Chapter V: Part 5

The united Russian forces, consisting of the 5th and 6th Corps under General Gourko, and the 14th and 15th Corps under the Grand Duke Vladimir, have to-day suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the combined German armies of the Vistula and Silesia, commanded by the King of Saxony, and are now in full retreat on Warsaw. As I predicted in my last despatch, this has been the Waterloo of the Russo-German portion of the campaign, and it has been brilliantly won by the Germans—thanks mainly to the disconcerting effects of smokeless powder on the tactics of an enemy who fights better in the mass than in detail, no less than to the fact of the Russians having committed the radical error of provoking a war before they were completely equipped with the new magazine rifle, which, even with the aid of the French factories that received orders for half a million of the new weapon, will not be served out to the entire army of the Czar before the summer of 1894.

In my last despatch I recorded how the Grand Duke Vladimir, in spite of his victory over the German Army of Silesia at Czenstochau, had refrained from following up his success in consideration of Gourko’s repulse at Alexandrovo, preferring—like Wellington, who had similarly beaten Ney at Quatre Bras, but was yet desirous of succouring the retreating Blücher, who had come to grief in front of Napoleon on the same day at Ligny—to retire towards Warsaw for the purpose of joining hands with his fellow-commander, on the latter being worsted by the King of Saxony. The distances, of course, were infinitely greater in the present case; but otherwise the principles of strategy were the same.

A glance at the map will show that the junction-point for Gourko and the Grand Duke Vladimir could only have been Skierniwiçe, where the railways from Alexandrovo and Czenstochau converge; and it appears that, though the Grand Duke’s line of retreat to the common rendezvous was considerably the longer of the two, nevertheless the bulk of his forces had reached it first, by reason of the fact that he enjoyed a double line of rails, whereas Gourko had to move as best he could along a single track.

The German Army of the Vistula, with which I had thrown in my lot as a witness of the war, was not slow to gather itself together after the battle of Alexandrovo, and start in pursuit of Gourko’s shattered forces, but much precious time was lost by us in repairing bridges which our retreating foes had blown up; and though at last, by dint of great exertions on our part, the railway proved not altogether unavailable to us for transport purposes, still the earlier stages of our advance on Warsaw simply assumed the form of an ordinary march along, and parallel with, the line, the engineers pontooning or planking any bridgeless stream or ravine which obstructed our progress.

At Vlokavek, which our advanced guard reached on the fifth day after the battle of Alexandrovo, though the distance is only about thirty miles, we were considerably hampered, and even hurt, by the flanking fire of a Russian battery, which had established itself in a safe position on the right bank of the Vistula—a battery, strange to say, which was unsupported by any body of infantry of which we could discover trace; and the King of Saxony, who, in spite of his sixty-four summers, is still almost as vigorous and alert as when he commanded on the Meuse, determined to imitate, though, of course, on a very much smaller scale, the celebrated passage of the Douro by Wellington (of which, by the way, this was, curiously enough, the anniversary, the 12th May). Accordingly, the 3d battalion of the ‘Old Dessauers’ Magdeburg regiment, under Major von Wusterhausen, was stealthily ferried over the Vistula, which is here both broad and deep, at the dead of night; and, performing a silent and circuitous march to the rear of the Russian battery, it opened a heavy fire on the bewildered Muscovites, just as the latter, profiting by the breaking dawn, were about to begin their usual day’s work of pounding away at our advancing columns; and, charging with a cheer up to the emplacements, before the pieces could be reversed, the ‘Old Dessauers’ killed or captured every one of the gunners. For this smart and effective feat of arms Major von Wusterhausen will doubtless receive the Iron Cross of the first class and the rank of colonel.

This was the main incident which marked the course of our advance, though I might fill columns by recounting the minor vicissitudes of our march, especially the intolerable botheration which was occasioned us by the clouds of Cossacks and Dragoons—the latter little more than mere mounted infantry—who pertinaciously hovered on our flanks in search of fitting opportunities for harassing us, and had ever and anon to be brushed away like so many troublesome swarms of mosquitoes.

In the meantime the telegraph had kept us duly informed of the various stages in the forward movement of the army of Silesia along the other and longer side of the triangle, of which Skierniwiçe is the apex, and it was naturally enough our endeavour so to time our junction with it as to render it impossible for the Russians to attack our two armies severally and beat them in detail, even if they should have the stomach to assume the offensive, which we gravely doubted.

When our headquarters had reached Lowitz, which is only about fourteen miles from Skierniwiçe, and established itself in a pretty chateau, Arcadia by name, belonging to the Radziwill family, an officer of the Empress Frederick’s Posen Hussars (Death’s Heads), who had made a long and venturesome ride across country from Lipce, came spurring in with a despatch from Prince George of Saxony, announcing that the combined Russian forces under Gourko and the Grand Duke Vladimir had taken up a strong defensive position behind the Lupta brook (which runs into the Bzura, an affluent of the Vistula), with their left resting on a village, Stryzboga, and their right on another hamlet, Dromiloff, their centre being Skierniwiçe. The left half of their line, defended by the troops of the Czar’s eldest brother, was formed by the Lupta itself, a brook about the size of the Bistritz at Sadowa; while the right half was thrown back from this streamlet at an angle of about twenty-five degrees, so as to profit by some ridgy ground in its rear. Prince George of Saxony, therefore, invited his royal brother to attack General Gourko with all energy on the morrow, while he himself would simultaneously assail the position of the Grand Duke Vladimir, a proposal which King Albert, after brief consultation with his Staff, declared his readiness to act upon.

Accordingly, two hours before dawn, all our troops were under arms, and in motion for the various positions which had been assigned them. On our half of the Russian front the 3d (Brandenburg) Corps, with the 7th Division, advanced to open the attack, while the 8th Division acted as reserve, and our two Cavalry Divisions were directed to keep a look-out on our left flank, adapting their action to the nature of the ground and the development of the infantry portion of the fight. Between us and the enemy the terrain was pretty wavy with occasional patches of crops and cover, while in front of Skierniwiçe it rose into a gentle slope, on the top of which spread the extensive wood forming the deer park and game preserves of the castle (famous for its Three Emperors’ Meeting), of which the turrets were just visible above the tree-tops. This, as I said, formed the centre of the Russian position; and it was by opening our guns in this direction that we began the battle, with the view of making the enemy believe that our main objective was the middle of their line.

For a couple of hours or so the fight was nothing but an artillery duel at long range, and it was plain that although the Russian artillery was more advantageously posted, it had the utmost difficulty in finding the range, and even the exact position of our guns, owing to the comparative smokelessness of their discharges. On the other hand, after the Russian outposts had been driven in, the Jäger Battalion of the 3d Corps, which, courting every dip in the ground, had stealthily crept forward for some considerable distance in a hollow beyond our batteries, and lined the edge of a rye-field, within about 3000 metres of the Russian guns, opened fire at this very long range, and not without fatal effects; for with a good glass we could see the Russian artillerists dropping beside their pieces, a fact which made us realise the truth of the German Emperor’s remark that, if field guns are to hold their ground as weapons of modern warfare, their range must still be further increased beyond that of the newest form of small bore rifle.

To emphasise the impression produced by this combined artillery and musketry fire—of such a galling and invisible kind—we made a show of manœuvring large bodies of infantry over against the Russian centre, as if in preparation for an attack in force; and presently we could discern that this feint movement on our part was responded to by the pushing up of more of the enemy’s force from either flank into the woods of Skierniwiçe, for the purpose of giving us a reception lacking nothing in warmth should we have the temerity to essay an entrance there.

While this renewed concentration in the Russian centre was going on, a curious incident happened, which puzzled us not a little at first. This was the sudden emerging from the wood of what appeared in the distance to be several squadrons of cavalry, which headed straight for our lines, and came careering down right on the rye-field where the Jäger Battalion before-mentioned, from its concealed position, was playing such sore havoc among the Russian gunners with their long range and invisible fire, and we doubted not that their whereabouts had at last been discovered. Accordingly, while our guns loaded with shrapnel, word was passed to the Stendal Hussars, who, acting as cavalry of the 7th Division, were standing ensconced in a hollow on the rear flank of our batteries, to prepare for hurling themselves upon these presumptuous horsemen. But this counter attack proved to be unnecessary; for presently we could discern that the Russian steeds were riderless, and, on coming nearer, they turned out to be only a huge herd of very fine deer, which had been scared out of their leafy haunts in the forest of Skierniwiçe by the infernal pother going on there. It may be remembered that, in his narrative of the battle of Königgrätz, the late Count Moltke referred to a similar incident.

Meanwhile, our real object, which was the delivery of our main attack on the right flank of the Russians, was being successfully attained. It can scarcely be expected that I, or any other single eye-witness, should be able to detail the incidents and development of a battle which extended along a line of more than six miles, as the reasons which preclude a General from exercising anything like unity of command over so vast an area form an equal restraint upon the War Correspondent’s power of all-embracing observation. Even of conflicts like Königgrätz and Sedan, a pretty complete description of a general kind could always be given by one pen by reason of the smoke which betrayed the whereabouts of friend and foe and the fluctuations of the fight; but now that science has robbed war of one of its most picturesque appendages, a modern battle by day is a most bewildering spectacle. You hear the roar of cannon and the rattle of musketry, but this incessant thunder is accompanied by no lightning-flash. You see men flinging up their arms and falling around you, but know not whence they received their death-wounds any more than if they had been stricken down by the invisible arrows of the Sun-God Apollo.

Naturally enough this must have a most demoralising effect on all soldiers, and when Blücher at Lingy said: ‘My men like to see the enemy,’ he was only characterising the fighting men of most nations. Still, as far as I could discover, the German Infantry were less disconcerted by these unseen terrors of modern war than were their Russian foes, who are most dour and indomitable devils when they can fight shoulder to shoulder and in the mass, but lose much of their _morale_ and their dogged powers of resistance when each man has mainly to rely upon his own intelligence (not a very marked feature of the Slavonic soldier), his own initiative, and his own isolated sources of courage. Indeed, we thought we could now and then detect traces of panic among the soldiers of the Czar; and in one case, at least, we distinctly saw an officer draw his revolver on some of his men who would rather have fled than fallen before a foe whom they could neither see nor feel.

In spite, however, of these demoralising influences which were at work among the scattered ranks of the Russians, they held their ground with singular tenacity; and the battle had thus raged for hours without our being able to carry out completely our main purpose, which was, under cover of the feint attack that we had directed against the enemy’s centre, to turn his right and roll him up—a manœuvre, as we knew, which Prince George of Saxony was equally fain to accomplish with the Russian left.

About noon, however, the scales of victory were suddenly turned in our favour in the following manner. The day was bright, clear, and warm, and though the battlefield immediately in front of the knoll occupied by King Albert and his Staff (to which I had attached myself) was completely free from powder-smoke, the horizon behind the Russians all at once began to grow clouded with a long line of thick yellow dust, which floated ever nearer and nearer to us in dense billowy volumes like a huge, irregular wave of muddy sea foam. I saw the King exchange glances of intelligent meaning with the various members of his Staff, but did not myself comprehend the meaning of the phenomenon, until the rolling dust-cloud began to be relieved by sparks and glintings such as are emitted by mica from a grey hillside, and then it flashed upon me all at once that these coruscations of light in a whirlwind of dust could only come from the flashing of the sun’s rays on the sabres, helmets, and lances of our cavalry.

And so it was. For our Two Divisions of Horse, numbering in all thirty-two squadrons, starting betimes, had stolen away through Lowitz, up the right bank of the Bzura, and fording this stream above its confluence with the Ravka, had mounted this other brook and crossed it at Bolimoff, where they were fairly in the rear of the Russian right, on which they thus came thundering down. I had seen operations of this kind repeatedly carried out at the autumn manœuvres in Germany, but deemed them _Kriegspiel_ in the literal sense of the word—and not to be thought of or hazarded in real warfare. Yet here was a vivid proof that the Germans are terribly earnest, even in their military pastimes, and that they only apply in war what they practise in peace. I daresay, however, King Albert would never have sanctioned so bold a venture had he not discovered early in the day that the Russians had shifted the bulk of their cavalry to their left flank as being the more exposed of the two, and only left a weak Brigade of Dragoons to strengthen the natural inaccessibility of their right. It had never occurred to them as a physical possibility that the Germans, unperceived by their Cossack scouts, could positively work two Cavalry Divisions round to their rear; but the Germans had done so, and, riding down the Dragoon Brigade in question, it rushed with a ringing cheer like a whirlwind upon the Russian battalions and smote them hip and thigh.

Becoming aware, though all too late, of this impending avalanche of squadrons in their rear, the Russians had faced about with wonderful alacrity and steadiness, and delivered a well-directed volley against their assailants, emptying a very considerable number of saddles; but though this staggered them a little, it did not in the least stop the long audacious wave of horsemen, who, couching their lances (for the German cavalry of all kinds are now armed with this weapon), rode full tilt at the lines of Russian marksmen, stabbing and spearing them as they so stubbornly stood their ground. The shock and _mêlée_ were all over in less time than it takes to tell of it, and having thus performed their dare-devil and death-dealing ride through the shattered ranks of Gourko’s infantry, the gallant squadrons put spurs to their jaded steeds, and with another rousing cheer came galloping across to our lines, through which they passed amid ringing salvoes of cheers, retiring into the hollow ground beyond to rally and re-form—though very much thinned in numbers, it must be admitted. It was an heroic feat, executed at a great cost of life and limb; but it had completed the demoralisation among the ranks of the Russian infantry which our invisible musketry fire had begun, and paved the way for the crowning manœuvre of the day.

This was performed by our reserve Division of Infantry (the 8th), which, imitating the strategy of the Prussian Guards at Chlum, had edged its way round and taken the Russians full on their right flank, which it was now rapidly rolling up and forcing in upon the centre in huddled masses of demoralised and defeated troops of all arms. At the same time it was clear, from certain signs on the extreme right, that our army of the Vistula had succeeded in performing a similar turning movement in its particular part of the field (where the bulk of the Russian Cavalry had bravely, but vainly, attempted to stem the tide of our advance); and by two o’clock in the afternoon our line of battle had assumed something like semi-circular shape, which was ever narrowing down upon our out-manœuvred opponents.

By this time a general advance on our side had been ordered, and our Corps Artillery, after raining another most awful torrent of shells on the Russian position, now slackened and gradually stopped its fire, in order to let our infantry do the rest of the bloody work unhampered by the fire of their own guns. Our infantry, indeed, were only too eager to finish its terrible task; and although whole ranks were mown down before it could succeed in ousting the enemy from the field entrenchments, which ran bastion-like all round their position in Skierniwiçe, still Teutonic courage and discipline proved more than equal to Russian doggedness, and volley after volley of the Mauser repeater soon filled Gourko’s trenches with heaps of dead and wounded.

THE STORMING OF SKIERNIWIÇE.
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The townlet of Skierniwiçe was in flames, and no longer afforded shelter to its defenders; the chateau itself (with all its three-Emperor memories) had been converted into a heap of smoking ruins; the Russian batteries had been reduced to silence as much by our long-range rifle-fire as by our own field guns; the wood had also been rendered untenable by our encompassing it on three sides; and so nothing remained to be done but storm the position at the point of the bayonet. It is marvellous how troops can so dispose themselves as to escape observation in a terrain not over rich in natural and artificial cover; for the general advance had not been sounded long before reserve companies and battalions seemed to start from out the very earth and join in the universal rush forward upon the Russians, as they began to waver and finally give way all along the line. By one battalion a determined stand was made at the railway station, where there was some desperate hand-to-hand fighting that recalled the butchery of Bazeilles; but here, too, German obstinacy and valour carried the day; and as the ‘Old Dessauers’ had distinguished themselves by the capture of the Russian battery at Vlokavek, so now it was reserved to the 2d battalion of that same regiment to storm, with colours flying and kettle-drums beating, the final foothold of Gourko’s gallant Muscovites on the field which had been selected by him and his fellow-commander as the Waterloo of this portion of the war.

By three o’clock the Russians were in full retreat on Warsaw and its ring of formidable forts, leaving us in undisputed possession of Skierniwiçe with all its stores and strategical advantages.

It will be impossible to estimate our own losses as well as those of our foes for some hours yet; but on both sides the carnage has been fearful, very much heavier, indeed, in view of the relative numbers of troops engaged, than were ever suffered by any combatants in the Franco-German or Russo-Turkish wars. But it is some little consolation, at least, to think that the ambulance arrangements of the Germans have kept pace with the improved methods of mass-murder called modern warfare, and the crowds of wounded, both Germans and Russians, are being well attended to.

The meeting between our victorious commanders, the King of Saxony and his brother, Prince George, after the battle, was of a most touching and affectionate kind, recalling the historic scene at Königgrätz, in which King William and his heroic son, ‘Unser Fritz,’ were the chief figures.

GREAT BATTLE ON THE GALICIAN FRONTIER.

LATER.

Just before sending off this despatch news reaches me of a decisive battle which has also been fought on the Galician frontier between the combined Russian forces thereabouts and an Austrian army 250,000 strong, which is said to have resulted in the complete repulse of Dragomiroff, who is retreating towards Lublin, on the Warsaw line. Should this rumour prove true, it is probable that Dragomiroff will also retire on Warsaw to join hands with Gourko and the Grand Duke Vladimir, in which case it is not unlikely that the present war will be productive of another Gravelotte and another Metz.

ITALY MOBILISES HER ARMY, AND TAKES THE FIELD AGAINST FRANCE.

SCENE IN ROME ON THE DECLARATION OF WAR BY FRANCE—‘ITALY WILL FULFIL HER
TREATY OBLIGATIONS.’

(_By Post from an Occasional Correspondent._)

MONTE CARLO, _May 30_.

The telegraph will have already kept you well informed of the various details in the development of the Franco-Italian portion of the present great European war; but having been enabled, by a series of lucky chances, to follow the main incidents of the Italian uprising until now, perhaps you might care to receive from me, by way of supplement to what you have already published, a brief general record of my observations.

I happened to be in Rome when the telegram was received there announcing that France had drawn her sword on Germany. I was first made aware of the fact by a large tumultuous crowd, which came surging and shouting past my window (a back one) of the Hôtel de Londres, on the Piazza di Spagna, shouting out ‘_evvivas_’ for Germany and the Triple Alliance. This crowd had come rolling down from the Pincio, where the splendid band of the Carabinieri—second to none in Europe—had been discoursing delightful music, and where a special edition of the _Popolo Romano_ had disseminated the news, which was not, indeed, wholly unexpected, that France, profiting by the embarrassments of Germany on her Eastern frontier, had risen with a cry of vengeance to spring upon the Rhine. One man had jumped up on the bandstand of the Carabinieri and read out this telegram to the listening throng, which then, as if by pre-concert, burst out into ringing cheers for King Humbert and the German Emperor; while the band swelled the chorus of these enthusiastic acclamations by playing the Italian Air and the ‘_Wacht am Rhein_.’

Then, starting off for the Quirinal, the crowd came rolling down by the Church of La Trinità dei Monti, and through the Via Sistina, where I hastened to join it, and where it stopped before the house in which Signor Crispi modestly occupies a third-floor flat. In compliance with the clamours of the mob, the ex-premier, the advocate and author of Italy’s share in the Triple Alliance, presented himself on his balcony, and bowed his acknowledgments to the cheering mass below; but, declining in the circumstances to make a speech, he only waved his hand, and pointed in the direction of the Quirinal, to which, accordingly, the multitude now again headed with tumultuous haste.

After rushing up the flight of steps leading to the Quirinal, we found the spacious area in front of the Royal Palace already filled with similar contingents of the populace from other parts of the city; some of the demonstrationists having even clambered up and taken their stand on the pedestals of the equine masterpieces of Phidias, familiar to all visitors to Rome, while a very considerable element in the vast assemblage was formed by the black-robed and tonsured gentlemen from the other side of the river, who had come to witness the birth of events which might be pregnant with consequences for them and their aspirations. And from these priestly figures, with their pale and pensive faces, I could not help letting my eye wander across the intervening valley to the lofty windows of the Vatican, where perchance the self-imprisoned successor of St. Peter was trying, with the aid even of a telescope, to make out the meaning of all this popular commotion in front of the palace of the royal inheritor of all his worldly glory—to make out the meaning of it all, and wonder whether the stirring events now being fashioned in the crucible of war might possibly result in restoring to him some shreds and patches of his temporal power.

But these reveries of mine were speedily dispelled by another roar of acclamation from the multitude, which had parted and formed a lane, as did the waters of the Red Sea at the sight of Moses and his mantle, to let some one pass out from the Royal Palace. It was the Marquis di Rudini, accompanied by two of his secretaries, who had just left the Council presided over by the King, and was crossing over to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Cheer after cheer greeted this appearance of the man who, although he had stepped into the ministerial shoes of Signor Crispi, was known to have espoused his popular foreign policy; and the crowd could scarcely be prevented from shouldering him high and bearing him into his official residence. The crowd had barely closed round the portal of the Ministry when it had again to open up a lane to admit the passage of a carriage containing the German Ambassador, Count Solms, who had hastened hither from his palace on the Capitoline with a very grave face indeed. But when he re-emerged from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in about twenty minutes’ time, the clouds had lifted from his refined countenance, and he returned the salutations of the crowd with a grave smile of satisfaction. Quick to draw its own conclusions, the multitude set up another shout, and began to clamour for Rudini. Yielding at last to the loud and continuous solicitations of the Roman populace, the Marquis stepped out upon the balcony of the Ministry, and, after signifying his wish for silence, addressed his hearers to the following effect:—

‘Gentlemen, this is at once a serious and a sublime moment, but as it is a time more for action than for words, my remarks must be brief. France, as you know, has drawn the sword on Germany, and Italy must be true to her loyal ally. (A burst of cheering.)

‘Italy entered into certain treaty obligations, which she is now required to fulfil; and Italy will now fulfil them. (Frantic cheers.)

‘The die is cast, and we must redeem our pledges at all risks; for our honour is at stake, and our national existence would be nothing without our national honour. (Loud “_evvivas_.”)

‘This is the first time that Italy, as a united nation, has been called upon to show the stuff whereof she is made; and with God’s help she will justify the love that has been lavished, as well as the hopes that have been placed upon her.

‘I need only add that orders have been issued for the immediate mobilising of all our brave army; and that the steps of this army will be accompanied by the fervent prayer of every true Italian—and we are all true Italians—from the sunny plains of Sicily to the snow-clad peaks of the Alps. (Great cheering.)

‘Italia farà da se. Evviva il Re Humberto! Evviva l’imperatore di Germania! Evviva la tripla Allianza!’

Loud and long-continued cheering followed this speech of the Marquis Rudini (which was presently again to serve as the substance of a more elaborate oration in the Chamber); but with his exit from the balcony of the Foreign Office I may fitly drop my curtain on this opening scene of the Italian War-drama, which your space will only allow me to portray in one or two representative sketches, but not describe in detail.

THE COUNCIL OF WAR

The scene of the next incident which I have to record was the Ministry of War, one of the hugest buildings in Rome (for in every country of the Continent is not the architecture of war rapidly dwarfing the structures of religion?), where King Humbert presided over a Council composed of his military and naval magnates, including the Generals commanding the twelve Army Corps of the monarchy, and the Admirals of the Fleet, who had been summoned by telegraph to the capital to advise as to the course of action which should be adopted against France. The General Staff, it is true, had already worked out a plan of campaign for the contingency of such a war; but the situation, as it now stood, presented elements of doubt and difficulty which had not been wholly foreseen, and it was therefore necessary to deliberate as to how the Italian army should be divided and disposed of in existing circumstances.

The main question was: how many Army Corps could be hurled against France? and this question again was subordinate to the consideration of how many would be required to guard the coasts of Italy against a French descent. Moreover, the fact underlying both these questions, as pointed out by the King, was the absence of any hope that England would, for the present at least, see her way to give the aims of the Triple Alliance more than her mere moral support. Had England, for a due consideration, formally joined the Alliance, and placed her fleet at the disposal of Italy, thus securing her against all danger of French aggression, or counter-strokes, by sea, the whole Italian army would have been free to operate in the field against France; but, as it was, Italy had to face the possibility of a descent at various parts of her open and extensive sea-board by a French force of at least four Army Corps. France had already sent thirteen of her twenty Corps towards the Rhine; but the seven other garrisoning her Southern and South-western Departments had not yet received their marching orders; and at any moment some of them might be poured down to Marseilles and Toulon within a few hours’ sailing of the Italian coast.

The opinion of the War Council was very much divided as to what should be done, Generals Pianell and Bariola acting as spokesmen of the two divergent parties; but at length, on the motion of General Cosenz, Chief of the Staff, whose view was supported by the King, it was resolved in the meantime to intrust the task of falling on the flank of France to the 1st, 2d, 3d and 4th Corps, while the 6th and 7th would act as a reserve, and the others remain behind to adapt themselves to the development of events, especially if the French were to suffer reverses on the Rhine and be thus compelled to denude the Southern Departments of their garrisons.

And then as to the line of attack, the line, that is to say, by which the Italians should seek to enter France, the Council—but here my informant, who was present, begged me to exercise the patience which I would now similarly seek to enjoin upon your readers. I may add that by the time the Council had finished its deliberations, the Marquis Rudini had sent to the evening papers the text of the German-Italian Treaty of Alliance, of which the terms are analogous to the Austro-German one published by Prince Bismarck a few years ago, stipulating for a mutual guarantee of territorial integrity, and providing that, in the event of either Germany or Italy being attacked by France, the other Power should at once take the field in its defence.

ITALIAN ROUTE—THROUGH THE RIVIERA.

From Rome I went to Spezzia, where a friend had promised to take me on board his yacht; and here I found a formidable ironclad squadron, consisting of the _Italia_, the _Andrea Doria_, the _Francisco Morosimi_, the _Re Umberto_, the _Rugiero di Lauria_, the _Affondatore_ (turret-ram), and several other vessels of the second class, preparing to put to sea. What could be the objective of this fleet? On this point all the naval authorities were as silent as the grave; but a few more days were to solve the mystery.

Our own destination was Monte Carlo, where we anchored our yacht in the pretty little bay of Monaco, and, going ashore, found the army of the Prince—consisting of about sixty-five carabineers—in no small state of excitement, owing to the prospect of its being forced perhaps by circumstances to abandon its attitude of armed neutrality, and sucked into the whirlpool of hostilities, whereof the Riviera might so soon become the sanguinary scene. But such a prospect had not the least apparent terror for the visitors to the beautiful Inferno at Monte Carlo—men and women of all nations—Jews and Gentiles, Elamites and Assyrians—who, in spite of the military bustle going on around them—French battalions of Chasseurs and Alpine troops arriving and departing by road and rail—continued to frequent the tables of the Casino with an all-engrossing passion for their occupation worthy of the abstruse philosopher of Syracuse. ‘_Noli turbare circulos meos_,’ also exclaimed these lost-to-all-else worshippers of the roulette wheels.

It is not, perhaps, generally known in England, but the fact is that during the last few years the French have been busy constructing a formidable line of forts all along the Riviera from Marseilles to Mentone; and every commanding peak and mountain-top overlooking the sea and the seaside road is capped with one of these terrifically strong stone-works. Careless pleasure-seekers on the Riviera are not likely to take special notice of these mountain-crowns, with heavy long-range guns for their jewels; but there they are, all the same. They form, indeed, France’s silent answer to the Triple Alliance, and were placed there since the conclusion of that pact to bar the advance of Italy, should that Power, in fulfilment of her treaty engagements with Germany, be called upon to assail the flank of France, and select as her line of attack the sea-board rather than the mountain route.

ITALIAN ARTILLERY CROSSING THE MONT CENIS.
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An important reason why the Italian army should prefer the Riviera road into France with all its perils was that, apart from the natural difficulties of the Alpine routes, which had rather increased than diminished since the time of Hannibal and Cæsar, they were unwilling—such was their loyalty to public law—to expose themselves to the charge of infringing the neutrality either of Switzerland or of Savoy. For it must be remembered that, even after it had changed hands with Nice in 1860, Savoy, this section, so to speak, of the Franco-Italian Alsace-Lorraine, continued subject to the Treaty of Vienna (1815) as neutral territory, part of which, Chablais and Faucigny, might even be occupied with Federal troops ‘in the event of Switzerland’s neighbours being in a state of open or imminent warfare.’ Indeed, a portion of the Federal Army had already made bold to brave the displeasure and even the reprisals of France by occupying as it was, theoretically speaking, entitled to do, the upper part of Savoy; and this had introduced into the military situation an element of complexity which the Italians would have been foolish to ignore. Consequently, they resolved to force the passage of the Riviera road—the more so as their fleet could cover their march to some extent, and even land troops at particular points, as long at least, at the other portions of the French navy, at present engaged in the Baltic and elsewhere, should not be free to make for the Mediterranean.

The Italians had also resolved to send another smaller army, consisting of their 1st and 3d Corps (whose places in the army of the Riviera were to be taken by the 6th and 8th), across the Alps by the Mont Cenis route, so as thus to attempt to turn the flank of the French Army, consisting mainly of the 7th, 14th, 15th, and 16th Corps, which were now pretty well all the French could spare from the further draft they had had to make on their military resources with a view to repair their reverses on the Rhine.

BATTLE OF COSTEBELLE.

MOUNTAIN WARFARE.

I need not describe to you in detail, for that has doubtless already been done for you, the incidents of the preliminary fighting between the two armies—French and Italian—since the first outpost collision at Ventimiglia, and the first serious collision near Mentone. You are sure to have heard of all the thrilling incidents forming the prelude to the drama—the splendid but unavailing defence that was made by the 24th Battalion of French Chasseurs from Ville-Franche against the irresistible onslaught of the Bersaglieri of the 4th Italian Corps; the brilliant cavalry encounter between the 5th Italian Lancers and the French Dragoons of Tarascon (Tartarin’s native place on the Rhone); the exploits of the Italian Alpini, or Alpine Sharpshooters, in scouting and hill-climbing that would put to shame the records of the Alpine Club; the wonders of marching and ‘milling’ (if I may use a slang word) done by the mule-borne mountain-batteries of either belligerent: the obstinate artillery duels between the Italian ironclads which steam along the coast and the bastioned stone-work batteries that crown the mountain-tops; with all the other novel features in this almost fascinating picture of bloody war set in such a beautiful framework of blue sky and purple hills, o’erlooking a paradise of flowers.

* * * * *

The Battle of Hyères, or rather of Costebelle (where Queen Victoria lately passed a few quiet and peaceful weeks), though it resulted in the repulse of the French, and their retirement on Toulon, is not quite decisive of the campaign, as it will be next to impossible for the Italians to possess themselves of this formidable and important place, even with the aid of their fleet, before getting reinforcements from Italy, which cannot for the present be spared; and meanwhile the Brest Squadron of the French Fleet may be able to get rid of its embarrassments elsewhere and come round to the Mediterranean.

The situation, no doubt, will be simplified if General Ricotti, with his two Corps, manages to debouch from the Alps on the Mont Cenis side, and, disposing of all opposition in that quarter, come down the valley of the Rhone to co-operate with the army of the Riviera. But, in the meantime, the issue of the whole war may have been decided on the Vistula and the Rhine; and, if so, then the Italians will have accomplished their chief aim, which was to distract and hamper the forces of France, by creating a diversion on her flank and rear, and thus render her defeat by the Germans all the easier and all the more certain.

In any case, the victories already achieved by the Italians show them to be possessed of splendid soldierly material, both in men and officers—material in no single respect inferior to that of France; and when, after the late battle of Costebelle, the German Emperor telegraphed to King Humbert that ‘his troops had done things of which their Prussian comrades themselves might very well be proud, and which at least they had never surpassed even at Rossbach and Sedan,’ it must have been felt by all the world that His German Majesty, in employing the phrases of compliment, was only using the language of truth.

_To the Editor of ‘Black and White.’_

SIR,—I observe that some confusion has arisen as to the authorship of the letters from the Baltic and North Sea relating to the terrible war now raging. They are not mine. The author is my friend, Sir Rambleton Seaforth, who was on his wedding trip, and has certainly had a remarkable experience in that way. He is only a yachtsman, not a naval man, or he would have no doubt been able to give us fuller details, and a more correct view of the situation. The letters were written to me, and not intended for publication, and I much fear I shall be hauled over the coals when he comes home. But I shall answer him with the truth, which was that his sister stole them off my desk and sent them to you without asking my leave.

I am sorry to say that the pair did not come to the end of their adventures in the _Thames_. On her way into Sheerness she was ordered by signal to transfer her despatches into a picket-boat, which was sent out to her, and to proceed at once to Plymouth. As Sir Rambleton’s place is in Devonshire, he and his wife decided to go on in her. Unfortunately, when she made her number off the Start, she was signalled to proceed at once off Cape Finisterre for the protection of commerce, and to coal at Ferrol, but not to call there till actually short of coal. She asked leave to land her passengers, and was refused, so Sir Rambleton and his wife are at sea off Finisterre now, if they have not been captured and carried into a French port, as it was stated that quite a cloud of French cruisers had been ordered to rendezvous at that point.—I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

P. H. COLOMB.

_May 10, 189—._

THE LANDING AT TREBIZONDE.

LORD SALISBURY ON THE SITUATION—DEBATE IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS.

LONDON, _Saturday, May 14_.

It was not till May 7th that our Correspondent’s letter (_see page 102_) announcing the reported arrival of English troops in Trebizonde was published in London. It had been delayed in transmission. Meantime, on May 3d, the day following the debate in the House of Commons, the proclamation calling out the Reserves was posted throughout the kingdom. It appears that warning notices, issued as secretly as possible, had been sent out four days earlier, following the precedent set in 1882. On May 6th Mr. Balfour gave notice that he should on May 10th ask for a credit vote in the House of Commons for ten millions, and for authority to call out the Militia. On the reception of the news received from our Correspondent, however, a hasty conference of the Liberal leaders, which met at Mr. Gladstone’s house, decided that, as it would be inconvenient to have a debate in the House of Commons prior to that on the credit vote on May 10th, Lord Kimberley should on Monday night, May 9th, ask for explanations of Lord Salisbury, and notice was at once sent to Lord Salisbury to that effect. On the afternoon of May 9th the House of Lords was crowded from floor to ceiling. All the Princes were in their places. The House of Commons occupied the whole of the space at the bar in a dense mass. The galleries were filled with the Princesses and Peeresses.

Amid breathless silence, Lord Kimberley rose. In a few cautiously worded sentences he expressed a hope that Lord Salisbury would be able to give an unqualified contradiction to the ridiculous rumour which had reached England. He referred, of course, to the report of a correspondent that as long ago as April 29th, English troops, the forerunners of an English expedition, either had landed, or were immediately about to land, at Trebizonde. The House was ready to support the Ministry in every measure which they might take to safeguard the honour and interests of England. No part of the House was more zealous in that respect than those noble Lords with whom he had the honour to be associated. But a landing at Trebizonde implied something which in no way concerned the honour and interests of England. It was impossible that their Lordships should not be led by it to suppose that the noble Marquis, the head of the Government, considered himself bound by that ridiculous compact, the Cyprus Convention, and that he now felt himself called upon to draw the sword of England in defence of Turkey, because Russia had crossed the Asiatic frontier of Turkey. However few the Liberal Peers in that House might be, they felt that they expressed the mind of England in declaring to the noble Marquis that, in behalf of the corrupt Government of Turkey, the sword of England ought never again to be drawn. As for the Cyprus Convention, it had been abrogated by Turkey herself. It was conditional, and the conditions had not been fulfilled. Speaking with the authority of many able military men, he could assure the noble Marquis that if he contemplated a campaign amid the mountains of Asia Minor, a campaign which, even if successful, could only lead up to a long and dreary siege of the Russian fortress of Kars, he was involving the country in military difficulties of untold magnitude and limitless duration. He was doing this at a time when, amid a universal conflagration, we required all our forces for the complications which were sure to arise both in Europe and in Asia.

LORD SALISBURY ADDRESSING THE HOUSE OF LORDS ON THE QUESTION OF PEACE
AND WAR.
]

There was rather a buzz of excitement than any definite applause when the noble Lord sat down. It was promptly hushed, as Lord Salisbury immediately rose to reply. He spoke as follows:—

‘My Lords, I do not require the assurance of the noble Earl that your House is ready to support Her Majesty’s Government in any steps which may be indispensable to safeguard the honour and interests of England. I cannot discuss with that freedom which the noble Earl, naturally as an independent Peer, allows himself, the character of the Government of our ally, the Sultan of Turkey, or the present position of the Cyprus Convention. Happily for the explanation which I am glad to have this opportunity of offering to your Lordships, it is wholly unnecessary for me to refer to either. We have never professed ourselves ready to support the Government of the Sultan against his Christian subjects, should that contingency arise. But there is one thing on which I think it is well that Europe should understand, that not only this House, but the whole of England, is agreed. We do not desire to see the independent Balkan States crushed beneath the heel of Russia. We do not desire to see the population of Asia Minor pass from the Government of the Turk to that of the Czar. I am unwilling to say all that I easily might say on that subject at the present moment. War between us and Russia has not been declared. Our relations are in so delicate a condition that I should have asked the noble Earl to postpone his question, but that I feared that might give rise to misunderstanding. We live in hope that such a dire calamity as a war between us and Russia may yet be averted by the wisdom and the notoriously peaceful disposition of the Czar. But the situation is this. Russia has commenced by sea an attack upon Bulgaria. In order to say nothing that may tend to aggravate the difficulties of the present moment, I refrain from referring to the circumstances which preceded that invasion. In any case, it has been impossible for us to allow Bulgaria to be crushed when the support of our fleet would be of the most material importance to her. We, on hearing of the Russian invasion, at once issued orders to Sir George Tryon to act under the instructions of our ambassador at Constantinople. With the consent of the Sultan, the fleet under Sir George Tryon entered the Black Sea five days after the Russians had effected their landing in Bulgaria. We then intimated to the Czar that we could not allow any further reinforcements to be carried to Varna, and we heard yesterday that the Russian fleet, yielding to the superior force of ours, had retreated to the harbour of Sebastopol. The roadstead of Varna is in occupation of our cruisers. The Russians have advanced inland, leaving a force to cover the siege of Varna, which is held by about 5000 Bulgarians. It was in consequence of the Turks having announced their intention of supporting their vassal State, Bulgaria, that the Russian troops, without any declaration of war, crossed the frontiers in Asia Minor. As it had been at our instance that Turkey had agreed to give support to the Bulgarians, it was impossible that we could leave her without a pledge of our support when this aggression took place. It is not a political question of the future destinies of Asia Minor as between Turkey and the Armenian population. It is simply a question of giving military support to a valuable ally during actual warfare. We cannot afford to throw away the assistance of thousands of most valiant soldiers, who are ready to support our just demand that the Balkan States shall be allowed to pursue in tranquillity that orderly development which has excited the astonishment and the admiration of Europe.

‘As to the military dangers which the noble Earl apprehends, I think that it would be highly inconvenient, at a time when it is at least possible that actual war may follow, that we should discuss, for the information of those against whom we may have to fight, our military projects. It will, I think, be sufficient for me to say that we have intrusted the conduct of the whole of these operations to a member of your Lordships’ House, in whom we have complete confidence, and whose name will be a guarantee to the country that nothing will be wanting in the command of the war, should it unfortunately be forced upon us, which will tend to the honour and success of the British arms. The gallant Viscount, the present Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, whom I am glad to see in his place to-night, will, I have no doubt, be quite prepared to accept responsibility for any dangers which trouble the imagination of the noble Earl. But I should suppose that he will prefer to discuss his plans with him after rather than before the war. It is not in presence of armies which, as we have recently seen, are conducted with absolute secrecy, and are able to deliver unexpected blows, because no one knows what is going to happen till the stroke falls, that we can afford to discuss our arrangements in the face of the world. The gallant Viscount has at least fully satisfied Her Majesty’s Government that he has a complete grasp of the whole situation, that he knows his own mind, and we accept full responsibility for all that he proposes to do. If you do not trust us, replace us by those whom you do trust. But, in Heaven’s name, let me implore you not to allow the strength of England at this moment to be weakened by divided counsels or by want of confidence in those to whom the conduct of military affairs is intrusted. At this moment it may make the whole difference between our obtaining by peaceful means the acceptance of our just demands and a war which must be terrible and may be long. In any case, should war break out, the firm attitude of the whole country, its patriotic resolve and a temporary abstinence from feeble criticism will have a most decisive effect upon the future.’

When Lord Salisbury sat down there was a momentary and most impressive hush, as of awed silence, in presence of the tremendous events which appeared to be imminent, and then there came from all parts of the House a burst of general and enthusiastic cheering, all the more striking because of the usually impassive attitude of that august assembly. The ladies in the gallery for a moment rose altogether as by a single impulse, and when they sat down not a few of them burst into tears from excitement, while a buzz of eager talk filled both House and galleries.