Written by Frederick Engels and published as a leading article in the New-York Daily Tribune, No. 4353, April 2, 1855. Text after The Eastern Question, edited by Eleanor Marx Aveling and Edward Aveling (London, 1897), pp. 521-525, where it is ascribed to Marx; collated with the page images of that edition, scanning errors corrected; the misprint “five move divisions” corrected to “five more divisions”. The authorship is that given in Marx/Engels, Werke, vol. 11 (Berlin, 1961), pp. 124-127. Italics after the 1897 edition. Traducción al español.

WE published the other day some interesting extracts from the pamphlet lately issued by Prince Napoleon, which, we doubt not, were duly considered by our readers. That pamphlet reveals the striking and most important fact that the Crimean Expedition was an original invention of Louis Bonaparte himself; that he elaborated it in all its details, without communicating with anybody; that he sent it in his own handwriting to Constantinople in order to avoid the objections of Marshal Vaillant. Since all this is known, a great portion of the flagrant military blunders connected with this expedition are explained by the dynastic necessities of its author. In the council of war at Varna the expedition had to be forced upon the admirals and generals by St. Arnaud appealing in the most direct manner to the authority of the “Emperor,” while that potentate in return publicly branded all opposing opinions as “timid counsels.” Once in the Crimea, Raglan’s really timid proposal to march to Balaklava was readily adopted by St. Arnaud, as it led directly, if not to, at least to somewhere near, the gates of Sebastopol. The frantic efforts to push the siege, though without sufficient means—the eagerness to open fire, which made the French neglect the solidity of their works to such a degree that their batteries were silenced by the enemy in a couple of hours—the consequent overworking of the troops in the trenches, which is now proved to have done as much as anything else towards the destruction of the British army—the inconsiderate and useless cannonade from the 17th of October to the 5th of November—the neglect of all defensive works, and even of a sufficient occupation of the ridge towards the Chernaya which ended in the losses of Balaklava and Inkerman—all this is now as clearly explained as can be wished for. The Bonaparte dynasty was bound to take Sebastopol at any cost, and at the shortest notice; and the allied armies had to do it. Canrobert if successful would be made a Marshal of France, Count, Duke, Prince, whatever he liked, with unlimited powers to commit “irregularities” in financial matters; while if unlucky he would be a traitor to the Emperor, and would have to go and join his former comrades, Lamoricière, Bedeau, and Changarnier in their exile. And Raglan was just enough of an old woman to give way to his interested colleague.

All this, however, is but the least important feature of the consequences incumbent upon this Imperial plan of operations. Nine French divisions, equal to thirty-one battalions, have been engaged in this hopeless affair. The greatest efforts, the most lavish sacrifices have accomplished nothing; Sebastopol is stronger than ever; the French trenches are, as we now learn from authentic sources, still fully four hundred yards from the Russian works, while the British trenches are twice that distance. General Niel, sent by Bonaparte to look into the siege works, declares that an assault is not to be thought of; he has changed the principal point of attack from the French to the British side, thereby not only causing delay in the siege, but directing the main attack towards a suburb which, even if taken, is still separated from the town by the Inner Harbour Creek. In short, device after device, dodge after dodge is resorted to, to keep up, not the hope, but the mere appearance of a hope, of success. And when matters are come to this pitch, when a general war on the Continent is imminent, when a fresh expedition to the Baltic is preparing—an expedition which must do something this season, and therefore must be far stronger in land troops than that of 1854—at this moment, obstinacy goads Louis Bonaparte to engage five more divisions of infantry in this Crimean slough, where men, and even whole regiments, vanish as by enchantment. And, as if that were not sufficient, he has made up his mind to go there himself, and to see the final assault carried out by his soldiers.

This is the situation to which the first strategic experiment of Louis Bonaparte has reduced France. The man who with some sort of reason thinks he is bound to be a great captain, approaching in some degree the founder of his dynasty, turns out at the very beginning a mere presumptuous piece of incapacity. With very limited information, he forms the plan of the expedition at some 3,000 miles from the spot, works it out in its details, and sends it off secretly and without consulting anybody to his general-in-chief, who, though but a few hundred miles from the point of attack, is yet equally ignorant as to the nature of the obstacles and the force of the resistance likely to be encountered. The expedition once commenced, disaster follows disaster; even victory is worse than sterile, and the only result obtained is the destruction of the expeditionary army itself. Napoleon in his best days would never have persisted in such an undertaking. In such a case he used to find some fresh device, to lead his troops on a sudden to a fresh point of attack, and by a brilliant manœuvre, crowned with success, make even temporary defeat appear as but contributive to final victory. What if he had resisted to the last at Aspern? It was only in the time of his decline, when the thunderstroke of 1812 had shaken his confidence in himself, that his energy of will turned into blind obstinacy, that, as at Leipsic, he clung to the last to positions which his military judgment must have told him were completely false. But here is just the difference between the two Emperors: what Napoleon ended with, Louis Napoleon begins with.

That Louis Bonaparte has the firm intention to go to the Crimea, and to take Sebastopol, is very likely. He may delay his departure, but nothing short of peace will shake his resolution. Indeed, his personal fate is bound up with this expedition, which is his first military effort. But, from the day he actually sets out, the fourth and greatest French Revolution may be said to date its beginning. Everybody in Europe feels this; everybody dissuades him. A shudder runs through the ranks of the French middle class when this departure to the Crimea is mentioned. But the hero of Strasburg is inflexible. A gambler all his life, a gambler accustomed of late to the very heaviest stakes, he stakes his all upon the one card of his “star” against the most fearful odds. Besides, he knows well enough that the hopes of the bourgeoisie to escape the crisis by retaining him in Paris are entirely hollow. Whether he be there or not, it is the fate of the French Empire, the fate of the existing social order of things, which is still approaching its decision in the trenches before Sebastopol. If successful there against hope, by his presence he will overstep the barrier between a highwayman and a hero, at least in the opinion of Europe; unsuccessful, his Empire is gone under all circumstances. That he calculates upon the possibility of such an event is shown by his taking with him his rival and heir presumptive, the young Jerome Bonaparte, in the livery of a lieutenant-general.

For the moment this Crimean expedition serves nobody better than Austria. This slough, which drains off by army-corps after army-corps the strength of both France and Russia, must, if the struggle before Sebastopol lasts a few months longer, leave Austria the main arbiter of the Continent, where her 600,000 bayonets remain disposable in a compact mass to be cast as an overwhelming weight into the scale. But fortunately there is a counterpoise against this Austrian supremacy. The moment France is launched again into the revolutionary career, this Austrian force dissolves itself into its discordant elements. Germans, Hungarians, Poles, Italians, Croats, are loosened from the forced bond which ties them together, and instead of the undetermined and haphazard alliances and antagonisms of to-day, Europe will again be divided into two great camps with distinct banners and new issues. Then the struggle will be only between the Democratic Revolution on the one side and the Monarchical Counter-Revolution on the other.