CHAPTER XIII THE ARMY AFTER THE LONG PEACE—THE CRIMEA, 1854

Reference has already been made to the reduction of the army after Waterloo. When warlike enthusiasm died out, and the cost of the war—some ￡800,000,000—had been grasped, the natural reaction came. Retrenchment “all along the line” was natural; but though the numbers were reduced to a weak peace footing, few regiments actually ceased to exist. The old 100th, 99th, 98th, 97th, 96th, 95th, and 94th Battalions were disbanded. Many regiments received fresh numbers. Hence the army in 1821 numbered 99,224 men, with 20,000 in India; but there was a slight increase to the infantry in 1823, when the 94th, 95th, 96th, 97th, 98th, and 99th reappear, and a further increase of 7,000 in 1831 because of Irish discontent; but this was again reduced, to be increased in 1848. In 1837 the army consisted of ninety-nine regiments of the line, with the Rifle Brigade, but was extremely weak in the matter of the artillery and cavalry.

The dread of war died with the banishment of the great emperor to St. Helena, and was buried with his death. Europe was at peace for many a year, and people, foolish then as now, could not read by the lessons of the past that no perfect or continual peace was possible until the millennium came. Even those who looked forward to that event did not read prophecy correctly. There were to be “wars and rumours of wars,” but the people sat quietly down and dreamed of a continual peace, which was as impossible as a continual war.

Exhaustion follows great warlike efforts, and exhaustion,237 of a different kind, follows prolonged peace. There is “a deal of human nature about man,” and there is at the bottom of most of us an old combative spirit that, however concealed by common conventional life, is none the less still smouldering below the surface, and quite ready to break out into a flame.

The exhaustion of war requires repose: that of peace requires excitation, as the future proved. No war has ever been seriously unpopular in England—after a long peace. Man is a pugnacious animal at the heart of him, and woman is little better! The red coat, the “scarlet fever,” appeals to both sexes, and the most peace-loving woman in the world would rather see her brother or her lover die the death for country’s sake, than see him stay at home if his soldier’s work lay elsewhere.

Still, a great reaction, national and personal, had followed all these years of nearly continuous war. No wonder the army was reduced, and, to avoid further reduction, hidden away. The civilian idea that armies could be raised anyhow, that any man was not only fit for, but could be easily made, a soldier, was as common then as now. Yet if these well-meaning people, people of business, had been asked if any of their clerks could be so improvised, such a remark would have been met by a scornful negative. Curious to remember that people who think so are absolutely ignorant of the training in rapid decision, quick initiative, and perfect coolness, which in the midst of battle and sudden death the soldier, and still more his leader, has to show. But human nature is human nature. Civilians held the purse-strings, and the army suffered. The canker of peace rusted all things until the rude awakening of the Crimean War, and then those who complained most of the undoubted errors committed were the very descendants of those who had refused in every way to keep sound and commercially intact that great national insurance—the army.

But for India and the far East, the practice in the fighting trade would have been little or nothing for forty years! The history of the army from 1820 to 1854 is mainly238 domestic. Thus, between 1821 and 1827 the Household Cavalry had the cuirass restored; the list of battles on the regimental colours was increased, and regimental histories ordered to be written (by Mr. Cannon, of the War Office) by royal command; trousers took the place of leggings, and short boots and “Wellingtons” came into being; and when the Deccan prize-money was distributed, the general commanding these operations received ￡44,201, and the private soldier 19s. 10d.!

In 1827 the Duke of York died, and was succeeded the next year by the Duke of Wellington.

The late Commander-in-Chief was by no means a great general, and had lacked both tact and judgment, as was shown by his entanglement with Mrs. Clarke, which led to a heated debate in the House of Commons. But he was honest in his endeavour to improve the army as a fighting machine. When Sir Arthur Wellesley was a member of Parliament, he bore willing testimony to the work His Royal Highness had done. “Never was there army in a better state, as far as depended on the Commander-in-Chief, than the one he had commanded,” was his successor’s honest opinion in 1808 regarding His Royal Highness. There is little, if any, evidence that he was personally aware of the somewhat doubtful transactions that had been carried on, and his rigid integrity in all other matters had won him the respect of the army, when he finally ceased to command it in chief.

The Duke of York was, after all, but a man of his time. He had condescended to fight a duel with Colonel Lennox in the days of his hot youth. He had behaved with coolness and intrepidity in Holland when the 14th Foot and the Guards had distinguished themselves at Famars and Lincelles. He was notorious for his courtesy at his numerous levées. He behaved with dignity, certainly, in the unfortunate campaign of 1799. He had the interest of the army at heart, as is evidenced by his dying words to Sir Robert Peel, when he said, “I wish that the country could compare the state of the brigade which was to land in Lisbon in 1827239 with that which landed at Ostend in 1794.” A contemporary opinion stating that “No man of his high rank, since the days of Henry IV. of France, had ever conciliated more personal attachments, or retained them longer,” is sufficient eulogy of his private worth, if his military career be not remarkable for any marked success.
Private 24th Regt 1840.

The last pike carried by the infantry, the sergeant’s spontoon, from its use as protecting the captain of the company while leading or directing his command—disappeared in 1830, and was replaced by a “fusil and bayonet.” The sergeant’s firearm long remained shorter than that of the rank and file. The head-dress had been frequently changed, and by 1840 was a heavy-topped shako with badge, and with a ball or plume in front. The coat, or “coatee,” was swallow-tailed and buttoned to the throat, and was ornamented with epaulets or “scales,” the cuffs and collar showing the regimental facings. The sword was supported by a “frog” from a cross-belt over the right shoulder, on the front of it being a small square brass “breastplate” carrying the regimental devices.

The small brass “duty gorget,” long worn as a badge of being on duty, suspended by a ribbon round the neck, represented the last body armour for the protection of the shoulders; while so the “breastplate” was, in name at least, a survival of the cuirass.

The soldier’s bayonet was also supported by a belt over the right shoulder, and was balanced by a cross-belt over the other shoulder, which carried the only ammunition pouch. The man’s personal kit was contained in a knapsack, on the top of which the rolled greatcoat was strapped.

The drill remained practically the same from 1792 until after the Crimean War. Editions of the Drill book published by Dundas were issued in 1809, 1815, and 1817, though the alterations are trivial; but in 1824, when Sir Henry Torrens revised it, greater celerity was infused into some of the man?uvres, the “quick march” of 108 paces a minute being now generally used, except for mere parade. The two-deep formation became the rule, though drill240 for forming both three and four deep was retained, and a temporary effort was made to introduce the “bayonet exercise,” but this was very soon abandoned.

During Wellington’s first year of office as Commander-in-Chief, the yeomanry were remodelled. The system of limited enlistment was discontinued for a time, and there was much malingering in the army by men who tried by such means to get their discharge; but in 1833 the limit of enlistment was fixed at twenty-five years, and in 1847 at ten, with the colours, and the power of completing twenty-one years for pension. The soldier’s “small book,” containing his personal record, etc., was introduced, and as the typical pattern was made out in the name of a supposititious “Thomas Atkins,” the now familiar name of “Tommy Atkins” as the nickname of the private soldier came to be.

Between 1829 and 1839 there is little of note except the increase in the literature relating to the army. It was then that the United Service Magazine, the Army and Navy Gazette, and the Journal of the United Service Institution, first arose; and, save for Eastern wars, the only other service seen by the line was in the Canadian and West Indian troubles in 1832 and 1834, which were quelled by the 15th and 22nd,49 and a second Canadian rebellion, in 1839, which was suppressed by the 24th, 32nd, and 66th.

During the ten years between 1839 and 1849 duelling, which had continued very prevalent, was abolished. The last fought in England was between Mr. Hawkey of the Royal Marines and Mr. Seton of the 11th Hussars, on the beach at Gosport, in which the latter was mortally wounded. This was in 1845.

Flogging, which it had often been proposed to abolish, was reduced to fifty lashes in 1846, when good conduct medals and badges, as well as gratuities for non-commissioned officers and military savings banks, were introduced. Barrack accommodation was improved, regimental schools introduced, and either proper married quarters, or lodging money to men who married by permission “on the strength of the241 Regiment,” took the place of the disgraceful system that had before obtained of the married women sleeping in the same room as the men, the bed only being curtained off.

The school of musketry at Hythe was also inaugurated; and in 1851 the principle of granting medals was extended to cover the Indian victories from 1803 upwards. Medals for the long war and the recent Indian successes were issued, but of all the host who upheld the national honour when Napoleon ruled, only 19,000 recipients were found for the Peninsular decoration, and but 500 for the victory of Maida!

The next French “war scare” arose in 1847, because of a pamphlet, written by the Prince de Joinville, pointing out the military defencelessness of Great Britain, and the poor condition of our defensive forces. This had never been more clearly pointed out than when the Duke of Wellington wrote to Sir John Burgoyne: “It is perfectly true that, as we stand at present, with our naval arsenals and dockyards not half garrisoned, five thousand men of all arms could not be put under arms, if required, for any service whatever, without leaving standing, without relief, all employed on any duty, not excepting even the guards over the palaces and the person of the sovereign.” This was mainly the condition of the army when the Crimean War broke out. The Royal Artillery had been slightly increased in 1847, but in 1853, none the less, it was stated that there were not at home fifty guns fit for service.

But things were on the mend. Examinations for admission to the army were introduced, to the dismay of those who had hitherto gained commissions therein solely by family or other influence. The arms, too, were improving. Minié had invented a bullet, expanded by an iron base-cup, which facilitated the rapid loading of the piece, which had hitherto, with the Brunswick rifle, with its “belted ball,” and a range of about 400 yards, been impossible. This began to be used in 1851. The Great Exhibition of 1851 had introduced to the world the “Colt’s Revolver.” As far back as 1842 the percussion lock, invented in 1807, had taken the242 place of the Brown Bess, so called from the brown tint given to the barrel, as distinct from the bright iron barrels of foreign muskets; but it is stated that the duke was by no means favourable to the supersession of the flint-lock by the chemically charged cap. Judging from this, the actual armament of the whole army with the English model of the Minié (the “Enfield” rifle of 1855), which carried a bullet weighing sixteen to the pound, and of which a man could only carry sixty rounds of ammunition, would have been to him “Anathema Maranatha.” Similarly, the breech-loader had been introduced to Napoleon in 1809, but the weapon, being probably imperfect, met with little favour; none the less, the Prussians had already adopted, by 1841, the breech-loading needle gun. But General Anson, then “Clerk of the Ordnance,” had no fancy for such new-fangled ideas, a feeling shared fully, by all accounts, with the Commander-in-Chief, who was always irascible with inventors and their inventions. He did not believe we “ought hastily to adopt any of these improvements”; and, as to rifles, “it was ridiculous to suppose that two armies could fight at a distance of 500 or 600 yards!” Even the Secretary of State for War, afterwards Lord Panmure, stated that the weapons, that is, the percussion musket, “were better than all the inventions that could be discovered.” Certes, he lived long enough to be “sorry he spoke,” for of the musket he so be-praised, it was officially declared, in 1846, that “fire should never be opened beyond 150 yards, and certainly not exceeding 200 yards,” for “at this distance half the number of shots missed the target, measuring 11 feet 6 inches, and at 150 yards a very large proportion also missed!”

It is but forty years since these ideas were held, and rightly; but it is curious, none the less, to note the extraordinary advance the art of killing men has made since then. In 1822 it is deliberately stated in a French report that “thus infantry is only formidable at about 100 yards.” In 1852, and thereabout, there were marked improvements in firearms, and this, notwithstanding the continuance of the reign243 of peace the “Great Exhibition” was supposed to inaugurate, and the ominous distant growl of the war-thunder that was arising in the East. With nations of different national characteristics, and in different stages of national development, the quietude of a peaceful power is looked on as but a synonym for weakness. National decadence and a peace-at-any-price policy run, as all history proves, on very much the same rails; the latter spirit is called up to cover or excuse the former. So it was that the long peace was broken. If Russia had really thought she would have to fight four powers and a “benevolent neutral,” she might have held her hand, but the “Manchester School” talked much, and foreign powers are disposed always to take the outcry of the hysterical few in England for the solid opinion of the silent many.

Some people, less influenced by the hysteria of those who, like the Pharisee in the parable, air their opinions in the streets, or, like Rudyard Kipling’s monkey-folk,—the “Bander-log,”—imagine, because they proclaim, their proclamations must be true, were uneasy. The best of the House of Commons were uneasy, and voted the Militia Bill, which aimed at creating 80,000 permanent militiamen as a second line of defence; a force that proved the justice of the view taken, by the enormous help they gave the army when the new war began. It is saying very little to assert that, without the militia from 1854 to 1856, we could not have recruited the army at Sebastopol, any more than we could have held our Mediterranean garrisons.

Then there was a certain Colonel Kinloch who was uneasy. And he found relief for uneasiness by starting the second Volunteer Movement. The first was when Napoleon threatened to invade us. He wrote a very valuable, because impressive, pamphlet, which attracted attention, and actually led to the formation of volunteer corps, which, of course, had little support from the Government; all the more because they were anxious about their own pet child, the new “Militia Bill.”

Then, lastly, there were the Secretary of State and the244 Commander-in-Chief also anxious. And these relieved their anxiety by doing the best possible thing they could, in establishing the camp at Chobham, where field man?uvres were first seriously tried. Again it is curious to see how history repeats itself. When the impressive lesson of 1870 to 1871 aroused the national anxiety, the first camp of instruction with real field man?uvres was started in 1871 by Lord Cardwell, over much of the same area.

In 1852 Wellington died, and, after a while, Lord Hardinge took his place. That the “Iron Duke” had been uniformly and, on the whole, extraordinarily successful, is evident. That he never saw the greatest leaders until he met Napoleon at Waterloo, is equally so. It was for long, and is, to some extent, still rank heresy to even criticise his actions. But whatever confidence he may have gained by his imperturbable coolness, he gained no man’s regard. The rank and file trusted and believed in him to some extent. But there was not one soldier who would have died with his name on his lips as many did for his far greater antagonist—Napoleon. Men were obedient, save in such retreats as Burgos, when Wellington’s influence was powerless to check the disgraceful conduct of his army, but never devoted. He rarely praised the men who fought, and died, and won battles, some of which are distinguished by the absence of everything but that bull-dog courage which the privates showed. He had a belief in himself that seems at times arrogant, but he was patient, persevering, and sagacious. No careful student of the art of war, no foreign military critic certainly, has ever classed him among the greatest generals, or thought his campaigns worth studying seriously.

Gneisenau at Waterloo utterly mistrusted him, as has been shown, and the feeling must have been created by Wellington himself. If half the myths about him were true, they would be worth publishing as the unwritten history of a great man with many faults. Of him Gleig, who shared in the general admiration of him, is quite plain-spoken as to his personal coldness.

“Though retaining to the last a warm regard for his245 old companions in arms, he entered very little with them, after he became a politician, into the amenities of social life. We have reason to believe that neither Lord Hill, nor Lord Raglan, nor Sir George Murray ever visited the duke at Strathfieldsaye, nor could they, or others of similar standing, such as Lord Anglesey, Sir Edward Paget, and Sir James Kempt, be reckoned among the habitués of his hospitable gatherings in Apsley House. The circle in which he chiefly moved was that of fashionable ladies and gentlemen.”

The gallantry of Norman Ramsay’s battery at Fuentes d’Onoro met with no praise from this imperturbable chief. Mercer’s unquestionably cool and brave work with his battery at Waterloo was barely noticed by his general. Mercer himself, in no very complimentary spirit, says of his share in the great fight: “One day, on the Marine Parade at Woolwich, a battalion coming up in close column at the double march, Lieutenant-Colonel Brown, who stood near me, remarked, ‘That puts me in mind of your troops coming up at Waterloo, when you saved the Brunswickers.’ Until this moment I never knew that our having done so had been remarked by anybody. But he assured me it was known to the whole army; and yet the duke not only withheld that praise which was our due, but refused me the brevet rank of major; and, more than that, actually deprived me of that troop given me by Lord Mulgrave, the then Master-General, for that action, as recommended by my commanding officer, Sir G. Adams Wood.

“That the duke was not ignorant of their danger, I have from Captain Baynes, our brigade-major, who told me that after Sir Augustus Frazer had been sent for us, his Grace exhibited considerable anxiety for our coming up; and that, when he saw us crossing the fields at a gallop, and in so compact a body, he actually cried out, ‘Ah! that’s the way I like to see horse-artillery move.’ Another proof.”

Few men had had greater good fortune than he. “With no opportunity for the display of any kind of talent, he, after entering the army as an ensign at seventeen, became246 captain, M.P., and A.D.C. to the Lord-Lieutenant at twenty-one, lieutenant-colonel at twenty-four, and colonel at twenty-six. Had Wellesley been the son of an obscure gentleman he might, and probably would, with all his genius, have served in India as a subaltern, in the Peninsula in various regimental grades, and might have died, perhaps, a barrack-master on half-pay—a lieutenant-colonel with half a dozen clasps.”50 So writes one historian of his life, and his view is shared by Brialmont, who thinks that, when his brother became Governor-General of India, “without his fraternal hand, he would probably have risen neither so quickly nor so high.”

And, finally: “The duke’s unpopularity, increasing with every stage of his opposition to the Bill, reached such a height that, on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, the once idolised victor in that fight was hunted along the city by a mob, and escaped their violence only by a fortunate accident.”

None can deny that his rewards were ample. He had landed in the Peninsula but the “Sepoy general,” who had, through family influence, succeeded the man who won Seringapatam. He had received after Salamanca ￡100,000, and, later on, was granted another ￡400,000. Talavera had made him a viscount, and, but a few years later, he ranked as an English duke, had received the Garter, and had been granted every possible foreign rank and decoration.

In 1854 the long peace was broken. Tactics had meanwhile scarcely changed since the Peninsula. The English still fought in line, the French more or less in column, and in both armies the deployment and the advance were covered by light infantry skirmishers. The artillery was that of 1815 to all intents and purposes. Only the telegraph introduced a new and not always, from a military point of view, valuable adjunct to warlike operations, as it led to the interference, by ignorant people at home, with the conduct of operations of which they could form no accurate judgment; and though this “opening up” communication247 with the western countries greatly accelerated the supply of whatever was wanted, “still, in the Crimean War, it enabled Napoleon III. to worry the army incessantly with military ideas, which Pelissier calmly disregarded.” Lastly, the use of steamships gave greater rapidity and certainty in the transport of troops.

Just before the war began the coatee was gradually superseded by the tunic, which offered greater protection to the man than the previous dress. Gradually epaulettes as well as scales ceased.

The British army entered on its first European campaign, for nearly forty years, side by side with its ancient enemies, for the first time since the Crusades. In alliance with Turkey, to which after was added Piedmont, it was proposed, at first, to carry on an active campaign in the Balkan Peninsula against the Russian invasion of the “principalities.” Russia’s appearance there, nominally to obtain protection for the Christian subjects of the Porte, was based on the hope of inheriting, or gaining by force of arms, the territory of the “sick man,” or at least, by his destruction, to lead to a partition of his territories, as had been effected before in Poland. Russia thought little of the then newly made Emperor of France, Napoleon III., and he, on his part, was by no means disinclined to adopt the Napoleonic method, and to obtain security for his throne by war abroad, and peace, with glory added, at home. England, owing to the outcry of the “Manchester School,” had been regarded as a quantité négligeable then, as she has sometimes been since. The Czar hoped, at least, that the canker of the long peace had so rusted her energies that she might protest, but would do nothing more. But there were several surprises for the autocrat, as his descendant found also in 1877 to 1878, before the wished-for end could be gained. Turks then, as later, proved themselves somewhat stubborn fighters. To a man who believes in Kismet, death has no real terrors, and there is only his own personal ego, only his own personal nerve strength, to deal with. The quantity is somewhat difficult of determining, and its determination marks the difference248 between the brave man and the coward. Few know, or can guess, the value of this personal equation until he is tried. Sometimes, when that trial is made, it is too late to be of future value.

But the Turk tenaciously held his own in the valley of the Danube, and England and France declared war. The real defeat of Russia was not to be on pseudo-Turkish soil. Austria intervened by mobilising a portion of her army, which therefore threatened the Russian line of retreat, and in other ways paralysed her freedom of action. This “benevolent neutrality,” like all such actions which are half-hearted, made bad blood. No one rejoiced, privately, more than Russia did when disaster befell Austria in 1866. Said, three weeks after K?niggratz, the governor of East Siberia, who had received the news partly by telegraph, partly by steamer down the Amoor, when asked why he had rejoiced that “the Austrians had been gloriously defeated at Sadowa,” “We have never forgotten or forgiven Austria’s benevolent neutrality of 1854.”

So Russia abandoned her first idea of carrying the war into the enemy’s country, and had to prepare to defend her own.

The Allied army had been landed, till all danger in that part was over, at Varna, and had suffered terribly from sickness. Now the seat of war was transferred to the Crimea, with the object of destroying both the Russian base of operations in the Black Sea, and her prestige as well, by the capture of Sebastopol. So the troops embarked; but while both France and Turkey had to use their ships of war as transports, and could not therefore convey cavalry, England, with a magnificent fleet of transports for her troops and a fine squadron of warships to cover them, was able to embark all three arms for the new seat of war. It was something even in 1854 to be still a leading naval power. “No power but England has, indeed, ever successfully despatched a complete army by sea, at anyrate since the Crusades, save England.”51

249 Thus were landed on the shores of the Crimea, which there run north and south, on the small, well-protected beach of Balchuk Bay, a few miles north of the Bulganak River, and about twenty-five miles north of the principal objective, Sebastopol, a force of 28,000 French—they had lost 10,000 men by cholera at Varna—and 7000 Turkish infantry, with 68 guns and no cavalry, and the British army of 26,000 infantry, 60 guns, and a light cavalry brigade of about 1000 sabres. The former forces were commanded by Marshal St. Arnaud, the latter by Lord Raglan, and were formed into five divisions, about 5000 men, each of two brigades, each brigade of two regiments, and with each two field batteries.

The siege train and the heavy cavalry brigade were awaiting embarkation at Varna. Even then it had been contemplated that a siege was possible, but there was an obstacle in the immediate way; for, behind the Alma river, a few miles south of the Bulganak, the Russian army under Mentschikoff had taken up a position for defence. The march began with the English force inland on the left because it had cavalry to cover its flank front and rear, with the Rifle Brigade forming the advanced and rear guard; then came the French; and the Turkish contingent formed the right of the advance, though in the column of march they followed in rear of the French columns. The first day’s march was six miles. The Russians had placed their army across the road from Eupatoria to Sebastopol; but there were few troops west of the road, as the cliffs bordering the brook were there steep, with only two difficult avenues of approach, which might have been blocked or defended by field works, while the plateau was exposed to the fire of the guns from the fleet. Their right, however, rested on the Kourganè Hill, and on the slopes below were some earthworks; while the presence of their cavalry on the extreme right, necessitated (according to the principle of the Peninsular days) that the left flank battalions of the English lines should be in column ready to form square.

The battle of the Alma is a fair type of the use of line250 versus column; and, be it remembered, that as it had survived the Peninsular days so, very slightly modified, it remained in the British army until 1870.

The French and Turks began the battle, but what happened on the right can be dismissed with little comment. The difficulties were rather those of ground than those created by the enemy, for there was little resistance here. “Opposed to the English were at least two-thirds of the Russians.” The Second and Light Divisions, the 30th, 55th, 95th, and 41st, 47th, 49th in the one, and the 7th, 23rd, 33rd, with the 19th, 77th, 88th in the other, led in line of columns; the Third and First, the former composed of the 1st, 38th, 50th, and the 4th, 28th, 44th, the latter of the Guards and the 42nd, 79th, 93rd, were in second line; the Fourth Division, the 20th, 21st, 68th, 69th, and the 1st Rifle Brigade echeloned on the left was in third line, and the cavalry, 4th, 13th, 18th, 11th Hussars, and the 17th Lancers, formed on the flank and rear. Each line deployed occupied about 2400 yards, the first at about one mile from the enemy’s position; and not only did this occupy much time, “several hours,”52 but the deployment was irregular and the advance slow. All the disadvantages of the linear formation for attack were fully shown. Crossing the Alma, where at some points the water was up to the men’s necks,53 the dislocation of the attenuated front became more manifest, while the loss was heavy. Still the shattered and broken lines pressed on, but the Light Division had to fall back, having lost 47 officers and 850 men, and the brigade of Guards, with the Highlanders on their left, pressed into the fight. Though they too were checked for a time, their advance and the front of fire they developed were too much for the Russian columns. Assailed in front by determined infantry, the Vladimir Regiment alone about this time lost 49 officers and 1500 men, so Anitschkoff says, and, fired on by two guns which Lord Raglan had fortunately got across the stream in the very forefront of the battle, the great columns dissolved and fled.

the Crimea. 1854–5.

251 But, throughout, the evil, from a military standpoint, of the long peace was apparent. There was want of method in the attack and want of supreme direction. The artillery was badly handled, and was used without combined effort. It would have been wiser if the whole force had made a flank attack on the Russian right, and both threatened directly his line of retreat and penned him in against the coast.54 And, finally, the cavalry were not used at all. “I will keep my cavalry in a bandbox,” said Raglan, which, however cautious, was not “l’audace”; and so, partly due to French advice no doubt, there was no pursuit and no rout. Once again, as often in the Peninsula, the battle was won by the fighting power of the men rather than the genius of the commander. Throughout, the cavalry, instead of spreading widely for information, were kept close to the columns they should have covered. Finally, while the Russians admit a loss of 6000 men, the British suffered one of 2000, and that of the French was estimated by Raglan at the most as three officers and 560 men. Two days were then wasted, and on the 23rd the army made the magnificent march of seven miles, and on the next day six more! With greater celerity Sebastopol might, in all human probability, have been carried by assault. So thought Todleben himself, the commanding engineer in the Russian fortress, and he was no mean judge. The defeated army had only garrisoned the fortress, and then proposed falling back into the interior. There was, too, a dread of the fortifications themselves on the part of the leaders of the British army, which is somewhat to be wondered at, with the traditions of Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo still not forgotten, by some at least. The works on the north side of the harbour were deemed too formidable to attack; it was decided, therefore, to make a flank march round the place and try the southern side. It must be remembered that the general line of march was north to south, that of the harbour east and west; and that beyond the upland which lay behind the town, and which was to be the site of the coming siege, were two harbours, Balaklava and Kamiesch, which might be used as252 new bases of operation against the great fortress of the Crimea.

So the most remarkable flank march in military history was begun. Owing to the confusion that characterised much of the staff work of the campaign, the general-in-chief found himself leading the entire column, the advanced guard having lost its way (!), with behind him thirty guns; and this through a thick wood. The British general was in as complete ignorance that the Russian army was moving across his front five miles away, as was Mentschikoff in equally blissful ignorance that his enemy was crossing the rear of his column of march. Thus, not even the true advanced guard, but some of the main column, cut off some of the Russian baggage train.

However, Balaklava was reached without further misadventure, the result of blind accident rather than knowledge of how war should be conducted; and the two armies settled down before Sebastopol on the Chersonese Upland, the north side of which was formed by the south front of the fortress, another by the sea, and the third by a cliff edge leading down into the wide valley below the Tchernaya and Balaklava. Reversing the order of attack at the Alma, the Allies now changed flanks, the British from Balaklava taking the right as far as they could afford to go (this flank had later on to be extended by the French), while the French from Kamiesch Bay occupied the left of the besieging line. Thus it was not even a complete investment of the southern side. The right of the English section was at the beginning quite en l’air. There was no covering army to watch and meet the Russian army known to be outside and free to act. Balaklava was fortified, camps were formed on the upland; the Woronzoff road, by which Todleben, in command at Sebastopol, communicated with the interior of Russia, was defended by a few weak redoubts held by Turks; and the camps of the cavalry brigades were formed in the lowland between the road and the upland cliffs. Nothing could prevent the continual reinforcement of the garrison, nothing could prevent an attack by Mentschikoff’s army from253 Baghtcheserai; but the investing force must in that case turn its back upon the defenders of the fortress to meet the attack of the relieving army.

Sebastopol was neither to be invested nor reduced. The siege was merely a means to an end, that of draining the resources of the adversary, and the cost of doing so, both in lives and in suffering, was great in the extreme.

The siege itself is too complex to deal with in detail. The place was bombarded on the 17th October, and the fleet co-operated. The first sortie was made on the 26th; by January 1854 there were 14,000 men in hospital, and there were scarcely any horses; there was a second sortie in March; on the 9th April there was a second bombardment, but nothing came of it; on the 6th June there was a third bombardment and an assault, and the Mamelon was taken; the fourth bombardment on the 17th June was also followed by an assault, the cemetery at the foot of the Green Hill being taken; a fifth and sixth bombardment was carried out on the 17th August, and from the 5th to the 7th September; and then the final assault was made, when the Malakoff Tower was taken, and the attack on the Redan failed. This terminated the siege. The Russians, after a prolonged defence, of which they are justly proud, sank their ships, blew up the forts on the south side, and retreated to the north side of the harbour, leaving the bloodstained ruined city and fortifications to the victors. They had nothing to reproach themselves with. But, meanwhile, an expedition to Kinburn had cut off one of the arsenals on which the Russian commander in Sebastopol depended, and the exhaustion of Russia (she had lost 240,000 men up to the late Czar’s death, and 80,000 since) was evident. Otherwise the Russian position was still admirable, and the war might have been prolonged indefinitely. But the fall of the southern forts led the way to armistice and then peace.

But while the siege was thus dragging on its weary length, the Russian field army and the garrison had not been passive. There had been three efforts to raise the siege, namely, those which led to the battle of Balaklava on254 the 25th October 1853, when the relieving force numbered 22,000 infantry, 3400 cavalry, and 78 guns, and advanced from the Tchernaya by Kamara, across the Woronzoff road; the battle of Inkerman, on the 5th November 1854, when the garrison made a sortie with 19,000 infantry and 38 guns, aided by Pauloff with 16,000 infantry and 96 guns from the Inkerman heights, while Gortschakoff threatened the upland from the Balaklava valley; and the battle of the Tchernaya, on the 16th August 1864, in which our new Sardinian allies shared, and which was fought by them and the French only, with a Turkish reserve, but which does not enter into the story of the British army, except as an incident in the campaign.

But the two former battles are remarkable and noteworthy instances of the courage and fearlessness—one may almost add skill-lessness—of our army. Never did men fight better. Never were greater mistakes made in all the annals of war. The Crimean campaign teaches one thing, if it teaches no other. Battles are won, sometimes if apparently lost, by sheer hard fighting. When Marengo was lost, it was very soon won. So in these cases. The army ought to have been beaten according to all the canons of war, but it wasn’t! Perhaps a time will come when the man who does the real work—that “very strong man,” Thomas Atkins—has his due meed. Crosses and decorations are given often enough to those who have never seen a shot fired, but poor “Thomas” goes away bravely in peace, as he fought bravely in war, with his medal, and even that for “distinguished service in the field,” to sweep a London crossing. Balaklava is a clear instance of mere brilliant animal courage, a bravery that the Russians recognise as fully as we do, and would reward better than we do, who have allowed many a gallant man who rode in the “death ride” to sink to workhouse pay. They speak with feeling and admiration of both the action of the cavalry and the Highlanders, and wonder why we have a clasp for Balaklava! A Russian officer, many years ago, asking what clasp was on the Crimean medal an officer was wearing (he was dining in a naval mess), and being told255 it was for Balaklava, started, and said, “Do you English give clasps for your defeats as well as your victories, for we claim Balaklava as a success?” “How so?” was the Englishman’s natural response. “You did not hold the field, nor did you raise the siege.” “True,” replied the Russian, “but we won the Woronzoff road, and, practically, you never contested with us the right to it afterwards, and contented yourself with acting defensively behind the earthworks of Balaklava and the Upland.”

There are two sides to every question, therefore; but one thing is evident, that the British position based on Balaklava was in front line as regards the interior of the Crimea, while that of the French at Kamiesch was not, and could not be, molested. A glance at the map shows this, and shows also how a little further forethought on the part of the British would have shown the staff the advisability of keeping on the left, as we had done, and agreed to do, at Alma, and basing ourselves on Kamiesch, rather than taking Balaklava as our base, in opposition for a time to the French, and wilfully accepting, or rather asking for, the most exposed position. It is always easy to be wise after the event, but a wise staff gauges the possibility of the event before it occurs. No one can ascribe to the staff in the Crimea the virtue of prescience in the faintest degree.

The battle of Balaklava, therefore, is peculiar. The only regiments in the Army List who carry that name “on their colours” are the 4th and 5th Dragoon Guards, the 1st, 2nd, and 6th Dragoons, the 4th, 8th, 11th, and 13th Hussars, and the 17th Lancers among the cavalry, and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, the second battalion of which was the 93rd, who formed “the thin red line” to meet the Russian cavalry, which was looked upon, and rightly in the days of muzzle-loaders, as peculiarly gallant. But even these brave men might look back on the equal gallantry of the Fusiliers who at El Bodon did much the same thing.

But a battle must be “peculiar” when only one regiment of the line can claim a clasp for Balaklava. It only shows how purely defensive the action was. Against the Russian256 host of all arms, only the cavalry and one regiment of the line were exposed to fire. The artillery, of course, were engaged, but to enumerate all the actions they have been in would be to explain the meaning of their motto “Ubique.” The Russians from the Traktir Bridge advanced then straight on the poor forts situated on the Woronzoff Road, held by the Turks, and heading towards Kamiesch and Balaklava. Expanding into skirmishing order, says an eyewitness, they easily carried them, and the Turks fled into Balaklava village, to be blasphemed by some old soldier’s wife who hated running men. Her language, so it is said, was emphasised with a broomstick. The retreating Turks were pursued by cavalry; but, met by the guns of the Marine Artillery outside the castle and the “thin red line” of the 93rd, the Russians fell back. The base of operations, at least, was safe; but it could never have been carried by cavalry alone. British cavalry alone had prevented the advance of the Russian army elsewhere. The actual loss inflicted by this arm could not have been much, and they probably suffered more than they inflicted; but the moral force and value of cavalry was never more clearly shown.

There were two cavalry charges that made the battle noteworthy. There is nothing else, except the pluck of the Highlanders, that needs comment.

On the sound of the firing, the First and Fourth Divisions moved down towards Balaklava, and moving parallel with them were the Light and Heavy Brigades, separated by a wide interval, the latter leading on the south side of the road towards Balaklava, the other on the north side nearer the Tchernaya. The scene of the two charges is therefore divided by the road, which runs along a low ridge. Just as the Heavy Brigade, 900 sabres strong, marching in a very irregular column without scouts, was nearing Kadikoi, a huge column of Russian cavalry, estimated at 3000 men, suddenly appeared on their left crossing the ridge. Scarlett did not hesitate: forming up the first troops (some 300) as they arrived, he dashed with the Greys and Inniskillings full at the centre of the mass, which, irresolute, halted to receive257 the shock; and the 4th and 5th coming up successively and taking the unwieldy column in flank, the Russians gave way in complete disorder, and fled headlong back to the head of the valley. The charge had cost the Heavy Brigade comparatively few men.

Meanwhile, there had been an apparent intention on the part of the Russians to remove the guns captured in the Turkish redoubts. To prevent this, Lord Raglan sent his aide-de-camp, Captain Nolan, with directions to Lord Lucan to advance. Through misconception of his instructions, Captain Nolan, instead of indicating the intended objective, pointed to the heavy battery of guns a mile away, supported by masses of cavalry and infantry and other batteries on either flank. Lord Cardigan was to charge the whole of the Russian army. But there was as little hesitation with him as with Scarlett. Into the semicircle of fire the Light Brigade dashed on their “death ride.” They returned broken and in groups, having left 247 men killed and wounded, and with a mounted strength of but 195 men. The Heavy Brigade had moved in support, but was not employed; on the other side the Chasseurs d’Afrique gave timely aid by driving off the guns on the left of the advance. Nolan, the author of a misfortune the remembrance of which is still so glorious, was struck by a piece of shell in the breast, and though already lifeless, was carried through the ranks of the 13th before he fell from the saddle. Never was there recorded a more daring ride against dreadful odds, and all so practically useless. Well might the French officer looking down from the plateau on the battle panorama below, exclaim, “C’est magnifique, mais ce n’est pas la guerre.”

The camps of the different divisions had meanwhile been pitched far back on the Upland, not far from the steep escarpment that overlooked the plain and the Tchernaya valley, on the opposite, or right, bank of which river rose the Inkerman heights. The more northerly of the camps, and therefore that nearest the river, was that of the Second Division, on whose left front lay “Shell Hill,” bounded on one side by the Quarry Ravine and on the other by Careenage Ravine, which258 the Russians had attempted to seize in the sortie on the 26th October. To its right front is “fore ridge,” the extreme northern spur of which overlooks the Quarry Ravine and the Tchernaya. Here, to prevent the Russians from occupying “Shell Hill,” a sandbag battery had been built, armed, and then abandoned. A line through this point almost due west passes through the Lancaster gun battery; and this line represents the extreme limit of the British occupation. North of it, between the line and that formed by the upper end of the harbour of Sebastopol and the river Tchernaya, is the field of Inkerman. It was on the extreme right flank of the British defensive line.

There were for immediate purposes of defence 3000 men of the Second Division, together with the Guards 1300 strong, and the Light Division, 1400 strong, about a mile to the south. A mile farther off was Bosquet’s French Division. This was the force that had the task before it of defending the gap between the Careenage Ravine and the Tchernaya against the 35,000 men which Mentschikoff meant to develop. It turned out to be as difficult for him to develop his strength in the narrow space, as for his adversary to defend it.

At 7 a.m. on the 5th November heavy Russian batteries opened fire from “Shell Hill.” The piquets fell back fighting, and were reinforced by the Second Division. It is the most curious battle to record that has ever been fought. In other great struggles, army corps, great units of sorts, are used to express the action during the phases of the fight. But Inkerman! One has to tell of what mere handfuls of men did. How the first reinforcement was 650 men; how the 49th defeated a strong column, and pursued it even to Shell Hill; how 260 of the 77th fired into, and charged and dispersed, two Russian battalions; how 200 men of the 30th charged with the bayonet two out of four battalions, driving the whole off; how the 41st, 525 gallant souls, met five other battalions and drove them into the valley of the Tchernaya; how in this, the first stage of this “soldiers’ battle,” 15,000 men had been259 shattered by less than 4000 all told! Nor is the next stage, which began at 7.30, less extraordinary. Against the remnants of that weary force some 19,000 fresh troops were to be brought into action, and 10,000 of them attacked the right at the Quarry Ravine. There were actually 2100 of Cathcart’s Division arriving! Round the Sandbag Battery the fight seemed now to centre. First, some 4000 Russians attacked the 700 British there, who held them in check until reinforced by the Guards. The fighting was individual, almost, and desperate. At one moment there must have been some 6000 Russians against a few hundreds of the Coldstreams, who were holding the battery, and here occurred, perhaps, the “bloodiest struggle ever witnessed since war cursed the earth. Back to back on that bloody ground, sodden into a hideous quagmire, the gallant Coldstreams fought against an infuriated multitude, till their ammunition was expended; and then, clubbing their muskets, by dint of blows from stock and stone, they drove the Russians back far enough to obtain room to form in line, and with levelled bayonets charged the retreating masses, and again joined their comrades.”

Cathcart, arriving with his command, essayed a counter attack on the right, but he fell, and his force suffered severely. The opposing forces were curiously intermingled in that misty confusion, and a vigorous effort again made by the Russians from the Quarry Ravine seemed, at one moment, likely to succeed, for guns were captured. But the end was near. An English eighteen-pounder battery and some French guns had beaten down the fire of the Russian artillery on Shell Hill, and at eleven o’clock the “Russians, when hopeless of success, seemed to melt from the lost field,” and the British were far too exhausted to pursue.

Gortschakoff’s menaced attack was not pushed home; and hence it was that Bosquet came to the assistance of the hard-pressed British and did useful work. The English loss was 597 killed and 1760 wounded (or rather more than one-third their total strength), the French 130, and the Russians 12,256. The regiments engaged on the British side were the260 4th, 8th, 11th, 15th, 17th Light Cavalry, and the 1st, 4th, 7th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 23rd, 28th, 30th, 33rd, 38th, 41st, 44th, 47th, 49th, 55th, 57th, 63rd, 68th, 77th, 88th, 95th, Rifle Brigade, and Guards.

It was the last serious effort to defeat the besieging army, and the siege went on with all horrors of a dreadful winter. “The days and nights in the trenches were simply horrible. The troops shivered there for twenty-four hours at a time, often amid mud that rose nearly to the knee, and as the winter drew on, became frozen, especially towards the early and darker hours of the morning.” Matters improved a little when the railway from Balaklava was completed, and when the war terminated, the army was well fed, housed, and clothed. It was 51,000 strong, that is, stronger than it had ever been; with Turkish and German legions, 20,000 and 10,000 each respectively, raised by British money. But battle, and, still more, disease and mismanagement, had cost the country 22,000 men. The general motto “Sebastopol” is borne on the colours or appointments of the 1st, 4th, 5th, and 6th Dragoon Guards, and the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 6th, 8th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, and 17th Cavalry Regiments, and the 1st, 3rd, 4th, 7th, 9th, 13th, 14th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 23rd, 28th, 30th, 33rd, 34th, 38th, 41st, 42nd, 44th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 55th, 56th, 57th, 62nd, 63rd, 68th, 71st, 72nd, 77th, 79th, 82nd, 88th, 89th, 90th, 93rd, 95th, and 97th Regiments of the line, the Rifle Brigade, and Guards.
Officer 20th Regt (Light Co.) 1853.

But though the State ceased to reduce the number of battalions, everything was put on a peace footing as soon as possible. “Upon the return of the army, the reduction of its establishments was effected in the usual reckless fashion. We soon reverted to our customary condition of military inefficiency.” Yet we had learned, or should have learned, much by the war. Waste and mismanagement had characterised the administration and the staff, the paucity of regular reserves had so made itself felt, that even in the assault of the Redan there were men who had barely fired a rifle before. Recruits, scarcely even drilled, and only partly uniformed, were fighting in the forefront of battle but a few weeks after261 they had enlisted. Our Mediterranean garrisons were largely composed of militia, which force also formed, at that time, our only reliable recruiting-ground, and in our home forts were foreign legionary soldiers. The only things that were left, after a while, of the experience we had gained in the Crimea were the establishment of the School of Gunnery at Shoeburyness, the foundation of the great hospital at Netley, the framework of the present commissariat and transport corps, and the building of the Staff College.

Still, though reduction and economy (or what was thought economy) naturally followed the conclusion of peace, a new era, as far as the army went, dawned. The camp at Chobham, before the war, had emphasised the value of such field training, and hence, largely through the advice and energy of the late Prince Consort, a considerable area of waste land was purchased at Aldershot, and the “Camp” was permanently formed, Crimean huts being utilised for barracks. Bounties had always been largely used, in the just finished war, as before it, to induce recruits to join; but out of it the numerous small personal requirements of the soldier were purchased. Now this was changed, and a “free kit” of “necessaries” were given to the recruit, as well as his uniform and equipment. Still he paid for his rations out of his daily pay. The supply of clothing, too, which had hitherto been a regimental matter, in the hands of the commanding officer, subject to inspection by a board of general officers, now passed into the hands of the War Office, a course which not only insured uniformity, but closed a door open to possible wrong-doing.

The Victoria Cross for Valour was inaugurated, and many of the Crimean heroes received the coveted decoration, which meant to the men not only an honour, but carried with it a pension of ￡10 a year. Since its introduction, some 412 officers and men have received the coveted reward, and of these, apparently, 166 are still living. It has reached all classes. There are still serving with the colours (in 1896) 1 field-marshal, 6 generals, 2 major-generals, 6 colonels, 4 lieutenant-colonels, 4 majors, 5 captains, 1 lieutenant, 1 quartermaster,262 1 surgeon-lieutenant-colonel, 2 surgeon-majors, 2 surgeon-captains, 1 sergeant-major, 1 colour-sergeant, 1 corporal, and 2 privates who wear the bronze cross. Medals were issued to all the rank and file, with clasps for the actions in which they had shared; and to these were added a certain proportion of Turkish, Sardinian, and French medals for special distribution.

Many other small regulations were made for the benefit of both officers and men, and people of all classes vied in welcoming the soldiers home. At last the long-expiring dread of an army was nearly dead. At Sheffield, Mr. Roebuck, at a dinner given to the 4th Dragoon Guards, said in his speech that our soldiers are “the protectors of England, they are the protectors of our glory, they are the protectors of our freedom. And here now is one striking instance that your institution affords of the thorough confidence we have in you, and in the institution to which you belong. We are not afraid of soldiers. We love you as brethren, and we know that you will protect us as such.” These are welcome words to those who have seen how strong had been the antipathy to a standing army in the past. By sheer patience, sheer bravery, and continuous good behaviour, the standing army had won its place in the national heart.

All the infantry were now armed with a new rifle, the Enfield. The Minié, introduced in 1853, was very heavy, indeed far too heavy, and carried an ounce ball. Its calibre had been that of the Brown Bess, the heavy flintlock musket that preceded the percussion weapon of 1840, and which had won for us much of our Empire; as this in its turn had followed the wheel-lock and matchlock arms. The survival of the first infantry missile weapon since the days of bow and crossbow is shown in the term “firelock,” applied to the musket of the rank and file, even long after the campaign of Waterloo. It was now replaced by a lighter weapon, so that sixty rounds of ball ammunition could be carried on the person.

So with the bayonet. At first it was merely a dagger which was thrust, not screwed, into the muzzle of the smooth-263bore gun. Then it became socketed and lengthened. When the length of the gun barrel was diminished, it was also lengthened, as either the “sword bayonet,” or the very long bayonet that was, for a while, introduced with the Martini-Henry rifle. Finally, it has reverted more or less to its original form and length, and the Lee-Mitford has ceased to be a serious pike.