Nearly forty years elapsed after Waterloo before another European war broke out. Peace had been by no means undisturbed; the revolutions of 1848 in particular occasioned serious fighting, but there had been no sustained war on a large scale. England had been entirely exempt; and not a few persons in England had begun to dream that the age of peace had begun, while many more thought that England might and should stand aloof from all European entanglements, and follow the more profitable pursuits of peace. There is some reason to think that the latter class involuntarily helped to bring about war, that the Czar of Russia would never have adhered to the policy which led to the Crimean War, unless he had attached undue importance to their language, and believed that England would not fight.

The period of peace had witnessed great discoveries which were destined to revolutionise the art of war, as well as the conditions of peaceful life. Railways had been developed, fully in England, to a greater or less degree in the other nations of western and central Europe. Steam navigation had spread widely, though the majority of trading vessels, and an even larger proportion of men-of-war, still had sails only. The telegraph had been invented, but was not very extensively in use. All these new agencies played some part in the Crimean War, the telegraph somewhat to the detriment of the military operations, though their effect was trifling compared to the influence exerted in the war of 1870 by railways and the field telegraph. Except in one respect, there had been no changes in the art of war: and this one exception, the introduction of the rifle, was only beginning, [266]
[267]though it involved potentially the vast extension in the range and rapidity of fire which has since revolutionised tactics. The fundamental principle of the rifle, grooving the gun-barrel so as to produce a rotation of the bullet, was known in the seventeenth century, if not sooner. The early forms of rifle far surpassed the musket in accuracy of aim, and also though in a less degree in range; but the difficulty of loading them was great, so that they were not suited to be the ordinary weapon of infantry, though picked men were armed with them. In 1836 a form of bullet was invented which would expand on the rifle being fired, and fill the grooves in the barrel. This conquered the difficulty of loading, and the rifle was gradually substituted for the musket; the English infantry sent to the Crimea in 1854 had nearly all received the new weapon, and the French also, but among the Russians the rifle was still only in the hands of a few picked men. The range was far less than what all soldiers are now accustomed to, but the advantage over the musket was very real. No corresponding advance had been made with artillery; hence the conditions of a siege remained the same as during the Peninsular War.

The Eastern question was not a new one in 1853: it is not likely to have disappeared from politics for many a year yet. In one sense it dates from the first conquest by the Turks of territory in Europe: the decline of a purely military power was inevitable whenever internal decay wasted the sources of its strength. Mohammedan conquerors could not possibly blend with their Christian subjects so as to form one people, as the Normans for instance did in England. Moreover, as soon as Russia became a powerful state, it was natural that she should seek for an outlet to the Mediterranean: and Russian ambition has been habitually unscrupulous. If Russia had succeeded in seating herself at Constantinople, after expelling the Turks from Europe, the change might or might not have been a gain to the Christian peoples of south-eastern Europe, but it would have meant an augmentation of Russian power extremely dangerous to the rest of Christendom. The other nations of Europe might have looked on unmoved while any other changes passed over the Balkan peninsula; they could not afford to let it fall into the hands of Russia. In face of Russian aggression against Turkey, they had no practical option: they must support, for the present at least, the existing government of the Sultan, at the cost of prolonging the domination of a Mohammedan power, intolerant, polygamous, slave-holding, over Christian subjects whom its creed did not allow to be treated with common justice.

In the year 1853 the general conditions of Europe were such as to offer Russia an exceptional opportunity. Austria, the great power most deeply interested, was under a heavy debt of gratitude to the Czar, who had recently suppressed a Hungarian revolt which threatened the very existence of the Austrian empire; and she had moreover an unimportant quarrel with the Sultan. The king of Prussia, the power least interested, was the Czar's brother-in-law, and greatly under his influence. Napoleon III. had recently made himself master of France; and the Czar seems to have assumed that he was not firm enough on the throne to venture on war. He ought to have perceived that nothing would so strengthen the new emperor's hold on France as a successful war; moreover his uncle's fate and his own observations had made Napoleon III. anxious for alliance with England: if the latter determined on war with Russia, she was sure to have the co-operation of France. Thus everything really depended on the temper of England, and the Russian emperor persuaded himself that from this quarter he had nothing to fear. A little while before he had tried to bribe England to acquiescence in his designs, by suggesting that on the impending decease of the "sick man," as he called Turkey, he should be very willing to see England occupy Egypt, and thus secure her most obvious interest, control of the route to India. English diplomacy however had been, perhaps unfortunately, so reticent that the Czar believed England to be under the domination of the so-called Manchester school, and no longer capable of going to war to punish unprovoked disturbance of the general peace of the world.

A quarrel with Turkey was easily raised over the Turkish treatment of Christian pilgrims at Jerusalem, and the custody of the Holy Sepulchre there. The Russian demands amounted to a claim for a full protectorate over all Christian subjects of the Porte. For the Sultan to grant this would have been equivalent to surrendering his independence: he refused, and Russia occupied the Danubian principalities, which have since become the kingdom of Roumania. In consequence of this high-handed proceeding, England and France, an attempt at mediation having failed, sent their fleets to the Bosphorus, and Turkey formally declared war on Russia. In reply to this, the Russian fleet destroyed a very inferior squadron of Turkish war-vessels in the harbour of Sinope. This roused public feeling in England, and the western powers joined in the war. Undecided fighting had been going on during the winter of 1853-4 along the lower Danube; and in the spring Russia mustered her armies for decisive efforts. In May 1854 the Russian troops crossed the Danube and invested Silistria, which resisted steadily. England and France sent troops to the mouth of the Danube, which however were not wanted, for the Czar, yielding to Austrian menaces, evacuated the principalities. It might seem that nothing more need have been done: but so long as Russia retained a powerful fleet in the Black Sea, protected by the fortified harbour of Sebastopol, it was obvious that she could at any moment strike at Constantinople. The western powers accordingly resolved on an expedition to the Crimea, for the purpose of destroying this formidable stronghold.

There is no other instance in history of an army composing over 60,000 men being landed on a hostile coast, in face of a hostile fleet. No power but England has indeed ever successfully despatched a complete army[85] by sea, at any rate since the time of the Crusades; and no other power could have achieved the invasion of the Crimea. It is true that the Russian fleet, knowing itself to be far inferior to the combined English and French squadrons, did in fact remain sheltered within the defences of Sebastopol: but it had to be reckoned with, and by the English alone. The French resources being insufficient to supply adequate transport, their men-of-war were laden with troops, and therefore in no condition to fight. Hence the English squadron had to escort the whole enormous fleet, which fortunately the Russians did not attempt to disturb. Again, the military value of steam navigation was plainly shown on this, the first occasion of its being employed, even partially. Every English transport was either a steamer, or was towed by one, though the French were less fully supplied. Consequently the expedition was conducted across the Euxine with speed, and landed exactly where its leaders chose, on the west shore of the Crimea, some thirty miles north of Sebastopol. Considerable delay had been caused by the collection of so vast a fleet of transports, greatly to the detriment of the health of the armies, which had suffered from the unwholesome climate of the lower Danube region in summer, and from an outbreak of cholera, chiefly among the French. Thus it was not until September 18, 1854, that the landing was completed. The English army numbered 26,000 infantry, with 60 guns and about 1000 cavalry: the French had 28,000 infantry and 68 guns, but had been unable to convey a single squadron of cavalry: there were also 7000 Turkish infantry. Considering the known strength of the Russians in cavalry, it seems that the allies ought to have been better supplied with that arm, even at the cost of leaving five times the number of infantry behind. The Russian want of enterprise however prevented the deficiency being seriously felt.

The allied governments had calculated correctly enough that the Crimea would not contain large armies; and that its great distance from the centre of the empire, with the badness of existing communications, would render it very difficult for Russia to carry on war there effectively. At the same time she could not allow Sebastopol to be destroyed without making every effort to save it—to do so would be to acknowledge defeat. The Russian commander, prince Menschikoff, besides leaving a garrison in the city, was able to meet the allies with an army very inferior in infantry (between half and two-thirds of their number) and fully equal in artillery, but with the advantage of possessing cavalry nearly four-fold the handful of the English light brigade. With this force he took post across the main road leading to Sebastopol, on the south bank of the little river Alma. The position was very strong by nature, and might easily have been made stronger by art. For fully two miles up the stream from its mouth cliffs rise on the south bank, in many parts perpendicular, and allowing no access to the plateau extending thence almost to Sebastopol, save by a slight and difficult track close to the sea, and by a cleft three-quarters of a mile up, through which a rough road ran. Further up the cliffs cease, and the slopes become gradually more and more gentle, though broken into buttresses. The main road crosses the Alma more than three miles from its mouth, and ascends to the plateau between two of these buttresses. The allies having full command of the sea, and having men-of-war at hand, it is obvious that Menschikoff could not occupy the plateau above the cliffs; but he could with very little labour have destroyed the two steep and difficult routes, by which alone the plateau could be scaled. This however he neglected to do, and when the time came he was unable to oppose the French troops to whom it fell to ascend them. Nearly all the Russian artillery was posted on the landward side of the road, where advantageous ground was available for it to sweep the slopes in front. A considerable body of infantry was held in reserve, but the mass of it occupied the crest of the slopes landward from where the cliffs cease, for about two miles, the cavalry behind the right of the line.

The country being everywhere open and uncultivated, the allies were not tied to the road, but advanced on a very wide front, in columns which could quickly and easily be changed into line of battle. The French having no cavalry were on the right, nearest the sea: the English on the left, with the cavalry watching the front and flank. They had no definite knowledge of the enemy's proceedings or even strength, until on the morning of the second day, September 20, they came upon Menschikoff's position behind the Alma. The order of march necessarily implied that the French should scale the heights near the sea, while the English attacked that part of the position which being more accessible was strongly held. The task was a formidable one in face of the Russian batteries, some of them of heavier metal than ordinary field guns. The English general, Lord Raglan, waited for some time to allow the French to gain the plateau and so turn the Russian left: if he had only waited a while longer Menschikoff would probably have been dislodged without fighting, but Lord Raglan yielded to a request from the French general, and ordered his line to advance. The light division was on the left, supported by the first division, consisting of the guards and a brigade of Highland regiments; the second division formed the right of the front line. Having given the word to attack, Lord Raglan with his staff rode forwards, and under cover of a burning village on the river-bank, reached a point of observation on the slopes beyond, whence he could see something of the battle but could issue no further orders: indeed the generals of division did not know what had become of him. Under these circumstances the attack cost the English some unnecessary loss. The first attack, up a slope raked by a powerful artillery, could hardly have been made with success in any formation but the familiar English line, though the space was too narrow to allow the troops room to deploy fully. Naturally the light division, which had to face the heaviest batteries, suffered severely; but they reached the crest, driving back the Russians, who were formed in solid columns of three or four times their strength, but who having only a narrow front were overpowered by the English fire. The Russians hardly fought with their usual stubbornness, the guns were withdrawn for fear lest they should be captured, and the victory would have been gained then and there if the battle had been properly managed; for the second division was going through much the same process on the English right, and the French were by this time making their way on to the plateau. Unfortunately there was no central control: the light division had to sustain unsupported a concentrated fire of infantry and artillery, which drove them at last down the slope, just before the guards came up behind them. The Russians soon gave way entirely, and the English artillery, boldly and skilfully used, inflicted severe losses on them in their retreat, which neither the cavalry nor the artillery made any attempt to cover. Close pursuit was not possible without a large body of cavalry; and the allies bivouacked on the plateau. The English loss in killed and wounded amounted to just 2000 men: the French loss of course was but slight: the Russians admitted a loss of nearly 6000.

Sir Edward Hamley condemns severely the generalship of all parties. The Russian neither made the most of his position nor held it tenaciously, nor did he make any use at all of his very superior cavalry. The French had little to do, and did it somewhat slowly. The English fought admirably, and exemplified once more the vast superiority of line over column, if only troops are steady enough to be trusted in line: but their attacks were ill combined and therefore costly. All might have been saved, he argues, if the allies, ignoring the Russian left above the cliffs, had formed line of battle across their right. Menschikoff could not have made a counter attack on the right of the allies, for the descent from the cliffs under fire from the English ships would have been impossible. He must either have retreated at once, or have fought in a position where defeat would drive him into the sea. In fact the allies had much the same sort of opportunity which Marlborough used with such overwhelming effect at Ramillies. Neither of the generals however was a Marlborough; and there was the natural want of unity in operations conducted by two independent commanders acting together for the first time.

The harbour of Sebastopol is an inlet about four miles long, and from half to three-quarters of a mile wide. The city with its docks and arsenal is on the south side: and the ground rises steeply, broken by narrow ravines, to a high plateau which forms the south-western corner of the Crimea. On the south side of the peninsula, some eight miles south-east from Sebastopol, is the small but tolerably good harbour of Balaclava: and at the corner is the larger but less sheltered bay of Kamiesch. North of the great harbour of Sebastopol the ground rises high above the sea-level; and the highest point was crowned by a large fort, while other fortifications on both sides of the entrance defended the harbour against attack from the sea. Menschikoff immediately after his defeat resolved on his course of action. Sinking some of the men-of-war in the mouth of the harbour, so as to make it impossible for the allied fleet to attempt an entrance, he left an adequate garrison in Sebastopol, and prepared to march out with the rest of his army into the open country. By this means he could keep open communication with Russia, and could use any chance that might offer itself of interfering from outside with the siege operations.

The allies might perhaps have taken the north side of Sebastopol, with the aid of their fleet to engage the Russian ships, before the entrance to the harbour was blocked; but such a step would have brought them practically no nearer to the capture of the city and arsenal beyond the harbour, and would have given them no base of operations. From the nature of the case their base must be the sea, and therefore they were compelled to adopt the plan, in all respects the most expedient open to them, of marching past Sebastopol, seizing Balaclava which became the English port, and Kamiesch for the French, and beginning a regular siege of Sebastopol. The Russian communications from the city northwards were never interrupted, hardly interfered with. Thus the last great siege of what may be called the Vauban period of military history, presents the unique spectacle of a fortress never invested and yet reduced, of the resources of the defending power being poured into it till they were exhausted before the superior strength of the enemy.

Two days after the battle of the Alma, the allies moved southwards. Lord Raglan's resolution of "keeping his cavalry in a bandbox," so long as they were so few, most praiseworthy on the battle-field, was inexpedient on the march; and the Russian general habitually neglected to use his cavalry. Hence Menschikoff's army quitting Sebastopol, and the allies moving on Balaclava, narrowly missed a collision which might have had very serious results. As it was, Menschikoff had advanced far enough to get out into the open country unhindered, and the allies occupied their intended position without a blow. The siege works were promptly begun, the English, roughly speaking, taking care of the east side of the city, and the French of the south. On October 17 a bombardment took place, which it was hoped might open the way to a decisive assault. The English fire inflicted enormous damage on the works, but the magazine in the principal French battery was exploded by a shell, and the Russians succeeded in silencing the other French guns, while the ships inflicted far less injury on the seaward forts than they sustained. No assault could be made, and the Russian engineer Todleben gave the first evidence of his remarkable fertility of resource, in the speed with which he repaired the damage done by the English cannonade. The Russians naturally suffered greater loss in men, being more crowded than the besiegers, and obliged to hold troops in readiness to meet a possible assault. The well-stored arsenal of Sebastopol saved them from any fear of being crippled by expenditure of material. The bombardment was renewed more than once, with much the same results: it gradually became clear that Sebastopol would not be taken without a sustained siege.

Meanwhile the Russian field army had been gathering in the neighbourhood of Balaclava, and on October 25, the anniversary of Agincourt, made an attack on the allied position there, which led to the most famous feat of arms of the whole war. From the harbour of Balaclava the ground rises steeply on the west to the high plateau which was entirely occupied by the allies. On the east the ground rises equally steeply, and at the top a line of defence had been fortified, which formed an adequate protection for Balaclava itself. Northwards from the harbour a gorge opened up, past the hamlet of Kadikoi, into a plain, or rather two strips of plain divided by a low ridge, virtually surrounded on all sides by hills, which was the scene of the battle. Along the line of the dividing ridge, close to the road leading south-east from Sebastopol, a series of earthworks had been planned, as an outer line of defence, but they had only been partially made and were very slightly garrisoned. Lord Raglan had undertaken rather more than his fair share of the siege operations, and could spare very few men to hold Balaclava. In fact the garrison under Sir Colin Campbell only comprised his own regiment, the 93rd Highlanders, and three battalions of Turks. The English cavalry division had its camp in the plain above spoken of, and formed some additional protection, but they obviously could not man the works. Early in the morning some 25,000 Russians appeared over the hills bounding the Balaclava plain on the east, and attacked the nearest and largest of the small redoubts forming the outer line of defence, which was occupied by a few hundred Turks. No immediate support was possible: Campbell had not a man to spare: the cavalry, drawn up at the western end of the plain, were with reason ordered to await the support of infantry, which had a long distance to march from before Sebastopol. The Turks fought obstinately, losing a third of their number before they were driven out: the Russians took two more of the line of works, and the Turks, utterly disheartened at receiving no support, fled in confusion down to Balaclava, carrying away the rest of their countrymen. Campbell had only the 93rd to resist an attack which might well have been made with twenty times his numbers. Kinglake tells how he rode down the line saying, "Remember there is no retreat from here, men; you must die where you stand!" and how the men shouted in reply, "Ay, ay, Sir Colin, we'll do that!" Fortunately the Russians did not realise their opportunity, and only made a desultory attack with a few squadrons of cavalry. Sir Colin did not deign to form square, according to the established tradition for infantry receiving a cavalry charge: he simply awaited their onset in line, two deep, and when the horsemen swerved to one side and threatened to get round his right flank, contented himself with wheeling one company to the right, to form a front in that direction. It was apparently nothing, but it marks the greatest advance made in warfare since the invention of gunpowder, the substitution of the rifle for the musket. The present generation is so used to the later developments of breechloaders, magazines, machine guns, which render cavalry useless against infantry unless by surprise, that it requires an effort to realise the fact that it is only forty years since Sir Colin Campbell's "thin red line" dared for the first time to await charging squadrons in that formation.

Meanwhile the main body of Russian cavalry had slowly advanced up the northern half of the plain, invisible to the English cavalry from the nature of the ground. An order had just arrived for eight squadrons of the heavy brigade to go forwards to Kadikoi and support Campbell. General Scarlett, who commanded the brigade, was executing this order, when a solid body of Russian cavalry, between two and three thousand strong, appeared over the ridge to his left. Scarlett at the moment was moving through his camp, where though the tents had been struck the ground was cumbered by the picketing cords. The Russians, as they slowly descended the slope, threw out squadrons in line on each flank. Scarlett as soon as he had room charged with his leading squadrons, the Scots Greys and half of the Inniskillings, straight into the solid mass, which made no attempt to meet him with a counter-charge, though they had the slope of the ground with them. For a moment the handful of redcoats seemed to the spectators from the edge of the Sebastopol plateau to be lost among the overwhelming numbers of the grey clad enemy, but the second line came on in support, and the 4th dragoon guards, arriving last, took the Russians in flank. The unwieldy mass gave way, and was driven in confusion back across the ridge, and if only the English light brigade had charged them, might have been totally defeated. Unfortunately Lord Cardigan, who commanded the latter, considered himself bound by his orders to remain strictly on the defensive. Inexperienced in war, he had no idea that occasions may arise when a subordinate general should act on his own responsibility, and he let slip the opportunity.

Two English divisions were by this time approaching, but were not yet within supporting distance of the cavalry. Lord Raglan, who was watching everything from the edge of the plateau, saw that the Russians were preparing to carry off the guns from the field-works they had captured, and thought this portended a retreat of their whole force. Accordingly he sent to Lord Lucan, commanding the cavalry division, a written order to advance rapidly, and try to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns. It was a rash idea at best, the object to be attained being entirely incommensurate with the cost, and doubly unfortunate, considering the character of the men on whom it would devolve to execute it. Much heated controversy arose afterwards as to the responsibility of those concerned, which it is unnecessary to enter into.[86] The upshot was that Lord Lucan ordered the light brigade to charge the Russian army, proposing to support them with the heavy brigade, which had already done one piece of very hard work.

Hardly the great breach at Badajos, hardly the herse of archers against which the French knights staggered through the mud at Agincourt, formed a more appalling death-trap than that into which Cardigan's six hundred rode. On the central ridge to their right were eight Russian guns, on the hills bounding the plain to the north were fourteen: infantry were on both ridges, with riflemen pushed down into the valley below. On each side squadrons of lancers were in readiness. In front, more than half a mile off, were twelve guns, before the main body of Russian cavalry, which had retreated so far after their defeat. Through a storm of shells and rifle-bullets the light brigade advanced, slowly at first, and quickening their pace as they went, and actually drove the gunners away from the Russian batteries at the end of the "vale of death." Lord Lucan advanced some way in support with the other brigade, but his men fell fast: and when the light brigade disappeared into the cloud of smoke that overhung the Russian guns in front, he halted and drew back, saying, unless he is misreported, "They have sacrificed the light brigade: they shall not the heavy if I can help it." What effect his further advance might have produced it is hard to say; the audacity of the light brigade had for the time half paralysed the Russians, and there may have been just a chance of inflicting a heavy blow, the more so as at the same time a brilliant charge of some French cavalry along the line of high ground to the north drove the Russians away from that quarter. Probably however nothing could have been achieved to compensate for the ruin of all our cavalry: the moral effect on the enemy could not have been intensified. Presently the remnants of the light brigade were seen emerging from the smoke, and forcing their way back again, assisted by the clearance of the northern hills which the French had effected. Out of a total of 573 they had lost 247 men and 475 horses: one regiment, the 13th light dragoons, consisted of only ten mounted troopers at the first muster.

"C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre," is the famous comment attributed to the French general: and no doubt the criticism was valid. At the same time the capacity to perform actions which transcend even the legitimate daring of war is a gift rarer, and within limits far more valuable, than the soundest military judgment. "The ruin of the light brigade," says Sir E. Hamley, "was primarily due to Lord Raglan's strange purpose of using our cavalry alone, and beyond support, for offence against Liprandi's strong force, strongly posted: and it was the misinterpretation of the too indistinct orders, sent with that very questionable intention, which produced the disaster. And yet we may well hesitate to wish that this step so obviously false had never been taken, for the desperate and unfaltering charge made that deep impression on the imagination of our people which found expression in Tennyson's verse, and has caused it to be long ago transfigured in a light where all of error or misfortune is lost, and nothing is left but what we are enduringly proud of."

The battle of Balaclava left the Russians in a position which commanded the above-mentioned road leading from Sebastopol past Balaclava to the south-east, and this cramped the communications of the English between their port and the siege works. The allies abandoned, if they had ever entertained, all thought of fighting a great battle in order to regain the ground thus lost; but Balaclava was soon covered with a strong and complete line of defence. Meanwhile the Russians had been pouring reinforcements into the Crimea, being well aware that when winter arrived it would be impossible to do so, and had formed a plan for attacking the northern extremity of the allied position, where it approached the upper end of the great harbour. Again the stress of the conflict fell on the English: in fact the topographical conditions were such that the English, taking Balaclava as their harbour, had necessarily to encounter all attacks from the outside, while the French, taking Kamiesch, were in contact with the city only.

The plateau surrounding Sebastopol is seamed with deep ravines running more or less northwards down to the sea, some of them three or four miles in length. By these ravines the various portions of the besieging lines were separated from each other, more completely in proportion as the works were brought nearer to the city. Thus some little time must elapse before any one portion could be largely reinforced. The Russians hoped, by bringing a very strong force to bear upon the English troops occupying the bit of the plateau between the last of these ravines and the valley of the Tchernaya, to overwhelm them before they could be adequately supported, and so establish themselves on the plateau. If they could do this, the allies must fight a general action with their backs to the sea, that is to say with the certainty of destruction if they were defeated. From this necessity the allies were saved by the obstinate valour of the English infantry, who fought in what is known as the battle of Inkerman.[87]

At the beginning of November Prince Menschikoff had at his disposal more than 100,000 men, exceeding the forces of the allies in the proportion of at least three to two. He thus had good reason for hoping to turn the tables on his enemies; and had his combinations been made with more skill, he might well have succeeded. His plan was that nearly 20,000 infantry with a quantity of artillery should issue from Sebastopol and assail Mount Inkerman, in conjunction with a somewhat smaller force from outside, which should cross the Tchernaya by the great bridge at its entrance into the harbour. At the same time the remainder of the field army under Gortschakoff was to demonstrate from the Tchernaya valley against the whole east side of the allied position; and the ample garrison of Sebastopol was to be in readiness to assault the siege works if they were denuded of troops. He forgot that every movement of Gortschakoff down in the valley could be fully seen from the plateau, and that therefore demonstrations were futile. A real attack in all quarters at once might, with his very superior numbers, have been made without risk: but he was not the man to depart from conventional methods. Similarly in planning the actual attack, he was swayed by the conventional, and usually sound, objection to sending troops into action divided by an obstacle which prevents all communication. Mount Inkerman was obviously to be assailed by ascending both from the Tchernaya on the east and from the great ravine on the west, known as the Careenage ravine. The forces detailed for this purpose would have amply sufficed to attack simultaneously the tongue of land west of the Careenage ravine also: but the Russian general was afraid to divide his troops by this very steep ravine, forgetting that Sebastopol with its large garrison lay behind, and committed the far worse error of crowding all his men into the one attack, where there was not room for half of them.

The tongue of land known as Mount Inkerman is by no means level. The English second division was camped just behind a ridge crossing it from east to west, which formed the position for the English artillery during the action. In front of this little ridge the ground sinks, ascending again to a hillock, known as Shell hill, three-quarters of a mile off, which was the Russian artillery position. Between them the tongue of land is narrowed considerably by a ravine on the east side, the incline of which is gentle enough to allow of the road from Sebastopol descending it to the Tchernaya. This road ascends to Mount Inkerman from the Careenage ravine, which may for practical purposes be deemed to terminate there, about three-quarters of a mile behind the camp of the second division. About this point was the camp of the guards' brigade: opposite it, on the other side of the Careenage ravine was the camp of the light division. Other English troops were from two to three miles off: and the nearest portion of Bosquet's French corps, which was now charged with the duty of guarding the east face of the plateau against possible attack from the Tchernaya, was scarcely nearer. Thus the first stress of the battle fell on the second division, about 3000 strong, commanded at the moment by General Pennefather, during the absence through illness of Sir De Lacy Evans.

Before dawn on November 5, General Soimonoff, issuing from Sebastopol, led 19,000 infantry and 38 guns up on to the northern end of Mount Inkerman, and there formed in order of battle. His heavier guns were posted on Shell hill, with two lines of infantry, about 10,000 in all, in front for attack, and the remainder in reserve behind Shell hill. As the maximum width of the tongue of land does not exceed 1400 yards, it may be imagined that the infantry were in very dense formation, a fact which partly accounts for the enormous losses which they sustained in the course of the battle. About seven o'clock the Russians advanced, their guns opening fire over the heads of the infantry: Pennefather very wisely pushed his men forwards into the hollow to support his pickets, occupying the crest in front of his camp with artillery. The English infantry, formed as usual in a thin line, and with the advantage of superior weapons, drove back time after time their far more numerous assailants. Most part of the light division were naturally required to occupy their own tongue of land, but General Buller with two regiments from it was the first to reinforce Pennefather. One of these regiments rendered the important service of routing a separate Russian column which was coming up to the head of the Careenage ravine, and threatening to take the second division in rear. Gradually other English troops arrived on the scene, but the conflict long remained very unequal in point of numbers. The day was not clear, though dense fog clung only to the bottoms: hence the Russians, unable to see how little there was behind the thin red lines which met them so firmly, imagined that they were encountering masses at least equal to their own. The inequalities of the ground rendered it practically impossible to retain regular formation, and this told against the Russians, both as being much more crowded together, and also as lacking the power of independent action which the habit of fighting in line gives. It was reported at the time that the troops in Sebastopol had been prepared for battle not only by appeals to their religious enthusiasm, but also by copious rations of vodki, or, as the current jest ran, were under the influence of stimulants both spiritual and spirituous. If there was any truth in this, it would help to account for the comparative ease with which the first Russian attacks were routed: when the troops of General Pauloff, brought across the Tchernaya and up the eastern slopes, came into action, the fighting was much more obstinate.

As the English grew stronger on the field, General Cathcart with the fourth division made a needless attempt to push forward along the slope overhanging the Tchernaya, in which he was killed, and his men suffered heavily. From the nature of the case, there was nothing to be done except to hold the ground, and let the Russians exhaust themselves, as they gradually did. During the latter part of the battle French troops came up. General Bosquet had naturally been distracted between his primary duty of watching the Russians below him in the Tchernaya valley, and the duty of reinforcing his allies. Soon after the action began he sent a couple of regiments towards Mount Inkerman, but an English general, totally misinformed as to the strength of the Russian attack, stopped them as not being needed. Later Bosquet learned the true state of the case, and also saw that the movements in the Tchernaya valley meant nothing, and he therefore despatched heavy and welcome reinforcements to Mount Inkerman, the foremost of which took an important share in the fighting. It is obvious that if the large Russian force available for the purpose had attacked Bosquet in earnest, he could not have spared a man to support the English, who would have been very hardly pressed. When the Russians finally abandoned the action despairing of success, though they had lost fully 12,000 men, they had still 9000 in reserve, besides their broken front lines, while the English had on the field less than 5000 unwounded men. But for the relief given by the French, who had been fighting beside them for the last hour or two, and had borne the weight of the action to an extent represented by a loss on their part of 900 men, the English would manifestly have been fewer still. They had lost over 2300 men, or about a third of those actually engaged; they were in no position to turn the tables on their opponents, even if prudence had not dictated, as the French undoubtedly thought, the choice so difficult in battle of leaving well alone.

Inkerman was not unappropriately christened "the soldiers' battle." Under the conditions of weather no general could have efficiently directed any elaborate scheme, and fortunately none was needed. The shape of the ground and the relative numbers would have compelled resort to the simple tactics which in fact were adopted, even if the air had been perfectly clear. They were in accordance with the habitual practice of the British soldier to form line, and in that formation sustain the attack of columns, and drive them back in rout when their front has been crushed by the wider fire of the line. Thus regimental officers without superior command, even the men uncommanded when their officers were struck down, were ready to sustain the fight in the best way. "No other European troops," says Sir Edward Hamley, "would at that time have formed in a front of such extent without very substantial forces behind them." With an enormous weight of artillery against them until near the close of the action, with odds of infantry against them which began at three to one, and which must have been heavier still for a while when General Pauloff came on the field, they held their ground with an audacious obstinacy which it would be difficult to parallel in European warfare.

The victory of Inkerman marked a decisive point in the campaign. Foiled in this carefully prepared enterprise, the Russians henceforth made no attempt to challenge battle in the open field. They limited themselves to withstanding as far as possible the advance of the siege operations, which were carried on under considerable difficulties, arising both from the nature of the ground and from the skill displayed by Todleben in making the utmost use of every opportunity. The approach of winter was however destined to enforce, not a cessation of hostilities, but the prosecution of them in a slow and uneventful fashion. Reinforcements could no longer reach the Crimea, except at a cost prohibitory even to the vast resources in men of the Russian empire. And though the allies, having their communications by sea, were not liable to the same exhaustion, yet a disaster befel them soon after Inkerman which reduced them for the time practically to the defensive. On November 14 a furious storm burst on the allied camps, followed by much rain and snow. The tents were blown down, and the whole country converted into a wilderness of mud. At the same time many vessels laden with stores were wrecked. For many weeks after this disaster, the sufferings of the English army were intense. The fundamental cause was want of forage: without it the horses died, and supplies could only be conveyed from Balaclava to the camp by the soldiers, already as hard worked in the trenches as they could bear. Food was never actually wanting, but hardly any fuel was to be procured; the soldiers were never dry, and often ate their food raw. Naturally under such conditions they sickened and died in thousands. The French, having shorter distance between their harbour and camp, and a tolerable transport service already organised, in which the English were deficient, and having also a smaller part of the siege works to maintain, suffered materially less. Things improved slowly, but the siege was protracted indefinitely; in fact it became a contest of endurance between the rival powers, in which the command of the sea ensured ultimate victory to the allies.

Early in the new year the French, whose army had now been largely reinforced, took in hand an additional portion of the siege works, thus making for the first time a fairly equal partition of labour with the English.[88] Instead however of taking over the left portion of the English works, which adjoined his own, the French general preferred to undertake the new operations which had long been intended against the east face of the city. Here however the ever active Todleben seized and fortified, just in the nick of time, a knoll some way in advance of the Malakoff redoubt, the main defence of this side of Sebastopol. This new fortification, known as the Mamelon, was so situated as to prevent the English trenches at the south corner of the city being pushed forwards. Consequently the main work of the siege concentrated itself on the new French attack.

Political reasons operated to cause delay, which may be fairly said to be one of the results of divided control. The death of the Czar Nicholas made no difference, for his successor could not but continue the defence. But the opinion of Napoleon III., that the capture of Sebastopol was only feasible if it was completely invested, which meant the detaching of a force to cope with the Russian field army, was persistently pressed. The English government, like the generals on the spot, thought differently; but the emperor must be held responsible for at least part of the waste of time. Conflicts, equivalent in the losses sustained to many pitched battles, occurred again and again. A bombardment of ten days in April, which would have been followed by an assault if the whole siege had been directed by a single enterprising general, cost the Russians over 6000 men. The artillery employed on both sides far exceeded, both in number of guns and in weight of metal, anything that had ever before been seen in a siege. The material progress during forty years of peace was visible in many ways. Steamers brought the contents of the English and French arsenals: the English made a railway from Balaclava up to the camps: a telegraph cable put the Crimea into communication with the western countries, which greatly accelerated the supply of whatever was wanted, though it enabled Napoleon III. to worry the army incessantly with his military ideas. Marshal Pelissier, however, who took Canrobert's place in the spring, was equal to his position, and in concert with Lord Raglan carried on the siege upon the principles already determined. On June 7, after another terrific bombardment, the French stormed the Mamelon, though not without a serious struggle. On the 18th another attack was made which ended in failure. The day had been chosen in the hope that a victory won by English and French in common might supersede the bitterness of Waterloo: but whatever chance of success existed beforehand was wasted by Pelissier's suddenly determining to assault without waiting for a preliminary cannonade. The result was that the French were repulsed from the Malakoff with heavy loss, the English from the Redan, the chief Russian work at the south-eastern corner of the city, with at least equal loss relatively to the numbers engaged, the only success being the capture of a small work in front of the English left.

In spite of this failure, in spite of the death of Lord Raglan which occurred a few days later, the siege went steadily on. The resources of Russia were gradually becoming exhausted. Returns compiled about the date of the Czar's death gave the total cost of the war to Russia at 240,000 men: since that date more than 80,000 had fallen in the Crimea. An ill-conceived attempt to raise the siege by attacking the eastern side of the allies' position from the Tchernaya valley failed disastrously in August. Prince Gortschakoff, now commanding in the Crimea, felt that the end was approaching, and took measures to prepare for the evacuation of Sebastopol, but changed his mind and awaited the final assault. On September 8 the end came: the French trenches had now been brought quite close up to the Malakoff tower, and Pelissier, carefully noting the exact point and moment at which an assault could best be delivered, stormed the great work. A simultaneous attack by the English on the Redan was a necessary part of the plan: the soil in front being solid rock, the assailants had to advance for some distance over open ground, and suffered badly. The capture of the Malakoff was however decisive. During the following night the Russians abandoned Sebastopol, or rather its ruins: for they completed, in blowing up their magazines and forts, the destruction wrought by the bombardments. The siege of Sebastopol takes rank in history not as the most momentous—in that respect it falls far below the Athenian siege of Syracuse—or the most protracted, but as that in which the greatest resources were employed on both sides. Success fell, as might be expected, to the side which represented the greatest advance in material civilisation.

The war nominally lasted for several months longer: the allied armies occupied the Sebastopol peninsula during the winter, and small operations were directed against other points of Russian territory. Substantially however the fall of Sebastopol was decisive; the destruction of the great arsenal and fortress was a heavy blow to Russian power in the Black Sea, and the retention of it had been made so definitely a point of honour by Russia that its capture was a formal symbol of defeat. With the spring of 1856 terms of peace were agreed on, which included the prohibiting any ships of war to sail on the waters of the Black Sea. At one moment it seemed as if France would have acceded to terms which required from Russia practically no sacrifice; but Napoleon III. yielded to remonstrance from England, coupled with the assurance that England was now able, and quite prepared, to carry on the war alone.

The history of England is full of evidence that there is almost no limit to the power which an industrial nation, having command of the sea, can bring gradually to bear upon a warlike enterprise, always assuming that she has the necessary resolution. And no more striking evidence is to be found than from comparing the state of the English army in the Crimea in December 1854 and in December 1855, especially if we bear in mind the expenditure in men and material during the year. Whether anything of the same kind could happen again, whether in another war time would be available for utilising resources which must in a sense be latent till war begins, whether other nations have gained on England in the race of material progress, whether England would again exhibit the national tenacity displayed in the Peninsula and in the Crimea, are questions which every lover of peace will desire to see remaining, as they are at present, matters of speculation.

INTERMEDIATE NOTE
INFERIOR RACES

It is more than probable that Wellington's Indian experience stood him in good stead when in the Peninsula he had to face the task of converting the untrained Portuguese into good troops. Discipline is essentially the same, whatever the race or character of the men to be subjected to it. They have to learn prompt obedience to orders, the habit of relying implicitly on their officers for military guidance, familiarity with the idea that duty must be done first and personal safety left to take care of itself, coolness and presence of mind in encountering danger, even unexpectedly. All this the Portuguese had to learn, but in other respects they were like enough to his English troops, already disciplined to his hand. They were Europeans and Christians, that is to say they recognised more or less the same moral code: they were patriotic, striving with foreign assistance to deliver their homes from the foreign conqueror. They had motives for responding to the call made on them which are intelligible, and cogent, to any European. The native troops that Wellington had learned to employ in India were like them in one important point, their being called on to trust and follow a foreign leader; they were like them also, as the event proved, in capacity to profit by training; but in ideas and habits they were totally different.

The British conquest of India is one of the most astonishing, as well as important, things in modern history: and the wonder of it consists mainly in the fact that the English from the first were successful not only in getting their subjects to fight for them, but in transforming them, for military purposes, almost into Englishmen. Men of the most varied types were from time to time brought under the spell. Hindoos with a peculiar and very ancient civilisation of their own, the higher castes regarding themselves as socially and morally the salt of the earth, the lower castes accustomed to permanent and almost degrading inferiority; Mahommedans who had once been conquerors and deemed themselves the born superiors of their former slaves; fierce hill-men very low down in the scale of civilisation; strangest of all, the Sikhs with their national and religious enthusiasm still young,—all alike became the zealous soldiers of their rulers from over the sea. Nor was this all: the sepoys imbibed the military qualities of the men who fought beside them, including the superb tenacity which makes the British soldier always hard to beat.

The English battles in India were nearly all fought against odds, occasionally enormous; and in every case, except in some of the battles during the Mutiny, the bulk of the army consisted of native troops. What is the explanation of this phenomenon, unique in history? One main cause clearly was, to quote Colonel Malleson's[89] words: "the trusting and faithful nature, the impressionable character, the passionate appreciation of great qualities, which formed alike the strength and the weakness of those races;" but this description hardly applies to all the multifarious races of India, though doubtless it does to many, and pre-eminently to the people of Bengal, where practically the British dominion was founded. Half of the explanation must be looked for on the other side. Unless the natives of India had been capable of receiving the impression, obviously none could have been made: but the Englishmen who laid the foundation of our Indian empire possessed the requisite qualities for creating it. They made their followers understand that when an Englishman said a thing he meant it, and this in two senses. If he made a statement he believed it to be true; also, and more important, if he gave a promise or declared a purpose, he would fulfil it. Further they taught the natives to understand that when a thing was undertaken, it must be done; difficulties must be vanquished, odds, no matter how great, must be encountered, if such things came into the day's work. The coolness with which they assumed the certainty of success naturally went a great way towards achieving it, and was all-powerful in convincing the natives, ignorant, but by no means stupid, that the English possessed an inexhaustible reserve of strength and resource. Then the English treated their native soldiers well, looked after them more steadily and intelligently than any Indian princes would have cared or known how to do, and taught them to feel that they were invincible. The very strangeness of the Englishman's motives and principles of action made them all the more impressive to men who saw that they were successful. And the fact that the sepoys were assumed by their officers to be capable of great things went far to make them so. Never give in, never mind odds; these were the maxims on which the men of whom Clive is but the most conspicuous, habitually acted; and the results were that these became the accepted rules of conduct for Englishmen in India, and that the native soldiers of whatever race learned to rely implicitly on their officers.

Scores, hundreds of times in the last century and a half, in matters great and small, English officers have acted on these principles as a matter of course; and equally as a matter of course their native soldiers have done under English leadership what they never would have dreamed of doing if left to themselves. Courage, most of the races which furnished sepoys possessed in abundance; and that courage they placed at the disposal of the foreigners in whom they recognised fertility of resource, power of combination, so far above their own level, that they seemed to belong to a superior order of beings. Nor can there be any doubt that the fact of their being so regarded helped to raise the English above their natural level.[90] They must live up to their position, both to the traditions of the service and to the idea entertained of them. When they cease to do this, the hold of England on India will be precarious. Whether they are tending to do so may be judged from the history of any and every little war, such for instance as the Kanjut expedition in 1891, the most notable feature of which was the storming of Thol, and which is fully and picturesquely described in Mr. E. F. Knight's book, Where Three Empires Meet. Even more characteristic of the needs, and the achievements, of British rule in India, is a narrative of an incident on a very small scale, done in the way of everyday business, which is given in a tolerably recent newspaper (the Spectator of April 23, 1892) from a letter of the chief actor.

"Lieutenant G. F. MacMunn, R.A., had been ordered to march with fourteen men, of whom, fortunately for him, twelve were Goorkhas, to convey some stores, principally rum, from Myitchina to Sadon, a small fortified post in Burmah, a distance of about fifty miles. The road was considered perfectly safe, and about twenty-five miles were passed in tranquillity, when the young lieutenant—he cannot be above twenty-two—received information which showed that some rebels of the Kachyen tribe intended to bar his path. This meant that he must either retreat, or force his way along a rough road, continually crossed by streams, and lined with jungle on each side, through a hostile force which might number hundreds, and did number sixty at least, armed with muskets, and sufficiently instructed in the military art to build stockades both of timber and stone. Lieutenant MacMunn, who had probably never heard a gun fired in anger in his life, seems not to have doubted for a moment about his duty. The people in Sadon, he thought, would want the rum, and he pushed on, to find the enemy holding a ford where the water was up to his shoulders. He plunged in with three Goorkhas, and forded the eighty yards of water, 'getting volleyed at awfully,' but was left unwounded, and 'rushed' one side of the stockade, and then, bringing over the rest of his men, rushed the remaining works. The Kachyens fled, but four miles in advance towards Sadon halted again, constructed another stockade, and filled the jungle on each side of the road with musketeers, who poured in, as the Goorkhas advanced, a deadly fire. The Jemadar was shot through the lungs, a Goorkha hit in the foot, and Lieutenant MacMunn wounded in the wrist; but he went down into the jungle with two men only, the remainder forming a rearguard, and carried the stockade, the Kachyens firing futile volleys, and the Englishman and his comrades, as he writes in school-boy slang, 'giving them beans.' Sadon was now visible, and encouraged by the sight, Lieutenant MacMunn pressed on; but the Kachyens were not tired of the fight, and had erected another stockade, this time of stone, across the road, with a ditch five feet deep by ten feet broad in front of it, a proof in itself of their considerable numbers and skill. The lieutenant asked 'the boys' if they would 'follow straight,' and they being Goorkhas, half-mad with fighting, and understanding by this time quite clearly what manner of lad was leading them, 'yelled' that they would, and did. Into and out of the ditch, and up to the stockade, and again the Kachyens fled, only to turn once more, and—but we must let Lieutenant MacMunn tell the rest of his own story. 'It took us half-an-hour to repair the road and pull down the stockade; and on and on, wondering where our friends were.' (The garrison of Sadon knew nothing of the advancing party or its danger.) 'One mile on they again fired at us from the jungle; but the road was clear, and we hurried on down the hill, where we had to cross a river bridged by our sappers. On the way down they banged away at us, and near the river they had stuck in any amount of pointed spikes in the road, and while we pulled these up they fired again and again, and we volleyed in return. We then hurried down to the bridge; to our dismay it was destroyed, so we had to cross the river by wading lower down, and very deep it was. It was quite dark, and took us quite half-an-hour to get every one across, and then the road was blocked with spikes and trees, and the Kachins fired continually. At last we got to Sadon village, half-a-mile below the fort which our fellows had made. In the village from every house and corner they fired. My horse was shot in the hind-leg, the bullet going through the muscle, and a driver was hit too. The Goorkha ponies broke loose and galloped about, the mules went in every direction, and the Goorkhas cursed and blazed away, and still no sign from our friends, and I began to fear the fort had been taken. I put the wounded driver on a pony, and we hurried on, collecting what ponies and mules we could. In ten minutes more we saw the fort in the darkness ahead, and I started off a ringing cheer, followed by my men; bugles rang out, and they cheered in reply, and in another minute we were inside. I was surrounded by men on all sides, patting me on the back, holding me up, giving me water, asking questions.'"

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