.
These movements were completed on the 9th inst., and at daybreak on the
10th the frontier was crossed by the leading troops of all three armies.
Two French corps, distributed for the defence of the Meuse, were caught
by the 3d Army whilst endeavouring to concentrate, and compelled to fall
back in considerable confusion.
The Second Army met with no opposition, and their cavalry reached
Buzancy.
The cavalry divisions in advance of the First Army had a sharp and
victorious encounter with French horse on the plateau between the Meuse
and Aisne, who retreated afterwards towards Laon, and our leading corps
made good the passage of the Meuse, between Mezieres and Sedan, and
upstream towards Mouzon, their advance guards bivouacking on the line,
Rancourt—Omont—Poix. It was a day of hard marching, but the weather was
cool, and the men in good training seemed to make light of their twenty
to twenty-five miles.
I was not present at any of the collisions this day, being unable to
overtake the cavalry screen; from what I can learn, however, the success
of the latter was due to much the same reasons as in the fight at St.
Amand—Bry, viz., mobility in the troops, _coup d’œil_ in the leaders,
and closed files in the charge.
The fight of the next day I saw capitally, and send it herewith as I
wrote it the same evening.
ENGAGEMENT AT VAUX CHAMPAGNE.
DRICOURT, _May 11_.
I overtook the main body of our Cavalry Division (_i.e._ the one
attached to the immediately following Corps, with which I have for the
present joined fortunes) near Tourteron—a village lying some seven miles
north of the Aisne—late last night, and learnt that there was certain to
be a sharp tussle next morning; for patrols reported large masses of
French troops in the valley of the Aisne about Vouziers, and from a
neighbouring hill we could see the reflection of their bivouac fires,
while southward we heard the noise of trains passing constantly and at
short intervals on the line from Rheims to Monthois.
At 3 A.M. the headquarter orders reached us, and at 4.30 we were on the
move—pretty smart work, considering the number of hands through which
orders had to pass. I followed the General’s staff, who had kindly given
me permission to do so.
Our mission was evident, viz., to seize the high land beyond the Aisne,
to cover the passage of the stream by our infantry.
On the way reports came in that a large body of French troops, at least
a Corps, was moving to meet us by the same road, and it became evident
that it was a race between us who could reach the long stretching downs
of Vaux Champagne in our front first, and in sufficient strength to hold
them. That our cavalry could be there in time was clear; indeed, our
scouts were already far beyond it, but how to hold it was another
matter, about which I should have liked information, but did not dare to
ask for it.
We cantered forward, and drew up on the downs about 7.15. I found the
situation very much like one I saw at the French manœuvres last year
near Lesmont, when infantry and artillery, both without scouts in
advance, raced for a similar hill, and met at the top with results
disastrous for the artillery.
The ground was exactly similar, and deserves a word or two of
explanation. The downs of Vaux form, as it were, a _T_ piece to a long
central ridge. We were standing on the cross-head, and looking southward
a corresponding transverse ridge limited our vision at 2500 to 3000
yards, and between the two lay two valleys trending east and west from
the central neck, the slopes gentle and unbroken, with a slight
convexity in cross section. If we were ten minutes too late the infantry
would be in the hollows out of the line of sight of our batteries, and
our fate would be a matter of minutes.
We had only three batteries on the spot, and where were the others? I
did not know, and dared not ask, and as etiquette prevented my going in
front of the General, I had not the consolation of studying his face;
all I noticed was that he was smoking very quietly and reflectively.
Northward, a mist lay over the river, and all the valley was still; the
minutes seemed like hours. At length my ear caught the sound, so well
known to me, of the roll of gun-carriages and clatter of harness, and
out of the sea of mist below I suddenly saw the helmets and heads of the
gunners arise, and then I knew that, confident in the reports of the
cavalry, our General was going to try, and to succeed, in the same
manœuvre in which the French last year, without cavalry, had so
conspicuously failed; for these new comers could only be the Corps
Artillery, and with eighteen to twenty batteries in line on this height
in time, I felt certain no infantry could hope to capture it. The enemy,
however, was not far off, for isolated shots were now heard from the
southward, and our cavalry videttes came in view, falling back before
his advance.
Our guns were brought up behind the brow and unlimbered, but kept back
below the sky-line, and every one was ordered under cover, where we
waited for some ten minutes. Then suddenly the order was given to load
and run forward by hand. I crept to the front and there saw extending
half-way down the opposite slope the leading lines of a whole French
Division deployed for action. A more perfect target it would have been
impossible to devise. Next moment eighteen batteries at least were
pouring their fire into this defenceless mass, and the further hillside
became a scene of slaughter unequalled in the annals of warfare except,
possibly, at Eylau.
[Illustration:
OUR CORRESPONDENT AT THE BATTLE OF VAUX CHAMPAGNE.
]
The guns were all laid for the leading line, there was no question of
ranging at all—for the distance was not more than 1200 yards—some of the
French threw themselves down and attempted to reply, but in a few
moments the smoke and dust from our bursting shells enveloped them, and
their bullets began to fly higher. The following lines pressed on to the
leading ones, thus making the target denser, and now the gunners changed
from shrapnel to common shell, with high explosive bursters, and we saw
limbs and trunks of men thrown high in the air above the dust-clouds,
whilst even the screams of the wounded reached us above the din. It was
ghastly beyond the power of description, and I dropped back to look the
other way, and there saw the whole of our Cavalry Division trotting
forward to reap the harvest the guns had sown.
They were at this moment in column of regiments, each regiment wheeled
up by troops, and moving perpendicularly to the prolongation of the
enemy’s line. I lost sight of them for a moment as I cut across the
hill, and when I next saw them they had wheeled into line and were
bearing down on the enemy obliquely across his front, so that six
successive lines were available to ride down all resistance. The first
two lines increased their squadron intervals, and opened their files to
about half a horse’s length, and then, at about 500 yards from the
enemy, the gallop was sounded. The outer sections of the French
endeavoured to wheel up to meet them, but a last salvo from the two
flank batteries with shrapnel seemed to tear them away, and the next
instant the cavalry were on them. For a moment the line was a bit
unsteadied, but its pace did not check. The French rose and fired after
them, and many fell, but the second line, 300 yards in rear of the
first, was on them, and then the third and fourth, and now I understood
why the German cavalry carry lances. The first line kept up its pace to
the end, and then rallied beyond it and came back through them again;
the fifth, not yet engaged, trotted round and charged in from the front,
and the sixth moved off up the hill to watch the flanks. The confusion
now defied description, the French firing like lunatics in every
direction, and the whole mass taking an uphill direction, thus masking
the fire of the French guns, which had been in action within a few
minutes of the commencement of our fire, and had replied pluckily to the
guns on our side specially reserved to deal with them; but now, in the
confusion, our lancers got amongst them and succeeded in destroying most
of the teams. It was 8 A.M. when the first gun fired, it was 8.20 when
the cavalry charged, and since then, perhaps, twenty minutes more had
elapsed—a whole Infantry Division had been destroyed. But our position
was by no means without cause for anxiety, nor could we hold the ground
we had won; we knew French reinforcements were at hand, for we heard
guns open on our cavalry beyond the hill, and these soon began falling
back in disorder.
What would we not have given for a brigade of Bersaglieri or of French
Chasseurs—I thought of one I had seen last autumn that marched nine
kilometres in forty-five minutes, and wished we had it with us now.
Our leading companies were still a couple of miles away; heading more to
the left, I moved along the ridge till I reached a point whence I could
overlook what was going to happen.
About two miles to the south-east I saw a French brigade with six
batteries of artillery, moving forward, formed for attack in their
conventional manner. The guns came into action to the eastward, and
almost at the same moment the Prussian divisional batteries also
unlimbered, but the French found their range first, and so occupied the
attention of the Germans that the infantry this time passed unscathed
down the same slope which, on the other flank, had proved so disastrous
to them. It was now evident, from the form of the ground, that the two
infantries would butt up against each other at about two hundred yards,
and victory would probably fall to the side which was quickest ‘on the
drop,’ as the Americans say. Both sides were rapidly approaching one
another, the Prussians still in line of company columns, the French in a
dense line of skirmishers. Presently the former ‘front formed line,’
their drums began to beat, and the whole advanced in ‘parade march,’
dressed as on the passing line. Suddenly, and simultaneously, the French
line dropped to the ground, the Prussians halted and came to the ready;
for a moment they stood motionless. Then the French, finding, I suppose,
that on the ground, they could not see, sprang to their feet, and that
instant there was a glint of light along the line as the rifles came to
the present, and the next second the scythe of death swept over the
French, and they fell in swathes. But the Prussians began to fall too,
and the French supports were closer at hand, and fed the fighting line
more rapidly, but their fire was not equally in hand. I could hear the
Prussian volleys and mark the course of each distinctly. For five
minutes the struggle raged—the roar of musketry was deafening—but above
it I again caught the beat of the drum, and saw the second Prussian line
advancing. When it was almost close on the first, the shrill whistles
sounded, the fire partially ceased, and, headed by their officers, the
whole sprang forward with a rush. But the French did not give; their
reserves, too, were close at hand in company columns; the fighting line
rallied on these, and all dashed forward together. But no bayonet
encounter followed. Both sides halted at about thirty paces, and again
the magazine fire blazed out, telling on the French clumps much more
rapidly than it did on the Prussian line—for a single bullet pierced ten
or a dozen bodies. Then presently the French masses became ragged
towards the rear—they bagged outwards like sacks, and began to move with
increasing speed down the hill, and at this moment two squadrons of
divisional cavalry, who had slipped out between the guns and the
infantry, swept down on them from flank to flank.
They probably did not do much damage, but they separated the
infantries—and a number of French batteries now appeared on the further
hill, and compelled the Prussians to fall back also.
The artillery duel now began again—but lasted only a short time, for the
French evidently only meant to break off the fight, and as soon as the
wreck of the infantry were in safety, the firing ceased, and the guns
withdrew.
The Germans were in no condition for immediate pursuit. They had to wait
for the remainder of the corps to close up, and to rally the cavalry.
It was now about 11.30—and to the eastward on the high ground
overlooking the Aisne about Vouziers we could see the flashes of a long
line of guns, and in the plain below dark masses of troops.
About four we moved forward, and about six bivouacked near a place
called Dricourt, whence I write this. I learn that our scouts discovered
a whole Corps moving down on our flank this morning from St. Remy, but
about 10 A.M., hearing presumably of the result of the action at Vaux,
they bent off southward, and are evidently now on our front. It appears
the French Corps we fought to-day came on with one division deployed for
action on its left, a brigade in echelon on the right. The corps
artillery between the two and the remaining brigade in reserve. Where
the cavalry was we do not know.
Another French corps was defeated about Vouziers. So we have the wreck
of two Corps, and the whole of one for certain, in our front for
to-morrow, for our outposts are in contact along the whole line. How
many more we may find I cannot tell, but we are two days clear ahead of
their calculated mobilisation, and these two days’ fighting must have
seriously deranged their plans.
The men are rather sober; they have seen death for the first time, and
the slaughter caused by our new shells is most horrible to look at.
Besides, only few of them were engaged in the actual fighting line, and
the remainder do not yet know from experience the intensity of the
passion for blood which seizes them when once they have taken active
part in the slaying.
It has been a wise measure to let the massed bands play to-night, and I
have never experienced anything more moving than the sound of the last
great hymn, sung by all the men, with which the ‘Zapfenstreich’ winds
up.
THE BATTLE OF MACHAULT.
GREAT GERMAN VICTORY.
(_From our Special Correspondent with the Germans._)
DRICOURT, _May 11_.
The gunners were moving long before daylight, and I went with them. Dawn
was just breaking when we reached the summit of the rolling ridge which
marks our front, and we could still see signs of bivouac fires burnt low
on another and almost parallel wave some 2000 to 3000 yards to our
front. The bottom of the hollow is steeper and we cannot see into it,
but they tell me our Infantry are down there.
Our position faces N.N.W. by S.S.E., so again we shall have the sun at
our backs. Some of our guns are entrenched, and I notice the intervals
between them are wider than usual, probably, as before, to ward against
the melinite shells.
Of our strategic position all I know is that we have a Corps on either
flank, and two within supporting distance—what the 2d Army is doing I
don’t know.
* * * * *
VOUZIERS, _May 12_.
I was obliged to break off my dispatch abruptly, owing to the sudden
development of events. I had just written the last line when the first
gun went off about ten minutes before sunrise, and for an hour an
incessant roar of artillery raged. The French shot well, but the sun in
their eyes gave them never a chance.
I had now time and daylight enough to look round. Our troops were all
carefully under cover at least 2000 yards to the rear, mostly in
rendezvous formations, waiting. Of the enemy I could only see his guns,
and when the sun rose high enough, one could distinctly make out the
line of an entrenchment just at the break of the long slope into the
hollow. Even then I might not have noticed it but for the indiscretion
of its occupants, who would keep moving about. It may have been about
six o’clock when I saw, out of the hollows away to the rear, three great
columns rise up, which proved to be six batteries of Artillery each.
They trotted forward, forming line to the front, and then I realised
that I was at length about to see a real Napoleonic battle, the blow to
pierce the centre or fail.
[Illustration:
THE BATTLE OF MACHAULT: THE GERMAN CAVALRY CHARGING THE RALLYING
SQUARES OF THE FRENCH.
]
Nearing the outer edge of the zone, where the splinters of bursting
shells meant for us began to be dangerous, the gallop was sounded, and
the whole eighteen batteries dashed forward in superb form. Our guns
increased their fire to the utmost extremity, shrouding the enemy’s
front in the smoke of their shells, and then ceased for a few moments as
the new arrivals passed through the intervals, resuming it again as soon
as they were clear, and maintaining it at this extreme rate till it was
seen that the others had unlimbered and were ready to take their part in
the action at a range of about 1500 yards. This move brought them,
however, to within 1000 yards of the enemy’s advanced Infantry, and we
saw many drop; but our own advanced posts had been reinforced by small
driblets, too insignificant to attract the enemy’s artillery fire, and
these with the aid of a few guns that could now be spared soon took the
edge off the French Infantry fire.
In fifteen minutes or less, the effect of these eighteen fresh batteries
was plainly apparent; to stay where they were meant for the French
gunners annihilation, and that was not their business, and presently we
saw their teams come up by alternate batteries. In the crowd of men and
horse thus assembled our shells made terrible havoc, and probably not
one-third of the guns were successfully withdrawn. Then the whole power
of our sixty batteries was turned on the Infantry, and we had the
‘defender’s dilemma’ before us. He could not retire his Infantry up the
slope, for that meant beginning the action with a retreat; and he could
not leave them there unsupported, for that would mean annihilation; his
only chance was to move troops down the slope to reinforce them—and
presently we saw them coming. Then a repetition of yesterday’s slaughter
began.
Had we known for certain what was going on out of our sight, we might
have been content to let the foe bleed himself to death in these
fruitless efforts; but we did not, we could only guess that he would be
moving forward his reinforcements of all arms with all haste, and our
game was to crush what was before us as quickly as might be.
Our Infantry were now rapidly coming up, the two divisions side by side,
the brigades of each in the same order, with their regiments each one
behind the other. The leading regiment had two battalions in first line
and one in support, and the foremost battalions, each two companies in
front and two behind, in company column. As the troops approached our
guns they formed line and came forward, their drums beating, with the
strictest possible discipline, for the bullets were flying in showers
overhead, and men were constantly dropping.
The lines went down the slope with about 500 paces between them, and as
the leading one reached the advanced posts, the latter rose, and, with a
cheer, dashed down into the hollow, where they found shelter for a
moment in the dead angle at the foot of the slope. Our gunners now
turned their fire on the Infantry trench for a few moments with high
explosive shells, and then the whole crowd of men in the hollow rose and
rushed it at the point of the bayonet, clearing it in a moment and
pursuing beyond. Then came the turn of the French, and gallantly they
availed themselves of it. Our rapid advance had masked our guns, the
French falling back before it had been taken up by their supports, and
now having only Infantry to deal with, the whole of them turned and came
on again.
It did not come to cold steel, however, for again both sides stopped and
blazed into each other with magazine fire and astounding inaccuracy. The
air above our heads seemed alive with bullets—but our reserves were
coming up under cover, and those of the French moving down hill caught
many of the missiles that flew too high. Soon, perhaps in five minutes,
the whole body, both assailants and defenders, began to move slowly up
the hill, the movement never ceasing till our Infantry reached the top.
Our Horse Artillery, followed by our Divisional Cavalry, galloped
forward in support. What happened for the next few minutes I am unable
to state from observation, for I, too, was moving across the valley, and
looking for a reasonably secure spot from which to see further. I found
one at the junction between two French Corps, where a copse came right
up to the edge of their line—both Corps being hotly engaged in front had
wheeled inwards a little towards the centre, and there was a gap of some
500 yards, and not a soul on the look-out. From here I could take in the
whole situation. To the south-eastward guns flashing and heavy masses of
troops showed the battle extended for miles beyond the left of our
corps, and south-west of us I saw at least thirty French batteries in
line along a low crest that ran about parallel to the ridge we had now
reached, whilst up the slope towards us, but from our left front, a
whole French Division of Infantry was moving towards their comrades on
the hill already hardly pressed, from whom they were yet about one
thousand yards distant.
Their guns were still silent, for their Infantry masked their view, and
it was fortunate for our battalions that they were so, for the fight for
the moment was stationary, and we were only just holding our own.
For some moments it continued so, and the effect to the spectator was
very curious. The air was so filled with the roar of musketry that it
seemed to come from nowhere in particular. There was nothing, in the
absence of all smoke, to connect it with these two long lines of men,
whose rifles spasmodically rose and fell. Along the front of the French,
owing, I suppose, to the angle at which I saw them, a row of little blue
sparks scintillated like the spark discharge from an electric brush, and
over both there lay a blue-grey mist which gave a curious mirage effect
to the whole. The shooting must have been vile on both sides, for
according to practice-ground results, thirty seconds should have
sufficed for mutual extermination; but, though men fell fast, the net
result appeared wonderfully small.
This may have lasted some three minutes, but it was impossible to keep
the run of the time, and then above the roll of the musketry I caught
the beat of the drums, and a reinforcing line, closed and in perfect
order, came over the brow to our assistance. The sight of these closed
lines was enough for both sides; the French gave way, and our fighting
line dashed forward. But only for some 300 yards or so, for again French
reinforcements brought the movement to a check. And now the French
Artillery opened fire on our following lines, and we had a taste of what
it means to come down hill in the sweep of shrapnel.
Our gunners were, however, quickly on the spot. They had been waiting
behind till room was made for them, but till they picked up the range
our losses were terrible, and I think that that following line must have
lost a larger percentage than any other troops this day.
The French fighting line was now sagging to the rear, and their last
reinforcement—a still intact division—was yet some 500 yards away from
them, when I noticed a couple of cavalry officers pass close to where I
stood in the copse, take in the whole scene at a glance, and gallop
away.
I knew then what was coming; it would be the death stroke if given in
time, before the fresh French Infantry had actually joined the fighting
line. These were now not 300 yards away from their comrades when the
first squadron passed me galloping straight down the hill in column of
troops. The first squadron no sooner had its last troop clear of our
Infantry front, than it wheeled into line, and went right at the flank
of the French, who attempted to fall back to meet it, but gave way at
the last moment and ran right back on the reinforcements, and pell-mell
fugitives and pursuers crashed right into the angle of these fresh
troops. The second squadron followed, then a third and fourth. The
confusion became indescribable, and now by the same track an endless
succession of squadrons began to emerge, for the first arrivals had been
only the Divisional regiment, and two whole fresh Cavalry Divisions were
now to follow. On the French side, too, a Cavalry Division appeared
coming out through the line of guns in line of squadron columns, and a
cavalry duel was now imminent.
There was not much time on our side to prepare for it. The first
regiment of the leading Division joined in the charge on the Infantry,
but that blow sufficed, and the whole mass began to break up and fall to
the rear with increasing velocity. The remaining squadrons, as they
arrived, formed line to the front, and awaited the arrival of their
fellows.
As soon as the 1st Division had completed its formation, it trotted
forward to meet the enemy, who were now only some 800 yards distant.
Both sides were suffering from Artillery fire, and there was no room for
manœuvre. The gallop and charge were sounded simultaneously, and the
shock took place all along the front; but the German files were not
closed as well as on former occasions, and the two lines fairly threaded
each other, then wheeled about by troops, and went for one another
again. Then a closed, locked, _mêlée_ arose, and the fight became
stationary. But our 2d Division was now rapidly arriving, and its
leading brigade delivered a shock which set the mass in motion towards
the French guns. Then another brigade was sent in, and this fairly
started it on the run, and in a few seconds the whole confused mob of
over 6000 horsemen was flying in wild confusion right down on and over
the gunners, who again tried to limber up, but were again too late.
The battle was over, the French line pierced, their last closed reserves
broken, and we had a brigade of Cavalry and masses of Infantry, who had
not yet pulled a trigger, in hand.
I looked at my watch, it was just 8 A.M., and I turned and rode for the
nearest wire. Crossing the ground over which we had come, I was able to
notice that our two divisions had both still a regiment in hand, and of
the following Corps only the Corps Artillery had been engaged, so we
were in ample strength for the pursuit.
THE LESSON OF THE FIGHT.
What the effect of this victory will be on the course of the war it is
too soon to prophesy. It may very well prove decisive, for we have now
driven a wedge right in between the French Armies, behind their eastern
and northern defences, and stand with five Corps on either face of the
wedge, with three more in between ready to move to the support of
either. The French must either move against us by lateral roads and
railways, in which case we can always meet them on a broader front, or
attempt to concentrate far away to the southward, and in any case our
strength is morally more than doubled by our successes. The Germans took
the field with no overweening opinion of themselves. They are a modest
people, as a whole, given to pessimism about themselves, and ready to
believe the overdone reports as to the regeneration of their hereditary
enemy that reached them through the public Press. The French, on the
other hand, had again learnt to believe in themselves; their
journalists, who were not going to do the fighting, had lauded them to
the skies, while the nation and rank and file had believed all they were
told, even if the experienced soldiers had not. They have fought with
the greatest gallantry, but for the second time it has been their want
of thoroughness that has ruined them. In each arm and every branch they
were just a little behind their adversaries. They lost two clear days in
mobilisation, and hence were strategically unready when the blow fell.
Their Cavalry was brave, but not a match for the Germans in mobility,
and consequently was beaten. The defeat of the Cavalry led the Infantry
to blunder into a trap where no human courage could avail them, and this
again entailed a concentration backward, with the obligation of standing
on the defensive to await the arrival of a reinforcing Corps which came
just too late; and the consequences we have seen in to-day’s fight. I do
not believe the Germans have lost very heavily, though isolated bodies
may certainly have done so. But the three arms played into each other’s
hands so perfectly, and the arrival of the supports was so well timed,
that none were ever called on for exertions beyond their strength. Such
tactical handling has never been seen since Napoleon’s days. But there
is this difference to note, that this time the troops have handled
themselves instead of being handled by the General.
It is too early yet for a list of casualties to have been made out, but
at the last moment I learn that our Cavalry yesterday lost 20 per cent.
of their strength.
THE WAR IN THE FAR EAST—THE CAPTURE OF VLADIVOSTOCK.
DETAILS OF THE ENGAGEMENT.
A correspondent at Hong-Kong telegraphs under date July 18th as
follows:—
Every one is engaged in discussing what we shall do with Eastern
Siberia, now that we have got it. The fall of Vladivostock was so
sudden, and so apparently easy of accomplishment, that it almost seems
as if the Admiral, Sir Frederick Richards, and General Barker are likely
to lose the credit of the success which they themselves achieved.
It is known that the 1st Battalion Leinster Regiment, together with the
1st Battalion of the 4th Goorkhas, the 21st Bombay Rifles, another
Bombay regiment, and two batteries of Artillery, were dispatched to
Hong-Kong from India at the very beginning of the troubles, and that
they were joined there by 1000 of the finest men ever seen from
Australia, with distinct orders to the Admiral and the General at
Hong-Kong (who was given the military command) to operate against
Vladivostock.
The _Leander_ and _Mercury_ were instantly sent to the north to
reconnoitre, while the remainder of the squadron was brought to
Hong-Kong, it being understood that cruisers would be detached from the
East Indian and Australian stations to guard Singapore and the Straits.
Except two ships which claimed protection in the neutral waters of
Japan, it was known that all the Russian squadron had retired to
Vladivostock. Telegrams had further informed the Admiral that four ships
from the Pacific station had been ordered to Yokohama to wait his
orders.
It was frightful work getting the necessary armaments and stores on
board the transports, from the intense heat prevailing; but there was
much less sickness than might have been supposed, the new troops being
roomily housed on board the steamers which were to take them north, and
kept employed, except during the greatest heat, in assisting in all the
work of preparing and loading the transports. In rather over five weeks
everything was finished, and the _Archer_ and _Swift_ being left to
guard Hong-Kong in the event of any stray Russian cruiser appearing, the
remaining thirteen ships of the squadron, headed by the Admiral in the
_Imperieuse_, who had the General with him, and convoying fifteen or
sixteen transport, store, and collier steamers, sailed for Vladivostock.
The harbour of Vladivostock is one of the finest in the world. It lies
east and west, and is about two miles long in those directions, while it
is about half a mile wide from north to south. All over this fine space
there is a clear depth of from five to nine fathoms—precisely that of
greatest convenience for an anchorage. The town is situated at the
north-west angle of the harbour, and the latter is everywhere overlooked
by high ground, but especially from the south. The immediate entrance to
the harbour is by a passage a mile and a half long and three-quarters of
a mile wide, lying about N.N.E. and S.S.W., and opening into the west
part of the inner harbour. This passage is formed by a peninsula not
more than half a mile wide at any part, and more than three miles long.
It is generally high ground, rising in parts to 300 feet. The entrance
to Vladivostock is wholly covered by the large island of Kazakavitch,
which measures five or six miles either way, and contains in itself the
very fine and extended harbour of Novik Bay. The strait between this
island and the mainland, which must be entered to pass into Vladivostock
Harbour, narrows gradually, but with much indentation and many
anchorages, to the west entrance, formed between the Shkota Peninsula
before described, and the island. At this point it is only about
one-third of a mile wide, and the north shore is the end of a very
narrow, sandy spit, about a third of a mile long.
It was known that for years past the Russians had been erecting
batteries and placing mines to guard the approaches to their harbour,
and were there no other way of advancing to attack but by sea, up the
channel and into the harbour, no place is so easily defended. But as it
turned out, and is now recognised, no place is more difficult to defend
when attacked in the proper way. It is near the end of a peninsula
itself, and troops landed from anchorages at the heads of the two bays
which form the peninsula, can easily isolate and cut the town off from
the mainland, and so take it in the rear.
It was at first thought that our expedition would follow this plan of
attack, but the rendezvous made by signal immediately on leaving
Hong-Kong, namely, Novik Bay, set that question at rest.
It took the fleet ten days to reach Novik Bay, but, off Korsakov Island,
it was joined by the _Melpomene_, _Daphne_, _Champion_ and _Garnet_,
from the Pacific, and so made up to seventeen sail in all. A few hours
after, the _Leander_ and _Mercury_ rejoined, reporting that there was a
small garrison—perhaps 150 men—occupying the two batteries covering the
entrance to Novik Bay, and probably protecting a mine field, but no
other batteries or garrisons were known to be on the island. The ships
had been twice chased by four ships coming out of Vladivostock, but in
obedience to orders had not attempted to bring them to action, and had
easily out-steamed them each time.
The whole squadron now lay-to off the entrance to the bay, while 500 men
of the Sutherland Highlanders were landed south of the entrance with
directions to capture the southern battery, assisted by the fire of the
_Leander_ and _Mercury_, and to turn the guns on the northern battery,
also assisted by the ships.
This turned out to be a very small affair. The Russians taken in rear
and engaged in front, fled into the forest long before our troops
closed; and the northern battery, seeing what had happened, fired one or
two shots from the very light guns which the battery contained, spiked
them, and retired. The cables to the mines were discovered and cut, and
within four hours afterwards the whole armament was safely anchored in
Novik Bay.
The next two days were entirely occupied in filling up with coal from
two colliers, and settling the final arrangements for attack. The
Admiral himself, taking the General with him, hoisted his flag in the
_Alacrity_, and ran up the west shore of the Shkota Peninsula, drawing
the fire of a small battery at its south end, and of one or two heavier
ones at the back of the town.
On the third day, all was astir at daylight. Most of the boats of the
squadron were alongside the transports, and troops to the number of
nearly 3000 were crowded into them, besides the field-pieces of the
ships, and their crews. The steam launches and pinnaces soon took lines
of these loaded boats in tow, and steamed out of the bay, whence five or
six of the war ships had preceded them. In a very few minutes these
latter were engaging the little battery on the end of Cape Tokarofski,
as the low sandy spit is called, which made but a very feeble reply, and
soon hoisted a white flag. There were only twenty men in it, and three
small guns, so that resistance would have been hopeless. It was
ascertained to be the mine station for a line of mines across the
Strait.
The plan of attack was now cleverly developed. The landing was effected
all along the west shore of the Shkota Peninsula, and in spite of the
rough scrub with which it is covered, the seamen dragged the
field-pieces along the shore to the north. No resistance was offered; it
was impossible to offer any under the guns of the ships, and by noon the
whole body were halted for dinner.
There is a valley about half-way along the peninsula lying about N.E.
and S.W., opening on to the harbour at the northern end, and on to the
sea at the southern end. It was supposed that resistance would be
encountered here, though it was not intended to march through it, but to
adhere to the shore and the cover of the ships until the town could be
turned.
Accordingly, after dinner the advanced guard had no sooner opened this
valley than it was met by a heavy rifle and gun fire from a strong
detachment posted and entrenched across the head of it. But the General
was not to be caught napping. He had sent four field-pieces up the hill
on his right, which from its brow poured a wholly unexpected and
murderous fire down upon the Russians. This they did not stand for ten
minutes, and our march went on. Then the field-pieces on this height
found themselves overlooking the harbour, and at once turned their
attention to shelling the ships in it, though the distance was too great
to admit of effective fire.
[Illustration:
THE TAKING OF VLADIVOSTOCK: GOORKAS PROTECTING THE GUNS.
]
At this time the ships, ten or twelve of them, spread themselves in a
long line ahead of the advancing column, and searched every foot of
ground, which could be easily done as it was generally low.
There were several batteries discovered facing seaward, which the ships
engaged. The Russians stuck to their guns most manfully, and some of our
ships suffered very heavily, but none of the batteries had any efficient
rear defences, and as the gunners caught sight of the head of our column
advancing by the shore, they invariably abandoned their works and
retired to the northward, along the road that leads round that part of
the harbour.
Fearing an attempt might be made to dislodge the field-pieces on the
height, a wing of the Goorkhas was sent up to reinforce them, and it was
quite a sight to see these little fellows swarming up like so many ants.
And now the signallers with the field-pieces got to the highest point of
ground, and very soon telegraphed to the Admiral that the ships might
shell the Russian troops by firing on the signal station, which the
troops surrounded. Some of the ships could see the station, and in
obedience to signal from the Admiral began to shell it. The signallers
directed the fire from the ships, so that, without seeing the object, it
was immensely destructive, and ultimately forced the Russians to
retreat.
This being again communicated to the ships and to the landing party now
mustering in strength at the back of the town, a general advance was
made, before which the Russians fell back, and ultimately sent in a flag
of truce with terms of surrender.
Our loss was very small; only one officer of the Bombay Regiment, and 42
men killed; 5 officers and 134 men wounded. Nor was the Russian loss
much greater, being estimated at 67 killed and 203 wounded. It was the
skill of the attack in turning the Russian defences, and the immense use
that was made of the fire from the ships, which produced a result
astonishing to those who had not inquired into its causes.
EVENTS IN THE EAST OF EUROPE.
THE BELEAGUERED GARRISON IN VARNA.
LONDON, _June 11_.
The course of events in the Black Sea, since our fleet for the time
evacuated it, has been as follows:—It appears that as soon as the
Russian Fleet was driven off the sea into harbour, immediate steps were
taken by the Russian authorities to withdraw the troops which had been
gathered for the purpose of reinforcing the troops already landed in
Bulgaria. Unable to pass by sea they were useless for that purpose; and
it was hoped, if they were sent off at once to reinforce the armies
opposing Austria, that a successful action against that Power might
enable the victorious army, co-operating with the army already in
Bulgaria, to make the passage through Roumania by land and, at least,
ensure the safety of the expeditionary force in Bulgaria. Perhaps it
might be possible in that case to secure the object, dear to the heart
of the Czar, of so strengthening that expeditionary force as to enable
it to crush the Bulgarian Army. The deepest anxiety prevailed in Russia
as to the fate of those troops, somewhat rashly committed to the sea
expedition, no sufficient allowance having been made for the prompt
action of the English Fleet.
It was some time before the Russian Fleet, which had retired to
Sebastopol, discovered that the English Fleet had actually evacuated the
Black Sea. Sir George Tryon had left some cruisers as long as possible
to disguise the movement. When these also disappeared, a fear was
entertained that this was a mere ruse to draw the Russian Fleet away
from Sebastopol in order to crush it in the open sea. We regret to say
that it was through the telegraphic dispatches to the English newspapers
that, by various indirect channels, the news first reached the Russian
Government that Trebizonde had been evacuated and, subsequently, that
the English Fleet had passed into the Mediterranean. It was, however,
not till Sir George Tryon had actually reached Malta that they were
fully aware that the Black Sea had been evacuated. Then it was, after a
day of hesitation as to the best course to be pursued, decided to
establish touch with the Russian Army in Bulgaria, all communication
with which had been cut for some time. As, however, that army—not
without difficulty—had maintained its telegraphic communication with the
sea, this was effected soon after the cruisers had reached the coast, in
the neighbourhood of Varna.
It was then ascertained that the Bulgarian force in Varna itself was
still holding out; and that the Russian Army, reduced to about 35,000
men by the force left to guard the lines to the sea, by the covering
force at Varna and Shumla, and by sickness, had been able to effect very
little. It had at first advanced inland as far as Tirnova, where it
remained in an entrenched camp, waiting for information. It was believed
that the Austrian force in Servia had been too much reduced to be able
to advance, and that the Bulgarian troops were fully occupied in
Macedonia. Had the force landed been carried up to the figure that was
intended, an immediate advance on Sofia would have been attempted. As
the case stood, however, General Karanoff did not feel himself strong
enough for this, and as now his only hope was to have the way through
Roumania opened, he had turned northwards, having sent messengers
through to communicate by land with Russia. He had, however, found it
impossible to effect the passage of the Danube up to the moment when he
received the joyful telegram announcing that, in consequence of the
departure of the English Fleet, it was possible either to withdraw him
by sea in safety, or to reinforce him. As there seemed every prospect
that a great success might yet be achieved, if the force originally
intended could now be landed in Bulgaria, the cruiser carried back
proposals to that effect. Meanwhile, however, much time had been lost.
The greater part of the Russian troops had been sent inland by train
from the sea-board. Though they were at once reembarked on all available
lines, very little had been done more than preparing for embarkation at
Odessa, Sebastopol, and other ports, when the news of the Battle of
Sardinia created a sudden alarm that the Black Sea would not long be a
safe place for Russian ships. For the next ten days tremendous efforts
were made to hurry the embarkation of the troops, but by the end of that
time news reached the Russians that large numbers of English cruisers
had already appeared in the Black Sea.
ARRIVAL OF BRITISH TROOPS IN THE SEA OF MARMORA.
LORD WOLSELEY IN CONSTANTINOPLE.
News of the dispatch of the reinforcements to the Mediterranean Fleet,
announced by our naval correspondent a fortnight ago, had reached the
Russian Government, unfortunately again through the enterprise of some
English correspondents, whose information was telegraphed _viâ_ New
York, and thence by a route not as yet clearly traced to some Russian
agents, who managed to get it to their Government very rapidly. It was
therefore taken for granted that the cruisers would be promptly followed
by such ships as Admiral Tryon could spare. When then the first of
Admiral Markham’s line-of-battle ships appeared, the Russian Fleet,
afraid of being caught whilst involved in assisting in the transport of
the troops and stores to Varna, once more retired, part to Odessa, and
part to Sebastopol. Our own cruisers immediately re-occupied the
littoral of Bulgaria near Varna. They were successful in capturing one
of the transports that was attempting to escape. We have been favoured
with these particulars, which have been gathered from the prisoners
captured on this transport. As far as can be ascertained the
reinforcements landed on this occasion have, in consequence of the
delays recorded, not exceeded 15,000 or 20,000 men. Nearly all of them
are reported to have marched to join General Karanoff who is supposed to
be between the Danube and Tirnova, at which point he is expected to
effect his junction with the reinforcements.
[Illustration:
BRITISH TRANSPORTS PASSING THE DARDANELLES—FORT CHANAK SALUTING THE
ENGLISH SHIPS.
]
The greatest alarm exists at Sofia. The Bulgarian troops are still much
involved in the Macedonian campaign, and, though as many as possible
have been recalled for the defence of the capital, it was feared that,
with the sea open, the Russians would be able to pour in irresistible
numbers. And, though that danger is now over, if General Karanoff has
once more under his hands an effective force of 60,000 men, or nearly
so, it is believed that he may yet make a bold dash for the capital. The
moment the news of the Battle of Sardinia reached Spain, Sir Evelyn
Wood’s troops,—which had been held in readiness to sail at two hours’
notice from Cadiz and Gibraltar,—passed eastwards. The news reached
Alexandria and Cyprus on the same day. Embarkation was very rapid at
Alexandria. The garrison there had been largely reinforced in order to
facilitate embarkation, in consequence of the difficulties of keeping a
large fleet of transports for a long time in the open roadstead at
Famagousta. The whole of the Army of Occupation will be temporarily
employed on the Eastern expedition. Sir Francis Grenfell has announced
his confidence that he will be able, for the time the war lasts, to
ensure the safety of Egypt, provided that, should any serious movement
be threatened by the Mahdi, he is supported by a certain number of
native troops from India. This has been provided for. Within twenty-four
hours ten thousand troops in all were ready to sail from Alexandria. On
the other hand, progress at Cyprus has been much slower. The wind not
having been favourable for some days, a large part of the transports
were obliged to put to sea; and when the embarkation began, the
difficulties of embarking were very serious.
Every one in the island is groaning over the fact that nothing has been
done to develop the splendid old harbour of Famagousta during our
occupation. However, the first of the transports were ready to sail in a
day or two. As it was necessary to await the arrival of Admiral
Markham’s Fleet, or, at least, of the cruisers, before passing out of
the Sea of Marmora, the ships sailed as they were ready, and the
rendezvous was formed after passing the Dardanelles. The first troopers
to arrive in the Sea of Marmora were those from Alexandria. These were
followed immediately by about 5000 men from Malta, who had been detained
there when the alarm due to the French Declaration of War caused the
check to the expedition. The garrison has, like that of Gibraltar, been
reduced to a very low ebb, and will be made up by the Militia regiments,
who have most patriotically volunteered for service in the Mediterranean
garrisons. A portion of the troopers from Cyprus followed; but as soon
as they had entered the Sea of Marmora, Admiral Markham’s battle-ships
passed through. The cruisers sent on to protect the movement had already
entered the Black Sea, and been followed by those from Admiral Markham’s
Fleet.
Sir Evelyn Wood’s force from Gibraltar and Cadiz, rather less than eight
days from thence, arrived before nearly the whole of the force from
Cyprus had come in. On the tenth day after the battle of Sardinia—that
is, on June 4, the fleet of transports, headed by Sir Evelyn Wood’s
troopers, began the entry into the Black Sea. At the moment we write, we
hear that the whole of the transports carrying all the troops, except
the half Corps originally detained in England, have been lost to sight
from land, sailing east. As soon (as was recorded in our issue of May
28th) as the seven battle-ships and cruisers from the Baltic were known
to be on their way to England, the remaining half Corps was embarked
from the home ports, and the entire fleet, with the troopers, reached
Gibraltar about forty-eight hours after Sir Evelyn Wood had sailed. The
troopers have accordingly now entered the Sea of Marmora, and will, no
doubt, follow the rest of the fleet.
[Illustration:
THE SULTAN, LORD WOLSELEY, AND SIR CLARE FORD WATCHING THE PASSAGE OF
THE BRITISH FLEET THROUGH THE BOSPHORUS FROM THE STEPS OF THE DOLMA
BAGHTCHE PALACE.
]
Lord Wolseley has been in Constantinople for some time. He was there in
telegraphic communication with all the different bodies of troops and
with England. He was more conveniently able to obtain fresh information
from all quarters, and to be in communication with our Ambassador and
the Porte. He watched from Dolma Baghtche the magnificent sight of the
passage of our fleet and troopers towards the Black Sea. Admiral Markham
embarked in the Ambassador’s yacht, after a long conference with Lord
Wolseley, and followed up his own fleet; but we learn that just before
the first troopers of the detachment from England began to pass the
Dardanelles, the yacht returned, and Lord Wolseley embarked in it,
leaving sealed orders for the detachment from England. We hear that Lord
Wolseley talks much of the advantages of a campaign in Asia Minor, and
that actually Trebizonde has again been occupied by an advanced
detachment. Moukhtar Pacha, having been largely reinforced, is still
holding his own very well on that side. Further than that we know as yet
nothing of the nature of the future campaign. Another week will,
however, no doubt throw much light on the subject.
FEELING IN AUSTRALIA.
PROPOSAL TO SEIZE NEW CALEDONIA.
(_From our Special Correspondent, Mr. David Christie Murray._)
MELBOURNE, _June 2_.
The _Age_ and the _Argus_ of this day’s date publish the results of
several interviews. I wire you a synopsis of the ten newspaper columns
which feed the curiosity of Australian readers. Lord Hopetoun and Lord
Jersey are essentially and quite naturally non-committal. They unite in
declaring that, so far, the Colonial attitude and action have the full
approval of the Home Government, but they both decline to lend
countenance to the combined action of the Governments of Victoria and
New South Wales. Mr. Justice Windeyer, of Sydney, and Mr. Justice Way,
of Adelaide, are at one in the opinion that, France and England being at
open warfare, the Australian Fleet may at once be legitimately employed
in operations against the enemy without leave obtained from the Home
Government.
Sir Thomas M‘Ilwraith exults in the prospect of the fulfilment of his
life-long dream. He, more than any other Colonial statesman, has been
interested in the preservation of purely British influence in the
Southern Hemisphere, and he sees in the present European conflict a
certain promise that the blundering ineptitude of Lord Derby and his
successors will be finally rendered harmless. The fact that England is
fighting shoulder to shoulder with Germany will, Sir Thomas thinks,
facilitate a friendly exchange by means of which the north-eastern
portion of New Guinea may be brought under the dominion of the British
Crown. He insists, with some vehemence, on the undoubted fact, that if
his own policy had not been obstructed by the Home authorities, the
northern waters of these seas would have been given over to the
undivided empire of Great Britain, and he urges strongly the
advisability of seizing the present moment to undo the blunders of the
past. He approves warmly of the combined action of New South Wales and
Victoria, and declares that their proposal to seize New Caledonia is not
merely statesmanlike and patriotic, but could hardly have been avoided
in the circumstances.
In New South Wales Sir Henry Parkes and the Hon. Mr. Dibbs sink, for
once, all party differences, and the venerable Leader of the Opposition
supports the action of the Government as warmly as if it had been taken
at his own initiative. Here, in Melbourne, the Government and Opposition
are, in quite as pronounced a fashion, at one with each other. In short,
outside the Governors, whose official position condemns them to
neutrality, there is not a dissentient voice to be heard. New Caledonia
has long been a thorn in the Australian side. It is only 700 miles from
the coast of Queensland, and the northern colony and its parent
neighbour have long since tired of being overrun by escaped French
convicts of the vilest type. You, in England, have little conception of
the resentment which is inspired in the breasts of the most loyal
Australians by the supineness and folly which allowed the Home
Government to sit idly by whilst a French penal settlement was
established so near our shores. Australia complains, and complains with
justice, that she has been treated from the first as a reservoir into
which might be poured the most abominable draff of English society. It
was bad enough, and more than bad enough, to be compelled to receive the
refuse of the Home Country. But when the escapes from New Caledonia
began to be so numerous as to prove a decided nuisance, the indignation
of the public was naturally aroused. Whatever you may think of us in
England, we Australians are, at least, a patient and enduring people. We
have made mild demonstrations in the way of departmental remonstrance,
and have done nothing more. Had we been stronger than we are we should
long since have made the presence of the French Government in New
Caledonia a _casus belli_.
The Mother Country is so indifferent to our aspirations and our needs,
that she has never given herself the trouble to recognise the gravity of
this special cause of complaint. At least 300 cases of escape from New
Caledonia to Australian shores are known and recorded. In the case of
the ‘exiles’ we naturally rejoice. We have given home and a glad welcome
to that distinguished artist, M. Henri, who was banished from his native
France for his political opinions, and who has now achieved for himself
a perfectly unique position in Australian art. There is, assuredly, not
one man in the Australian Continent who would willingly have put an
obstacle in the way of escape of M. Henri Rochefort. It is not men of
this type to whose presence in our neighbourhood we object. But it is
undeniable that the French criminals who now people New Caledonia, are
men of the most abominable of all conceivable types. The grievance—the
true grievance—is not merely that the French Government should have been
allowed to defile our neighbourhood by the deportation of these people,
but that they should positively have determined to perpetuate the race.
How many people in England are aware of the shameful and stupid fact
that the French Government, having massed its most awful male outcasts
in New Caledonia, deliberately sent out to them female convicts of the
most abandoned type in order that the men might marry and reproduce
their own likeness? The mere incidental question of bigamy by government
authority need scarcely be considered. Amongst the women sent out were
parricides, simple murdresses, and creatures soiled by all the crimes of
which nature is capable. One of the brides had murdered both her father
and her mother, and another, on the outward voyage, threw her own baby
out of a port-hole. The sires of the future French settlement were, of
course, worthy of their partners, and one may fairly ask what could
possibly be expected of a race so founded. I have myself spoken with
Englishmen upon this question, and have been met with a laugh, a shrug
of the shoulders, and an allusion to an ancient proverb about a pot and
kettle. It is undeniable that Hobart Town and Botany Bay welcomed in
their time a great deal of human evil, but it never came unalloyed, and
an examination of facts will teach any inquirer that a good fifty per
cent. of the so-called crimes for which men and women were expatriated,
were no more than the ebullitions of an impatient patriotism, or the
escapades of unguided youth. Leaving that aside, nobody pretends that
the Australian population of three and a half millions is seriously
tainted. We are troubled by certain forms of rowdyism and brutality, and
we have a dangerous class rooted amongst us. That a great law-abiding
population should be handicapped in that way by the past action of the
Mother Country was hard enough to bear in all conscience, but that
England should have sat supine whilst a foreign power doubled, trebled,
and quadrupled, the curse upon our borders is intolerable.
We Anglo-Saxons are everywhere a long-suffering and rather stupid
people. Australia herself has been somewhat to blame for her own partial
acquiescence in this injustice, and there are vast numbers of her
inhabitants who know little and care less about the question. The
Australian citizen who had suffered from the inroads of a gang of
foreign desperadoes has a sympathetic interest in the matter, but he is
only one in ten thousand, and the fact is that we have been far too
tame.
The distance between New Caledonia and Australia is, as I have said
already, about 700 miles. That between the Sandwich Islands and the
United States is about 2000 miles. But those islands are directly under
American control, and the United States have always held that the
presence of a foreign power there would have to be regarded as a menace.
Just as she warned away France from Mexico, she would now warn away any
foreign intruder in the South Seas. It is easy to conceive that England
herself might have been equally wise. The French treatment of the
Canaques, whom they dispossessed when they took forcible possession of
the island, has been wrong-headed in the extreme. They have had the
absurdest panics about impossible native risings, and have sent out
numberless expeditions to destroy the food supplies of the wretched
natives. Things are quieter now, and the Canaques are effectively cowed.
It was decided last night by telegraphic communication between the
Premiers of Victoria and New South Wales, that the two leading Colonies
should jointly invite Queensland, Western Australia, South Australia,
and Tasmania to lend their authority for the immediate dispatch of the
Australian squadron to Noumea. An intimation of the fact has been sent
to the Home Government, but no permission has been asked. It is not in
the least likely that England will interfere with us at such a moment,
and on such a question, but even if she did, the question is one so
vitally affecting the destinies of Australia that we should be compelled
to take the matter into our own hands.
LORD CHARLES SCOTT OBJECTS.
_June 6._
There is a rumour abroad to the effect that Admiral Lord Charles Scott
has put his veto on the dispatch of the fleet until such time as
instructions can be received from England, but though this report has
been angrily seized upon by the populace, no credence whatever appears
to be attached to it in quarters where the most trustworthy information
might naturally be looked for. It has served, however, to enliven the
city to a very remarkable extent, and the mere hint of opposition to the
popular will has created a widespread excitement, and has made it
evident that the men of the colonies are bent on having their own way.
Collins Street and Bourke Street are patrolled by vast bands, who groan
loudly at the name of the Admiral and cheer the local leaders of public
opinion. It is quite a fortuitous occurrence that the various bodies of
Melbourne cadets had arranged to march with their bands through the
principal streets this evening, but the event has given colour and stir
to the _al fresco_ entertainment provided by the populace for their own
delectation. Special editions of the evening papers confirm the rumoured
action of the Admiral, and the excitement is growing to fever heat. Lord
Charles Scott’s position is that the squadron of which he holds command
is intended for defensive purposes only, and cannot be legitimately
employed in offensive operations without the direct sanction of the war
authorities at home. He is likely to be technically in the right, but
the fact that England and France are already actively engaged is
generally held here, amongst the most moderate men, to abrogate this
rule, and to make it the immediate and obvious duty of Australia to take
her place in action. In the meantime, so the Sydney telegrams inform us,
the squadron now lying in the harbour there is making every preparation
for active service, and it is entirely probable that, after all, no real
delay may ensue.
INSTRUCTIONS FROM THE ADMIRALTY.
DEPARTURE OF THE EXPEDITION.
MIDNIGHT.
After all, there will be no waiting. A telegraphic dispatch has been
received from the Admiralty, and the instructions are that the squadron
shall take instant action. A special train to Sydney has been chartered
by the Premier. He will be accompanied by three or four members of the
Ministry, and I have succeeded in attaching myself to the party. The
train starts in an hour.
_June 7._
The Ministerial train has broken the record, and at four o’clock the
Ministerial party is steaming across the beautiful harbour towards the
flagship. Driving hurriedly through the streets of the city, we have had
time to see no more than that the main thoroughfares are gay with
bunting, though the streets themselves are empty. The whole population
has turned out to witness the departure of the squadron, and from the
deck of the launch a crowd of many scores of thousands is visible about
Lady Macquarrie’s Chair. The great harbour is thronged with every kind
of craft. All the merchant ships are gaily decorated everywhere. The
weather is heavenly, and the harbour, with its sparkling waters and
majestic lines of headland, can rarely have been seen to more advantage.
The spirit of the people is evidently and entirely in the enterprise on
which they have embarked. The four ships of the Australian squadron lie
in sight of the vast crowd, and are already volleying clouds of smoke.
As I lift my eyes from the note-book in which I am rapidly scrawling
these lines, I can see that the great hulk of the flagship has begun to
move. Flash goes a gun from her black side, and a hundred rolling echoes
bellow from the surrounding heights. The crowd sends back a
heart-stirring cheer, and a gun from the fort responds to the Admiral’s
salute. Vessel after vessel salutes, and the fort answers each in turn.
Like leviathans afloat move our bulwarks on the brine, a score of times
huger than when Campbell sung the prowess of the British arms at sea.
Before we can reach the flagship they are all well under weigh, and
forging grandly towards the open waters. Aboard some of the yachts and
launches are brass bands, not all of the finest quality. They play ‘God
save the Queen’ in all manner of keys and in different times. The result
is not what one might fancy, for everybody seems to find it wildly
exhilarating. The cheers from the immense concourse near Government
House grow fainter and fainter as we recede, and at last die away
altogether. There is a fresh breeze in the open, and a roughish sea, and
so in a while even the most enthusiastic of the pursuers are willing to
turn back again. The spectacle is over. The squadron has steamed away,
and Australia stands ready to strike her first blow in the cause of the
British race in the seas of the Southern Hemisphere.
THE FRANCO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN—THE GERMAN ADVANCE.
RENEWED FIGHTING—ROUT OF THE FRENCH ARMY.
(_From our Special Correspondent with the Germans._)
SUIPPES, _May 19_.
A whole week has passed and we have not moved. Our cavalry and most of
my Corps are enjoying the hospitality of the French barracks at the camp
of Chalons, horribly dirty, still, better than a bivouac in the pouring
rain we have been enduring. Our officers’ patrols go daily south of
Chalons-sur-Marne and eastward to Bar-le-Duc.
Rheims is observed—practically invested—for our scouts tear up the
railways leading to it from Paris as fast as the enemy can lay them down
again, and further to the westward patrols are in touch with the French
Army of the North, and we learn that troops are daily being moved by
rail to the southward, which corroborates other information that they
are again going to try on us Bourbaki’s stroke of 1870, and, under the
circumstances, it is about the best thing they can do.
In our rear the Reserve Divisions are working day and night to complete
our road and railway communications with the Namur-Luxembourg Railway,
and as everything has been foreseen to the smallest detail years in
advance—even the girders for bridges made and kept in stock—and the
country, moreover, presents no serious difficulties (certainly none to
frighten our engineers of Afghanistan experience, and the Germans are
but little behind us), I have no doubt that our halt here will be but of
short duration; indeed, some of the roads are evidently through already,
for our Reserve ammunition waggons came up yesterday. The line through
Mezières-Givet is also expected to be open in a day or two, and then our
siege train will be able to take the works of Rheims under fire in
earnest. This delay, I need hardly say, is very much against the
feelings of our Hotspurs, and I have listened to many an oration from
young subalterns to prove how differently old Moltke would have led
them. With due deference, I think it can be shown from his own works
that he would have done nothing of the kind. His own saying was that the
art of war was only the practical application of principles to the
attainment of the end in view—viz., the subjugation of the enemy to your
will—at what knowledge of the circumstances shows you to be at the
moment the cheapest possible cost to the country.
In 1870, with a vast numerical superiority, no fortifications to speak
of on the enemy’s side, and no allies on his own, the principle of
extermination by a series of battles was the best policy to adopt. How,
against almost equal numbers, backed by fortresses not to be
despised—the first victory having been won and the fighting value of our
troops thereby doubled—our best game is not to break our heads against
the enemy’s strong places, but in a central position to await his
offensive returns and move out to meet him—not stand to be attacked—as
soon as his plans are sufficiently indicated by our cavalry outposts.
It was a wise stroke on the part of the enemy to lead off with a first
blow from Russia; but we countered it by the immediate assumption of the
offensive, which enabled us to score first blood against France. For the
present we can await the decision in Russia in comparative security.
The troops are not idle meanwhile. After a day’s rest and the
reorganisation of the regiments in consequence of losses—which, by the
way, amount to only 10 per cent. in the Corps engaged—they were at work
again drilling with the same intensity of purpose as if the spring
inspections and not a battle lay before them. That was a lesson they
learnt from the last war—viz., that the command of men in the squadron
or company is personal property, and cannot be handed over like charge
of the quartermaster’s store. A leader must know his men, and they must
know him by actual contact on the parade ground if the full fighting
worth is to be got out of the men.
11 P.M.
News of our victory at Alexandrovo has just come in. That will set free
a couple of Corps at least for this, the _decisive_ theatre. If only
they had our Midland and North-Western traffic managers!
SUIPPES, _May 25_, 10 P.M.
We move at 5 A.M. to-morrow, direction Bar-le-Duc—_i.e._ S.E.
HEITH LE MAURUPT, _May 27_, 10 P.M.
Another most decisive victory for the Germans. Censor will not allow any
more.
CAMP OF CHALONS, _May 31_, 10 A.M.
Another victory; now I may tell you all that has happened in the order
in which it occurred. As I had anticipated, the French have again tried
Bourbaki’s move, with much the same results. As far as we can learn,
three Corps were transferred from the line of the northern fortresses,
by Paris—Lyons, and the whole of their Army of the East moved northward
to meet us, their right on the line of their eastern defences.
Our 2d Army moved up both banks of the Aisne to meet them, it was
theoretically wrong, no doubt, but we could not help it. The 3d passed
troops over the Meuse, to form on their left, and we—_i.e._ the
1st—detached three Corps to reinforce the right, leaving two ‘field’
Corps and a number of Reserve Divisions (I understand six) to hold the
Army of the North in check, and retire slowly before it if seriously
attacked.
My Corps rendezvoused on the 26th at 4 A.M. around Suippes. The country
had been thoroughly reconnoitred, and, guided by officers of the
Topographical Staff, all combatant branches moved straight across
country, in the good old Napoleonic method, trains and Corps Artillery
only by the roads. The rain had ceased, and the going was fairly good;
anyway, we all agreed that it was infinitely preferable work to stewing
in dusty lanes in closed columns, with never a breath of fresh air, even
though in the bottoms the soil was somewhat heavy. The men were in the
best of spirits at the start—reviving the good old march to Sedan joke,
‘Mit Armen links schwenkt! Gerade aus’—but the sun came out, and by 5
P.M., when we had covered nearly twenty miles as the crow flies, faces
began to look drawn and weary. Then we caught the sound of the guns in
front, and the men stepped out again briskly.
About 6.30 we got the order to halt and bivouac; fortunately we were
close to some ponds and a stream. Our cavalry had this time come little
into conflict with the enemy, but after driving in a few patrols had
come on the French infantry, practically deployed for action, heading a
little west of north, and had not attempted to make any impression.
Indeed, there was no reason why they should, for they could see
everything perfectly from some neighbouring ridges, and so had fulfilled
their duties. We, at least, knew where the enemy was, and he did not
know where we were. So far we had the advantage.
The fight began with a race for the ridges. We had no particular
advantage, and a scrimmaging fight began at once all along the line. Our
artillery was in great part neutralised; so was that of the other side.
It simply became a struggle of endurance—the Germans, relying on the
superior discipline of their men, could afford to feed the fighting line
more slowly (_i.e._ with greater distance between the following lines),
and thanks to the perfection of their Staff, trained to work as nearly
as possible under wartime conditions, the mechanism of the feed worked
with less friction and more certainty; fresh troops were always
forthcoming when they were required. On the other side the machinery
wanted lubricating, owing to their radically defective conception of the
nature of the infantry fight, which induced them to move to the attack
in a succession of extended lines following one another too quickly;
their strength melted away almost before they reached the actual
fighting line, and then the Staff failed to send support quickly enough.
It was soon evident that they were bleeding to exhaustion more rapidly
than we were.
Thus hour by hour our attack pressed home like waves of an incoming
tide, and from a distance the effect was most curious to watch. Two long
undulating lines—a light blue haze hanging over them—each seemed to be
backed by some elastic force; as the equilibrium at one point was
disturbed, one line recoiled and the other pressed forward till flanking
fire brought it again to a stop for the moment.
By noon the edge of the high ground overlooking the valley, through
which runs the Rhine-Marne Canal, was reached, and now the flood was
running strong in our favour. Then we could see, too, how these
disturbances in the equilibrium of the two lines were occasioned. The
smaller units of the French thought too much of their flanks, too little
of their centre. Thus, where two battalions or companies touched, the
men balled up and crowded together, offering a better target; then the
fire from the centre relaxed, and the moment the pressure of the enemy’s
fire gave way, the Germans dashed forward to fill up the vacuum. Soon,
too, the French endeavoured to bring up their reserves in column, for
their men would no longer advance in extended order; and now the small
calibre rifle and its great penetration justified its existence; I had
not thought much of it before. But the employment of columns induced a
new feature—viz., a tendency in the larger units (_e.g._ divisions) to
close on their centre—and presently before our eyes we saw a great gap
opening out behind the enemy’s fighting line. The time for the final
blow was close at hand. Our gunners, coming up under cover of the hills,
were crushing the artillery of the enemy out in the plain, and had some
attention to spare for his reserves. I saw a cavalry aide-de-camp leave
the Staff of the Army Commander, who was close at hand, and I made
tracks as fast as I could for some broken ground, where I hoped to be
safe from the coming storm.
Twenty minutes afterwards, heading straight for the gap I described
above, came at least eight squadrons in line at a gallop. Their ground
scouts yelled at their own infantry in front to lie down, and they
mostly did so. The cavalry checked for a moment at them, as if at a
fence, and then swept down on the infantry in front, not two hundred
yards distant, rode over and beyond them, wheeled outwards, and bore
down on the reserves. As they passed our infantry, the latter threw
themselves into groups to let the second line of cavalry—which still
remained in squadron columns—through, and then four more lines of
cavalry followed, and the whole plain became a sea of dust and
confusion. Our infantry rallied into company columns, and dashed forward
with the bayonet in pursuit, and we had the last tableau of Waterloo
over again. The canal and the stream in the hollow put a stop to our
advance, and fresh infantry with the pioneer companies moved forward to
make good the crossing, which might have been a troublesome business
enough, had not the troops to our left—_i.e._ west—already carried the
passages at Revigny.
Darkness was now rapidly coming on, and the fight here died away. I rode
back to the rear, and found food and a welcome with the Headquarters of
our third Corps, which had only just reached the ground and had not been
engaged.
About five next morning the troops again stood to their arms, but in the
night news of an advance of the French Army of the north had come in,
and we began to retrace our steps over the same ground already
traversed. As we were starting, intelligence of the British victory in
the Mediterranean arrived, and with it rumours of Communistic
disturbances in Paris. I was also told that two Corps had been detached
from the 2d Army from near St. Menehould, and two more from the Russian
frontier had arrived about Pont-a-Mousson, and with the four Bavarian
reserve divisions were preparing to strike the French Army of the west
in their right flank. At night we reached the line of the great road
Chalons-sur-Marne—St. Menehould, and about 4 P.M. fell right on the
flank of a French corps moving from Epernay on the Camp of Chalons. Part
of the Corps from St. Menehould marching by Suippes was on our right,
and together we drove the French back in some disorder into the complex
of hilly ground about Moronvilliers, cutting them off from Rheims.
The Corps left to watch this latter place had fallen back fighting
the previous day, and lay along the road from Suippes by
Somme-puis-Attigny—_i.e._ about north and south.
At daybreak we advanced again, and soon a struggle began which, in the
hilly, wooded ground we now were in, utterly defies description. As
before, it was mainly decided by superior endurance of loss and a
better-trained Staff. Of tactical combination there was none on a large
scale, but divisional artillery and cavalry suffered heavily in
endeavouring to support their comrades of the infantry.
We reached the culminating point of the plateau after five hours’
successive fighting, but the exhaustion of our men was extreme; hundreds
dropped unable to go a step further, and we afterwards picked up at
least an equal number of French in the same condition. Indeed, during
the last hours of the afternoon, it had become a struggle of the
survival of the fittest. The French fought with a determination they
never before displayed—probably because the ground, by giving scope to
our cavalry on previous occasions, never gave them the opportunity.
But this time every copse and bush gave them the chance to rally, and
many are the instances recounted of how superior officers on the French
side emulated the example of Ney in the retreat from Russia, and rifle
in hand stood to the last.
The battle was actually decided by a blow delivered some six miles to
the north, where the ground did give our three arms a chance of
co-operation, and about 6 P.M. the resistance in front of us gave way
altogether. The fighting broke off, and the men lay on their arms where
they stood, too weary to move another step.
During the night, however, a cavalry division belonging to the 2d
Army—which had moved round our rear while the action was going on—beat
up the bivouacs of the French, falling first on the artillery and some
cavalry and stampeding their horses, who took flight right down the
extent of the line. And this last blow turned the French retreat into
rout. It was York’s manœuvre at Laon, in 1814, over again, only more
thoroughly carried out.
[Illustration:
GERMAN CAVALRY ATTACK BY NIGHT ON THE FRENCH BIVOUACS.
]
Our Corps were too weary to follow, but the one next on our right, which
had been squeezed out of line by our converging movement the day before,
took up the pursuit before daybreak in the direction of Rethel.
ADVANCE OF THE SECOND AND THIRD ARMIES ON PARIS.
THE BOMBARDMENT OF RHEIMS.
WARMERIVILLE, _June 6_.
The general situation is as follows:—On the eastern wing the Germans
eventually made some 30,000 prisoners, and drove the wreck of the Army
of the East into Epinal and Belfort.
Leaving three Corps and the Bavarian reserve divisions to watch them—the
remainder of the second and third Armies are moving by the valley of the
Marne on Paris, their advance guards to-day reaching Epernay. The
available troops of the western wing drove the enemy before them
northwards into Laon and against the Belgian frontier, making 40,000
prisoners; but at least 60,000 are known to have escaped by rail into
Paris.
Rheims has been closely invested—my Corps, which lost 25 per cent. in
the last action, is in reserve round and about the village from which I
write. The light siege-train arrived here to-day, and the remainder is
expected shortly.
RIOTING IN RHEIMS.
RHEIMS, _June 14_.
The siege-train arrived here complete on the night of the 10th, on the
11th it was put in battery; and at daybreak next morning opened fire
against the three forts, Brimont, Fresnes, and Berru. It was just the
same here as before Verdun; within a few hours our converging fire from
covered positions knocked the forts to pieces, and the French guns were
buried in the _débris_ of their own parapets. Some of their guns, firing
by indirect laying, remained unsilenced; on the other hand, their fire
hit nothing to speak of. The advantage of smokeless powder, combined
with indirect laying, turned entirely in favour of the attack.
At daybreak on the 12th we moved forward to the attack of the
intermediate positions—not against the forts themselves, for these were
mere mudheaps, so saturated with the carbonic oxide due to the explosion
of our gun-cotton shells that they were equally untenable by friend or
foe.
The fight presented no special features of interest. It was noticeable,
however, how much the _morale_ of the other side had been shaken, and
how devastating is the power of 40 and 60 lb. shrapnel fire. The hills
on which Berru and Brimont stand were both in our hands by about noon.
Fresnes was surrounded, and surrendered shortly after. We could pursue
down the slopes with fire only, for Rheims itself was still protected by
hasty entrenchments which, as the sun was beginning to decline, it was
hardly possible to see.
[Illustration:
SCENE IN THE STREETS OF RHEIMS: GERMAN TROOPS CLEARING THE STREETS OF
FRENCH RIOTERS.
]
During the night the light siege-train was put in battery on the
captured heights, and our outposts reported sounds of firing and tumult
in the town, and, indeed, scarcely had our guns opened fire next morning
when the white flag flew out from the Cathedral tower; and about 10 A.M.
we marched in as peacemakers, for a number of territorialists and armed
workmen had broken out in the night, shot the Commandant, and began to
plunder the inhabitants, and as all discipline was at an end the second
in command yielded to the pressure of the inhabitants and consented to
surrender. We cleared the streets without much difficulty, the rioters
bolting like hares as we entered them; and the good people of Rheims,
remembering the good behaviour of the troops in ’70, welcomed us as
friends rather than enemies.
THE MARCH UPON THE FRENCH CAPITAL.
THE REVOLUTION IN PARIS—ARMISTICE DECLARED.
MEAUX, _June 21_.
After a day’s rest we marched to Dormans, and thence down the valley of
the Marne, through the most lovely scenery. At every halting place,
fresh news of Anarchistic trouble in Paris reaches us, and I fancy the
end cannot now be far off, everything depends on the time our engineers
and railway troops take to restore the communications, and I have seen
no single case of injury which will require more than three days at the
outside to make practicable.
CLAYE, _June 27_.
At daybreak this morning, after a preliminary bombardment of twenty-four
hours, the position between the forts of Vaujours and Chelles was
stormed. The effect of the bombardment was just what it had been before
Rheims, and we left the forts untouched. The garrisons had taken shelter
in the bomb-proofs, and at first refused to come out; but seeing
themselves completely surrounded, and as the deadly fumes of our
bursting shells began to penetrate into their retreat, they at last came
out and laid down their arms, seeing the impossibility of further
resistance.
The line between the two forts was closed with every resource of field
fortification; but they proved of no avail, and only gave a fresh
illustration of the old saying, related of a British soldier in the
Crimean days, who, when taunted by a superior officer with being afraid
of the Russian trenches, replied, ‘It ain’t the —— mud heaps, it’s the
—— that stands behind!’
The line depended on the forts for flank defence, and when these were
silenced, the struggle degenerated into a purely frontal one, in which
the immense superiority of our fire in accuracy told. It was, perhaps,
in its commencement, the nearest approach to an ideal skirmishing fight
we have yet had. Covered by the fire of every available heavy
gun—maintained to the last moment possible—our skirmishers crept in to
within the edge of the obstacles and entanglements, potting every
Frenchman as he showed his head, so that the working parties who
followed immediately behind could cut the wires, etc., at their leisure.
In places dense lines of abattis could not be thus easily dealt with,
but the value of these fell when once the flanks were turned; and when
the troops told off for the actual storm broke cover there was
practically nothing in front to stop them. We carried the place almost
at the first rush; then ensued many long hours of wood fighting, and at
the fall of night our outposts finally held the line, Dugny, Le Bourget,
Raincy, Neuilly. Many of the officers had been there before. We are now
within easy bombarding range of the city.
As I write a report comes in that great fires are raging in Paris. This
cannot be caused by our shells.
CLAYE, _June 28_, 9 P.M.
All firing has ceased at the outposts. A report is current that a
_parlementaire_ with a white flag has come in, and an armistice is
looked on as certain.
LATER.
The report is confirmed. An insurrection has broken out in the city; the
Government is deposed, and some members of it massacred. We are moving
forward to the line of the old forts which will be given up to set free
the garrisons to act against the Commune, and from them we hold the
whole city at our mercy.
BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN BULGARIA.
DECISIVE DEFEAT OF THE RUSSIANS.
LONDON.
At length we have great news to report from the British Army. A great
battle has been fought and won. Nay, more—the whole Russian Army in
Bulgaria, caught like rats in a trap, has, after two days of fierce
fighting, laid down its arms. It will be seen, therefore, that the
British Army has, after all, not turned up in Asia Minor, but in
Bulgaria. All the rumours and apparent demonstrations which led to the
belief that a great campaign in Asia Minor was intended, were merely
designed to distract attention from the real objects of the expedition.
Those who are familiar with Lord Wolseley’s methods now profess to have
been always made suspicious by the fact that, as we reported in our
issue of June 4th, he had been talking a great deal of the advantages of
a campaign in Asia Minor. They say that it is notorious that he holds
strongly to the belief that what is supposed in your own army to be
about to happen will soon be believed by the enemy. He succeeded in this
way in imposing on Arabi so completely during the ’82 campaign, that
(extraordinary as it may appear) the Egyptian leader was a prisoner in
Ceylon, when he was for the first time made acquainted with the great
movement of the English expedition from Alexandria to Ismalia. Lord
Wolseley then succeeded in deceiving Arabi because he had imposed upon
the world at large, although precisely in a similar manner he had, by
spreading reports of a call from Captain Glover during the Ashantee
campaign, managed to embark his troops for the surprise of the coast
towns from which the Ashantees were drawing their supplies, without any
one suspecting the direction in which he was going to strike. The former
ruse had been forgotten, and caused no suspicion as to the second. If we
may judge by the comments of our contemporaries on the reports which
have been hitherto furnished of the war, they have been either very
discreet and loyal, or have been completely bamboozled. And yet it was
tolerably plain that the direction in which an English Army could at the
moment be most effectively employed was in clearing Bulgaria of the
aggressive force of Russians, which, from the peculiar circumstances of
the case, she had not force to dispose of alone.
Seeing that it is immediately in behalf of Bulgaria, and only
secondarily in behalf of Turkey, because of the support she had offered
to Bulgaria, that we were engaged in the struggle, there was,
independently of the military advantages of the movement, an important
political object to be gained by exercising our strength at once in
support of the gallant Bulgarian forces. Even if it had been altogether
politically convenient to allow the Turkish Army to enter Bulgaria and
move upon Tirnova and Shumla, the material obstacles in the way were
very serious. On the other hand, twenty-four hours’ easy steaming would
bring our troops to the place at which the Russians had originally
landed. It was almost certain that as soon as the Russian General found
that our ships had again cut his communications by sea, he would abandon
his attempt to move upon Sofia and endeavour to make good his retreat by
the Dobrudja. From Kavarna we could easily cut across such a movement,
which it was to be hoped that the Roumanians would endeavour to delay by
every means in their power. It appears that Lord Wolseley, all the time
that he was at Constantinople, was in full and direct communication with
the Bulgarian Generals, and that all movements were concerted in
connection with them; while the Roumanians, assured of English support
both by sea and land, were ready to do their utmost to hamper the
Russian movements should any attempt be made, either from north or
south, to force the passage of the Dobrudja.
Without entering into further details, it will be sufficient to say that
Lord Wolseley’s delay at Constantinople was mainly in order to receive
the very latest reports from Bulgaria as to the exact position and
movements of the Russian Army. From the nearest point on the coast to
which telegraphic communication has been carried from Constantinople
swift dispatch boats were to bring off the cypher messages, either to
the fleet or to Kavarna, whence, as the army advanced inland, the news
would be carried. A second line of communication was also established by
way of Kustenjeh and Bucharest. Thus the General had the great advantage
of knowing more precisely than would usually be the case what the exact
movements of his enemy were. To a certain extent those movements were
tied. Detachments of too large force to be left to take their fate had
been placed to watch Shumla and Varna. From the reports which reached
Lord Wolseley, it was clear that the Russians having broken up their
camp at Tirnova were marching by way of Shumla—either intending to call
in their detachment from Varna and move from Shumla direct upon the
Dobrudja, or to advance upon Varna.
In either case, an immediate landing at Kavarna would apparently be out
of reach of any serious disturbance from the Russian forces until the
landing was effected, and was extremely likely to tempt the Russians to
move to attack us in that position. In that case, if we were only able
to hold our own in a position already examined and surveyed, it was
probable that our force would be amply sufficient to deal with the
Russians, even alone, and that within forty-eight hours the Bulgarians
who had undertaken to hang closely upon the Russian rear, might be
expected to arrive and make the position of the Russians impossible.
Immediately after the ships had passed out of sight of land, the whole
fleet changed its course to the N.-N.-West—and by mid-day following that
on which the fleet had left the Bosphorus the greater portion of it was
in the bay which extends from Kaliakra Cape towards Varna.
The landing had already been begun before our Correspondent arrived—but
he was fortunate enough to be allowed to join Colonel French’s Hussars,
who were landed soon after it was ascertained that the debarkation of
the troops would meet with no immediate resistance. This regiment was
pushed southwards, supported by a body of mounted infantry under Colonel
Hutton, the second day after the arrival of the troops, and as soon as
possible a couple of Horse Artillery guns, which were accompanied by
Colonel Marshall, with a small cavalry escort were sent after them in
support. The orders for the cavalry were to ascertain the condition of
affairs at Varna; if possible to capture a few prisoners, and, taking
advantage of the friendliness of the inhabitants, to endeavour to obtain
reports of the movements of the enemy.
THE BOMBARDMENT OF VARNA.
AERIAL WARFARE.
Our Correspondent’s description of this march is most interesting and
graphic, but we must abridge it in order to come to greater events. It
will be sufficient to say that they ascertained that the Russian
headquarters had arrived near Shumla without having had any news of the
landing of the English Army. The Russian Army was moving on Varna. The
Varna force had, however, evidently received orders to make an attempt,
if possible, to induce the town to surrender. Just as the cavalry
arrived on distant hills within sight of the town, they saw a balloon
hanging over it. This at first gave them some anxiety lest their
movements might be watched, and their position discovered. In a short
time, however, they had reason to perceive that the balloon was there
for a very different purpose. A sight, as our Correspondent describes
it, at once appalling and magnificent met their view. A black mass of
some kind was seen to drop from the balloon; as it about reached the
level of the tallest buildings in the place it suddenly burst into a
lurid glare which lighted up the minarets and pinnacles of the old
Turkish town. Its course was marked by crashing buildings and falling
ruins. It was evidently a dynamite shell of vast proportions, which had
been deliberately dropped from the balloon.
The object could only have been to terrorise the inhabitants by a cruel
and wanton destruction of property. If it had chanced on a magazine it
might have produced some effect upon the defence. As it was, it could
and did produce none. It indicated to the Englishmen who watched it,
rather the parting attempt of Russian hopelessness than a serious effort
of war. Nevertheless, a tremendous cannonade was simultaneously opened
from all the works near the town, and was not put an end to until some
of our ships, which had maintained communication with the garrison,
closed in, to within range of the works, and though at a considerable
distance threw such a mass of shells against the Russian field-guns that
they were glad to cease their fire and withdraw.
We give in our Correspondent’s words the next scene. ‘Not so, however,
the balloon. To our amazement we saw it deliberately change its course
over the town and steer in teeth of the wind, which was at the time a
comparatively light breeze setting seawards. As it reached the position
which it was evidently seeking—nearly over the magazines of Varna—we
again saw another shell drop out of the balloon, and as it burst on
reaching the buildings, what seemed like a universal conflagration of
all that part of the town, accompanied by frightful detonations and
explosions, showed the effect it had produced.
‘Colonel Marshall was standing next me at the moment, and exclaimed,
“Good God! I will tell you what it is; I remember hearing, just before I
left England, from an engineer named Delmard, that the French were in
possession of a war balloon capable of being steered backwards and
forwards even against a light wind, and that they had an arrangement by
which a particular form of shell, with a steel casing and some
arrangement of liquid oxygen and blasting gelatine, could be dropped
from the balloon. They expected great results from it, and must
evidently, as a special favour to the Russians, have sent this specimen
of the thing over to them.”
‘The evening sun had long set in the direction of Shumla. A crescent
moon had risen, and some brilliant stars shone in the sky. As we looked
over the undulating ground which separated us from the burning town, the
flames lighted up the ships in the offing to the east, making a picture
difficult indeed adequately to represent.
‘One thing, however, was clear to us, that the attention of the force
round Varna would be entirely occupied by the attempt to take advantage
of the destruction they had produced, which, disastrous as it was for
the inhabitants, did not seem likely, as far as we could judge, to
enforce any surrender.
‘The cavalry, finding themselves not observed, maintained their position
for the following day, sending scouting parties in all directions, and
reporting to headquarters.
‘This was the evening of the third day since the debarkation had begun.
Another cavalry regiment, with the remainder of the Horse Artillery
battery, had been sent up to support us; and early the following morning
Lord Wolseley, with several of his Staff, including Sir Baker Russell,
who is in command of the Cavalry Division, joined us. About 6 A.M. I was
looking down over the plain, when I saw two Bulgarian peasants
apparently in fierce altercation, coming up towards the position where
we were, escorted by one of the Hussars, who was vainly endeavouring to
make himself intelligible to them. Presently they came in, one of them
holding up a letter in his hand. One of the interpreters with Lord
Wolseley in a short time made out their story. It appeared that a
Russian officer, who had missed his way, had been seized and murdered by
the villagers in the place to which these two men belonged. One of the
Hussars had found them in possession of certain property of this
officer, and had noticed that a bag of letters was part of it. Being an
intelligent fellow, he had managed to make them understand that they
should accompany him to Colonel French. The letter the man was holding
up proved to be one of no importance, but it was only intended as an
indication of the purpose for which he had come. His companion had what
was evidently an officer’s sabretash, and on this being opened, several
letters were found in it, evidently dispatched from the Russian
headquarters to the commandant of the force before Varna. It informed
him of the fact that the English troops, which were reported to have
entered the Black Sea, were believed in Russia at the latest news to
have all gone on towards Trebizonde. It informed him further that the
Russian General proposed to make a direct march to the Dobrudja, and
gave him the different halting points on the march. It informed him of
the point at which he was to join the march, and told him that the
greater part of the Cossacks and the remainder of the Russian cavalry
would be required to watch the Bulgarian force, which, though inferior
to the Russians, and at some marches distant, might be expected to
follow up their retreat. It would therefore be necessary for the rather
considerable cavalry force which was attached to the troops at Varna to
protect the right flank, and to watch the advance of the main army when
it arrived. Without troubling your readers with the very ample
information which this dispatch conveyed, I may say generally that the
period at which the Russian Army, marching in two columns along two
roads at some distance from one another, would arrive at about the level
of Kosluji with its left column, was still about four days off. All this
information we received later. At the moment I saw Lord Wolseley
carefully reading through the translation of the dispatches as it was
put into his hands.
‘Admiral Markham had ridden out with the party, and the first person to
whom Lord Wolseley turned, after he finished, was the Admiral. A short
discussion took place between them, the nature of which I did not at the
moment hear, but which I have reason to believe related to the question
of the amount of transport and supplies that could be landed in the next
day or two. At all events, it was evident to all of us in a very short
time that the plans had been changed. Orders were immediately issued for
the march that afternoon of the three brigades which had first landed;
fortunately they were in the neighbourhood of Baltjik, so that they were
the nearest to Varna. The Cavalry, with the mounted Infantry, were at
once brought up, and extended so as to cut off all communication between
the main Russian Army and Varna.
‘Fortunately the country in this neighbourhood consists of a series of
undulating uplands, with numbers of features permitting the concealment
of large bodies of men.’
To tell the story as we now know it from various sources, the
opportunity which presented itself to Lord Wolseley’s mind as he read
the intercepted dispatch was just this. It was evident from the
information brought in by the Bulgarians, and from other sources, that
the Russians were still ignorant that an English force had landed in the
country. If he could immediately surprise the camp at Varna, he would
have at least a highly probable opportunity of breaking in upon the
Russian columns on their march, and annihilating one before the other
could come to its support; especially seeing that they were relying upon
the Cavalry of the Varna force to cover their movements. This was a far
more brilliant opportunity than that which had been at first hoped for
when the taking up a position, which would oblige the Russians to
attack, had been designed. The intention was for the three Infantry
brigades to move up that night in two marches into a position within
reach of attack of the Russian camp at Varna, and actually to make the
attack at grey dawn on the following morning.
Lord Charles Beresford was, according to arrangement, to land in the
evening with no particular attempt at concealment with a party of Blue
Jackets and Marines, and to arrange with the Bulgarian Officer in
command at Varna, for a sally of the whole Bulgarian garrison so as to
attract the attention of the Russians towards the Varna side at the
moment when our attack was made. Watches having been carefully compared,
three o’clock in the morning was fixed upon as the hour for the
simultaneous attack. The three brigades were to attack respectively the
right, left, and centre of the Russian position.
A powerful force of Artillery was kept back about two miles from Varna
in a favourable position in order to give support to our troops in the
event of any disaster. But it was to be a pure Infantry attack, not a
gun was to be fired, unless any of our troops were forced to retreat.
The sole duty of the Cavalry was to cut off fugitives and prevent any
knowledge of what had happened from reaching the Russian General.
We have reason to believe that some of the inhabitants brought off by
the fleet had supplied Lord Wolseley with most accurate information as
to the nature of the ground in the neighbourhood of the Russian camp,
and that this had given him considerable confidence in arranging the
details of the attack. Sir Evelyn Wood had charge of the whole of the
actual attack, and very great advantage was found to arise from the
practice in night marching which had been carried out under his orders
at Aldershot.
It cannot, however, be said that the fighting on this occasion was a
very severe trial for our troops. The British Army had to all intents
and purposes dropped from the clouds upon the Russians before they were
aware of its arrival. No very serious preparations had been made to
resist attack from the north since there was no reason to anticipate
troops coming from that side. The surprise the following morning was
complete. That is to say, not that the Russians were caught in their
beds, but that the English troops fully organised and ready for the
attack were upon them, and into their lines, before the Russians had
been able to prepare any organised resistance.
Only on one side, where an active Russian General had cautiously
entangled the front of his position with obstacles, was the right
brigade checked for a time, and, though some losses were occasioned
here, the general effect of the attack on all sides of the Russian
position, and the numerous places in which the works had been entered
made it impossible for the troops who had resisted the attack of the
right Brigade to hold out for any length of time. The Russians fought
most gallantly, yet showed very little power of acting for themselves in
a case where superior orders could not reach them.
ROUT OF THE RUSSIAN ARMY.
THE RELIEF OF VARNA.
By noon the whole of the works were in our hands, and as the Cavalry
intercepted all who attempted to make their escape, the Mounted Infantry
holding all such places as were inconvenient for the Cavalry, we had
every reason to believe that no one had escaped to tell the tale. The
slaughter on neither side was very great, the Russian position being,
from the beginning, so obviously hopeless, greatly outnumbered and
surprised as they were, that nearly 10,000 men laid down their arms. The
prisoners were the following day embarked for Constantinople,
considerable supplies and very valuable transport waggons, horses, and
mules fell into our hands. To make assurance doubly sure, Lord Wolseley
had brought up a fourth of Sir Evelyn Wood’s brigades nearly to the
position occupied by the batteries. Meantime, on the same morning that
the fight was going on, nearly the whole of the remainder of the force
had marched to occupy the high lands which overlook the two roads
leading up from Kosluji and Varna upon Bazardjik.
It was evident that, assuming the march of the Russians to be carried
out in accordance with the captured dispatch, the two Russian columns
would, during a certain period of their march, be not only some ten
miles apart, but be separated by some very difficult country. And,
moreover, that as the roads converged towards Bazardjik, an English
force occupying the uplands would have its two portions much closer
together than the advancing Russians. A valuable capture of the papers
of the Russian General in command at Varna showed that a duplicate of
the intercepted dispatch had reached him the previous day. Apparently a
reply had been prepared, but none as yet sent off. This indicated the
movements he was intending to adopt in order to join the main force. As
it had been ascertained that Kosluji, though not as yet in the
possession of the Russians, was in telegraphic communication with the
Russian headquarters, it was resolved to repair the telegraph, which had
only been cut by the peasants between Kosluji and Varna. As soon as this
was done a telegraphic dispatch was sent through in the Russian cypher
to the General commanding, ‘Yours of the 10th, Cavalry will be pushed on
to cover right flank, and advance of army on Bazardjik. The Infantry and
Artillery will join rear of column after the right column has passed the
junction.’ The British forces were now distributed as follows: Of the
Duke of Connaught’s Corps, the right division occupied the high ground
which the road from Kosluji towards Bazardjik crosses shortly after
passing Kosluji. The second division similarly occupied the high ground
above the Varna-Bazardjik road. The Artillery of the entire army was
concentrated on the high ground in such a way as to be able to bring its
fire upon the columns debouching from the roads. The whole of Sir Evelyn
Wood’s Corps lay in a position between Varna and the high ground, ready
to attack the right column as soon as its march should be sufficiently
developed to give an opportunity. Advantage had been taken of the number
of captured Russian uniforms in the camp at Varna to put up dummy
sentries, so as to leave the impression from a distance that Varna
encampment and neighbourhood was still held by the Russians. The whole
of the ground over which the fight was likely to take place was
carefully reconnoitred beforehand. On the morning of June 14th the
Russian right column, which, having a considerably longer march to
perform, moved off first, had arrived at the point where the road turns
sharply to the north leading towards Bazardjik, when a party of
Cossacks, who had been sent on to communicate with the cavalry from
Varna, which was supposed to be before them on the road, galloped in and
reported that they had been stopped on the road in crossing the
mountains by finding that the path was blocked with some felled trees
and abattis. Supposing this to be the work of some Bulgarian insurgents,
the General ordered forward a battalion of Infantry and a couple of
guns, and allowed the column to resume the march. Shortly afterwards
some Cossacks who had moved towards Varna rode up to some supposed
friends in Russian uniform, were captured, and not allowed to return. No
alarm therefore was excited on this side. As, however, the battalion of
Infantry moved up to the abattis in order to remove it, they were fired
upon by unseen foes, and many of them fell. A brigade was now ordered to
advance and clear the ground. As it moved forward within close range of
the hills it, too, was received with Infantry fire from unseen foes.
THE BATTLE OF KOSLUJI.
ROUT OF THE RUSSIAN ARMY.
The dispatch from our Correspondent of June 18th, published last week,
stopped abruptly at the moment of describing how the column of Russians
was advancing into the ambush cleverly laid for them by Lord Wolseley.
In the following dispatch he continues the narrative:—
As yet not a shot had been fired by the artillery or by any of Sir
Evelyn Wood’s troops, whose position was absolutely unknown. The column
was now halted in considerable confusion.
The General commanding the Russian brigade, uncertain as to what he had
in front of him, did not like to commit himself to an attack without
previous preparation by artillery, and asked to have some artillery sent
him. Six batteries were brought out in succession from the column on the
road at a gallop, and began to shell the heights.
Uncertain as to what they were firing at, they produced very little
effect, and none of the guns on the hills replied to them. Meantime the
column on the road was in the greatest confusion. A fresh brigade was,
however, gradually formed out of it, and moved up towards the right of
the road. A third brigade was to be seen also moving up in support of
the other two. As the right brigade moved up in successive lines towards
the heights, its right came within easy range of the position in which,
concealed behind a long line of under-feature, Sir Evelyn Wood’s
advanced division lay. When the rear of the brigade had fairly passed
beyond his left, a withering volley, followed by magazine fire, was
poured into it from the whole line of the division.
Staggered by the unexpected blow, the brigade fell into confusion. Sir
Evelyn, seizing the moment, advanced the whole division, having given
orders beforehand that the men should be kept in hand as much as
possible; and that instead of a skirmishing attack, which was quite
unnecessary under the circumstances, lines at least of companies should
be kept together as much as possible.
The Russian brigade, though taken in rear as well as flank, endeavoured
for a moment to present a front in the new direction. As they did so the
guns from the high ground for the first time opened, tearing through the
Russian ranks in all directions. Under the double storm, taken in flank
whichever way they turned, the brigade gave way, and was followed
closely by the leading division of Sir Evelyn’s Corps.
The Russian brigade next on the left began immediately to attempt to dig
in order to form a rallying point for the flying brigade, but,
overwhelmed by the fugitives, fired into from the heights, and pressed
by the pursuing division, they too broke, and carried confusion amongst
the guns.
The whole of the troops that had debouched from the road were now little
better than a confused mass, unable to act with effect, and suffering
appallingly from the cross fire directed upon them by Sir Evelyn’s
troops and those on the hill, whose fire was now continually increasing
in intensity.
[Illustration:
THE BATTLE OF KOSLUJI: SIR EVELYN WOOD’S ATTACK ON THE RUSSIAN FORCES.
]
The remainder of the Corps, with little space to deploy, and whelmed by
the mass of fugitives, was huddled back upon the road. At this moment a
pre-concerted signal from Lord Wolseley directed Sir Baker Russell, who
with the whole of the cavalry, less Colonel French’s regiment which was
on the extreme right, had been placed near Varna to the left of Sir
Evelyn’s force, to charge into the confused mass which now represented
the right corps of the Russian Army. Enormous numbers of prisoners were
taken, and sent back promptly to Varna to be embarked on board ship.
Meantime the left Corps of the Russian Army had begun its advance along
the other road towards Bazardjik, but before it approached the heights
the news of the disaster which had befallen the right corps reached the
General. Though at first his intention had been to attempt to out-flank
the position opposed to him on the English right, in order to relieve
the pressure on his own right, the rapid progress of the disaster of the
right made him change his determination. With his intact Corps he took
up a position to cover the retreat of the remnants of the broken Corps.
Practically only one English division, besides the cavalry, had been
seriously engaged. From the nature of the case the losses had been
comparatively small. Smokeless powder had told altogether in favour of
the English in the action.
[Illustration:
MAP OF THE FIGHT NEAR VARNA.
Facsimile of Sketch from our War Correspondent.
]
Practically the fate of the Russian army was decided. Lord Wolseley was
in full communication with the Bulgarian General, who, with a force
between forty and fifty thousand strong, had been following close upon
the heels of the Russians. There could be no hope that, with their
diminished and discouraged troops, the Russians would be able to defeat
the English forces, against which with their intact army they had failed
on the previous day. Nor could they turn on the Bulgarians without
having both armies upon them at once.
To avoid useless slaughter, the Russian General forty-eight hours later
agreed to lay down his arms. As soon as the Russian army had given up
its guns and was no longer in a position to act effectively, the English
army marched back to the coast, and, according to our latest
information, a considerable part of it had already embarked and sailed
in an unknown direction.
Lord Wolseley, with Admiral Markham and their Staffs, have returned to
Constantinople, doubtless in order to be in communication with Ministers
at home, the Ambassador, the Sultan, and other sources of information.
It is only fair to a gallant enemy to say that the startling success
which has attended our arms is, apart from the gallantry of our soldiers
and the skill of the General who led them, to be attributed to the
enormous advantage which is possessed by the Power that commands the
sea.
From the moment that our fleet cut off the communications of the Russian
Army, the Russian General was in a position, such as in our time can
rarely happen, of being completely deprived of all means of knowing what
his enemy was doing, while, on the other hand, our own Commander was
able to obtain information far more accurate than is common in war of
everything that his opponent did. No other Power in Europe could have
reached and destroyed with the same ease and certainty that dangerous
Russian force, susceptible of indefinite increase, as long as Russia
held the sea. Meantime, speculation is rife as to the direction in which
our army is next going to strike.
ENTHUSIASM IN CAIRO.
DEPARTURE OF THE ENGLISH TROOPS.
(_From our Special Correspondent, Mr. Francis Scudamore._)
CAIRO, _May 8_.
For the past two days the entire populace of this city has lived in a
state of frenzied excitement, to which the seething clamour of the days
immediately following the memorable 15th September 1882 is only faintly
comparable. Then it was, with the arrival before the gate of the citadel
of Sir Drury Lowe and his cavalry brigade fresh from Tel-el-Kebir, that
England’s peaceful occupation of Cairo began. There were no Europeans in
Cairo at the time, and even the better classes of Egyptians had either
fled to distant parts of the country or lay hidden in their spacious
houses, closely barred against intrusion by friend or foe. Demonstration
of popular feeling was confined to the astounded and panic-ridden
natives of the lower orders, whose bewildered minds swung for a week
between fearful anticipation of the horrors they had been taught to
expect at the hands of the English, and trembling delight that the reign
of terror under Arabi and Toulba had at length come to an end. They
needed time, these stricken, starving people, to discover the state of
their feelings; to decide whether they were pleased that foreign aid had
come to them, or were only glad to know that Arabi had fled, and would
soon be in prison; and in their indecision, for two whole days and
nights dense crowds of wandering Arabs, Fellaheen, street merchants,
clerks, donkey-boys, and small officials, thronged the European quarters
of the town, ceaselessly jostling each other through the streets, and
murmuring repeatedly, ‘The English have come. The Effendina is coming.’
That was ten years ago. During those ten years the English soldiers and
the Cairenes, both natives and foreigners, have learned so well to know
and appreciate each other, that when it leaked out (who shall say how)
on Sunday evening that orders had been received for the immediate
embarkation of all the British troops in garrison here, the announcement
clanged like a tocsin through the startled town.
Once again the Frank quarter was filled with an anxious wondering mob,
formed not of Arabs only, but of all the varied nationalities that make
up Cairo’s thriving population, who roamed the broad streets round the
Esbekeeyeh Gardens, silent, orderly, and sad, or gathered in
tight-packed masses in front of Shepheard’s and the New Hotel, and the
Sporting Club, and lingered for hours in slowly changing thousands in
the great square facing the Abdeen barracks.
It was near midnight, and the moon was high, when the news became
generally known. The band of the Alexandria Regiment had for some time
ceased playing in the Esbekeeyeh Gardens, and nearly all English
soldiers were back in barracks. Some few men, however, who had twelve
o’clock leave, were still abroad, and as, on their way home, they
shouldered through the throng—wondering, no doubt, what could be the
matter—they were instantly seized upon by scores of eager well-wishers,
delighted to find an outlet for some portion of the cordial enthusiasm
pent up within them. Of one of these spontaneous outbursts of affection
towards ‘Thomas Atkins’ I was myself a witness. I was standing with
other Englishmen and ladies on Shepheard’s balcony watching the shifting
masses of the crowd below, when suddenly there arose, some way up the
street—beyond the British Consulate—a wild confused noise of cheering.
It was a queer kind of cheer, such as could probably be heard nowhere
else in the world—a strange blending of the Zughareet of Arab women—the
guttural Fellah Hàgh, the Italian Viva, and the Greek Huzzah, with a
leavening of Levantine squeal; but the outcome of the mixture was
sufficiently startling to make us turn—for a moment anxiously—in the
direction of the sound. Then the crowd before us took up the cry, and
quickly pressing back on either side of the way, left room for the
passage of the most extraordinary procession it has yet fallen to my lot
to behold.
[Illustration:
SCENE OUTSIDE SHEPHEARD’S HOTEL, CAIRO: TOMMY ATKINS ABOUT TO QUIT
EGYPT.
]
First, leaping in a frantic dance such as one sees here at weddings and
religious festivals, came some score of sayces, their lawn sleeves
flaunting as they waved their arms, and their gold-broidered waistcoats
gleaming bravely in the moonlight. Their usual cry of ‘_Shmarlek,
Gemeelek_,’ was interrupted now by hoarse shouts of ‘Inglis, Inglis,
long live the Inglis!’—shouts which the crowd readily took up.
Immediately behind them paced a tall, half-naked negro, who—such is the
length to which enthusiasm will carry these fanatics—held outstretched
before him (a sacrifice to friendship), his brawny right arm transfixed
by a long knife, from whose blade his blood dripped freely to the
ground. A carriage followed—an ordinary hack victoria, captured,
doubtless, close by—round which a frenzied mob surged, yelling and
gesticulating madly. There was no driver on the carriage. The box-seat
was occupied by a mandolin player and a harpist, whose fingers were very
busy, though of their music not one note could be heard. In the victoria
were the objects of the demonstration, two English soldiers, one of
whom, while preserving his good temper, was struggling manfully though
vainly against a dozen pair of hands that held him in his place, and
loudly declaring in words as unavailing as they were forcible that he
was due in barracks at midnight and could not ‘stay fooling’ any later.
His protest was disregarded, and his comrade, who had apparently
succumbed to the hospitality of a burly Greek who faced the pair, on the
Strapontin, nursing a huge demijohn of some pernicious liquor, gave him
no help, expressing neither approval nor condemnation of the
proceedings, and, indeed, but for the tender ministrations of an old
äalem in a saffron robe, who stood on the step beside him, he would
probably have fallen out into the road.
The motley carnival passed slowly into the night; the shouts softened in
the distance and then died away; but the crowd, silent again, remained
staring vacantly at the hotel windows. As I turned from the balcony
railings a quiet native spectator on the pavement beneath me looked up
and spoke in Arabic: ‘Ah, Hawaga,’ he said, ‘Toufik Pasha has gone;
Allah rest him! Now the English are going—evil days are coming.’
Throughout Sunday night and during the whole of yesterday the great
crowd filled the streets. Even the announcement made yesterday afternoon
that, although the English soldiers were called suddenly away, their
Indian brothers-in-arms would replace them, failed to satisfy the public
mind, or to remove the painful impression it had received. In some vague
way the feeling of the native populace was that, though the Indian
troops might be soldiers of England’s Queen, they were not the English
they had known; the English who wore yellow clothes, and blue goggles,
and hats with towels on them, and who paid so well for donkey hire, and
bought so freely in the bazaars, and were so easily persuaded to accept
bits of imported blue glass as valuable turquoises, ‘and wonderfully
cheap.’
With very few exceptions all British troops were confined to barracks
yesterday—not so much on account of their preparations for departure,
for ever since the reinforcement of the garrison the commanders of
regiments have been held in readiness to entrain in two hours after
receipt of orders—but in order to avoid the repetition, on probably a
very large scale, of Sunday night’s demonstrations. The natives,
therefore, were fain to be content with standing in thousands outside
the barrack-yard gates gazing at the busy scene within, while from time
to time some English-speaking donkey-boy would accost the impassive
sentries on behalf of himself and friends with some such speech as, ‘You
going, Missa Soja, Arab prenty solly.’
Thanks to the energy and foresight of the Commander-in-Chief in
carefully policing the whole length of the canal with troops from Suez
to Port Said to prevent any such apt accident as the sinking of a
dredger in a narrow part, the transports suffered no delay. Each
ship—there were eight (chartered vessels of the P. and O., British India
and Orient Lines)—on reaching Suez landed the troops she had brought
from Bombay and passed on into the Canal, employing the time of her
passage in cleaning up for the reception of the English regiments at
Alexandria. The Indian brigades are for the moment encamped on the Sweet
Water Canal, pending dispatch to their several stations.
The British troops were entrained to-day at noon. Two Soudanese and one
Egyptian regiment lined the entry to the railway station as a guard of
honour. The young Khedive himself, accompanied by his brother, Mehemet
Ali Bey, and followed by Zulfikar Pasha and many of the court
functionaries, drove to the station to bid them farewell, and arriving a
few moments before the first of the departing regiments, caused his
carriage to be so placed that the men must march past it. As each
regiment passed him, His Highness, who had alighted and stood beside the
victoria, saluted, and said repeatedly ‘Good-bye, gentlemen,’ in
English. To entrain the troops took, of course, some little time, and
the —— remained a while in the small square outside the station while
their comrades were taking their places in the coaches. His Highness,
who looked very grave and had spoken but briefly with Sir Evelyn Baring
and other English gentlemen present, had entered his carriage, and the
sayces had leapt to their places before it, when suddenly a voice
shouted, ‘Three cheers for Abbas Pasha.’ Who the enthusiast was I do not
care to guess; but the cry was taken up eagerly. Despite discipline,
despite etiquette, against propriety even though it was, a mighty cheer
burst from the waiting troops round the royal carriage, and was echoed
from within the station with redoubled volume.
The Khedive seemed for a moment overcome. Then he drove quickly away.
The farewell of the native populace to the troops as they marched
through the streets was pathetic in its earnestness. By a purely
spontaneous motion all Cairo had gathered wherever it could to wish the
Englishmen ‘God go with you.’ The passage of the regiments was marked by
innumerable incidents showing the affection in which the men were held
and the genuine distress of the people at their loss. A typical instance
of this native enthusiasm is worth recording. In the —— regiment—I
purposely avoid naming it—for some time quartered in the Citadel, is a
turbulent giant known as ‘Mad Donald’—a long service man, greatly liked,
known for gallantry in the field, and steady enough on parade; but who
has twice lost his stripes for drunkenness. For he is not content to be
passively drunk, but must also be violent. Under the influence of
alcohol destruction becomes his ruling passion. In his periodical
outbursts Donald has been a terror to the many street merchants whose
displays of fragile wares cumber the Er Rumeyleh Square, at the head of
the Mooskee. He has overturned their tables, made wholesale havoc of
their goods, and fought the crowd with the trestles of the spoiled. His
chief enemy and victim has been an old dealer in gaudy crockery and
glass ornaments, whose entire stock he has several times reduced to
shivers, and then danced upon the wreck, defying the police. Yet to-day
as the —— marched by, with stalwart Donald leading man of his company,
this old man dragged his table forward, crying, ‘Ya, Donal; ya, Donal;
break something for luck’—and was quite distressed at the tall soldier’s
smiling disregard.
When the last train had steamed out of the station the immense concourse
of people who, on either side of the line, had for an hour yelled
farewells, fell once more to silently pacing the streets, where they
still remain at this late hour. I have been for long among them and am
forced to say that what was indicated to me on Sunday night by one man
is now the prevailing sentiment of the multitude, ‘The English have
gone—the Effendina will go soon—evil days are coming.’
ALEXANDRIA, _May 28th_.
You are aware that the English garrison was detained in the
neighbourhood of Alexandria, and was largely reinforced by other troops
forming part of the Eastern Expedition. Among the exciting events taking
place in other parts of the world there has been nothing here of
sufficient interest to occupy your columns. The troops have been waiting
for orders to embark, which came immediately after our great naval
victory.
All the regiments embarked to-day, and five of the transports have
already started. Their commanders have sealed orders, but we fancy here
they are bound, in the first instance, for Cyprus, and then to take part
in a movement against Algiers, unless, indeed, they are bound for the
Black Sea. You will probably know their destination sooner than we
shall.
FRENCH INTRIGUES IN EGYPT.
RISING OF THE MAHDISTS.
(_From our Special Correspondent, Mr. Francis Scudamore._)
CAIRO, _June 3rd_.
You have heard from other sources of Sir F. Grenfell’s reappointment to
the command in Egypt, and of the fact that he had undertaken that, if a
certain number of Indian troops were sent to him, he would be
responsible for the safety of Egypt, although all the garrison then in
occupation was sent to join the Eastern Expedition. My last letter from
Alexandria informed you of the departure of these troops. I may add that
the Brigade of Indian troops sent to our support had landed two days
previously at Suez, and had been moved up to Cairo during my absence.
Yesterday they marched past the Khedive in the square of the Abdeen
palace. Their splendid appearance recalled the impression which had been
produced by the contingent from India which had in the same square
marched past the former Khedive after the campaign of 1882.
We have heard of the arrival of the English fleet and part of the
expedition at Constantinople, and are anxiously awaiting further news.
We have, however, little time for reading. Our troubles at home give us
plenty of occupation. The European population of Cairo is made up mainly
of Germans, Italians, Greeks, French, and English. The French, to whose
ranks are added Coptic, Armenian, and Levantine _protégés_ and
sympathisers, greatly outnumber any of the other nationalities, and,
with some noteworthy exceptions, are not very estimable representatives
of their nation. To preserve peace and order among these excitable
peoples, whose countrymen are all cutting one another’s throats at home,
is no light task, and has, despite the precautions taken, occasionally
proved too much for all the powers of diplomacy, even when backed by
General Baker Pasha’s _gendarmerie_. On the first rumour of war Sir
Evelyn Baring and his colleagues, fully appreciating the dangers of the
situation, formed themselves, with some leading citizens, into an
International Peace Committee, of which the Prime Minister is chairman,
and agreed on various measures for the preservation of tranquillity in
the community. The first of these measures (and subsequent events have
shown its necessity) was the general prohibition to Arabs and Europeans
alike, from carrying weapons of any kind (including walking-sticks or
umbrellas) in the streets of Cairo or Alexandria. In 1882, between the
time (11th June) of the Arab rising and the bombardment (11th July), a
like prohibition did good service in Alexandria; but now, despite its
rigorous enforcement, there have already been several fierce encounters
between the hot-blooded French and Italians. The new French
Consul-General, I am forced to say, has given no help to the Peace
Committee, and has rather made it his business to frustrate their
counsels and mar their plans.
A very clever French journal, _La Dernière Nouvelle_, published since
the opening of the war, which daily prints marvellous accounts of
British, German, and Italian defeats, is notoriously concocted in its
entirety within the four walls of the French Legation. There are,
indeed, no Frenchmen in the community outside of these walls capable of
producing at once so witty and so scurrilous a sheet, or one so entirely
dependent for its news on the imagination of its editors. Their reports
are accepted by their own readers. None of the more accurate accounts
from other sources are believed. But the arrogance and aggressive
attitude of the French colony and Consul-General, the vicious
blatherings of _La Dernière Nouvelle_, the nightly chanting by turbulent
members of the French community outside Shepheard’s Hotel and the
British Legation of ‘Malbrouque s’enfuit du Caire; On ne l’y verra
plus,’ and kindred versions of old songs adapted to the requirements of
the moment, together with the breaking of some dozens of English and
Italian heads in dark byways and noisy taverns, are, after all, but
minor matters, and very trivial as compared with the rumours of
impending trouble that reach us from the southern frontier. Our news
from the Nile outposts is grave.
The Khalifa Abdullah Taashi and the Emir Osman Khalid Zogal, who
commands at Dongola, have long been in communication with Cairo.
Indeed—since we are at war with France, it may as well be said—for years
it has been known in well-informed circles here, that leading members of
the French colony were in constant, though, thanks to General Grenfell’s
vigilance, irregular, correspondence with the Khalifa’s officers. Thus
there is no doubt that the Khalifa has been informed of the withdrawal
of the English troops from Egypt, and of their replacement by Indian
regiments. He has probably been assured that, owing to the general
conflict in Europe, Egypt can in no event hope for further
reinforcements from England. His opinion of the fighting value of Indian
soldiers is presumably low. The only operations in which Indian troops
have taken part in the Soudan were those near Suakim in March 1885
(M^cNeil’s Zareba and the Battle of Hasheen); and Osman Digna, in his
written reports to the Mahdi, claimed these engagements as decided
victories for the Ansar. The Khalifa, therefore, with some degree of
reason, considers the moment opportune for a descent on Egypt in force,
and for this descent he is making preparations on a large scale.
Colonel Wodehouse, who is at Wady Halfa, reports the existence at Ginnis
of a new Mahdist camp, formed within the past month, which now numbers
from six to seven thousand Tokuls. On the west bank, a smaller camp is
being formed at Dal. The Arabs daily scout in numbers right up to Sarras
and to the fort at Khor Moussa, on which they fire nightly. Saleh Bey,
the Sheikh of the Abadeh tribe, whose duty it is to guard the eastern
desert between Korosko and the Wells of Murat, has reported that last
week, having news of preparations for a forward movement at Abu Hammid,
he occupied Murat with a body of 250 men. He was attacked on the night
of May 29th by a large force of horse and camel-men, and after a hot
engagement, in which he had 57 men killed and lost 108 camels, he was
forced to abandon the Wells to the enemy and retreat to the
Bab-el-Korosko. The Murat Wells, he says, will not supply a force of 500
men for more than three days, and he, therefore, fears an advance on
Ongat and Haimur. A small body of Kababish tribesmen, the remnant of
that once powerful clan who, though for some time with the enemy, are
still loyal, have reached Halfa from Dongola, where they say great
preparations are being made for an advance. Daily small detachments of
Jehadieh and considerable bodies of Ansar arrive at Dongola from
Omdurman, and large supplies of provisions are being collected. Three
nuggars, laden with dhurra, were wrecked, they say, less than a month
ago, on the rocks near Barkhal. A good deal of doubt attaches to this
statement, but if it be true, it indicates a very early rise of the
Nile, for at this season, as a rule, the whole 140 miles of river from
Abu Hammid to Barkhal is a veritable maze of rock-strewn passages,
impassable by even the smallest boats. These tribesmen travelled by the
west bank, and say that from Dongola to Dal, the route was like that to
a fair.
The Sirdar starts for the front to-night, and kindly permits me to
accompany him. Colonel Kitchener expresses himself thoroughly confident
that his own troops are strong enough to cope with any forces the enemy
may bring to meet him; but a feeling of uneasiness in some high quarters
here, coupled may be with the fact that troops at Halfa and Korosko have
lately suffered severely from influenza, has caused some pressure to be
brought on him, with the result that it has been decided that the 17th
Bengal Native Infantry and the 29th Beloochees are to act under his
orders and co-operate with the Egyptian forces if necessary. They were
sent by train to Assiout yesterday afternoon, and have already started
for Assouan, Mr. Cook having undertaken their transport in flat-bottomed
barges, towed by steamers of four feet draught. My next letter will
probably be from Wady Halfa.
FIERCE BATTLE NEAR WADY HALFA.
FULL DESCRIPTION OF THE FIGHT.
WADY HALFA, _June 14th_.
The 17th Bengal Regiment reached here last night in four barges towed by
steamers, having made the distance in six days—without accidents—and is
encamped on the west bank, opposite Halfa. The Beloochees, one of whose
towing steamers ran aground near Derr, occasioning seven hours’ delay,
will probably be here to-morrow. We are still in uncertainty as to the
Arab plan of attack. The state of the river between Sarras and Semneh
has prevented the use of the armed pinnace for reconnaissance purposes,
and, although the Egyptian Camel Corps has repeatedly pushed forward
along the west bank to within a few miles of Dal, their Commander has
been able to gain very little insight into the enemy’s movements. It
seems likely, however, that the Emir’s attack will be made on the east
bank, but against what point between Sarras and Korosko it will be
directed, there is as yet no sufficient indication.
Sheikh Mustapha Gibran, who, with 150 men, occupies the Selima Oasis in
the western desert some sixty miles inland from Dal, reports that, with
the exception of a party of some fifty camp followers who came out to
Selima in the beginning of last week apparently to obtain salt, he has
been unmolested. On the east bank an attempt was made three days ago, at
a reconnaissance into the Batn-el-Hagar, or ‘Belly of Rock,’ which
borders the river between Sarras and the wells at Ambigol, forming an
almost impassable barrier to troops. The enterprise was near resulting
in the annihilation of the reconnoitring party; for the rocks were found
to be full of Arabs, who sprang up on every side to the attack.
Fortunately their dash was made too early, and Captain Beech was able to
retire in good order, but with a loss of four men. We expect, however,
that a very few days more will discover the tactics of the Emirs.
WADY HALFA, _June 20th_, 6 A.M.
A decisive engagement was fought yesterday near this place, with
the result that after five hours of hard—in some cases of
desperate—fighting, during the course of which the issue was at
times uncertain, this latest tide of invasion has been rolled back
once more into the desert. The Arabs have suffered terrible loss.
Our own casualties, of which I have not as yet full particulars,
are, I regret to say, very considerable. The Arab attack was
intended to be a surprise, but this plan was partially defeated by
one of those simple accidents which occasionally upset the
calculations of commanding officers.
Leaving aside Assouan and Korosko, the defending forces in and around
Wady Halfa numbered, with details, medical staff, bearer companies,
etc., about 6500 officers and men. This is without counting the
navigating crews of the gunboats (armed with Krupp and machine guns), or
the Indian regiment still on its way up the Nile.
Early the day before yesterday, Captain Beech, with a company of the
Camel Corps, pushed forward on the west bank to within 200 yards of Dal
without touching the enemy. He reported Dal abandoned by the fighting
men (who had presumably crossed to the east bank), and occupied only by
several thousand women and camp followers, who fled on his approach. The
same evening the Colonel commanding at Korosko, telegraphed news of an
attack in force on the Irregulars at the Bab-el-Korosko, to whose
assistance he had sent the 5th Battalion Egyptian Infantry.
Almost coincident with the receipt of this news was the discovery of a
large Arab force in the hills east of Halfa. A small body of Cavalry,
under Lieutenant Abd-el-Azrak, scouting at the base of the hills,
suddenly perceived two mounted men (on camels) appear on a height,
while, at the same moment, a shot was fired. This was probably an
accident, but it was evidently regarded as a signal, for immediately,
with a great shout, men sprang up everywhere among the rocks. A heavy
fire was opened upon the Egyptians, and a body of some hundred Arabs was
seen to dash down a small scrub-clad khor towards the plain. Lieutenant
Abd-el-Azrak, who, in the first fire, had suffered a loss of two horses
killed and one trooper wounded, trotted back to Halfa (he was not
pursued), where the noise of firing had already announced his discovery.
[Illustration:
SOUDANESE ATTACK UPON A RECONNOITRING PARTY.
]
The Sirdar at once made arrangements to meet the impending attack.
Deberra was advised of the news by telephone. The 7th Battalion Egyptian
Infantry was marched to Dabrosa to reinforce the half-battalion there;
Sarras was warned to keep up steam on two engines, and hold the 11th
Soudanese in readiness to entrain if required; and, at the same time a
pilot engine, accompanied by half a squadron of Cavalry was sent forward
to examine the line. The enemy was apparently not ready, and, though he
would have had us at a disadvantage, delayed his attack.
All night long we could hear the noggaras beaten in the Arab bivouac,
and the air was so still that even the voices of the Fikis and their
congregations wailing in prayer were plainly audible.
In the grey of the dawn the Sirdar made a reconnaissance with all
mounted troops, and found the base of the first low range of hills
immediately opposite Halfa covered for a stretch of over a mile with the
enemy, whose irregular lines were sometimes two or three, and sometimes
a dozen or more, men deep. Behind them the heights were thickly crowned
with _rayas_ (banners), which we estimated at near a hundred in number
(we afterwards found they were eighty-seven). This implied that we had a
force opposed to us of near 10,000 Jehadieh (regulars), and probably at
least half as many Ansar.
One of these _rayas_ was pointed out by a deserter as the green banner
of Ali Wad el Helu, while another was said to be that of the Emir of
Emirs, Abd el Maula el Taashi himself. On a height near this banner the
enemy had mounted a brass gun.
Everything being reported clear on the west bank, where for miles no
trace of an Arab force was to be seen, the Bengal regiment was brought
across the river at dawn in native boats, and half-an-hour later the
11th Soudanese arrived from Sarras. With the force thus at his disposal,
in all some 4000 men, the Sirdar decided to draw the enemy to an attack.
The hills lie about four and a half miles east of Halfa, extending for
some distance in a line parallel with the river bank. For about two
miles, however, from the slopes, the ground is irregular, much broken,
filled with deep pits and sudden ledges which would be as eminently
suitable for the enemy’s favourite tactics as it were unfavourable for
operations of troops. The Sirdar, from the position he had taken up at
the beginning of this broken ground, ordered forward the two guns of the
Horse Battery, which opened fire on the enemy’s position at 6.30 A.M.
This soon had the desired effect; the Arabs—after endeavouring to reply
with their gun, whose fire, owing to the long range and their defective
ammunition, was quite ineffective—formed into two columns, preceded by a
long straggling line of skirmishers, and advanced rapidly. The guns now
retired a thousand yards, and the mounted troops having poured
(dismounted) a couple of volleys into the advancing spearmen at 400
yards range, slowly retired, still firing, on the artillery. This
manœuvre was twice repeated with every success, the well-directed fire
of the guns doing considerable execution in the enemy’s advancing host,
while the galling fire of the mounted troops irritated them to
forgetfulness of prudence. The fire of the Arab riflemen posted on the
first slopes of the hills and scattered in the broken ground at their
base did us less damage than it caused the enemy’s advancing lines; but
this did not appear to be noticed by the Arab commanders.
When the Horse Artillery had reached a point some 2000 yards from the
fort at Halfa, the Sirdar ordered out the 1st Infantry Brigade,
consisting of the Indian Regiment, the 12th Soudanese, and the
half-battalion 9th Soudanese, together with the 1st and 2d Field
Batteries (six guns in all).
The mounted troops were then ordered to make a _détour_ to the north to
prevent any portion of the enemy avoiding the battle and advancing
towards Deberra. At the same time, the 2d Brigade, consisting of the
11th Soudanese, the 7th Egyptian Infantry, and half-battalion of the 1st
Egpytian Infantry, were ordered to advance from Dabrosa to check any
movement towards the river in that direction. The guns of Halfa Fort
were able to do good service in support of the 1st Brigade.
Unfortunately the height of the river banks rendered the gunboats
useless until the enemy should reach the Nile itself.
The Arabs were fighting for water. Their long _détour_ round the
Batn-el-Hagar must have tried them severely, for though they had
probably found some springs in the hills, these would be altogether
insufficient for the wants of so large a force. When they saw the
disposition of the Sirdar’s troops they did not hesitate for a moment. A
force, roughly computed at about six thousand men, of whom some two
thousand were riflemen, and the rest spear and swordsmen, dashed forward
in a formation something like that of a Zulu impi upon the 1st Brigade,
which was at once formed into a square, with the guns about 200 yards to
its left rear. The Arabs made three attempts to rush the square; but
there was no cover for them in the open plain, and, though in their
second charge they succeeded in crushing in for a moment, by sheer
weight of numbers, the right front corner, the half-battalion of the 9th
Soudanese, which was in reserve, was able to fill the gap and repulse
the heavy mass of spearmen. Their signal failure ultimately counselled
them prudence. They did not as yet recognise their defeat, but drew off
into the broken ground, where they maintained themselves for some time
keeping up an incessant galling fire upon our ranks, despite our efforts
to dislodge them, and making from time to time dashes in force upon any
point in our lines that seemed weak. We had literally to hunt them from
cover to cover in this broken ground, and, I fear, suffered severely in
the process, as the advantages were with them. At length, however, after
three hours’ desperate fighting, they drew off to a position behind the
first low range of hills, and the brigade advancing poured volley after
volley into their retreating numbers; while the artillery shelled their
position, with, as we found afterwards, considerable effect. Meanwhile a
second body of Arabs in two divisions had made for the river bank, just
north of Dabrosa, at a point where, for a distance of some two miles,
palm groves and plantations, some hundred yards deep, fringe the bank.
While one division of spearmen hurled itself against the 2d Brigade,
which had advanced rapidly to meet it, the other gained the plantation,
from whose cover a heavy fire was poured both on the 2d Brigade and on
Dabrosa village. This success was, however, only temporary. The gunboat
_Abu Klea_ was able to bring its platform machine gun to bear on the
plantation with murderous effect; while, when he had repulsed the
division attacking him, which he did with great slaughter, Colonel
Wodehouse, commanding the 2d Brigade, detached a regiment to rake the
plantation from south to north; before whose fire some thousand Arabs,
the remnant of those who had gained this cover, were speedily in hot
retreat across the plain. These retreating stragglers the mounted troops
now steadily drove southward to the hills.
It was 1 P.M. before the day could be said to be ours. By this time the
whole plain was strewn with dead and wounded Arabs, many of them in
chain armour, many more in the parti-coloured Mahdi uniform, not a few
almost naked. When the Sirdar’s forces occupied the first range of
hills, we captured no less than thirty-seven standards whose Emirs had
presumably perished. All the afternoon deserters came in from the enemy
to give themselves up. From some of these men we learned that the force
was commanded by Abd-el-Maula himself, and that among the other high
commanders were the Emir Ali Wad el Helu, the Emir Khalid Zogal
(commandant of Dongola), and Wad Zubehr Rahama, the son of Zubehr, who
escaped across the frontier last autumn. Many hundred rifles, swords,
spears, and shields still litter the plain, where they are being
collected; and in the camp behind the hill were found no fewer than
fifty-nine noggaras or war drums.
THE FRANCO-GERMAN CAMPAIGN—RESCUE OF PARIS.
RETREAT OF THE GERMANS.
(_From a Correspondent in Paris._)
PARIS, _June 28_.
The situation is inexplicable. The foe is at the gates. The outposts
have been driven in, and it said that two of the forts have been
surrendered. All day long a great stream of vehicles, laden with every
imaginable article of furniture, and accompanied by crowds of
disconsolate citizens, has been pouring into Paris over every available
bridge. The Bois de Boulogne is a huge camp, and every tree along the
Boulevards serves as shelter to a suburban family. Yet the absence of
excitement is extraordinary. There has been a good deal of murmuring at
the interference of the Government with the Generals. Divided counsels,
it is said, and a refusal to give General de Saussier a free hand, led
to the defeats in Belgium. As usual, a mob assembled this morning in
front of the Tuileries, crying out for the deposition of the President;
and it is reported that a couple of Government clerks were somewhat
maltreated. But the demonstration was insignificant, probably the work
of German _provocateurs_, and the crowd of roughs and pickpockets
dispersed with the utmost rapidity when two squadrons of Gardes
Républiques were seen trotting down the Boulevard.
The execution of the seven Anarchist leaders three days ago has had a
very salutary effect. I have just had an interview with M. de
Freycinet’s private secretary. He has become positively bland at the
sound of the German cannon, distinctly heard beyond the river. To my
reflections on the gravity of the situation he replied, with a smile and
a bow, that although New York and Philadelphia were once occupied by the
enemy, yet the American Revolution was _un fait accompli_. As we were
speaking the President’s carriage passed at a trot, and I had a good
view of the cool-headed citizen who holds the anxious position of First
Magistrate of the Republic. He certainly displayed no symptoms of
anxiety, and I fancy the crowd that witnessed his progress found
something magnetic in his easy smile. Never in the piping times of peace
have I heard such plaudits as followed his equipage.
The same air of quiet confidence characterises all the members of the
Government whom I have met to-day. Whether it is justified or not, only
the future can reveal; but I may say that, notwithstanding the defeat at
Machault, the rapid advance of the Germans on the capital, and the
occupation of Rheims, the spirit of the French nation is untamed. My
military friends own frankly that at Machault they were fairly beaten by
superior numbers. The movement into Belgium, they say, was intended
merely as a demonstration, and the commander exceeded his orders in
fighting a pitched battle against great odds. As to the capture of
Rheims, they preserve a discreet silence; and the report of the
annihilation of two divisions near Bar-le-Duc is received with an
incredulous smile. Even whilst admitting the fact that many wounded men
have been abandoned to the care of the enemy, one of General de
Saussier’s aides-de-camp shrugged his shoulders, and remarked that they
would be none the worse for a short visit to the Rhine. _Nous verrons ce
que nous verrons!_
_June 29_, 6 P.M.
The President’s smile seems to have had some reason. The rescue of Paris
has been accomplished in as dramatic a fashion as that of Andromeda.
General de Negrier is the Perseus. At 2 A.M. the quiet of the summer
night was suddenly broken. Above the ceaseless rumble of the carts along
the Boulevards were heard the unmistakable sounds of battle, and the
eastern horizon was lit up as if by the northern lights. The weird
streamers of the electric lanterns in the forts struck quivering through
the darkness; and away beyond, the long rattle of musketry rose and
fell. Mounting in hot haste, I rode down to the Porte St. Mandé, but
could get no further. Very wisely, the road was kept clear for the
troops, should they be compelled to retreat, and in any case the long
train of ammunition tumbrils and ambulances left but little room for
enterprising civilians. The high parapet of the old _enceinte_ was
thronged with anxious crowds, a black, silent mass, gazing intently into
the darkness out beyond. At one time the roar of battle appeared to be
coming nearer. It may have been due perhaps to a change in the wind; but
the suppressed exclamations and the sudden impulsive movement showed the
pent-up excitement of the people. Then there was a lull; and then the
muffled roar was heard again, but distinctly further away, and even as
we listened, receding in the distance. It was at this moment that a
faint echo of trumpets and rolling drums was borne upon the breeze,
followed by the far-off sound of a mighty cry, the long shout of triumph
of a victorious onset; and a deep sigh of relief burst from the
close-packed thousands on the wall. It was not till day had dawned that
a staff-officer was seen galloping towards the Porte St. Mandé from the
battlefield; and we learned that the garrison of Paris had inflicted a
decisive defeat on their over-confident foe, and that last year’s
experiments in offensive operations by night around the capital had
borne their full fruit. As I write, ambulance after ambulance full of
wounded, and long columns of German prisoners, dirty, footsore, and
begrimed with powder, attest the severity of the fighting and the
completeness of the victory.
LATER.
I have had the opportunity of speaking to some of the German prisoners.
One of them, a gentleman whom I have often met in Washington and Boston,
says the troops were exhausted by the hard work of the previous days,
and believing the French were thoroughly cowed, were utterly
disconcerted by De Negrier’s sudden offensive. He blames the rashness of
the leaders in pushing on to Paris with large armies still in the field
on either flank of their communications. It appears that before the
attack took place news had been received of a great disaster to the
covering force of three Corps near Bar-le-Duc, and this was the Medusa’s
head which paralysed the German power of resistance. ‘Oh, for one hour
of Von Moltke,’ is the universal sentiment amongst the prisoners.
Another officer, a Bavarian, was much surprised at the reports of great
German successes in the East which have appeared in the English
newspapers. He declares that the French movements were merely
reconnaissances in force, in two instances pushed too far, and that the
Germans suffered very heavily. The number of prisoners taken by the
Germans has been very greatly exaggerated; the majority were severely
wounded men, and are a great source of trouble to their captors. This
officer appears to have little love for the Emperor, scoffs at his
‘divine mission,’ and hints that Bavaria, at least, is very weary of the
Prussian hegemony.
4 P.M.
The Germans are in full retreat. The force that last night threatened
the capital from the west has been heavily defeated by De Negrier. Paris
is itself again. A member of the Government tells me that General de
Saussier, acting on De Miribel’s advice, had resolved from the first to
allow the rash offensive of the enemy to have free play; believing that
the traditions of 1870 and the terrible strain of a double war on their
meagre resources would impel them to make a rush on Paris, in the hope
of finishing the war at a single blow. The Emperor seems to have
expected much from internal dissensions in France. ‘But,’ says the
Minister, ‘when the aristocrats condescended to become Republicans,
France became once more a nation. In 1870 we had our Federals and
Confederates, our Imperialists and our Radicals. To-day, political
differences mean as little as in America.’
ADVANCE OF GENERAL DE GALLIFFET.
SIGHTING THE ENEMY.
(_From an American Correspondent with the French Army._)
CHAUMONT, _June 29_, 10 P.M.
At length the embargo placed on all letters since the 30th of May has
been removed, and the correspondents are free to telegraph without
restriction as to matter or quantity. Since May the 25th, until ten days
ago, General de Galliffet’s magnificent army has been quiescent under
shelter of the strong camps of Langres, Epinal, and Belfort. Even our
cavalry has had little to do beyond sending out numerous officers’
patrols, north, east, and west. The General preferred trusting to a
strong screen of infantry outposts; and on their side the Germans,
though reported to be very strong in the neighbourhood of Bar-le-Duc,
have remained inactive.
It is surprising with what patience the French soldiery endured this
weary time of waiting; but the men have supreme confidence in the hero
of Sedan, and their intelligence is of a very high order. However, your
Frenchman is a restless being, and discipline was put to a severe test
when rumour of a German advance on Paris filtered through the camps. But
General de Galliffet, by most judicious orders of the day, exposing the
errors of the Germans in advancing without first securing their
communications, and enlarging on the strength of the fortifications of
the capital, appealed to the soldierly intelligence of the army, and not
in vain. Still, the fierce desire of the troops to meet their detested
enemies had been curbed almost beyond bounds by the 20th of June, and I
scarcely think, strong as the General is, that he would have dared to
delay movement for another day.
Long before day had broken on the 20th the march began; and for nine
days, over the magnificent roads which run through the rich pastoral
country west of the Moselle, the long columns moved past in the blazing
summer weather, their faces set northward, and their hearts longing for
the battle so long deferred. The splendid marching powers of the French
Infantry of to-day, as well as the high-training and experience of the
Staff, make the movement of 200,000 men and more than 700 guns a matter
of child’s play. The marches are long, and the dust stifling; but still
order and regularity are the characteristics of the great exodus from
the fortresses. The ambulances are empty, and, heavily weighted as they
are, the little linesmen in their long blue capotes and wide red
trousers swing steadily along, laughing and singing as the sun nears his
setting even more cheerily than when the fields on either hand were
fresh with the morning dew. Loud are the cheers that greeted the
General, active as the youngest subaltern of Hussars in spite of his
sixty odd years, as magnificently mounted, he rides slowly past the
regiments, with cheery word of greeting and encouragement to his sturdy
_fantassins_.
On the morning of yesterday reports came in from the cavalry, riding
more than twenty miles to the front, that the Prussians were also
advancing; and the same evening came the first presage of the storm: two
or three ambulances—full this time—and half-a-dozen captured Uhlans.
This sight stilled song and jest: a grim silence fell upon the columns,
and an air of fierce determination took the place of the eager
excitement which had hitherto lit up those mobile faces. The bivouacs
that night were very quiet; the men gathered in little groups round the
camp kettles, or sat apart in their shirt-sleeves, assiduously cleaning
their rifles.
Late last night, as I was turning into my humble billet, shared by two
officers of the Staff, in the Curé’s cottage at Maison d’Or, I received
a message from the Major commanding a Chasseur battalion, who had for
the past three days been moving forward with the cavalry, that he had
obtained permission for me to accompany him on the morrow. It was
unlikely, so my friends on the Staff informed me, that the armies would
come into collision, and if I joined _les petites vitriers_ I would have
an opportunity of seeing something of the cavalry fighting.
Before daybreak, therefore, I found myself in a tiny village consisting
of a church and half-a-dozen farm-houses, with substantial granaries and
gardens, and a single cabaret, in company with one of those battalions
_d’elité_ of the army, the _Chasseurs à pied_, who boast that the
cavalry can neither leave them behind nor do without them.
The village stands in the centre of a rolling valley nearly three miles
broad, running east and west, with a long ridge to the south and another
to the north, dotted with vineyards and potato-patches; but without
hedge, or wall, or ditch.
In the tower of the church, where I found a convenient loft and a narrow
window, I could see, through the morning mist, little bodies of cavalry
well to the front; and behind the village three regiments of Dragoons
were standing, dismounted beside their horses. Away to the north one
would hear at long intervals a shot or two, and messengers came riding
rapidly back to the brigade in rear. One thing struck me as curious;
although I was in the midst of the village, scarcely a Chasseur was to
be seen; and it was not for some time that I descried blue uniforms
lying behind the orchard walls, and now and then a _kepi_ was to be seen
at the windows looking on to the single broad street.
BRISK CAVALRY ENGAGEMENT.
As the sunbeams gained more power, I saw that the open slopes of the
opposite ridge, more than a mile and a half away, were covered with
little groups of horsemen, moving steadily forward, and apparently
pressing back our scouts. Even the isolated squadrons to the front began
to give back at a walk, when by the corner of a wood on the sky-line, a
sudden appearance of dark groups of men and horses, with white
electric-looking flashes, betokened the advent of a battery. The
explosion of the first shells awakes our cavalry brigade to action. A
couple of batteries disengage themselves from the mass of horsemen in
rear, and from a knoll to the left of the village our guns are soon
replying to the enemy’s challenge. Shrilly the trumpets sound. The
dragoons mount, and with jingling scabbards and tossing plumes trot away
to where a deep fold in the ground affords them better cover. This
movement is not unobserved by the German scouts; I can see them racing
back over the hill, and in a few moments, it seems, a dark mass of
horsemen appears against the northern horizon, the serried lances
standing out clearly against the cloudless sky. Again the shrill blast
of the trumpet, and our eighteen hundred dragoons are moving out to meet
the foe. With a rush and rattle the rear regiments take ground to either
flank, and the long sabres flash from their scabbards. The hussars are
retiring rapidly, away to the left of the guns, and the field is left
clear for the shock of the opposing masses. My blood tingles with
excitement. The sun glints bravely on the brass helmets of the
Frenchmen; the dark blue mass a mile away is gathering pace like the
mighty breaker of a stormy sea. The lances drop as if by magic, the long
line changes its direction, and then wheels inward. I can see the
officers turning in their saddles, far in front of their squadrons,
signalling with gleaming swords; a hundred seconds will bring them
together, when suddenly, to my horror and disappointment, the French
slacken speed, and, before I can realise the fact, have turned rein and
are riding past the village as if for their lives. Squadrons to the
right, squadrons to the left, and a troop or so clattering madly down
the ill-paved street. Far above the crash of iron hoofs and the rush of
flying squadrons I can hear the hoarse cry of triumph of the foe. Down
they come, heads and lances low, racing in pursuit. A last salvo, which
sends a score of horses stumbling in their tracks, breaks for a moment
the symmetry of that magnificent line, and hurls an officer helpless
beneath the thundering hoofs, and our batteries have limbered up and
dash frantically, with gunners plying whip and spur, across the plain.
They are lost, they are lost, so fast follows the foe, riding in furious
haste to gather the trophies of the fight. A great cloud of dust rises
before them, but I can see the faces of the men as the squadrons diverge
to pass the village, and note the laughter and the shouts of those
fair-haired troopers with the scales upon their shoulders. Suddenly the
leader, riding like Scarlett at Balaclava, twenty lengths in front,
leans back in his stirrups, checks his charger in his headlong career,
and throws his hand high above his head. The trumpeter beside him raises
the trumpet to his lips, but ere the notes ring out they are drowned in
a loud roar of musketry. I had forgotten the Chasseurs in the orchards;
the Germans had never suspected their presence. The surprise is
complete; the disaster overwhelming. Magazine after magazine is
unloaded, and thousands of bullets find an easy target in the seething,
struggling mass, just now advancing so magnificently in all the pride of
order and victory. Round the village the scene is indescribable. The
slaughter is terrible, and in a few moments the squadrons that had
passed unscathed on either side come flying back in the utmost disorder,
pursued on one side by dragoons, on the other by hussars. The valley is
covered to right and left with a dense crowd of horsemen, galloping in
all the excitement of the flight and the pursuit, whilst the German
batteries on the bridge pour shell after shell into the surging crowd,
regardless whether their mark is friend or foe. I have little time to
reflect on the skill with which the trap had been set and baited. My
friend the Commandant calls me from my eyrie, and before I had time even
to note the trace of the stirring events I had seen passing before me,
the Chasseurs are retreating from the village at a pace which puts my
Rosinante to the trot. Very soon we hear the jingle of the cavalry in
rear. The dragoons are retiring also, and as I look back across the
valley I can see the long screen of scouts falling back slowly across
the valley, so still and peaceful but an hour agone, and now strewn with
the awful _débris_ of the conflict. Such was the first phase of the
battle of the 29th of June. ‘_C’est un apéritif_,’ remarks the
Commandant.
GREAT VICTORY OF THE FRENCH.
FULL DESCRIPTION OF THE BATTLE.
The curtain is not long in drawing up for the second act, and on our
side at least the actors are ready for their cue. From the crest of the
ridge which we have now reached a brilliant scene is visible. A broad
expanse of verdant pasture stretches away to the placid river which runs
between the willows, past the white houses of the little town. Here and
there is a patch of woodland, a few stately poplars, and here and there
a vineyard. The white high road, with its leafy avenue of spreading
trees, now turned into telegraph poles, runs direct to the bridge. On
either side, in squares and oblongs, bright with blue and crimson, with
flashing bayonet and brazen helmet, rests an enormous army, and still
the never-ending columns of men and guns and waggons are forming up for
battle for miles away on every side. On the ridge which hides this huge
array from the advancing enemy are three batteries, filling the air with
uproar, and attracting volley after volley of Prussian shells. One can
hear the shrill whizz of the shrapnel, and turning again to the front,
we see that on the slopes below us the cavalry skirmishers, kneeling
amongst the climbing vines, are in action all along the line. The
Chasseurs have scattered along the crest, but there are no other
infantry visible. I cannot believe De Galliffet is napping. Above the
town rises a great yellow globe, swaying gracefully with every breath of
air, and I know that the General has a penchant for observing his enemy
from the vantage-point of the balloon. If he is really poised up there,
in the bright morning air, he must see those long sombre lines of
skirmishers moving slowly across the plain; those heavier masses
doubling rapidly over the opposite crest and moving down the slopes. He
must know that there are at least six batteries in action against us,
and that there are men bleeding to death beneath the tendrils of the
vines.
Still not a sign. A couple of Staff officers stand near those three
poplars on the hill; one of our batteries falls back, leaving a gun
behind. The cavalry begin to creep further up the hill, but not an
infantryman moves. The enemy has halted more than 1200 yards away. They
are lying in long rows athwart the valley, and the incessant movement of
the rifles, even more than the deafening rattle, tell us that they are
pouring in a heavy fusillade. Another battery to the rear, and yet
another; horses falling wounded in the traces: and then, as if at a
given signal, the long German lines press forward. Their heaviest masses
are away over yonder on our left, where that thick wood, with scarped,
quarried slopes below, terminates the ridge whereon we stand; and over
to the right, where a marshy brook, its stunted willows still shrouded
in mist, breaks through the ridge to join the river, we can see shadowy
columns moving in the far distance.
Another ten minutes, perhaps five, if the Chasseurs give way, and the
enemy will overlook the valley, the town, and the bridges—the bridges,
the most important of all. But even as apprehension gathers it is
dispelled. Turn your back for a moment and look to the south. The earth
is in motion. Long lines of guns are dashing forward at a gallop,
breasting the gentle slope, and driving the dust behind them in swirling
clouds.
Long lines of Infantry are already near the crest, and heavy columns are
rapidly moving up in rear. The unsuspecting Germans are little more than
a thousand paces distant when all along the brow, bare and solitary just
now, two hundred field-pieces come into action almost at the same
moment.
In a moment more the air is literally shaken by the rush and scream of a
hurtling storm of heavy metal; and, lying down in the intervals between
the groups of guns, the infantry sweeps the plain with volley after
volley. The cavalry has retired behind the hill; the vineyards are no
longer tenanted, and the vine leaves, cut by the sheet of bullets, fly
in the air as if blown upwards by the wind.
[Illustration:
FRENCH CAVALRY CHARGING THE PRUSSIAN INFANTRY.
]
The Prussians stagger beneath the shock. Lines shake and waver; here
give back, and there lie still and motionless; columns, though far away,
break and dissolve under the shrapnel, and then deploy in haste and
confusion; and, above all, the bright sun shines down without a wreath
of smoke to sully his radiance, or to hide his target from the rifleman.
Vainly the supporting lines of the Prussians are hurried to the front.
Impotently the cavalry ride forward. Their guns are already silenced.
The squadrons are checked by an inextricable tangle of falling men and
horses. The long line of infantry is no longer intact. Men are hastening
to the rear, not singly, but in groups. Officers stand out in front for
a moment, and then are seen no more save in shapeless huddled forms on
the dewy grass. The volleys of the French became more regular and
machine-like every moment. A mounted group reaches the hill. It is the
General, his Staff beside him, his _fanion_ at his side. They are too
far off to hear, but I can see De Galliffet pointing to the front, and
the infantry are already moving forward, swooping down upon their prey.
He must be an enemy of more than mortal courage who, decimated and
outnumbered, can withstand the swift yet steady onset of these trim,
regular lines of blue and red. And look, behind—there, in the interval!
A long array of tossing heads and nodding plumes. The Cuirassiers of
France! Let the infantry shake them; brave horsemen, your time is
coming! ‘_N’oubliez pas Reichshoffen!_’ yells a wounded corporal by my
side, and the mighty mass breaks into a trot, and across the plain they
dash, the horse artillery racing in their wake, whilst _viva_ after
_viva_ speeds their onset. The German cavalry, what is left of it, comes
gallantly forward to meet their antagonists, and, if possible, to save
their infantry. But it is too late. In a few moments the plain is
covered with a broken crowd of soldiers. Groups rallying round their
officers are swept away by flying horsemen or serried squadrons;
thousands are now struggling for the ridge; in the centre the
Cuirassiers are bearing all before them in the frenzy of the charge, and
on the flanks the infantry, with rattling volleys, sweep away the
_débris_ of the battle as leaves before the gale.
Before the French reached the ridge beyond, long after the cavalry had
retired to re-form, it appears that they met fresh masses of infantry
hurrying forward to the assistance of their comrades; but the impetus of
victory was too great to be withstood. The fresh troops became involved
in the disaster of their advanced guard, and long ere mid-day De
Galliffet was in secure possession of the second ridge, across which at
daybreak I had seen the Germans advance.
About the noontide hour both armies seemed, as it were by consent, to
allow a breathing space. It was as if some invisible Marshal of the
Lists had thrown down his baton. So here, behind the ridge, whilst the
blazing sun passed over the meridian, lay the columns of the French.
Over against them, in the rolling and open valley, but out of range,
were the faint, blue, wavy lines which marked their enemy’s position.
It was not till after two o’clock that I saw General de Galliffet—who
had been standing alone, looking intently towards the enemy and
impatiently beating his foot upon the ground—make a gesture of relief,
and turning sharp to his orderly dragoon bid him bring up his horse. At
the same moment the German infantry began to move. The artillery had
been for some time in action. A perfect hail of shells tore up the level
surface of the ridge, and our batteries were one by one retiring. Our
present line of infantry is several hundred yards behind the hill, down
in the valley, cooking their soup undisturbed by the shrapnel, and only
a few are called up now to assist the guns against hostile skirmishers.
On come the Prussians, but it is soon evident that the main attack is
not against our centre. Away to the left there, where General Jamont,
the trusted Commander of the 5th Corps d’Armée, holds watch and ward,
the sky is red with dust, and the thunder of the guns and the rattle of
musketry is threefold heavier than with us. I can see our troops moving
in the valley below, from centre to left, linesmen and guns, hurrying to
the point of contact. I am on the point of riding in the same direction,
when one of M. de Galliffet’s aides-de-camp suggests that I have already
a place in the stalls. ‘Down below,’ he says, pointing to the valley,
‘will be played the last agony of Prussia.’
The suspense is terrible. The volleys rise and fall, the roar of the
cannon swells and dies way. The minutes drag by on leaden wings. The
troops in our front are not advancing, even the Artillery seems lazy
this afternoon, and there, even there, where the red dust-clouds hang
over a hell of slaughter, the fate of a nation is being decided. It is
in vain I endeavour to imitate the imperturbability of the General, our
‘lance of iron,’ as the soldiers have learned to call him. A messenger
or two rides up, and is dismissed. There is not a sign on that impassive
countenance. Here is another, galloping at speed, grey with dust, and
horse foaming with haste. At last! The General straightens himself up.
He raises his hand to his _kepi_ with the golden leaves, as if he were
saluting a superior. Is it France or Fortune!
The Staff, throwing away their cigarettes, are all animation now.
Officers and orderlies gallop recklessly down the hill at break-neck
speed. There is a stir amongst those sleeping columns below. Men spring
to their arms. I can hear the harsh words of command, and note the
tricolours with their golden fringes given to the breeze. The long lines
ascend the hill. What has happened? The enemy in front is moving to the
attack: we shall hold the second ridge as we held the first. But no, it
is more than this. This time, as our guns come into action all along the
crest, our infantry do not halt beside them. There is no pause now.
Straight down the slopes they go, the shells screaming overhead, and the
little groups of tirailleurs halting alternately to deliver their biting
volleys. Here, sheltered by a friendly poplar, I can look down upon the
scene. ‘What worthy enemies!’ cries a little surgeon who has joined me.
‘What a struggle of heroes!’ And so it was—while life lasts I shall
never forget De Galliffet’s charge. Sixty thousand men, line after line,
were hurled against the German centre. And how bravely those Germans
fought! And now, looking back in cold blood, how needlessly were they
butchered! Exactly opposite where I stood, their infantry moved forward
with even more than the precision of a parade; in little squads, but
shoulder to shoulder, with all the rigidity of a birthday review. I
could even see the officers halting and actually correcting the
alignment. Needless to say, these living targets were riddled through
and through in the very moment of their pedantic folly. In the rear,
too, came lines of men, gallantly moving forward to beat of drum, with
that extraordinary, high-stepping pace which excites the ridicule of the
Transatlantic visitor in Berlin. How the veterans of our Civil War would
have scoffed at this slave-driver’s discipline! But even the veterans of
the Wilderness and Gettysburg would have admired the bravery of those
devoted Teutons. At 400 yards from each other the two lines came to a
standstill. Very irregular is the front; here the French are giving
back, and here the German officers are driving up their stragglers; all
are standing, there is no cover on that open plain; the French volleys
have dissolved into fierce individual fire, and the masses sway
backwards and forwards in that infernal din. Of a sudden, behind me,
sounds the blare of trumpets and the roll of many a score of drums. De
Galliffet’s reserve is coming up to decide the conflict, and as the
serried lines crowned the ridge, the Germans, battling fiercely in the
valley below, began to break. And then, whilst the setting sun, pouring
his red rays athwart the opposing hosts and striking radiance from the
golden eagles of the tricolours, sank slowly on that awful Aceldama, the
French army moved onward to its triumph. Wild and exulting were the
shouts that rent the air; far above the roar of battle and the clang of
drum and trumpet pealed the maddening cry for vengeance, and like a
tornado—with irresistible strength and order—the young soldiers of the
Republic swept down to obliterate the sorrow and the shame of 1870. Not
for a moment was the issue in doubt. With all the hereditary courage of
their caste, the German officers died in their tracks, disdaining to
give back a single foot; but the Cuirassiers were once more let loose,
the General himself directing their onslaught, and before darkness fell
not a single sound man in the German army but was far upon the road to
Metz. Our victory is complete; as I write, the cavalry is still pushing
the pursuit.
THE GENERAL SITUATION.
THE LIBERATION OF POLAND.
LONDON.
Since the great battles took place which ended in the falling back of
the Russian forces, events have followed in that region which have been
of the utmost importance, though the mere details from day to day have
not been of sufficient interest to chronicle. The Russian army in the
field, unable after its severe losses to oppose the far out-numbering
forces of its enemies, has adopted its traditional policy. It has
retreated into the interior of the country, leaving large garrisons in
Warsaw and Ivangorod. Germany has undertaken the siege of Warsaw,
Austria that of Ivangorod. The German and Austrian cavalry, which have
now asserted their absolute superiority over the Cossacks, have followed
up the retreating Russians far enough to completely separate the Russian
forces to the south of the great marsh region which stretches out behind
the great fortress of Brest-Litewsk from those in the north. A German
army is laying siege to Brest-Litewsk. The single line of railway which
connects that fortress across the marsh has been utterly destroyed for
an immense distance.
Meantime the two Governments, now in complete command of the open
country, have taken a political step which cannot but be received with
satisfaction by the civilised world. They have issued a proclamation
declaring their intention to erect Poland into a buffer State against
the aggressions of Russia, and have pledged themselves not to conclude
peace without guaranteeing its independence. The exact borders of the
restored kingdom have not been fixed, but it is apparently intended to
include Lithuania, and to stretch up to the borders of the marshes.
One important fortress has already fallen. The Germans, taking advantage
of the facilities which the rivers and the railways afforded them, have
brought up heavy siege artillery, with which they have bombarded the
defences of Novo Giorgiewsk. The effect of the cordite shells on parts
of the fortifications which had not been adequately prepared to resist
them, is described as amazing. These terrible instruments of
destruction, now first used in war, are said to have simply swept away
the solid defences of the place. The garrison was helpless, and after a
most gallant but hopeless resistance surrendered.
It appears to be only a question of time, and not a long time, before
the same process is applied to Warsaw. Indeed, the confidence of the
Germans in this respect has put an end to what threatened to be an
appalling tragedy. On leaving General Hashkoff in command at Warsaw,
General Gourko had ordered him to expel the whole civil population of
the town. This measure was adopted, not merely because of the notorious
sympathies of the inhabitants with the invaders, but because Warsaw has
been crowded with such immense numbers of disabled soldiers, and the
place had been filled to such an extent by fugitives at the time when it
was invested, that it was feared that provisions, on which a large
demand had been necessarily made for the army in the field, would not
last long. It was a terrible temptation to the Germans to repeat the
method of the siege of Metz of 1870, and to throw on the Russians the
responsibility for allowing the expelled inhabitants to starve.
Happily, other considerations prevailed. The rapid success at Novo
Giorgiewsk, the complete knowledge that the Germans had of the nature of
the defences with which they had to deal, the great importance of
conciliating the Poles and enlisting them heart and soul in the cause,
all contributed to induce the German authorities to receive the
fugitives.
But there were forty-eight hours of suspense during which the sufferings
of the inhabitants outside the walls, while not yet admitted into the
German camp, were terrible, and their agonising fears still worse. The
matter had to be referred to the Emperor, now in France. A personal
appeal to his humanity by Her Majesty the Queen, most delicately and
cautiously worded, but indirectly suggesting how difficult it would be
to keep together the great Alliance if anything occurred that outraged
the public conscience of Europe and America—and to do him justice, the
real humanity of the Emperor himself—finally decided the question.
The wretched inhabitants were not only received, but carefully looked
after, and at once dispatched to places safe from the clash of arms.
Meantime, enormous numbers of Poles have been enrolled and equipped.
Numbers of both officers and men trained in the Russian Army who have
surrendered, or made good their escape, together with Polish officers
from the Austrian and Prussian Armies serve as an admirable nucleus for
enrolment, so that by the time the Russians are ready to attempt any
advance against their victorious enemies, a new element of considerable
importance will be added to these. A most valuable part of the
contingent of trained Polish officers and soldiers was provided by the
army which surrendered in Bulgaria. Russia has always pursued the policy
of sending her Polish soldiers as far from their homes as possible; the
army invading Bulgaria was, therefore, largely made up of these. They
have gladly transferred their services on hearing of the coming
regeneration of their ancient kingdom.
Meantime, it appears that Russia sees that she has no prospects, for
some time to come, of being able to act offensively against the Allied
Powers, and that they do not intend to favour her by plunging into
Inner-Russia. Stores and transports must be collected in large
quantities before the Russians can again advance, and the impoverished
condition of the country makes this a very difficult task. As, however,
she does not wish to keep her soldiers idle, and is most anxious to
score a success somewhere before she asks for peace, which every day is
becoming more inevitable for her, she has largely reinforced her army in
Asia Minor, which has hitherto been kept inactive by her tremendous
necessities in other directions.
Moukhtar Pasha has been falling back slowly and cautiously, as he found
the forces increasing in his front. Several English officers are with
his army. They speak highly of the efficiency which it has attained, and
indignantly deny that any cruelties have been perpetrated by the regular
Turkish soldiery, though they speak of the Kurds and Bashi-Bazouks as
brutes, whom it is most difficult to keep in any kind of order—men who
are as cowardly as they are brutal, and of whom the army would be well
rid.
Over the movements of the English Army a dead silence has fallen. All
letters whatever, whether of correspondents or others, since the fleet
sailed after the Battle of Kosluji, have been stopped.
We have heard, indeed, of some of the fleet, probably cruisers, being
off Odessa, and some alarm was recently created at Kertch by what was
taken to be a combined expedition against that point. We have, however,
as yet heard of no landing. This cannot last for long. We must get some
news shortly. We know that immense numbers of vessels with stores,
transport, and tools of all sorts have passed Constantinople with sealed
orders to be opened only out of sight of land. Ministers are studiously
reticent, and appeal to the patriotism of both Houses not to put
inconvenient questions. Breathless excitement attends the next move.
Meantime, in France the situation remains nearly as our correspondent
left it. The German armies, after their recent disasters, have been
falling back and concentrating in the Vosges between the fortresses of
Metz and Strasbourg. The French appear to be massing their forces
chiefly in the neighbourhood of Belfort, though a large army has
approached Metz, which is held by too powerful an army to be ignored.
The French are in a state of great exultation and excitement, but
considerable disenchantment has taken place as to the Russian alliance.
They think that Russia has by no means proved the powerful ally they had
expected. It is even no longer treason to say upon the Boulevards that
sympathy with Poland was the ancient policy of France. Till the extent
of their recent successes began to be popularly realised, it was even
suggested that if the Germans would give up Alsace-Lorraine they might
have their buffer State against Russian barbarism. Nay, some were not
afraid to suggest that Germany might, if she would, create two buffer
States on either frontier, a covert hint at the neutralisation of the
Reichsland which a few weeks ago was received with silent assent. There
can be no doubt also that the German people are becoming very weary of a
war which threatens to be of indefinite length on either frontier. The
Emperor, too, despite the successes on the Russian side which were not
gained under his immediate command, has been not a little disillusioned
as to the absolute infallibility of his own military genius.
The Italian forces have been checked by the news of the French
successes, and the fear lest the vast forces now available might be
turned against them.
Thus everywhere on the Continent it is a moment of temporary lull,
though of active preparation for the future.
CAPTURE OF SIERRA LEONE BY THE FRENCH.
The letter which we publish from our Correspondent who accompanied the
troops to India, must be preceded by a few words of explanation as to
the circumstances which induced the Government to send a large party of
officers and a small reinforcement of men by the Canadian Pacific route.
That route for Calcutta is a little longer in point of time than the
movement by the Cape. It was recognised from the first that in time of
war it would not be desirable to depend upon the Suez Canal route, but
it had been fully intended to employ the Cape line. Unfortunately,
however, immediately after war was declared by France against us,
communication with Sierra Leone was in some way cut. Some time passed
before we heard what had happened. Then it appeared that, prior to the
declaration of war, the French Governor of Senegal had been warned of
the date at which it was intended in France to declare war, and was
directed to dispatch from Goree a powerful expedition as quietly and
secretly as possible. This, taking advantage of the concentration of the
English fleets in the Baltic and Mediterranean, was to sail from Goree
with sealed orders to be opened at sea, which directed the commanding
Admiral, on a date named, to move straight upon Sierra Leone, and to
attack it on the day that the declaration of war was issued in Europe.
It should be noticed, as a question of method and of the facilities
presented by steam for such operations, that no great gathering of ships
was allowed to attract attention to the preparations in Senegal, and
ship after ship arrived, received its equipment, and departed alone,
with orders to rendezvous on a given day at a stated point in mid-ocean,
fixed by latitude and longitude. In this way, without attracting
attention, and without difficulty, the great fleet was collected, and
moved off at the time named under the orders of the Admiral and General
upon Sierra Leone.
The garrison of Sierra Leone has always been kept at a low ebb, because
of the unhealthiness of the place. It was to have been reinforced in
view of war, but this had been postponed. The movement was a complete
surprise, and though indignant remonstrances appeared in all the English
papers, and in the letter addressed by the Governor of Sierra Leone to
the French Commander-in-Chief, the fact remained that Sierra Leone had,
for the time being, passed into the hands of the French. Although
statements were freely made that such an outrage had never been
committed since the beginning of the world, and most English people
believed them, there was no difficulty in showing that precedents from
the actions of all countries were in favour of the French. However,
apart from the merits of that question, the plain fact of the matter was
that, with Sierra Leone in the hands of the French, our whole route
_viâ_ the Cape to India was seriously disturbed.
The French Fleet in Sierra Leone Harbour and based upon it, threatened
the whole line between St. Vincent and Ascension, and deprived us of the
fortified coaling station which was essential for the supply of steamers
along that route. Though no doubt, in the long-run, Sierra Leone must
fall to the Power which ultimately secures the command at sea, we could
not afford, for some time, to fit out an expedition to retake it. The
Government, therefore, wisely decided, after its capture, to employ the
Canadian Pacific route for the purposes of communication with India and
the East. To Hong-Kong it was already our shortest route. In any case,
it was an absolutely safe one. The one great defect in this mode of
communication consists in the fact that no first-class steamers at
present ply across to Quebec. This, however, was remedied by the
Government chartering for the time one of the best Atlantic liners,
which easily transported the whole of the force, consisting of about 200
officers and 1000 men, chiefly non-commissioned officers, who were to be
sent off to Calcutta.
SIEGE OF HERAT.
Events in India had not developed with any great rapidity—in fact, all
those who have studied the question were fully aware that, rapid as has
been the approach of Russia towards India, the two Powers are as yet too
far distant to be able to come into collision in a single campaign. The
first indication of Russian intrigue which reached us was the
announcement that the Ameer had been suddenly murdered, and that general
anarchy had ensued in Afghanistan. The enormous efforts which Russia is
making in other directions appear to have prevented her, so far as we at
present know, from attempting several of the routes by which she might
cross the mountains into Afghanistan. But an advance was immediately
made upon Herat, and the siege of that fortress has been going on for
some time. Fortunately two young English officers, Major Craygrove, and
Captain Greekill, had been employed on some duty for the Government in
the neighbourhood. They immediately threw themselves into Herat, and,
inspiring the garrison with the greatest confidence, have been the life
and soul of the defence ever since. We hear the most amusing accounts of
the mode in which they diversify the rigour of their defence by starting
races of all kinds within the place, and by various other forms of
sport. On the whole, the Russians seem as yet to have made very little
way. The only danger has been lest the English public, excited by the
vigour of the defence, should insist upon an expedition being dispatched
to Herat. For that we are by no means in a condition as yet. The
movement would be a most hazardous one. A force of observation has been
assembled at Quetta, and the whole Indian Army is ready to advance at a
moment’s notice. But it was clearly unadvisable to throw ourselves into
the seething cauldron of Afghanistan whilst the tribes were all fighting
with one another, and no possible ruler had appeared on whose behalf we
could effectually act.
It was under these circumstances that the expedition to Vladivostock was
decided upon, and that the reinforcement of native troops was dispatched
to Egypt. It would have been preposterous to make these detachments from
the army in India had it not very soon become clear that for the first
year of the war, at all events, our position in India must be that of
playing a waiting game. We have assured Russia that we shall on no terms
make peace as long as she holds a foot of Afghan territory. In view of
her failure in Europe, and of the services which we have been able to
render to the Central Powers, the zeal of the Russians in the invasion
of Afghanistan appears to have materially cooled. They begin to see that
whatever successes they may achieve during the course of the campaign,
they are likely to have to surrender their conquests at the end of it.
Nevertheless, as the demands of India for reinforcements of officers and
non-commissioned officers to fill up the various posts which become
necessary when an army is organised for war are very considerable, it
has been a great advantage to us to be able to send out these men by the
new line. Moreover, it is to a certain extent an experiment which shows
how much larger forces could be sent in the event of necessity.
DISPATCH OF TROOPS BY THE CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY TO INDIA.
(_From our Special Correspondent._)
S.S. _Teutonic_, QUEBEC, _June 1_.
[Illustration:
OUR NEW ROUTE TO INDIA: A SLEEPING-CAR ON THE CANADIAN PACIFIC
RAILWAY.
]
This magnificent steamer has provided us with the most luxurious
accommodation, and has landed us here in less than six days since we
left England. I am just remaining on board to finish this dispatch to
you, and beyond expressing the satisfaction of all on board with the
treatment we have received from officers and men, and with the
arrangements of the company, I have only one remark of any importance to
make. All who have known the inconveniences and delay which have
hitherto attended the voyage to Canada agree that it is a disgrace to
the Empire that no steamers of the class of the _Teutonic_ are available
to complete the circle of our connection round the world. I have just
been on shore and seen the accommodation which is provided for us by the
Canadian Pacific Railway. Nothing can be more perfect than the
arrangements for the convenience both of officers and men. If only
passengers could start from England and sail here through the splendid
scenery of the St. Lawrence up to this quaint old town, and thence pass
by this excellent railway, there can be no doubt that travellers, to the
East at all events, whether for China, Australia, New Zealand, or even
India, would come this way rather than by New York, or any other line.
As it is, numbers now cross to New York, join the Canadian Pacific by
way of Montreal, and complete their journey in that way to the East. I
can only hope, and I express the wishes of all, that no time may be lost
in establishing, with the aid of a Government subsidy, a really
effective line of steamers from England to Quebec. Here the trains were
drawn up by the side of the steamer. The men marched straight into the
carriages, the baggage, for the transhipment of which large gangs of men
were at hand, was put upon the trains within five hours and fourteen
minutes. Precisely at that interval after the steamer had come
alongside, the first of the three trains employed steamed out of the
station amid the cheers of the crowd which had gathered to see the men
off.
It must be remembered that when the party of Marines and Blue-Jackets,
who were the pioneers of this line among the military forces, came here
in December, they necessarily landed in Halifax. We have, therefore,
saved on that expedition three hundred miles of dreary railway travel by
the Intercolonial Railway.
VANCOUVER, _June 5_.
We have finished our journey across the continent, and are all as
thoroughly content with our railway trip as with our voyage to Quebec. I
enclose you several sketches which will show you the accommodation
provided for the men, and some of the scenes on the train. What has
interested us most, both in what we have seen and what we have heard at
the different stations that we have stopped at, is the amazing
development which is taking place throughout the whole of this country.
The old Ontario farmers appear to be all on the move farther westwards.
Splendid as is that province they appear to prefer to sell off the farms
they have made at the best rate they can, and to move on to the rich new
lands which are available in the north-west. One hears of men here, who,
with their own hands, having three horses with all sorts of improved
machinery, but no other assistance, have actually sown a hundred acres
of wheat this spring. It is said here that in a very few years this
region will be able to supply a surplus grain crop for England equal to
the surplus product of the whole of the United States.
[Illustration:
TOMMY ATKINS BARGAINING WITH THE INDIANS ON THE CANADIAN PACIFIC
RAILWAY.
]
We were naturally a good deal interested in making inquiries about the
prospects of the great railway itself, which has done so much for Canada
and become such an important link between different parts of the Empire.
I came over it with the Governor-General’s party which went down to
British Columbia, soon after the railway was opened. The development of
the country itself, of course, is the first thing that strikes me. Green
fields of corn and comfortable homesteads as far as the eye can reach,
where there was nothing but wild prairie! The trains loaded up with corn
of last year’s crop are still travelling eastwards to Quebec, because it
has not been even yet possible to transport it all, so great is the
accumulation. But no less remarkable were the trains travelling
westwards which we passed at the several stations in our rapid transit,
full of farmers, commercial travellers, and others engaged in the
rapidly developing commerce of the country. Great piles of agricultural
implements and household stuff going westward showed that even in those
parts of the line where the land near the railway has been bought up by
speculators, so that cultivation recedes to some distance from it, rapid
development is taking place.
[Illustration:
OUR NEW ROUTE TO INDIA: RATIONS ON THE CANADIAN PACIFIC RAILWAY.
]
The next thing that struck me was the immense improvement that has been
steadily effected in the permanent way of the line. Steel bridges
substituted for temporary wooden structures, embankments that have taken
the place of mere tressels, are visible all along the route; and one
sees the work steadily going on. Then gradients have everywhere been
eased and curves lessened, so that the traffic facilities have
marvellously improved. Of course the improvement is most marked over
that part of the line where traffic is heaviest. The great stretch
between Ottawa and Port Arthur is now in most excellent condition. The
work proceeds steadily westward as the traffic necessities call for it.
We are now just about to embark on the _Empress of China_. The
Government had insisted upon two of the Empress steamers being detained
at Victoria for fear accommodation should not be sufficient. But, with
the adaptations made by the company, the _Empress of China_ alone proved
ample, and as it was much more convenient to have the whole party
together, we are all embarking on her.
CALCUTTA, _June 29_.
We sailed before midnight on the 5th, and have just arrived after a most
successful voyage. The only regret of the captain, which was by no means
shared by any of us, was that at this time of the year he had no chance
of letting us see what a fine seaboat the _Empress of China_ is. He
boasts that the way she weathered some very bad typhoons last year was
splendid. No doubt, from a seaman’s point of view, that may be very
desirable; but we are quite content to have had a June passage over
smooth seas, and with never anything much more than an occasional fresh
breeze. The mail is just leaving, and you will know much more than I do
of what has been going on out here. I hear the siege of Herat is making
little progress, the Russians having had great difficulties in getting
up any heavy artillery.
CESSATION OF HOSTILITIES—FRANCE AND GERMANY.
_December 31, 1892._
The Great War has come to an end. The preliminaries of peace have been
signed. We have, therefore, now only to record the events in different
parts of the world which have brought this about. In the first place,
during that lull in the conflict on the Continent which we recorded in
our last reports, for many weeks an almost complete silence fell over
the centre of Europe. Commercial relations, in their modern sense, were
almost entirely suspended.
The German Government, recognising the impossibility of cutting off the
sources of news as long as the telegraphs were used at all, had, for a
great emergency, paralysed all the communications of Europe by stopping
all telegraphic messages along a broad belt extending from the Vistula
to the Rhine, and somewhat beyond those limits. No one knew what was
going on; till suddenly the French forces advancing into Alsace-Lorraine
became aware that the German Armies in their front had almost doubled
their strength.
The Italian Army, warned of the great reinforcement which had taken
place, began to show a formidable and renewed activity. The English
Fleet, completely superior at sea since the victory of Sardinia,
vigorously enforced the blockades of the French Ports. The Belgian
Government now maintained a rigid line of observation along the whole of
its frontier. Similarly Spain exercised a vigilant guardianship over all
communications through the Pyrenees. France, isolated, suffering greatly
from the enormous disturbance caused by the war, and finding her
Generals unable to pursue the successes which had appeared for a moment
to attend her arms, was becoming restless and discontented. The
statesmen at the head of affairs, by no means anxious to see a
successful soldier emerge from the war as their master, far from
interfering with the growth of the popular impression that any further
success was exceedingly problematical, encouraged it secretly in every
way. The Prefects, in fact, had orders to allow no news to circulate
which did not tend to discourage further action. Reports of the
overwhelming strength with which the Germans had inundated the
Reichsland, of the consequent danger of the force at Belfort, were
accompanied by suggestions that France had been betrayed by Russia; that
the great gathering of German troops against France could not have taken
place if Russia had acted with proper vigour on the opposite frontier.
It was thrown out, at first covertly, afterwards more and more openly,
that the moment was not opportune for France to engage Europe
single-handed; that the consequences of any serious disaster might be
fatal to France, and that it would be better to be content with the
laurels which had already been gained, and which had restored the honour
of the French arms. Strasbourg, Metz, and the great fortresses in rear
of them, were represented as likely to prove dangerous obstacles to the
advance of the French Army. As the Generals were obliged to delay
action, this feeling grew, till France on her part was quite in a humour
to make peace if it could be concluded on reasonable terms.
The longing for peace in Germany had also become intense. The great
increase of the force against France had been secured only by the
transfer by rail across Europe of the greater part of the army that had
been employed against Russia. For the moment this was a perfectly safe
operation; the Russian Army was in no condition to act effectively, and
the Austrian Army—with the support of the newly-raised Polish troops,
the Roumanian Army, and the Bulgarians, who, having disposed at length
of the troubles in Macedonia, were ready to lend effective aid to their
allies—was fully competent at least to keep the Russians in check, if
and whenever it should again attempt to advance. Nevertheless the
consciousness in Germany that virtually her whole forces were engaged
against France, and that there was little to spare to resist any
movement that might be made by the Russians, kept up a continual feeling
of anxiety. There appeared to be every prospect that Russia might be
seriously crippled, and prevented from again disturbing the peace of
Europe, if peace could now be speedily made. All these considerations
were for many months telling upon the two chief opponents in the
struggle, during a time when no very exciting events were taking place.
ENGLAND AND RUSSIA.
ADJUSTMENT IN THE EAST.
In Asia Minor during the same period decisive events had occurred. After
all the preparations at Trebizonde and in the neighbourhood were not so
purely imaginary as the descent of the English Army on Bulgaria had led
us all to suppose. It appears that ever since the beginning of the War a
vast number of labourers, under the direction of English engineer
officers, had been employed in improving the communications between the
neighbourhood of Erzeroum and Trebizonde. Under the protection of
Moukhtar Pasha’s Army, these preparations had gone on from Erzeroum even
during the time when the Black Sea was temporarily abandoned by the
English Fleet. As soon as it was possible to do so, landing-stages had
been multiplied, and other steps taken to improve the facilities for
disembarking at Trebizonde. By the time that the English Army had
finished its little campaign in Bulgaria, all these improvements were so
far advanced that a light railway had been constructed almost throughout
the whole distance, giving the greatest possible facilities for the
accumulation of supplies. Huts had been built, and a series of stations
arranged for the advance of the English Army in successive bodies as
soon as it landed. The landing itself, however, even with all the
improvements made, could not be a very rapid operation. Thus it was
that, as soon as the surrender of the Russian Army was secured, the
portion of the English Army nearest to the coast, and such troops as had
arrived from England too late to join in the campaign, were at once
dispatched direct to Trebizonde. These were followed by others in
regular succession.
The actual disembarkation at Trebizonde occupied about a fortnight,
being interrupted for about four days by a very dangerous gale, which
obliged the troopers to put to sea. During all that time, however, the
movement inland proceeded rapidly, thanks to the arrangements which had
been previously made. The English Army advanced by rapid stages towards
the neighbourhood of Erzeroum, into a position where it was able to
concentrate within half a day’s march of the left flank of the position,
towards which, in a short time, the Turkish Army slowly and deliberately
fell back. The front of the English Army was at right angles to that of
the Turkish, and withdrawn from it some four miles, but there was ample
telegraphic communication between the two forces. A few Turkish scouts
under English officers covered the front of the English. The Russians,
in advancing, drove in such of these scouts as they saw. These retired
as if upon the Turks. Others, withdrawn behind the features of the
ground, were not observed.
The Russians made a mistake not very different from, but much more fatal
than, that which they committed in 1877, when they advanced against
Moukhtar Pasha, ignoring the force that was threatening the
communications of their left wing. In that case Moukhtar had designedly
fallen back in order to facilitate the operations against them of the
Van force. In the present instance he similarly retired in order to
facilitate the aggressive movement of the English Army, of whose
presence within the region of operations they were as little aware as
they had been in 1877 of the approaching arrival of the Van force. They
had much more excuse in the present instance for not knowing of the
existence of the English column, both because all its previous doings
had been completely concealed from them, while the movements of the Van
force in 1877 were known in every intelligence department in Europe, and
also because the English Army had only recently and very rapidly arrived
at the prepared rendezvous. The Russian Army, therefore, finding
Moukhtar Pasha in a position apparently open to attack, and presenting
facilities especially for the turning of his left flank, towards which
all his dispositions tempted them, committed themselves boldly to a
movement in that direction, employing a very large portion of their
force in an extended movement round his left. According to an agreement
between the Turkish Commander and the English General, the Russian Army
was allowed to involve itself for nearly two hours in an apparently very
successful attack upon the centre and left of the Turkish position.
All its movements had been well reported, by help of the dirigible
balloon which had been captured from the Russians in Varna. Lord
Wolseley was therefore able to determine with some accuracy the right
moment for making an attack with his entire strength, first upon the
flank and rear of the right wing of the Russians; and when the latter,
completely surprised and attacked on all sides, because of the
simultaneous advance of the Turks, were broken and thrown into hopeless
disorder, he was able by simply advancing his front to drive the
fugitives in upon the hitherto untouched centre, which in its turn,
assailed in flank by the English Army, and in front by the left wing and
centre of the Turkish, was crushed. Thus the left wing was left a
helpless prey to the armies which now triumphantly occupied the field.
The English Government, made anxious by the protests which had been
directed against a campaign in Asia Minor or the Caucasus, had ordered
Lord Wolseley not to remain more than a month on shore unless in the
very heat of operations at the time. As the crushing defeat of the
Russian Army had left Moukhtar Pasha in absolute command of the whole
field of operations as far as Kars, and as it was exceedingly unlikely
that, after such a defeat, the Russians would be able, in their
exhausted condition, to place another army in the field against him, the
Turkish General was well content to carry on the war for himself. The
English troops, therefore, were simply placed in healthy quarters until
instructions for their future disposition should be received. The
immediate object with which England had engaged in the war having been
secured by the relief of Bulgaria and the defeat of the Russians in Asia
Minor, it was decided to recall the army home. It was considered that a
victorious force, easily made up again to 70,000 strong by home
reinforcements, might become an important element in assisting the
Belgians to bring that additional pressure upon France which might be
necessary in order to ensure the acceptance of satisfactory terms of
peace.
This further blow in Asia Minor, and the exhausted condition of his
country, induced the Czar to make the preliminary proposals for a
general peace. It was very soon found, however, that practically Russia
was isolated—France was thoroughly disenchanted with the alliance.
Russia had attempted too much and too many things at first, and had
consequently suffered everywhere. It was evident that, if on the merits
of the question either of the two allies was to suffer, it was Russia
who would have to pay the piper. The Austrian and German Governments
were too deeply pledged to the Poles, and had too much interest in being
secure from Russian aggression, not to insist definitely upon the
creation of Poland into a buffer State. Though Russia demurred to these
terms as long as she could, the unanimity of the allies in insisting
upon them, and the secret sympathy with Poland of a large proportion of
the French people, obliged her to give way.
THE SERVICES OF ENGLAND.
England insisted as a preliminary to all discussion of peace proposals
that the Russians should vacate absolutely all the territory of
Afghanistan, and retire to the previously deliminated frontier. The
services which England had rendered to the Alliance, even as they appear
on the surface of the story, were sufficiently considerable. The
original purpose of Russia had been to attack Bulgaria. Thanks to the
facility with which her fleet had cut the communications of the Russian
Army that landed there, and had limited the force which Russia was able
to employ, it had fallen to the lot of the English to do what no other
army could have done with equal facility, that is, render the necessary
assistance to the Bulgarians, occupied as they had been by the
Macedonian troubles. The facilities for striking right and left
presented by the command of the sea has enabled her to deliver the
second deadly blow in combination with the Turkish army in Asia Minor.
But, apart from the enormous general value which England’s command of
the sea conferred upon the Central Alliance, these were by no means the
only or the most important services which England had directly rendered
towards strengthening the land forces of the Continental powers. Up to
the time of the battle of Sardinia it would have been impossible for the
Italian army to advance against France at all. Her whole coast line,
without the defence of the English fleet, would have been at the mercy,
not only of the French Fleet, but of an expeditionary force of the
French Army; and the Italian Army, in order to be able to meet such an
attack wherever it might be made, must be all kept at home. Now, at the
critical moment, when Germany was hurrying up every man that she could
to the frontier to check the advance of the victorious French, it was
precisely the fact that the whole Italian Army was available to join her
in moving against France, which created that excess of force that France
was not able to resist.
Moreover, it gradually came to be known that, without being aware of it
at the time, the English Fleet in the Baltic had conferred another
all-important service upon Germany on land as much as at sea. It
appeared that the object with which the French and Russian fleets were
endeavouring to clear the Baltic of all German men-of-war was twofold.
In the first place, if they had succeeded, the Russian Fleet was
intended to co-operate with the Russian Army advancing from Kovno in an
attack upon the German defences on the Baltic—Memel, Königsberg, and
Dantzig. But this was not all. There was a considerable Russian force
available at the beginning of the war for which it was impossible to
provide transport and supplies towards the German frontier. This had
been gathered along the Baltic ports of Russia, with a view to its being
transported into Denmark. The Danish Army had been gathered along the
fortified frontier of the kingdom, Denmark having declared herself
neutral in the struggle. As soon as the Russian force had landed and
advanced towards the frontier, the Danish Army would have joined the
Russian. At an opportune moment a declaration would have been issued
simultaneously by France and Russia, setting forth the wrongs which
Germany had inflicted upon Denmark, and declaring that Russia and France
were resolved to see justice done her. A French expeditionary force
formed of troops which could not, in the blocked condition or the
railways (already filled with ample numbers of troops and stores), be
transported from west to east of France, had gathered in the western
ports. This was to be transported as rapidly as possible to reinforce
the Russo-Danish Army. Thus, a large army would have been collected
within the frontiers of Denmark, where it would be completely in rear of
the general line of German defence along the frontier. It might even
threaten, at a time when the German forces were pushed out east and
west, to move upon the unguarded capital of Berlin; or at least to break
up and destroy railways and telegraphs essential to the forces gathered
on the French frontier. All these dangers had been removed by the action
of the English Fleet, which, when joining the German in the Baltic, had
given command to the Central Allies of the sea communications.
Under these circumstances it was not difficult for the English
Government to insist that, as a preliminary to all discussion of peace
negotiations, every Russian soldier should evacuate the territories of
Afghanistan. If the Indian bazaars had been fluttered by the temporary
advance of the Russian Army to Herat, the compensation was ample. The
ignominious withdrawal of the Russian Army was not the less effective
because it was in exact accordance with the proclamation which had been
made at home and in India, at the beginning of the war. Nor did it tell
less on the native mind, because two English officers had alone appeared
to be directly opposed to the might of Russia; while the whole English
Army along the frontier had remained intact, and had not had occasion to
put forth its strength.
GENERAL EFFECTS OF THE WAR.
In order to explain our negotiations with France, it is necessary to
give an account of the fate of the Australian expedition against New
Caledonia. The French, fully aware that the expedition had been tardily
sanctioned from home, and forewarned by the noisy preparations which had
preceded its departure, had ordered a powerful fleet, gathered from all
quarters of the Indian and Pacific Oceans, to rendezvous in the
neighbourhood of New Caledonia. The force thus gathered was so superior
to any which the colonists could muster that, in order to avoid being
simply blown out of the water, the expedition had to beat an ignominious
retreat. It was a first point in the negotiations with France for the
Home Government to secure arrangements in reference to Caledonia
satisfactory to the Australian colonists. Indeed, so far as we were
concerned, the restoration of Sierra Leone, and a final and definite
settlement of the Newfoundland Question, were all that we had to demand
in addition to this settlement of the Colonial question.
In the balanced condition of affairs as between Germany and France, it
was obvious that no very material change of frontier was likely to be
made. Germany had no disposition to yield any of the Reichsland; France
was in no position to demand it. Things on that frontier, therefore,
remained very much as they had been, with just this difference, that
France, no longer able to count upon the support of a baffled and
impoverished Russia, was not likely to become aggressive for many years
to come. A general disarmament was discussed, and some steps for
reducing the armaments on all sides were actually adopted. But the
difficulties in the way of any general agreement were too great to admit
of any formal stipulation being recorded in the treaty. The final
ratifications have been delayed until quite recently.
Germany has already set to work to put right any weak points in her
harness. In England the successes which have attended our arms have
glossed over not a few weak points which have been detected in our
organisation. The army, it is obvious, will be allowed to lapse again
into a condition adapted to mere peace parading, despite the vigorous
protests that were addressed by Lord Wolseley at the end of the war to
the Government, against the dangers which must attend such a result. The
country will continue in the belief that everything is for the best in
the best of all possible armies. Prompt reductions in the fleet and army
have been insisted on. These steps have prevented the Central Powers
from entering into an alliance with us for guaranteeing the peace of
Asia and of Europe, for which their experiences of the value of an
effective alliance with England had at first made them very anxious. How
far the future will justify our omission to secure the peace of the
world by taking proper steps to secure it, it is for the experience of
future generations to determine. For the moment, England has been once
more fortunate in the circumstances under which she entered on the war,
in the allies she found in it, and in that increased strength of her
navy for which a recent awakening to her dangers had prepared the way.
The reserves prepared for her army, despite the most fanatic opposition,
have enabled her to place an effective army in the field. Fortunately,
the war has not tested her resources beyond that point. One
comparatively small, though absolutely great, improvement has been made.
Those complaints as to the character of our artillery armament, which
were ignored during peace-time, have been enforced by the experience of
war. Both the Horse Artillery and Field Artillery are to be armed in
accordance with war experience, and not on workshop decisions
unconnected with their actual employment and use.
FINIS.
APPENDIX.
SIR CHARLES TUPPER ON IMPERIAL DEFENCE.
In conversation some months ago with Sir Charles Dilke, he assured me
that he considered the suggestion made in the columns of _Black and
White_ by one of the contributors to the ‘Great War of 1892’—that, in
the event of an imbroglio with India, we might carry our troops by the
American continent—one that was open to much argument. This criticism of
Sir Charles Dilke’s I mentioned to Sir Charles Tupper.
‘Well,’ replied this doughty upholder of Imperial Federation, ‘let us
discuss the whole question, and we will come to Sir Charles’s criticism,
with which I do not at all agree, later on. I was much impressed by the
way in which you fought out your Great War. The case was presented in a
very strong light. Should such a contingency ever arise, the Canadian
Pacific Railway will furnish a most important service to the Empire in
providing a special route to India. As an alternative route to India
under the British flag from end to end, and bringing England as it does
certainly a fortnight nearer to Yokohama than Suez, it evidently may
play a very important part in Imperial policy and defence. As has been
stated in your paper, not only does the Canadian Pacific furnish a
direct line from Quebec on British territory throughout, but in winter,
with the Intercolonial Railway to Quebec, the service is made from ocean
to ocean by a complete line. It has already been greatly used by the
Admiralty. I do not see any force in Sir Charles Dilke’s argument that
mercenaries in the States could be engaged to render the line impassable
in time of war. Of course we assume we are at peace with the States
themselves. We have not only the fact that the line is as capable of
being defended against attack as any line here in England would be which
might be threatened by dynamiters; but Canada would furnish protection
for the line by large bodies of trained militiamen and mounted police in
the North-Western Provinces; and there would be the further co-operation
of the States in the same direction, just as they came to our aid in the
Fenian raids in Canada, when the States heartily seconded us. England
would have the entire force of Canada to help to make the protection of
the line as complete as it would be between Liverpool and London. And
another point is this: By making a _place d’armes_ of Esquimault or
Vancouver you could send forward at a few weeks’ notice any number of
soldiers you required to those two points, and hold them there at a
point as near to India as they are now here, _i.e._ within as easy
striking distance of India as they are in England going by Suez. And you
may always trust to Canadian loyalty in any struggle in which England
might be engaged.’
[Illustration:
SIR CHARLES TUPPER IN HIS PRIVATE OFFICE IN VICTORIA STREET,
WESTMINSTER.
]
‘I am glad to hear that,’ said I, ‘for when I was in Washington last
year I heard much talk of the annexation of Canada by America, and of
the pleasure with which the Canadians themselves would receive such a
measure.’
Sir Charles shook his head. ‘I have said repeatedly,’ replied he, ‘that
there is no annexation party in Canada, and I say so again. I mean that
out of the 215 members we send to Parliament not one would be elected if
he declared in favour of American annexation. Mr. Goldwin Smith, with
all his ability, has laboured for twelve years to convince the people of
Canada that it is their inevitable destiny to become part of America. By
his pen, with his tongue, and in the press, he has done all he can to
bring this to pass; and at his own home, Toronto, a highly respectable
and popular man holding Mr. Smith’s views was induced to offer himself
as a candidate at a local election for the Legislature of Ontario, and
out of 9000 votes at the election he only polled 175! No; we are not
within even the remotest distance of an American annexation. How mad it
would be! You do not know what our connection with England really means
to us. Only a short time ago one of the most prominent members of the
United States Government said to me, “The confederation of British North
America under one Government and the construction of the Canadian
Pacific Railway has brought us face to face with a nation.”’
‘Which leads to another point,’ I replied. ‘Is there no chance of Canada
becoming a nation on her own account?’
‘My dear sir,’ replied the High Commissioner, ‘Canada has _all_ to lose
and nothing to gain by becoming independent of England. From being a
very important part of the mightiest Empire in the world, Canada—or
Australia either, for the matter of that—would sink at once, by becoming
independent, into a position in which they would become the easy prey of
those who desired to subjugate them. I would recommend the strengthening
by every practicable means of the bonds that now unite the mother
country and the outlying portions of the Empire. I have proposed in a
recent article in the _Nineteenth Century_ that Australasia and South
Africa should be each united under a central Government, as Canada now
is, and that these three great British dominions should be represented
in London by a leading member of the local Cabinet. You have to take
things as they are, not as you might wish them to be. A Parliamentary
Federation of the Empire, by forming an Imperial Parliament, in which
all these great British possessions should be represented, I regard as
utterly impracticable, because it is in antagonism with the constitution
of this country, and also with the constitution of all the autonomous
Colonies. Therefore I contend that the means of drawing closer the bonds
between the Imperial Government and these great possessions must be
found in some mode consistent with the constitution of England and the
self-government now enjoyed by the Colonies. I come to the conclusion I
have suggested, that the representatives of the three great British
dependencies, being members of the Local Governments, should be made
members of the Imperial Privy Council, and thus be brought into the
closest intercourse and communication with Her Majesty’s Government here
in England, and thus be in a position to give the most hearty and
complete co-operation for the defence of the Empire everywhere. Another
mode to which I attach great importance, and which is quite practicable,
is the adoption of a fiscal policy that would have the effect of placing
the Colonies fiscally in a different position as regards their relations
to Great Britain from that occupied by foreign countries. Such a policy
would lead to the elevation of the Colonies amongst the countries of the
world, to their rapid development, and to a great expansion of trade
between the mother country and them.’
‘Ah!’ said I, ‘doesn’t the kernel of the whole question of Imperial
Federation lie in this Customs difficulty? If we were entirely a Free
Trade empire, there would be little or no difficulty in securing
Imperial Federation. The Union of Hearts, it seems to me, must be
preceded by a Union of Pockets.’
‘Well,’ replied Sir Charles, ‘there is no reason that I can see why
absolute Free Trade should be adopted, and in fact it is impracticable,
or any objection taken to the adoption of the same policy pursued by
every other country in the world with regard to their Colonies, by which
they place their fiscal relations with them on an entirely different
basis from that on which their relations with foreign countries stand;
thus adding to the strong sentimental tie that binds mother and child,
that still stronger tie of mutual self-interest; and the day is not far
distant when a very powerful agitation will be promoted by the artisans
here in England for the adoption of the policy that will most expand the
trade of England, and promote the interests of all who are engaged in
the manufactures of this country.’
‘Then,’ I interjected, ‘you thereby make the working-man the ultimate
Court of Appeal, and he will decide as to whether Imperial Federation is
to become an accomplished fact or not.’
Sir Charles said, ‘Yes; I believe this policy at no distant day will be
sustained by the operatives.’
We drifted into other currents of thought, all bearing on the question
how best to promote a true and lasting Federation. I alluded to a remark
made to me some time since by a distinguished Cabinet Minister on the
fatal policy, not to say the gross injustice, of pitchforking any scion
of nobility, whether fitted for the post or not, into the vice-regal
thrones of the Colonies.
‘Well,’ replied Sir Charles, ‘speaking as a Canadian, I can only say we
have been most fortunate. The policy which has been pursued with us of
sending out a Viceroy of Cabinet rank is, I think, attended with the
greatest possible advantages; first, because it forms a close connection
between the Crown and Canada, and after the period of service is over
these gentlemen bring their great Colonial experience especially to bear
here in England in Parliament, and at the Council, in a manner highly
conducive to the interests of Canada. Canada owes much to the high
standing and character and the abilities of all her governors since it
became a united country.’
‘THE GREAT WAR OF 18—’:
AN INTERVIEW WITH THE RIGHT HON. SIR CHARLES DILKE.
BY RAYMOND BLATHWAYT.
No man in England, few even on the Continent, are better qualified than
Sir Charles Dilke to judge of the merits or demerits of the other
articles which have called forth so much criticism both here and on the
Continent. With him these subjects have been a matter of life-long
study; to their consideration he has devoted all the energies of a
singularly clear and powerful mind. There are few men, even in these
days when the balance of education is so much more even than it used to
be in the past, who have so thoroughly, and from so scientific a point
of view, grasped the great political problems which now confront the
thoughtful men in all civilised nations. The splendid potentialities
that lie within an energetic and resolute Imperialism; the knitting and
welding together of the mother country with her colonies and
dependencies, the accurate knowledge and estimation of the means of
attack and defence that belong respectively to our own country, and to
the great Continental Powers; these and many other of the great
questions, a proper comprehension of which is absolutely essential to
every well-trained, well-furnished statesman, have for many years
received from Sir Charles Dilke the most careful thought and attention.
No English statesmen and few soldiers, even on the Continent, know more
of the relative strength and capacity of foreign armies than this quiet
student and calm observer in Sloane Street.
[Illustration:
THE RIGHT HON. SIR CHARLES DILKE.
]
To no better authority, therefore, could the clever and interesting
_brochure_ be submitted for judgment and criticism than Sir Charles.
A little older and greyer, a shade more thoughtful and careworn than
when I last saw him some few years ago, upon the occasion of some
political gathering, when he delivered a speech of much brilliance, and
clear, well-defined, consecutive thought, he yet impressed me as he
impressed me then, with a sense of wonderful versatility, and a
plenitude of knowledge of the subject upon which I had come to talk.
‘I feel some little hesitation in replying to your request,’ he began,
‘but since the Editor is evidently anxious that I should do so, I will
endeavour to give you my views as briefly and clearly as I can. Mind
you, I don’t think it is either an easy or a gracious task to criticise
the work of the brilliant staff of experts who have fought this Great
War. Any strictures therefore that I may have to offer will deal
entirely with generalities, or with political and military
considerations; the details of the War seem to me to have been admirably
carried out; and nothing else could have been expected, considering who
are the men who have had part in it. Then, too, I feel that the Editor
was justified, when he wanted to make a war, in making a war which lent
itself to literary and dramatic treatment, instead of the war which
might be more natural but less picturesque. One of my criticisms also
goes to the root of the whole matter, and must necessarily seem a little
by the way. It is that we are assured that a Great War ‘will probably
occur in the immediate future.’ I do not think so, and have indeed,
during all the alarms of the last seventeen years, been an obstinate
believer in the probabilities of peace.’
‘In which the writers clearly differ from you, Sir Charles,’ I replied;
‘I was much struck, however, by the clever manner in which they caused
the war to break out in a small, insignificant country like Bulgaria,
and then spread like a prairie fire, till the whole world was in a
blaze. Do you consider that was a good and probable beginning?’
‘Well,’ replied Sir Charles, as he leaned forward and began to rapidly
sketch out a little map of the Continent, to which he made constant
subsequent reference, ‘it was, perhaps, more ingenious than either
scientific or probable. For my own part, I do not believe that the next
great war, when it does come, will arise from events in the Balkan
Peninsula. Of course, Russia can cause a war whenever she wishes to do
so, but I don’t think she does so wish. The writers of this brochure
state that they have striven to make the imaginary conflict spring from
the most likely source of conflicts. They therefore chose Bulgaria, and
I think with a good deal of reason from their point of view. But, for
all that, Russia has pursued an adventurous and indefensible policy with
regard to these States, and however irritating her conduct may have
been, she means peace at heart. Therefore it is, I think, they are
wrong.’
‘It is quite fair then, Sir Charles, that I should ask you where you
would have applied the match, had you been writing this war?’
‘Quite fair,’ he replied, with a very genial laugh, as he placed his
finger on the Franco-German frontier. ‘The most probable cause of a war,
which I nevertheless think wholly improbable, will be a frontier
incident between Germany and France, exaggerated by the newspapers, and
subject to the difficulty, as between two great Powers of equal strength
and spirit, of making excuses. It is easy for excuses to be made by one
side when there is obvious disparity of strength, and when that side,
whether the stronger or the weaker, does not desire to face the risks of
war; but, as I have pointed out in an article on the French grand
manœuvres of last year, neither side could now make such efforts for
peace as were made by the Emperor William I. a few years ago, when
frontier incidents of the kind to which I allude occurred.’
‘Very good, Sir Charles, your war would obviously have very materially
differed from ours; but now, given the causes of ours, what do you think
of the strategy supposed?’
‘There again,’ was the reply of this keen politician, and endeavour as
best I might I could not puzzle him for a single moment, ‘there again I
have a criticism to offer. I cannot see why Russia should attempt a
descent near Varna, when a descent near Constantinople would so much
better suit her purpose. The garrison of Constantinople is not,
numerically speaking, a strong one. It is very deficient in effective
field artillery, and its infantry, numbering perhaps 18,000 men, could
not make much of a defence, unsupported as they are by a real system of
land fortification, against a Russian rush from the Black Sea coast by
land, accompanied by another landing on the Asiatic side, and a vigorous
naval attack against the Therapia batteries.’
‘Talking of Turkey, Sir Charles, should we be certain of her as an ally
if France joined Russia, and we supported Germany?’
‘By no means,’ was his emphatic reply; ‘although I grant you that actual
temporary circumstances in the Mediterranean would have a great bearing
on their attitude, the Turks would look to the possibilities of the
moment. If we could terrorise them—yes; if not——’ and here my companion
smilingly shook his head.
‘Was _Black and White_ right in sending English troops to Belgium on the
outbreak of a Franco-German war?’ I next asked.
‘I think not,’ slowly replied Sir Charles. ‘It is not likely that public
opinion in England would force the British Government to such a course.
And then again,’ he continued, ‘I think the writers wrong in another
important movement. It seems incredible to me that the Russians should
expose themselves to the three defeats which they met with in your War.
It is much more probable, in my opinion, that when the time comes when
they have to fight the battles described, against the Turks near
Erzeroum, and against the Austrians on the Galician frontier, they will
fight without having the young Emperor William at the same moment in the
field against them. They will fight under conditions which will enable
them to clear the Black Sea coast of the Turks and the Galician plain of
the Austrian forces.’
‘And now, Sir Charles, quitting the storied “War of 189—” for a moment,
I would like to ask you a question or two as to the character of the
warfare of the future, the circumstances under which it will be carried
out, the kind of men best suited for it. Smokeless powder will doubtless
revolutionise all past methods of attack and defence, don’t you think
so? Again, who will be the General of the future—the student Moltke or
the dashing Skobeleff; the politician, the chemist, or the fighter?’
Sir Charles laughed outright as he replied: ‘Rather Moltke than
Skobeleff, but not the politician,—and there is no real political
soldier in France, for instance,—nor the chemist, nor the man of genius;
but the cool-headed man, with plenty of force and of physical strength
to stand the five or six days’ battles which will be the result of
smokeless powder; dash won’t go for much. Few realise the changes that
will be brought about by this smokeless powder. For instance, the
officers will inevitably be picked off. The puzzle to me is how in such
cases vast masses of men will be induced to advance without their
leaders.’
‘And as to the ethical intent of our War?’ I queried, mindful of the
severe strictures passed by worthy, but ultra-timid old ladies of either
sex upon it when its noiseless cannon first disturbed the journalistic
peace of Europe.
‘Oh,’ said Sir Charles, with an easy laugh, ‘I cannot see how your
articles could do anything but good; certainly they have done no
harm—that is, from a moral point of view; but, as regards certain other
aspects of their teaching, I am not quite so certain. I am afraid that
people will say only, “Here are great experts who give us the victory,”
and will imagine, therefore, whatever you may say, that our state of
preparation must be excellent, and our enormous expenditure upon defence
not thrown away. It should be borne in mind that you have given us a
victory in the Mediterranean by procuring for us an Italian alliance;
but that there is, and always must be, a grave risk of our having some
day to find ourselves at war with France, or with France and Russia
without any European alliance, and on questions which do not interest
Continental Powers. Again, the Poland resuscitation is prehistoric. If
you leave out the aristocracy and a few townspeople, there is no part of
the Russian Empire in which the Russian Government is less unpopular
than in Poland, and no Polish force could be collected except one
composed of nobles and that small middle-class which really consists of
the little nobility. The capture of Sierra Leone by France was capital,
for under the present circumstances it would be, of course, inevitable,
and it is well that attention has been so ably called to this point,
which involves grave risk to the Cape route. I cannot think, however,
that the Canadian Pacific route is a very safe one to employ, as our
enemies, by spending a little money in sparsely-settled portions of the
United States, could easily break up the line by bands of hired raiders.
And here my criticisms come to an end. But I would like to say again
that in my opinion the War as conceived by your contributors has been
admirably carried out. With few exceptions, the consequences flow well
and naturally, and in perfect logical sequence from the foundation in
facts.’
Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty, at the
Edinburgh University Press.
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Changed “th bitterness” to “that bitterness” on p. 6.
2. Changed “silver of white bone” to “sliver of white bone” on p. 109.
3. Changed “brought it again to a top” to “brought it again to a stop”
on p. 217.
4. Silently corrected typographical errors.
5. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
6. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
7. Superscripts are denoted by a caret before a single superscript
character, e.g. M^r.
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