The Great Sieges of History

by William Robson

An expedition to Anapa was planned and prepared; but the Russians, very perplexingly, saved us the trouble. They, on most occasions, carry out the system they adopted in their war with Buonaparte: they prefer destroying their own cities and stores to allowing their enemies the honour of doing it. “We have inflicted great ruin on the enemy, but they have emulated our best efforts in destroying their own settlements.”

After these events there was a lull—the siege seemed to stand still. There was a little occasional fighting, but the French were constantly advancing their works. The Russians seemed particularly idle, as regarded us, and yet it could be seen that they were assiduously employed in strengthening and provisioning the fortress on the north side.

This quiet, however, was soon over. On the 6th of June, for the third time, the fire of the allies was opened along the whole range of positions; the thunders of 157 British guns and mortars, and above 300 on the side of the French awakened the echoes, and hurled their bolts against Sebastopol. “Like greyhounds in the slips,” the two armies, who felt their strength, were eager and anxious for the decisive struggle. The advantages gained by the fleet, wonderfully increased the confidence of the troops.

On the 7th of June, our brave attack upon the Quarrries came off, and our heroic allies, the French, made their immortal capture of the Mamelon. The British succeeded in taking and retaining the Quarries, but had to sustain six attacks of the Russians, who fought not only bravely, but with desperation. We wish we could afford space for the details of the taking of the Mamelon by the French, as nothing but details can do it justice; but we must content ourselves with saying, that complete as the success was, never was success more richly deserved. We doubt whether history can furnish a more exciting scene than the conflict for this important post; great was the glory, but dear the price paid for it! Had we had a larger body in reserve, it was the general opinion that the Redan would have shared the fate of the Quarries. When we recollect what this fortress cost us on the memorable 8th of September, we have additional cause to lament the miserable want of generalship so often occurring in this siege. The men were equal to anything, but there was no military star of genius to lead them on. The loss, on all sides, was very great. The next day the Russians solicited a truce, to bury the dead. This truce disappointed the troops, as it was believed both the Redan and the Malakoff Tower might have been captured. It is not unlikely that there was more policy than humanity in the Russian request, for, before the truce of a few hours was ended, these posts were strongly reinforced. The French immediately made every exertion to fortify their acquisition; but the retention of the Mamelon and the Quarry, though exceedingly important, was not a very easy matter. The Russians were, perhaps, more aware of their value than we were. A flag of truce came out of the harbour to request the allied commanders not to fire on certain ships, as they were converted into hospitals. This, although complied with, was by many thought to be a ruse to save the ships.

On the 18th was made the unsuccessful attack upon the Malakoff and Redan. This was preceded by a hail of shot and shells to an amazing amount, beneath which the Russian fire grew weak and wild. The French obtained possession of the Malakoff, but were unable to hold it. This was a disastrous affair, producing heavy loss and depression of spirits. Let those who idly talk of war, and over their libations sing of its triumphs and victories, study the picture given by the wonderfully-graphic correspondent of the Times of the effects of this bravely-carried-out attempt—to think of them is sufficient to penetrate the hardest heart: we cannot dwell upon them.

This was followed by a kind of tacit suspension of hostilities—both sides were “supped full with horrors;” humanity resumed its empire, and mournful thoughts and bitter reflections displaced the madness of strife and visions of glory.

It has been our painful task, in the course of our short narrative, whilst with pride attempting to do justice to the bravery of our gallant troops, to comment severely upon the conduct of their leaders. There is an incident related which took place after the unsuccessful attack upon the Malakoff, that appears to us a perfect epitome of the whole conduct of the war, and which our national feeling would not allow us to repeat, if there were not mixed with it high honour, as well as imbecility. The taking of the Cemetery was the only trophy of the great attack, and that, if properly followed up, might have been of incalculable advantage; the cost of it was dear in brave hearts and strong arms. Mr. Russell does not hesitate to say: “And this we should have abandoned from the timidity of one of our generals. It was left to a general of division to say what should be done with the Cemetery, and he gave orders to abandon it. On the following morning, Lieutenant Donnelly, an officer of engineers, hears, to his extreme surprise, that the position for which we had paid so dearly was not in our possession. He appreciated its value; he saw that the Russians had not yet advanced to reoccupy it. With the utmost zeal and energy he set to work among the officers of the trenches, and begged and borrowed some thirty men, with whom he crept down into the Cemetery just before the flag of truce was hoisted. As soon as the armistice began, the Russians flocked down to the Cemetery, which they supposed to be undefended, but, to their great surprise, they found our thirty men posted there as sentries, who warned them back, and in the evening the party was strengthened, and we are now constructing most valuable works and batteries there.” Far, far be it from us to harbour a thought or utter a wish inimical to free institutions or representative governments, but there are times when the will of one strong mind will work more nobly than official routine: Mahomet II. would have reversed matters here—the general and the lieutenant would have changed places.

The apparent rest, but real secret activity of both parties, was at first painfully broken in the British camp by the death of General Estcourt, the Adjutant-general of the army, which was quickly followed by that of the Commander-in-chief. Lord Raglan was too old, and too little accustomed to field-work and anxiety of mind to sustain the post he was placed in. Forty years’ life of a British nobleman, in an official situation, could not have prepared him for a struggle which would have taxed the energies of his master in his prime. Kind-hearted, amiable and gentlemanly, we believe him to have been, but these were scarcely the qualities to be pitted against Russian ambition, artifices, energies, and dogged courage, or to enable him, at an advanced age, to contend with a climate, exposure, fatigue, and privations to which he had never been accustomed. Lord Raglan must have been more conscious than anybody else of his unfitness for the trying post he occupied: the better the man the more likely was he to suffer from this feeling. It was the failure at the Malakoff, more than disease, that terminated the career of one of whom we can speak with more pride as an English gentleman than as a great English general.

But the great end began to approach; it had been bought dearly, but it loomed above the horizon. Supplies of men and material were constantly arriving in the Allied camp, nor can it be said that their powerful enemy relaxed his efforts in these respects; but, however protected by earthworks, walls cannot endure battering for ever. With their hosts of sappers, the French made daily approaches to mining the principal fortifications, and in July, the Russian commander became so aware of the peril of his situation, that he informed his Government he could not hold the city much longer. The Court of St. Petersburgh appeared to be desperate rather than prudently firm, and ordered the rash assault to be made on the lines of the Tchernaya, in the hope of compelling the allies to raise the siege, and of once more regaining Balaklava. We have had cause to wonder, throughout the siege, at the number of guns and the abundance of all kinds of warlike munitions that were at the command of the Russians. But the capture of Sebastopol has greatly diminished this feeling; for that city may be thought to have been constantly receiving stores in order to carry out the project of taking Constantinople, ever since it was conceived by Peter, and cherished by Catherine II. Instead of a fortified city at the remote boundary of a great empire, it was like the metropolitan arsenal of that empire. The Russians then put forth their energies in one more desperate attack. But the position was too strong and too well defended. The battle of the Tchernaya was entirely in favour of the allies; not only physically but morally, for their prestige of victory was well supported; the Russians were forced to retire back to the heights on either side of Mackenzie’s farm.

The next fortnight Prince Gortschakoff may be said to have devoted to providing for the safety of his army. He had great reason to fear the next bombardment would be fatal; he established a means of communication between the battered ruins of the South side of Sebastopol and that North side upon which so much labour and time had been expended; he built a strong raft-bridge across the harbour, threw up earthworks along the cliff to protect it, and drew his army together in compact lines between the sea and the heights of Mackenzie.