THE REIGN OF VICTORIA (continued).

Two Days on the Alma—Retreat of the Russians—Raglan proposes a Flank Movement—Korniloff scuttles his Ships—The Russian Retreat—Korniloff and Todleben—The Flank March decided—The Armies Intersect—Death of St. Arnaud—The Allies in Position—Menschikoff reinforces Sebastopol—Todleben's Preparations—The Point of Attack—French and English Opinions—The Opposing Batteries—The Sea—Defences of Sebastopol—Doubts of the Admirals—Opening of the Bombardment—The French Fire silenced—Success of the British—Failure of the Fleets—The Bombardment renewed—Wild Rumours at Home—Menschikoff determines to Raise the Siege—The Attack on Balaclava—Lord Lucan's Warning—Liprandi's Advance—Capture of the Redoubts—The 93rd—Lord Lucan's Advance—Charge of the Heavy Brigade—A Pause in the Battle—Raglan, Lucan, and Nolan—Charge of the Light Brigade—The Valley of Death—The Goal—Colonel Shewell—The Retreat covered—The Loss—End of the Battle.

THE allied armies spent two days on the battle-field of the Alma. There were the wounded to tend and carry on board ship—the wounded of each army, for the Russians left hundreds on the ground—and the dead to bury. All through the evening, nay, throughout the night, our soldiers were groping about in search of comrades, and carrying water to assuage their thirst, and at dawn officers and men streamed over the hills and into the ravines on this errand of mercy. Surgeons were landed from the fleet to aid the scanty medical staff, and sailors to bear away those whose wounds had been dressed; but, looking to the resources of the fleet, one is surprised that these labours should have occupied eight-and-forty hours. Time was precious; it was always believed that the Allies must fight at least one battle before they reached Sebastopol, yet the means of moving swiftly, after it had been won, had not been prepared. So while the Allies were engaged in tending their wounded, burying their dead, replenishing their ammunition stores, reorganising the regiments that had suffered the most, and even taking care of the Russian wounded, the Russian army, retiring hurriedly and in alarm, had relinquished successively the strong positions on the Katcha and the Belbek, had abandoned all the open country north of Sebastopol, and, passing the bridge of Inkermann, had entered the place itself.

During the halt of the armies there had arisen a grave doubt in the mind of Lord Raglan. Even on the beach of Kamishli, pondering on the task before him, he had come to question the practicableness of assailing Sebastopol from the north, and feared that "a flank movement to the south side would be necessary." Here, on the heights of the Alma, he seems to have felt the pressure of doubt more strongly; for on the 21st of September, probably at his suggestion, Sir John Burgoyne—who shared, if he did not originate his doubts—drew up a formal memorandum, setting forth all the advantages of a march round the head of the harbour to Balaclava on the south coast. And when the short march to the Katcha ended, a singular incident, reported at headquarters, gave the British officers fresh arguments. On the 22nd, steamers of both fleets had looked into Sebastopol harbour, and had reported that all the vessels of war were still there. They were, however, so posted as to attract the attention of naval men, who took particular note of a line of ships moored across the entrance to the harbour, from north to south. The next day, when the fleet came up from Cape Loukoul to the Katcha, the whole line of Russian ships was observed to settle down in the water until only their tops were visible. The enemy, at the suggestion of Admiral Korniloff, had thus disposed of part of a fleet with which he could not keep the sea, and a wise measure it proved to be. The news was sent at once to the headquarter camps on the Katcha, and it probably gave Lord Raglan an additional argument in favour of a march to the south side. The Allies halted on the Katcha until late on the 24th, when they advanced to the Belbek.

Meanwhile the Russian army had quitted its position at an early hour. There was considerable disorder in some parts of the field, where battalions falling back came under the fire of the Allied guns; but there were others untouched and unsubdued, and these, with the Hussars and artillery, had made that show of covering the retreat. The Russians did not halt. Night overtook them among the hills; still they plodded along. They left behind them the steep banks of the Katcha, the steeper banks and rougher ridges of the Belbek, and moving to the head of the harbour of Sebastopol, crossed the bridge of Inkermann on the morning of the 21st, and encamped to the south-west of the town. Some battalions were left on the north side, destined to be the garrison of the largest work on the plateau, called the Star Fort. There, we are told, all was confusion and dismay; but this may be doubted. Two or three very firm men were at that time in Sebastopol—the Admirals Korniloff and Nachimoff, and the German engineer Todleben. This remarkable soldier had been sent to the Crimea in the month of August, at a time when the Czar was just beginning to believe in the probability of a descent. He arrived there at the end of the month, a few days after the Malakoff, or White Tower, on the south side had been completed. Prince Menschikoff requested the engineer to report upon the defences, and it is recorded that the substance of his report was that with two divisions of infantry, say 24,000 men, and field artillery, he would undertake to be master of the town in three hours. This was not a pleasant report, nor does it appear that much was done to supply the deficiency of defence until the Allies were almost before the place. On the 21st Prince Menschikoff held a council. It was then that the sturdy admirals and the great engineer showed their metal. They resolved to extemporise earthen defences on the south side, and sink a part of the fleet across the mouth of the harbour—a task which they executed with promptitude and skill. But Prince Menschikoff seems to have been uncertain what part his army should play; and had the Allies appeared on the Belbek on the evening of the 21st they would have found the extra defences not begun, the army still under the influence of the staggering blow delivered at the Alma, and its chief perplexed and vacillating. Even at the moment when they crowned the heights of the Belbek, and could see from the loftier elevations the white forts on the margin of the water, the works on the northern side had only just received their garrisons, and were in a most weak condition. This the Allies knew not, nor did they know that when they were discussing the propriety of the flank march to the south, Prince Menschikoff had just begun a flank march from the south, so as to gain the main road leading to Russia. Had the Allies been quicker, they would have caught the Russians in their moment of weakness and doubt, and Sebastopol would have been theirs.

It was the morning of the 25th. The Allied camp spread out over the plateau, within three miles and a half of the nearest defences of Sebastopol. The question to be resolved was, Should they at once attack the northern works, or should they file through the rough woods and appear suddenly on the southern plateau? We have seen that Lord Raglan, as early as the 15th or 16th, doubted the ability of the Allies to carry the northern forts by a coup de main, and contemplated the other alternative; and that, the day after the battle of the Alma, he had set Sir John Burgoyne to draw up a memorandum, showing the advantages of the latter course. It is probable that these arguments were first placed before Marshal St. Arnaud at the bivouac on the Katcha; but the ultimate decision was not taken until the morning of the 25th, at the bivouac on the Belbek. After that St. Arnaud had declined to risk an assault. Early on the 25th Lord Raglan went to the quarters of Marshal St. Arnaud, who was now attacked by cholera, and too much broken to be able to take an active part; and in his presence, and that of General Canrobert and others, debated the project of Sir John Burgoyne. Certainly, all were not agreed; but Canrobert was not made of that stuff which leads a general to take upon himself the burden of a heavy responsibility, and he yielded to the arguments of the English. It was therefore ordered that the flank march should be undertaken forthwith; and for four-and-twenty hours the Allied armies were at the mercy of their opponents. Had Menschikoff possessed a spark of genius, he would have cut his enemies to pieces on the 25th of September; but he was employed on a movement of his own, when he ought to have been watching the enemy.

About noon the march began. The artillery—so little was apprehended from the enemy—took the lead; then the English cavalry and infantry, then the baggage, and, next, the French. The 4th British Division was left on the heights "to maintain the communication with the Katcha," until the new base had been secured. The march was most painful and harassing; but, leaving the infantry to tear their way through the low forest by compass, let us follow Lord Raglan. According to his wont, he rode on towards the front, taking the narrow bridle-path. The guns had halted when he came up, because they were entirely without support. Half a battalion of skirmishers might have destroyed all the horses, and killed the gunners. When Lord Raglan rode up, he sharply ordered them to resume their march, and passed on to the front. Suddenly he came softly back. As he emerged from the trees he saw a strange sight—a body of Russians, with a baggage-train, were moving northward along the road. It was the rear guard of Prince MenschikofF, on its way to join the army at Batchiserai. Lord Raglan eagerly inquired for the cavalry, and the cavalry were not to be found. Some time elapsed; the Russians, ignorant of the nearness of their foes, continued to march quietly along. Lord Raglan grew impatient, and sent officers in search of his light horse, while he placed his own escort and a troop of horse artillery in readiness to act. After some time, parts of two Hussar regiments were brought up, and the 2nd battalion of the Rifle Brigade; but the Russians had now detected the presence of an enemy on their left flank, and had begun to run. Then the guns opened, and the horsemen and light infantry went at the enemy, who, abandoning his waggons, fled hastily away. Neither Menschikoff nor Raglan had the slightest notion of one another's intentions during this extraordinary chapter of blunders.

Next day the British army took up a position in front of Balaclava; but the French remained on the Tchernaya. Marshal St. Arnaud, who had been carried from the Belbek in a carriage captured at the Alma, now became, in the opinion of those around him, incapable of commanding the army any longer. He was, indeed, at the point of death, and on the morning of the 26th he formally handed his command over to General Canrobert. In a day or two he embarked in the Bertholet, but died at sea, midway between Balaclava and the Bosphorus. Marshal St. Arnaud was not a soldier of the stamp to which our forefathers were accustomed in the great wars against Napoleon. He was gifted with a showy, yet still genuine courage; he was impetuous and daring. His long and painful sickness, and the peculiarity of his position, no doubt, ought to be taken into account when we judge of his soldiership; but, having made allowance for these obstructions to the display of military ability, we are bound to say that we do not find in the marshal any faculties of a high order. His ambition, his vanity, his assumption, are as conspicuous as his frankness, warmth of heart, and readiness to yield under pressure, whether it came from Paris or the British headquarters; but, on the whole, he was a flashy and insubstantial man. His successor, General Canrobert, came of the same Algerian stock, and he had at least as much ability as Marshal St. Arnaud, and one quality the marshal had not—modesty.

The French army crossed the plain on the 28th, and encamped in front of Balaclava. The day before Lord Raglan had sent the Light and 2nd Divisions up to the slopes which overlook Sebastopol; on the 29th the French army followed, and by the 1st of October all the infantry of the Allies, except the 93rd, the Turks, and some Marines landed from the fleet, were on those hills. Here, then, for many months, was to be the scene of their mighty labours and cruel sufferings: these rugged heights, and ravine-riven plains, and sheltered valleys, were to be the mute witnesses of the most extraordinary siege of modern times, and one of the most remarkable recorded in military annals.

The Russians had profited by the change in the plans of the Allies. Prince Menschikoff had moved his army upon Batchiserai on the 24th and 25th, in order to regain his communications with Perekop and the eastern part of the Crimea, whence, as he knew, large reserves were approaching to succour the cherished city of the Czar. He hoped to place himself in rear of the Allied armies, which, he supposed, would attack the northern works of Sebastopol, and preserve his position there until he was strong enough to fight a battle for the relief of the place. When the attack of the Allies on his rear-guard, and intelligence from Sebastopol of the capture of Balaclava, revealed to him the change of plan, he was persuaded by Korniloff's remonstrances to move at once from Batchiserai and take up a position on the Katcha, whence, on the 1st of October, he marched his army through the village of Belbek, and rested for the night on the left bank of the stream. The next morning the army was moved up to the northern works, and thence transported across the harbour to aid in throwing up the defences; so that, two days after the Allies had planted their camps on the southern plateau, 20,000 men of Prince Menschikoff's beaten army had re-entered Sebastopol.

During the fortnight that had elapsed since the battle of the Alma a striking change had been made in the landward defences of Sebastopol. When the Allies landed the defensive works were few and disconnected. On the eastern face—that is, from the Careening Bay to the great ravine—there were but three works, the centre of which was the Malakoff tower on its commanding hillock. On the western face there was a long loop-holed wall, running from the sea in front of Artillery Bay to a stone tower, called the Central Bastion, opposite a cemetery, and a second work made of earth, called the Flagstaff Bastion, crowning a hill at the southern apex of the town, and on the western side of the great ravine. Not more than fifty guns were mounted on these works at that time. In the interval, the genius of Todleben had converted the place into a strongly entrenched camp. The sailors and soldiers, the civilians, and even women, were employed, without stint, in throwing up earthworks and in mounting guns. Inspired by the energy of Korniloff, a tough Russian, directed by the skill of Todleben, supplied by the vast resources of an arsenal crammed with means and appliances of all kinds, the workers, in a few days, surrounded the city with powerful defences. Batteries, connected by entrenchments, arose on all sides; so that when the Allies sat down before the place, and looked out over the waste towards the goal of their efforts, instead of finding an open town, they found an entrenched camp, which grew stronger under the gazer's eye. They had shrunk from the northern works, because they were too strong; they marched up to the southern works, and discovered that these were stronger. They had come thither to take a town by a coup de main, and, in the opinion of Sir George Cathcart, could have walked into the place on the 28th of September without the loss of a soldier. They soon found that they were in front of an entrenched position which no troops could assail and live. Therefore the siege guns were landed with all practicable speed, and it was resolved to raise batteries, not to breach the works, but to silence the fire of the guns, and then to storm in on all sides.

But the more minutely the Allies looked into the ground they would have to take up, and the works they would have to execute, the less likely did it appear that they would readily reduce the place. The plateau occupied by the British sloped down to the Russian works. It was broken into ridges by five deep ravines, whose sides became more precipitous as they fell towards the South Bay or Dockyard Creek. The left ravine was the largest and the most profound. Towards its termination in the South Bay, the two next ravines towards the right ran into it, leaving flat slopes between. The second, on the right, was the larger and more important, and along its bottom ran the Woronzoff road, whence it became known as the Woronzoff ravine. Next, on the right, was a smaller ravine, called Karabelnaia, because it led to that suburb; and the next, having its source near Inkermann, ended in the Careening Bay. The Malakoff tower, with its surrounding entrenchments, stood between the Careening and Karabelnaia ravines. Then on the south-west of the Malakoff, but on the opposite bank of the Karabelnaia, stood the now famous Redan, and the works known as the Barrack batteries. In order to attack these, the engineers were forced to trace their parallels on the flats between the ravines; but such was the nature of the ground that the batteries raised to fire on the Redan were obliged to be erected, not on the plateau which descended to it, but on the opposite side of the Woronzoff ravine; while those intended to batter the Malakoff were placed, not on the plateau which ran down to the Malakoff, but on that which ran down to the Redan. Thus the two systems of attack were separated by these deep gullies. They were called the right and left attacks, and were the scenes of the principal labours and loss of the British.

It was the opinion of Sir John Burgoyne and the engineers that the proper point of attack was the Malakoff. On the ridge leading down to this work was a remarkable mound, first called Gordon's Hill, but afterwards known as the Mamelon. It afforded a good site for batteries directed against the Malakoff, and as the hill on which this work was placed commanded the city and the anchorage, Sir John wished to make this the principal point of attack, and direct the main efforts of the besiegers to its mastery; while the French held the enemy in check on their side, and a battery west of the Woronzoff ravine—that is, our left attack—kept down the fire of the Redan. But the French engineer, General Bizot, did not agree with Sir John Burgoyne. In his opinion, the Flagstaff Battery, a bold salient work on the west of the South Bay, was the key of the position. Sir John desired to employ our 3rd Division against the Malakoff, but the French objected, and it could not be done. Wherefore, the imperfect plan of attack which we have indicated was resolved upon.

The landing of the siege train occupied eight days, and on the 16th of October, 41 pieces of ordnance, including five 10-inch mortars, had been mounted in batteries on the left attack, and 32 pieces of ordnance, including five 10-inch mortars, had been mounted on the right attack. The guns and mortars in these batteries were to direct a cross fire on the Malakoff, the Redan, and the Barrack batteries, or to search the flank of the Flagstaff on one side, and the men-of-war in the Careening creek on the other. Thus in less than a week the British had put these 73 guns into position; but in the meantime Todleben had shown such amazing industry and skill, that he had brought no less than 107 guns to bear upon the British attack alone, 82 of which were heavy siege guns, and 130 against the French. The garrison was augmented daily; first by Menschikoff's army, then by troops from Taman and Kertch, then by battalions from Odessa; so that in a few days there were in Sebastopol no fewer than 23,000 soldiers, and 12,000 sailors armed and drilled as soldiers; and about the heights of Mackenzie's Farm and Inkermann, a corps of observation, numbering 25,000 men, giving a total of 60,000 men, a force equal to that of the Allies.

No place in the world could be more impregnable to an attack from the sea. At the mouth of the roadstead there were three mighty forts. On a low point of land, under the cliff on the northern side, rose the immense work named Fort Constantine, showing 110 guns, in three casemated tiers, with another tier on the roof. On the south shore, also low down, and having a good command of the sea, first the Quarantine Fort, with its sixty guns, and beyond that, Fort Alexander, with its ninety guns, defied all assailants, so that in first line, an invading fleet would have to encounter the fire of 260 guns, securely placed in solid works. Looking from the sea, these three forts impressed the beholder with the strength of the place. But these were not all. Beyond Alexander rose Fort Nicholas, armed with 110 guns; and beyond this, Fort Paul, with its eighty-six guns, standing at the mouth of the south bay. Altogether, there were no fewer than 700 guns looking towards the sea from their secure casemates. Nor should the small work, called the Wasp Battery, above Fort Constantine, improvised on the spur of the moment, be overlooked. It deserved its name. Such were the formidable defences which the allied fleets were to attack in wooden ships, and which some sanguine persons expected them to reduce to helplessness. No greater delusion could exist.

The real hour of trial had now come. The batteries of the Allies were ready to open fire, and on the night of the 16th of October orders went forth from both headquarters that the embrasures should be unmasked in the obscurity of the dawn; that the troops in camp should be held in readiness to fall in at a moment's notice ready to storm; that the fire of the land batteries should open soon after six; and that the fleet, moving up, should assail the great forts overlooking the sea. Both admirals, it is understood, were opposed to this proceeding. They held the sound opinion that the fleet could not effect anything against the forts. The safety of the army, they said, depended on the safety of the fleet, and it would be imprudent to risk the fleet in an encounter with forts so well placed and so heavily armed. The mouth of the harbour was closed by the sunken ships. A shoal, running out in front of Fort Constantine, prevented the great men-of-war from placing themselves near enough to batter the walls with effect. The sailing ships must be towed or propelled by steamers, and would fight at a disadvantage. These arguments did not prevail. Admiral Hamelin was under the absolute command of General Canrobert, and not at liberty to disobey. Admiral Dundas was not under the absolute command of Lord Raglan; but he could not well refrain from executing his wishes, or look on while the French attacked. The allied generals were pressing in their orders, as they held that an attack from the sea would operate as a diversion, and favour the attack from the land. Therefore it was decided that the ships should go in, take the risk, and do their utmost to damage the enemy.

The first spectacle that arrested the eye when the first cloud of smoke rolled away was the broken Malakoff. The 68-pounders, in Peel's battery, more than 2,000 yards from the work, had dismounted the guns and ruined the tower. Then it was seen that the French were inferior to their foes. Their light brass guns and hastily constructed works were no match for the heavier metal of the Russians. The batteries were beginning to look deformed, their fire wanted the force and continuity of ours. The Russians pounded them in front, and sent their heavy shot and shell into their left flank; and, seeing the effect, redoubled their energy. Our magazines were small, and the rapid firing soon exhausted the supply; but the artillerymen drove down to the trenches, under a fierce cannonade; and their daring was rewarded, for they met with few casualties. Then, freshly supplied, the gunners went to work with renewed vigour. About twenty minutes to nine there was an explosion, so loud that it struck everyone with amazement, and caused a perceptible slackening of the fire. A Russian shell had broken through the great magazine of the principal French battery. In a moment all the guns were dismounted, 100 men were killed and wounded, and the battery rendered absolutely useless. A shout of triumph arose in the town, and its roar reached even the lines of the besiegers. The French guns were now nearly silenced, so heavy had been the storm directed upon them when it was found that they were giving way; and between eleven and twelve, with one battery destroyed and two silenced, General Canrobert gave orders to cease firing. Thus before noon the French had retired from the contest altogether.

The British hardly relaxed a moment. Their batteries were mauled, but their gunners never ceased to hurl forth their shot and shell. We had, by this time, so reduced the fire from the Barrack batteries, on the Russian right of the Redan, and from the earthwork round the Malakoff, that these batteries were regarded as silenced. But, when the French ceased, the left flank guns of the Flagstaff and Garden batteries, a little in its rear, but facing our trenches, and the Redan, went on as furiously as ever. The Russians fought their guns with a skill and persistence deserving the greatest praise. They were now testing the worth of all their defences. The costly casemated forts were replying to the allied ships; two steamers and a line-of-battle ship in the harbour were exchanging shots with our Lancaster guns and 68-pounders; while Todleben's extemporised batteries were in full play. But the British fire was so good that, about three o'clock, a shell found its way into the magazine of the Redan, and, setting it on fire, caused an explosion which silenced that work for half-an-hour. Then they got one or two guns to work, and with these they kept up a fire all the rest of the day. But this earthwork suffered so severely that its garrison was replaced three times between sunrise and sunset. Along the whole line opposed to our batteries we had, by the evening, established a complete superiority over the fire of the enemy; and had the French been equally successful, it is probable that an assault would have been hazarded. During the day we had demolished the Malakoff tower, exploded its magazine, the magazine in the Redan, and a magazine in the town; we had killed Admiral Korniloff, and killed or wounded 500 men, and dismounted thirty-five guns; and we had driven the line-of-battle ships out of the creek, and damaged a steamer in the harbour. In return our whole loss was 130 men killed and wounded, one Lancaster gun burst, and seven guns disabled in consequence of injuries to wheels and carriages.

The operation of the fleets had been a glorious display of courage, and that was all. The fleets were divided into three squadrons. The British took the left, the Turks the centre, and the French the right. In order to carry the great sailing ships into action, steamers were lashed to the side next the offing, and one hour was occupied in turning the Britannia, in order to place her in the proper position. The French were drawn up in two lines, eight ships of the line with one Turkish ship, in the first line, and eight, with a Turk, in the second. These were the first, about 1,800, the second about 2,000 yards from the Quarantine Fort and Forts Nicholas and Alexander on the south shore of the harbour. The British fleet consisted of twenty-six ships of war, but some of the steamers were used to carry the large sailing ships into position. They had to contend with Fort Constantine and the batteries on the cliff, notably the Wasp. A shoal running out from the spit on which the fort is built prevented a nearer approach than 800 yards; but the Agamemnon and Sanspareil, the first with only two feet of water under her keel, did not hesitate to run within that distance of the 130 guns of Fort Constantine. There was no wind, and the sea was smooth. About a quarter past one the conflict began, and it did not cease until dark. And what was the upshot? The forts looked "speckled." It is stated that the gunners were driven from their guns more than once, and that some pieces were dismounted; but the Russians again steadily resumed their fire, and fired on to the end. The superiority of stone forts, and even earthworks, over ships, remained as firmly established as ever. The fleets did not venture again to attack the great forts at Sebastopol.

At dawn, on the 18th, the cannonade was resumed. This time it was a duel between the British and the Russians, for the French had not recovered from the destructive blows they received on the 17th. The Russian fire was far heavier than on the preceding day. The batteries round the Malakoff, the Redan, the Barrack, the Garden, and left face of the Flagstaff batteries, were more vigorous than ever. But our fire did not equal in intensity and weight the fire of the first day. Then, our gunners were lavish of ammunition; now, they hoarded the slender store. Each gun fired once in ten minutes. But the enemy, having behind them the best stocked arsenal in the world, pitched in every kind of missile without stint. Although they could not touch our magazines, again we blew up one of theirs—this time in the Malakoff. The first day we fired as fast as we could, in the hope of subduing their fire and storming in; but on the second day all idea of instant storming had been given up. We fired to continue the bombardment and enable the French to recover. One ominous sign marked the 18th—the Russians made a reconnaissance from the Tchernaya in the forenoon, upon the lines of Balaclava. Their heavy masses appeared above Tchorgoun, and on the Fedoukine heights, but did not approach nearer. It was the first instalment of the great bodies on the road from Bessarabia. The superiority of the Russians was now established. They had more men, more guns, more supplies of all kinds. On the 19th they fired more shots; they fired steadily, and they had increased their number of guns. The artillery of the besieged was double that of the besiegers. It was all artillery of great weight and great range. The Russian general had men enough to serve all his guns, and to keep very strong parties on guard. Each night he more than repaired the damage done in the day. Todleben seemed to be sleepless. In short, the whole character of the operation, so far as the Allies were concerned, had become changed, not by their will, but by time and the will of the Russians. On the morning of the 20th the British store of ammunition had been so reduced that very few rounds per gun remained. They had fired 20,000 the first day. Moreover, the enemy was evidently gathering in force in the valley of the Tchernaya. Therefore the generals took counsel together, and determined to await the arrival of reinforcements, both of men and means, and then to recommence a fresh bombardment, with a greatly increased force of artillery.

The expedition to the Crimea was undertaken on the idea that Sebastopol could be taken by a landing, a battle, a march, and a coup de main. The Allies landed on the 14th. The news of the battle of the Alma reached Paris and London on the 30th of September. On the 1st and 2nd of October came a report that the place had been taken on the 25th. This report was believed by most people, including the British Government, and it was believed by them because they were cognisant of the real nature of the plan. Those who felt and expressed doubts respecting the truth of the story were indignantly silenced. The French Emperor shared in the general delusion, and it was not until the 4th of October that it was dispelled by the arrival of Lord Raglan's despatch of the 28th, stating that he had only just reached Balaclava. In the midst of their labours in the trenches, and when the grave fact, that Sebastopol could not be taken without a regular siege, was becoming more apparent every hour, this wild story reached the allied camp with the English journals, and excited feelings of the warmest indignation. This incident is narrated to show how great were the expectations of the people and the Governments, and how little either knew of the real nature of the enterprise which they had promoted and sanctioned. In England there was a passion to take Sebastopol, and it cannot be doubted that the failure of the original plan, while it intensified that passion, also made the people angry with the heads of the army and the heads of the State.

The Czar Nicholas was also angry at the invasion of his dominions and the defeat of his troops; and anger and prudence alike dictated the reinforcement of Prince Menschikoff and the resumption of offensive operations. Accordingly, he gave orders for the march of the 3rd and 4th Corps d'ArmÉe to the Crimea, and by the end of October the Russians outnumbered the Allies by two to one. Prince Menschikoff meanwhile was meditating a counter-stroke, and devising plans to force the Allies to raise the siege. Surveying their position, he deemed it assailable on two points; from the Tchernaya, in front of Balaclava, and from the head of the harbour on the British right flank opposite Inkermann. Perhaps the feasibility of the latter operation was then only germinating in his mind. He was seduced into another operation. The apparent weakness of the British position about Balaclava made him impatient to attack it. From the lofty ridge of Mackenzie, on the north, and from the heights to the east, which on one side look towards the Baidar valley and the road to the Crimean undercliff, and on the other into Kamara and the Balaclava plain, he saw the weak-looking defences of the Allies in front and flank. The little knolls crowned by the Turkish redoubts lay exposed in the plains, nearly two miles from any support. They ran in a curved line north-west from Kamara—No. 1, on a mound called Canrobert's Hill, being nearest to Kamara; and No. 5 being almost under the ridge of Mount Sapoune. Between them and Balaclava and Kadikoi, and on to the Col and the fortified ridge, there was nothing except the Marines on the eastern Balaclava heights, the 93rd in front of the gorge leading to the harbour, the sailors' gun-battery above Kadikoi, and the camps of the British Cavalry Brigades, north-west of that village. Could he not by a rapid and vigorous movement sweep through these defences, expel the Turks, destroy the 93rd, seize Balaclava, destroy the shipping, and cut off the British from their road out to the sea? Having won Balaclava and the heights on both sides, could he not next carry the Col, and so break into the rear of the allied camps, and place them between his guns and bayonets and those of Sebastopol? General Liprandi had arrived with the 12th Division and four regiments of horse and 44 field-guns, and reinforcing these from his over-abundant garrison, Menschikoff determined to attempt the enterprise.

Sir Colin Campbell, who commanded at Balaclava, feared an attack from Kamara and on this side, and he had done all that was possible, with the scanty means at his disposal, to provide against it. As he watched daily, his keen eye detected the increasing symptoms of the coming storm, but so weak was our force that we could do little, except place guns in the Turkish redoubts, a measure which did not meet with general approval; and in case of attack to rely for safety upon the arrival of troops from the main body in time to give battle to the assailants. General Liprandi, as early as the 23rd, had collected on the Tchernaya his own 12th Infantry Division, and he was then reinforced by seven battalions and fourteen guns from Sebastopol. This gave him a force of about 21,000 men, including 3,200 cavalry and 52 guns. The 24th was spent in reconnoitring the position, and Sir Colin Campbell heard the same evening, from a spy, that an attack in force would be made at dawn; information which Lord Lucan sent by his own aide-de-camp to headquarters. But it does not appear that any measures were taken in consequence. Perhaps no trust was placed in the spy. Perhaps Lord Lucan did not enjoy that confidence at headquarters which a really good cavalry commander would not have failed to inspire. In any case it does not appear that special measures were taken to meet the attack.

Long before dawn of the 25th of October the Russians stood to their arms. The valley of the Tchernaya, the plain beyond, and the hill sides were shrouded in a thick clammy mist. This was favourable to the assailants. The plan of General Liprandi was to move in three separate columns upon the redoubts occupied by the Turks. The Turks were alarmed. They opened fire, but as the enemy's troops rolled on towards them they lost heart. Arrived within a hundred yards, the Russian infantry made a rush over the intervening space, and the first redoubt was won. The Turks fled, some over the valley, some into the next redoubt; but some fought, for the Russian general reports that 170 were slain in the work. The English artilleryman in charge of the 12-pounders had spiked them. Moving swiftly forward, bringing up his right and pushing his horsemen along on the flank, Liprandi forced the Turks to flee from the next two redoubts; and the Cossacks were soon over the slopes, dashing among the fugitives, and spearing them as they ran. The Turks still fled. Panic ran along the whole line. The last redoubt was abandoned, and the Russians occupied the whole line of outposts, and bringing up their artillery, opened a heavy fire. But General Liprandi, fearful of thrusting his men under the fire of the heavy guns about Balaclava and Kadikoi, halted in full career, and refrained from pressing an attack which, at one moment, seemed likely to sweep like a tide through the whole valley.

Nevertheless, he resolved to continue his offensive movement, but with his horsemen alone. When the Russians were first seen advancing through the mist, Lord Lucan, who expected them, was in one of the redoubts. He immediately rode off to join his division, and to send the unwelcome news to Sir Colin Campbell and Lord Raglan. The cavalry were soon in the saddle and in fighting order, the Heavy Brigade on the right, the Light on the left. Sir Colin Campbell drew out the 93rd, under Colonel Ainslie, and posted them on a rising ground in front of the gorge leading to the port. He had no other force except Captain Barker's 9-pounder foot battery, with which he covered his right. Some of the fugitive Turks were rallied by Sir Colin, and placed on his right flank, but no dependence could be put on them. The only staunch infantry on the plain were the 93rd, drawn up in line along a little ridge—a mere streak of red compared with the dark compact masses of the impending foe.

They came down with a gallop and a yell. The few Turks on the right of the Highlanders fired a volley at once and ran, crying, "Ship, Johnny, ship!" The Cossacks were elated, and they swung round their left flank as if they would roll up "the thin, red streak, tipped with a line of steel." But Sir Colin threw back his right flank company, and when the screaming horsemen were within 600 yards, he threw in a volley. The guns on the heights sent in heavy shots, yet the Cossacks were not to be deterred. In a short space, instead of fleeing, the 93rd poured in another volley from their rifles, a volley heard afar, as it rang out clear and compact, and echoed among the hills. The Cossacks found that the men in red were not to be scared away like Turks, although they stood alone far out in the plain, and only two deep. So, when the great column was closing with our heavy horse, the mere fire and steadfastness of the Highlanders drove the lesser column back to the redoubts, while the guns of Barker's battery smote them as they fled.

When the British cavalry fell back, Lord Lucan placed them near the two most westerly redoubts. His object in doing this was twofold. He desired, first, to give a clear and unobstructed range to Sir Colin Campbell's guns; and secondly, to post the cavalry at a point whence, if the Russians moved directly on Balaclava, he could take them in flank. For this reason he made them front to the east. Now Lord Raglan did not approve of the disposition of the cavalry, and, being Commander-in-Chief, he had the audacity to direct a change of position. Lord Lucan was "discomfited." He seems to have thought that Lord Raglan did wrong to interfere with him. But he obeyed, and changed the front from east to north. Then Lord Raglan appears to have thought that the infantry near Balaclava should not be wholly without the support of the horse, and he directed Lord Lucan to send eight squadrons of the Heavy Brigade towards Balaclava. He obeyed. There was a long orchard running north and south, round which, on the western side, the cavalry had to move. It so chanced that, coincidently with this order from the English general, Liprandi had also given an order. He had massed his cavalry behind the redoubts, and he now directed them, with a force of Cossacks on the left flank, to push over the ridge and pour the larger body into the cavalry camps that lay to the south-east of the orchard, and the flanking Cossacks to attack the 93rd. As Lord Lucan was riding along, he saw, through a break in the fruit-trees, the head of the huge column of Russian cavalry, some glittering in blue and silver uniforms, crown the ridge and descend the slope. He rode at speed, and joined the Greys and Enniskillens, as they were rounding the south end of the orchard. He wheeled them into line, almost in the cavalry camp, and placing them under General Scarlett, he directed them to anticipate the Russian charge. All this was visible to the men and officers who swarmed on Mount Sapoune. They sat or stood, French and British, looking down with breathless interest on the scene below. They saw the Russian horse, nearly 3,000 strong, sweep majestically over the rising ground, the front of their broad and deep column protected by outstretched wings on each flank; and they saw—at first in something like disorder, apparent not real—the little squadrons of the Heavy Brigade, which altogether did not equal a fifth of the force swooping down upon them. No British soldier could have desired a fairer occasion for a display of valour and skill.

As the Russians rolled over the ridge, they instinctively fronted towards the tiny squadrons which they saw entangled in their standing camp. "They," wrote Mr. W. H. Russell, who witnessed the scene, "advanced down the hill at a slow canter, which they changed to a trot, and at last nearly halted. Their first line was nearly double the length of ours, and it was at least three times as deep. Behind them was a similar line equally strong and compact. They evidently despised their insignificant-looking enemy, but their time was come. The trumpets rang out through the valley, and the Greys and Enniskilleners went right at the centre of the Russian cavalry. The space between them was only a few hundred yards; it was scarce enough to let the horses 'gather way,' nor had the men quite space enough for the play of their sword arms. The Russian line brought forward each wing as our cavalry advanced, and threatened to annihilate them as they passed on. Turning a little to their left, so as to meet the Russian right, the Greys rushed on with a cheer that thrilled every heart. The wild shout of the Enniskilleners rose through the air at the same instant. As lightning flashes through a cloud, the Greys and Enniskilleners pierced through the dark masses of Russians. The shock was but for a moment. There was a clash of steel, and a light play of sword blades in the air, and then the Greys and dragoons disappeared in the midst of the shaken and quivering columns. In another moment we saw them emerging with diminished numbers and in broken order, charging against the second line." In less than five minutes, by the vigorous attack in front, and a well-timed assault in flank, and the dash upon the wings as they were closing in upon our first line less than 700 British swordsmen had beaten 3,000 Russian horse in compact and close array into a disorderly crowd, and had driven them off so completely that they did not draw rein until two miles from the scene of the combat and well behind their own guns and between their own infantry. Fortunately, General Scarlett, who had the conduct of this brilliant charge, kept his men in hand, and brought them up before they came under the range of the enemy's guns. Thus were exemplified before the eyes of our allies the highest and the rarest qualities of cavalry—the swift, unhesitating charge, and the faculty for stopping ere it is too late. But the British general must have seen with regret, as the French officers saw with astonishment, the inactivity of the Light Brigade. One word from their leader, a few strides round the north of the orchard, and the brigade might have buried itself deep in the Russian right rear, and have taken hundreds of prisoners, if it had not half destroyed Liprandi's cavalry. But fear of responsibility kept Lord Cardigan's lips closed. He had been "placed there," and until he was ordered to move, there he must remain. Few men have ever thrown away a more fortunate moment, and in battle such moments fly never to return.

So far the conflict. The Russians had surprised a line of outposts, and had taken seven guns, and now held the greater part of the line they had surprised; but their cavalry had suffered a deep disgrace, and had been driven in, and their general was compelled to form a strong line of battle, not for offence, but defence. He placed seven battalions and eight guns on the south and south-west slopes of the Fedoukine heights. In the valley leading to the Tchernaya were the rallied horse, with their flanks thrown forward, and guns in their front; and on the redoubt ridge, and on both sides of it, and in three of the redoubts, was the remainder of the infantry in column, as far as Kamara, supported by strong lines of guns. He seemed to wait an opportunity, and was tempted again, by the weak appearance of the defence of Balaclava, to try and debouch from Kamara; but the steady fire of Barker and the Marines daunted him effectually. Thus stood the aspect of the field between nine and ten o'clock, when the action cooled down to a cannonade, and the Russians, who were proud of their victory over the Turks seemed to entertain no desire whatever for a further acquaintance with their other foes at close quarters.

GENERAL TODLEBEN.