Events have answered the last question. Due provision was not made for the possibility of a first failure. The country was aghast at the position in which the army found itself; and we think that, in making the statement we are about to quote, Mr Kinglake is recording a state of opinion, which, though perfectly just, and always maintained to be just in these pages, both during and after the war, had no existence at the time he speaks of.
“Those who thought more warily than the multitude foresaw that the enterprise might take time; but they also perceived that even this result would not be one of unmixed evil; for if Russia should commit herself to a lengthened conflict in the neighbourhood of Sebastopol, she would be put to a great trial, and would see her wealth and strength ruinously consumed by the mere stress of the distance between the military centre of the empire and the south-westernmost angle of the Crimea.”
All this is true; so true that Russia would have done well to leave Sebastopol to its fate, rather than make those efforts to maintain it which were so ruinous. Moreover the Crimea is, from its geographical circumstances, always the most favourable point of Russian territory for the operations of an enemy who commands the sea. Its form of an extended peninsula renders it vulnerable at many points; it does not afford the means of supplying the force necessary for its defence; and the supplies and reinforcements, having to pass through a region that is always a desert and sometimes a swamp, must be despatched with vast expense and loss. The conditions of the theatre of operations selected were then all in our favour; it only remained to provide adequately for the chances of war, to render the enterprise judicious.
But there was no thought except of speedy success. Beyond a triumphant landing, battle, and assault, no man looked. It was a piece of national gambling where an army was staked upon the turn of the cards; inexcusable, therefore, even had the chances been still more in our favour.
Still the chances in our favour were great. The Russian force in the Crimea was inferior in numbers. Sebastopol might have been captured with the co-operation of the fleets. That co-operation was a main element of success. We were deprived of it by Mentschikoff’s stroke of sinking his ships, so as to block the harbour and exclude the fleets. Was this a step, the possibility of which the Government of a great maritime nation ought to have omitted from its calculations? It was not difficult—it was even obvious—to anticipate that a fleet otherwise useless might thus be turned to account.
That the invasion was politically a fortunate step, we have no doubt. All the sufferings, all the losses, all the expense, and all the discontent at home, could not prevent the course of affairs from turning ultimately to our advantage, because the distresses of the enemy were far greater. Russia at the end of the war was absolutely prostrate, while England was only beginning to handle her vast and increasing resources. But this, as it was never contemplated, is beside the purpose of estimating the wisdom of the people and the Government who committed the armies to the enterprise. The Government is obnoxious to the charge of not providing for a contingency that ought to have been foreseen, by furnishing the means for sustained operations. And the Government might, in great measure, exonerate itself at the expense of the nation. For years before, no Member of Parliament could have proposed an increase on the estimates in order to render the army an efficient engine of war, without being covered with obloquy. At that time, what troops we had were barely tolerated by the people. Considering all things, we cannot think the step wise. But we are very strongly of opinion that, as a means of coercing Russia, it was fortunate.
Many conferences between the Allied Generals took place at Varna, and on the voyage. No pictures can differ more widely than those of the attitude of St Arnaud on these occasions, as drawn on the one hand by himself and De Bazancourt, on the other by Mr Kinglake. In his own letters, and in the veracious French Chronicle, he is the moving spirit of the enterprise—he “dominates the discussion”—he infuses life into everybody—nothing checks him except the slowness of the English. He is feared by the Russians, admired by the British, adored by the French. Mr Kinglake, on the contrary, represents him as being in council without decision and without weight; glad to solve his own difficulties by deferring to Lord Raglan; forming plans merely to abandon them; and painfully conscious that he has not the hold on the respect of his own army necessary to enforce his authority. He had become strongly impressed with the idea that a landing would be best effected at the mouth of the Katcha. It would be nearer Sebastopol. The position on the Alma would thus be avoided; and the march over plains, where it might be difficult to find water, would be unnecessary. On the other hand a reconnoissance made by Lord Raglan and Sir John Burgoyne, with the French Generals, showed that the mouth of the valley was narrow, that the troops as they landed would be exposed to a flanking fire from guns which would be, by their position, secure from the counter-fire of the ships, and that the enterprise might be opposed by the whole Russian army. These objections seemed to Lord Raglan so strong that he decided on landing at Old Fort. The result showed the correctness of the decision, for the landing was unopposed, and the single action of the Alma cleared the way to Sebastopol. Nevertheless, St Arnaud, writing to his brother after the landing, contends that he was right. “Observe, brother,” he says, “I have a military instinct which never deceives me, and the English have not made war since 1815.”
Mr Kinglake’s account of the disembarkation which he witnessed, of the delay caused by the mysterious shifting, by the French, of the buoy that was to mark the spot for the operation—of the different modes of treating the villagers practised by the English and by the French troops, and of the march towards the Alma, are described with the particularity and vivacity which might be expected from so keen an observer, and so skilful a narrator. He rightly describes the movement as being of the nature of that proper to movable columns. It was, in fact, like the march of a convoy, where the escort was vast, and the conditions favourable. The conditions were favourable, because the open nature of the country permitted the waggons, instead of straggling along a great extent of road, on any part of which they might be attacked, to move in compact order near the entire army. But we quite agree with him in thinking that the Russian leader showed great incapacity and culpable want of enterprise in suffering the march to proceed unmolested. The country was particularly favourable to cavalry, in which arm he was greatly superior. By incessantly threatening the left flank he would have compelled us to show front in that direction, and the whole army would have been obliged to halt, under penalty of witnessing the defeat of a separated portion. We could not have closed with the force thus menacing us, because the effort to do so would have withdrawn us from our proper direction, and from the sea, and because, also, the enemy could always retire under cover of his cavalry, to a new position on our flank. If Mentschikoff could have felt secure of being able to file into position behind the Alma, in time to oppose us there, he might have employed his whole army in this menacing movement. He made only one effort of the kind, that on the Bulganak, where a skirmish took place; but the demonstration was feeble, not supported, and of no avail as a check, because the army had always designed to halt there for the night. Nevertheless, the precautions taken by Lord Raglan, in throwing back the left flank, before bivouacking, to meet a possible attack of the kind, and the consequent delay in resuming the march next morning, show how much was to be apprehended from such a mode of harassing us as was open to a skilful leader.
The ground on which the battle of the Alma was fought is not difficult to understand. The plain over which the Allies advanced slopes gently downward for a mile. At the bottom of the slope is a bank, and below the bank a flat valley, three or four hundred yards wide, in which flows the Alma. If, then, a person turning his back to the sea, at the mouth of the river, moves up the Allies’ bank, he has on his right, across the valley, for the first mile, a steep cliff, as if part of the coast-line had turned back along the course of the river. The cliff then begins to resolve itself into broken heights, still steep, but not impracticable. These continue for nearly two more miles, when, the heights receding still farther, the slope to the river becomes more gentle, and undulates in knolls, the general character of the ground, however, being an upper and lower line of heights, with an intermediate plateau. The ground continues of this nature far up the stream. Everywhere the last summits formed the edge of a plain which could not be seen from the Allies’ side of the stream.
The Russian cavalry prevented reconnoissances which would have given some assurance of the manner in which Mentschikoff occupied the position. In the absence of these, maps and plans, and a distant view, coupled with a rough estimate of the enemy’s force, were all that could be relied on. With such data as these afforded, Marshal St Arnaud came to confer with Lord Raglan the night before the battle; and we must say that we think Mr Kinglake is rather hard upon the Marshal in his description of the interview. He seems to think there was something presumptuous in the fact of his coming with a prepared plan, bringing with him, too, a rough sketch of it drawn on paper. Now, that such a conference was highly necessary between two commanders about to fight a battle in concert, nobody will deny. And it is a very good thing, on such occasions, to have a plan constructed on the probabilities, because it serves as a basis for discussion. The Marshal’s plan was founded on the conjecture, that, as the plain at the top of the cliff could be swept by the guns of the ships, a space would be left near the sea unoccupied by the Russians. Into that space he proposed to push two divisions (Bosquet and the Turks), by two roads that led to it up the cliff. The remaining divisions were to advance against the Russian front; and he calculated that they would occupy so much of that front that the movement of the British, forming the left of the Allies, would be against the right flank of the enemy.
Such was the plan that the Marshal brought to discuss with Lord Raglan. But it seems that if he came with the hope of getting any suggestions or ideas in exchange, he was disappointed. “Without either combating or accepting the suggestion addressed to him, he simply assured the Marshal that he might rely upon the vigorous co-operation of the British army. The French plan seems to have made little impression on Lord Raglan’s mind. He foresaw, perhaps, that the ingenuity of the evening would be brought to nothingness by the teachings of the morrow.” And when they came next day into presence of the enemy, Mr Kinglake says: “If Lord Raglan had not already rejected the French plan of a flank attack by our forces, it would now have fallen to the ground. It had never made any impression on his mind.” In a note he says: “It became a plan simply preposterous as soon as it was apparent that St Arnaud would not confront any part of the Russian army except their left wing; for to make two flank movements, one against the enemy’s left, and the other against his right, and to do this without having any force wherewith to confront the enemy’s centre, would have been a plan requiring no comment to show its absurdity.”
Now Lord Raglan’s part in the interview is meant, as recorded, to show to his advantage. Yet we cannot think that this way of conducting conferences can be considered as displaying talent. Anybody can appear to conceal an opinion—even if he hasn’t got one. The Marshal might, according to this account, justly feel himself aggrieved—first, for having no notice taken of his plan; and, secondly, for having no grounds afforded for acting in concert with his ally in the coming battle. Nor do we think the plan absurd in principle, though it was erroneous in details. If to turn one flank of an enemy is an advantage, to turn both flanks will, in general, increase the advantage: whether it is practicable depends on the relative length of the opposing lines. Now the Russians had 39,000 men; the Allies had 63,000. And the English order of battle enables our line to cover more ground than equal numbers of the enemy. Therefore, after forming on an equal front, there would still be at least 12,000 men disposable for the turning of each flank; and 12,000 men on your flank is a serious matter. We say then that the plan, which was, of course, a suggestion, to be modified according to circumstances, was not in itself absurd in principle.
The Marshal, therefore, with Lord Raglan’s concurrence, as the French say—but, according to Mr Kinglake, with such expectations as he might have derived from the foregoing not very explicit interview—proceeded to execute his part of the plan by making his right column pass close to the sea. This was an error, for it was founded on a false assumption; he supposed the Russian left to be nearer the sea than it really was. He could not ascertain the truth, because, as is not uncommon in battles, he could not make a close reconnoissance, and the plain behind the cliff, being invisible from below, might contain an unknown number of Russians. A computation of the forces visible would not give certain means of judging of this point, because troops had been joining Mentschikoff from various parts—a large detachment had come in that morning.
The consequence, then, of this error was that more of the French line than had been expected overlapped the Russians—so much so that those on the extreme right never joined in the action. Moreover, they were on a narrower front than their numbers warranted; for though three divisions were in front, and two following them, yet the three in front formed two lines. If the two in rear are to be considered as a reserve, it was twice as large as is common. Thus the English only completed the front necessary to correspond with the Russian front without overlapping it, and their attack, therefore, was almost entirely a direct attack. The right French column was thrown away. The next to it only engaged in a distant artillery fire: even the third and fourth found themselves opposed to a force inadequate to their numbers. As Mr Kinglake well observes, if all the army had been of one nation, the direct attack would not have been made till that on the flank had already shaken the enemy’s line. But circumstances rendered it difficult to hold back the English divisions. The French did nothing to be proud of in the battle. We perfectly agree with Mr Kinglake that the official accounts and that of De Bazancourt are mere bombastic inventions. We know that they were opposed by numbers small in proportion to their own. That some of their divisions showed but littleelanand made small progress, was evident during the battle. And with regard to their losses, which St Arnaud places at 1200, we do not deny that they may have lost that number of men that day; but if they did, the cholera must have been unusually severe on the 20th September, for there were no signs of such mortality on the battle-field.
The English then advanced, because the French demanded support, and because it might not have been judicious to remain longer inactive when our allies were engaged. Our divisions therefore advanced across the river. In doing so their order was broken by several causes. First, the vineyards and enclosures between the troops and the river; then the river itself; and lastly, the fact that the divisions in deploying had, by mistaking distance, considerably overlapped. It is evident that if an inferior army about to be attacked in position could choose how the attack should be made, it would desire that a great part of the enemy’s force should be directed where it would be useless, and that the remainder should make a direct advance. This was what the Allies did. But though there was no great generalship, the soldiership of the English was admirable. The divisional, brigade, and regimental officers took advantage of a sheltering rim of ground on the opposite bank to restore some degree of order in the broken ranks, and then led them straight up the slope in the teeth of the Russian guns. Torn by cannon-shot at close range, and by a hail of musketry from the numerous infantry—for here Mentschikoff had placed his heaviest masses—they nevertheless went on in a line which, if irregular, was still irresistible, drove the Russians back, and captured a gun. Then, being without support, having lost heavily, and being assailed by fresh reserves, the front line gave way and retreated down the hill. But by this time the Duke of Cambridge’s division was across the stream and moving up. The broken masses passed through the ranks, which closed and advanced solidly, with the same success as the first line, and the success was more enduring. English guns, hitherto opposed to the Russian artillery, were now brought across the stream—they were set free to do so partly by the progress of the French on the flank, partly by the action of two guns that Lord Raglan had brought across the stream in the space between the armies, and which, taking the Russian line in reverse, caused it to fall back. The English divisions thus maintained themselves—the heavy columns that advanced against them were repulsed partly by artillery, partly by the fire of the line—the Russians fell back slowly to the top of the heights, and retreated along the plain, pursued by the fire of our horse-artillery. The English batteries then advanced. When they reached the plateau the enemy’s masses were already at some distance, moving towards Sebastopol. The French on the right were coming up so deliberately that it was evident they had no thought of molesting the enemy’s retreat, and on a proposition being made to them to join in a pursuit they declined it.
Whether it was or was not owing to the cause to which Mr Kinglake attributes it—namely, to the fact that the French leaders, selected as they almost all were for their share in thecoup d’état, were men in whom the troops had no confidence—it is certain that the reputation of the French army was not augmented by this action. The report of St Arnaud paints their valour and skill in the most brilliant colours. He does not scruple largely to exaggerate the numbers of the enemy. There were, according to him, 40,000 Russian bayonets, 6000 cavalry, and 180 guns opposed to the Allies. The true numbers were, according to Mr Kinglake, 36,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 108 guns. The advantages of the Russians consisted in their strong position, their superiority in cavalry, and their 14 heavy guns. The movement of the French was ineffective, partly from misdirection, partly from their slowness to close with the enemy. To the English, therefore, fell a task as difficult as that which would have fallen to them in ordinary cases had the Russians been equal in strength to the Allies—and the battle of the Alma is eminently an English victory.
It is evident that if the general of an inferior army can oppose one great mass of his enemy with a small number of his troops, and is thus at liberty to meet the remainder on equal terms, he has gained a great point in his favour; and this Mentschikoff did. Yet we perfectly agree with Mr Kinglake that Mentschikoff showed no talent, and did no justice to his troops. As we have seen, he allowed the march to be unmolested. He made no use of the time at his disposal to strengthen his position artificially. Mr Kinglake rightly asserts this in contradiction to official and other authorities. Fords might have been rendered impracticable, roads obstructed, field-works thrown up, and the advancing troops would thus have been detained under the heavy fire of the defenders, till on closing, if they should succeed in closing, it would be with numbers too much diminished for success. But there were no intrenchments nor obstacles worth mentioning on the field. And we regret to observe that Mr Kinglake, though he explains in a note that he knows the term to be inapplicable, and that he only follows an established precedent, talks of the position of the Russian battery as “the Great Redoubt.” We regret it, because the impression conveyed is false to those who do not know the truth, and irrelevant to those who do. The only work was a bank of earth not a yard high, which partially covered the Russian guns of position, and which was probably intended as much for preventing them from running down the hill as for anything else. There were no embrasures, for, as the guns looked over the bank, none were necessary; it had not even the additional impediment of a ditch in front, the earth which formed it being taken from spaces dug between the guns. It was no more like a “Great Redoubt,” than it was like the Great Wall of China. And this being the case, all such expressions as “storming” are quite inapplicable.
It is evident that, if an army superior in numbers wishes to bring its superiority to bear, it must outflank the enemy on one or both sides. Which flank, then, would it have been best in the present case to turn? The French turned the left. There was the natural temptation of advancing over ground where the turning columns were protected by the fire of the fleet. But they moved against an imaginary foe, and a large part of the force might have been as well on board ship for all the effect it had on the action. Moreover, though the turning movement was completed, yet it had none of its legitimate effects, for the Russians left only two guns and no prisoners. It is clear then that none of the advantages to be expected from a successful attack in flank followed here.
Now suppose—as there are but two flanks to an enemy, and no great things had been done by turning one—that the manœuvre had been effected against the other. The Allies would have moved away from the sea up the river. The road next the sea was closed to the Russians by the ships’ broadsides. Opposite the next road, that by which Bosquet led his second brigade, the Turks might have been left. The right of the French would then have been where the right of the English really was, that is, in the village of Bourliouk. And the English would have stretched so far beyond the enemy’s right, that at least three divisions would have been available for turning that flank. To the Russians, seeing this, only certain alternatives would be possible: either to try to thrust themselves between us and the sea—in which case the cliff would have restricted them to the one road guarded by the Turks, and where any part of their force that made the attempt would be lost if it should fail, as it certainly would fail; or, secondly, an extension of their already sufficiently extended line till its length corresponded with that of the Allies, by which extension it would be fatally weakened; or, thirdly, a movement of the entire army to the right, which would have uncovered the Sebastopol road, and was therefore not to be thought of. Therefore the Russians must have stood to fight on the ground they occupied, throwing back their right wing to meet the threatened attack on their flank. The Allied artillery should then have been massed—one portion to oppose the great battery, one to pour a storm of shot on the right wing, the object of attack; and the horse-artillery and one or two batteries, after flanking the advance from their own side of the river, should have been held ready to follow the flanking columns of attack as soon as they should be established on the other bank. The advance, instead of being in echelon from the right, would be in echelon from the left—the Light Division, followed by the First and Fourth, would make the turning movement and attack the right wing—the remaining English divisions would advance upon the centre, and upon the angle formed by the centre and right; and, as soon as the Russian line fronting the river should be shaken by the front and flank attack and the reverse fire, the French divisions advancing would find their share of the task easy. Two results would have followed, both important—the first, that the position would have been carried with much less loss of life—secondly, that the losses of the Russians would have been far greater. For it is to be observed that, by turning the left of the Russians, and interposing between them and the sea, they were driven back along their proper line of retreat; whereas, had the right been turned, the English left wing, pushing obliquely across the enemy’s rear, would have reached the Sebastopol road on the top of the plateau, and the result of that would have been to drive the beaten troops towards the sea, and to enclose all that part of the Russian left which should be last to retreat between our line and the cliffs, thus capturing many prisoners. And as the enemy were superior in cavalry, the English left must have carefully guarded itself, during its advance, from the Russian horse, first, by our artillery on our own side of the river, and afterwards by guns following in support, by battalions on the left echeloned in squares, and by our own cavalry. Many reasons, then, induce us to consider the French attack a mistake. And the more complete turning movement which Mr Kinglake seems, as if by authority, to ascribe to Marshal Pelissier, as whathewould have done—namely, “to avoid all encounter with the enemy on his chosen stronghold by taking ample ground to their left, and boldly marching round him”—would have been objectionable, inasmuch as it would have left no option of retreating on Eupatoria, in case the attack should prove unsuccessful; and no plan can be sound that does not provide for the contingency of defeat.
Mr Kinglake modestly declines to give an opinion on the question of what plan might have been better. But he need not have scrupled to do so, as he deals extremely well with the technicalities of military art. His account of the manœuvres preceding and during the battle is remarkably clear. His discussion as to the respective merits of lines and columns shows that he thoroughly appreciates the philosophy of the subject. But it is not so much to the credit of his estimate of what constitutes generalship, that he implies so great approval of Lord Raglan’s solitary ride beyond the enemy’s front, and of his continued occupation of the knoll there throughout the stress of the battle. Of course it would be a great advantage to a general in every action to be able to see exactly what was passing in rear of the enemy’s line. But it would be an advantage only as it would give him the means of directing his own troops with greater certainty. To see the enemy’s rear, at the expense of losing the control of his own army, would be quite the reverse of an advantage. And imagine the state of things if two opposing generals in a battle should be absorbed in their efforts to pass, like two pawns at chess, behind the opposing lines. If it had appeared to the general that an opportunity existed for wedging a part of his force within a weak spot of the enemy’s line, staff officers might have been sent to ascertain the fact, while the guns and their escort required to effect the manœuvre might have been brought from the reserve, or the nearest available division, and posted in readiness to advance. We know that during this excursion of Lord Raglan the English divisions were confused for want of a controlling power to direct them. The action of the English artillery was without unity, at a time when a concentrated fire against the hill on which the attack was to be made would have had a most important influence on the result. Mr Kinglake tells us that Lord Raglan from his knoll witnessed the first advance of the troops of our first line, and saw that they would not be able to hold their ground because they were not supported; but adds, that he did not attempt to apply a remedy, because no order sent by him could possibly arrive in time to be of service. Surely this of itself might have convinced Mr Kinglake that the general’s place was elsewhere. And we will add, that, at the close of the struggle, our successful troops did not receive that impulsion which none but the supreme directing authority can give, and which was necessary to push the victory home.
But though we do not think the occasions for praising Lord Raglan are always judiciously chosen, we thoroughly agree in Mr Kinglake’s estimate of the character of that kind excellent gentleman and gallant soldier. His tact, temper, and bearing were all of a kind calculated to be of eminent service in an allied command, and secured to him at once the attachment of his own army and the respect of the French.
Mr Kinglake has scarcely accomplished half of that task which is so weighty, but which his qualities as a narrator have made to seem so light. And it is because so many events yet remain to receive his impress, that we would venture to remind him how the French army in the Crimea, though it did not by its first achievements enhance its reputation, yet performed many great and gallant actions. The aid which Bosquet brought us at Inkermann, though long in coming, was effectual. The part of the French in that battle, infantry and artillery, was highly honourable. They often maintained terrible conflicts in the trenches, where both sides fought well, but where the French were victors. Their arrangements for receiving the attack on the Tchernaya were such that the assailant never had a chance of penetrating their lines. And their terrible losses in the final assault prove the magnitude of the obstacles they encountered, and the ardour with which they overcame them. But while we do not forget this, neither can we regret that thus far Mr Kinglake has sought to redress the balance of history, by awarding to our army its share of credit. Reputation is the breath of its nostrils, and our allies have appeared but too desirous to monopolise what was gained in this war.
And we also venture to observe that Mr Kinglake’s enemies—and he has scattered in these volumes dragon’s teeth enough to produce a plentiful crop—may find occasion to say that in praising his friends he is equally uncompromising as in censuring his foes. Small traits of character receive undue prominence, small merits, undue laudation; as, for instance, when the way in which the Highland Brigade was made to drink at the Bulganak is praised as if it were a stroke of military genius, and where a paragraph is devoted to describing how its commander pronounced the not very remarkable words, “Forward, 42d!” and when it is further added, “‘As a steed that knows his rider,’ the great heart of the battalion bounded proudly to his touch,” Mr Kinglake lets himself slip into a style much beneath his own. But what no enemy can deny is the extraordinary animation, clearness, sustained interest, and dramatic as well as descriptive excellence of the work. A vast field for these qualities yet remains—the flank march, the commencement of the siege, the hurricane, the action of Balaklava (fine soil for dragon’s teeth), the battle of Inkermann, the long calamities and glories of the trenches, the death of the Czar, and of the English commander, the final assault, and the destruction of the stronghold—into all these scenes we shall follow Mr Kinglake, confident of seeing them treated by a great artist.
As a concluding remark, we will say that we think no history of this war can be complete which does not devote a chapter to the discussion of the causes which made the British army of 1854 so different, in all except fighting power, from the British army of 1814, as a machine of war. The long peace, the growth of the commercial spirit, the Peace Party, the administration of the army by the Duke of Wellington, and the influence of the long-continued public demand for economy, must all be taken into account before the breaking down of that machine, as to be recorded hereafter, can be fairly and fully accounted for, and a true comparison drawn between our military system and that of the French.