THE May-day of 1854 in the Crimea was worthy of the sweetest and brightest May Queen ever feigned by the poets in merry England! A blue sky, dotted with milk-white clouds, a warm, but not too hot a sun, and a gentle breeze fanning the fluttering canvas of the wide-spread streets of tents, here pitched on swelling mounds covered with fresh grass, there sunk in valleys of black mould, trodden up by innumerable feet and hoofs, and scattered broadcast over the vast plateau of the Chersonese. It was enough to make one credulous of peace, and to listen to the pleasant whispers of home, notwithstanding the rude interruption of the cannon before Sebastopol. This bright sun, however, developed fever and malaria. The reeking earth, saturated with dew and rain, poured forth poisonous vapours, and the sad rows of mounds, covered with long lank grass, which, rose above the soil, impregnated the air with disease. As the atmosphere was purged of clouds and vapour, the reports of the cannon and of the rifles became more distinct. The white houses, green roofs, the domes and cupolas of Sebastopol stood out with tantalizing distinctness against the sky, and the ruined suburbs and masses of rubbish inside the Russian batteries seemed almost incorporated with the French intrenchments.
A very brilliant exploit was performed by seven battalions of French infantry, in which the 46th Regiment were particularly distinguished, during the night and morning of the 1st and 2nd of May. The enemy, alarmed by the rapid approaches of the French, had commenced a system of counter approaches in front of the Bastion of the Quarantine, Central Bastion, and Bastion du Mât, which were assuming enormous proportions. General Pelissier demanded permission to take them. General Canrobert, whose indecision increased every day, at last gave orders for{263} the assault. Three columns rushed out of the works shortly before seven o'clock P.M. The Russians came out to meet them — a tremendous conflict ensued, in which the French, at last, forced the Russians back into the works, followed them, stormed the outworks of the Batterie Centrale, and took off nine cohorns. In this affair, which lasted till two o'clock A.M., the French had nine officers put hors de combat, sixty-three men killed, and two hundred and ten wounded.
On the 2nd of May, at half-past two P.M., Russian troops, in three divisions, each about 2,500 strong, were seen marching into Sebastopol from the camp over the Tchernaya. A very large convoy of carts and pack animals also entered the town in the course of the day, and an equally numerous string of carts and horses left for the interior. The day was so clear that one could almost see the men's faces through the glass. The officers were well mounted, and the men marched solidly and well. Numbers of dogs preceded and played about the line of march, and as they passed by the numerous new batteries, at which the Russians were then working night and day, the labourers saluted the officers and stood gazing on the sight, just as our own artisans would stare at a body of troops in some quiet English town.
About four o'clock P.M., it was observed by us that the enemy was forming in column in the rear of the Bastion du Mât. A few moments afterwards, about 2,000 men made a rush out of the Batterie Centrale, and with a loud cheer flung themselves on the French trenches. For a moment their numbers and impetuosity enabled them to drive the French out of the works as far as the parallel, but not without a desperate resistance. The smoke soon obscured the scene of the conflict from sight, but the French could be seen advancing rapidly along the traverses and covered ways to the front, their bayonets flashing through the murky air in the sun. In a few moments the Russians were driven back behind their entrenchments, which instantly opened a heavy cannonade. Several Russian officers were taken prisoners. The enemy did not succeed in their object. Next day there was a truce; 121 French were found on the ground, and 156 Russians were delivered to their burial parties. While this affair was taking place our horseraces were going on behind Cathcart's Hill. The monotony of the siege operations was now broken.