THE REIGN OF VICTORIA (continued).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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