In the meantime the war had to be financed, and the country reconciled to increased taxation. Mr. Gladstone’s ordinary, as distinguished from his War Budget, was introduced on the 6th of March, when his position was this.

He had collected £54,025,000 of revenue, or £1,035,000 in excess of what he had counted on. He had spent £51,171,000, which, in spite of military operations, was less by £1,012,000 than he had estimated. His balance in hand from the past year was £2,854,000. For the coming year his estimates must necessarily be increased by additional military outlay,[168] which would bring up his estimated expenditure to £56,189,000. As the revenue he could depend upon from existing taxes was only £53,349,000, he had therefore a deficit of £2,840,000. Had there been no need to increase his estimates,[169] he might have had a surplus of £1,166,000 for the remission of taxation. As things stood, how was the deficit to be met? Not by a loan, answered Mr. Gladstone, because no nation had mortgaged its industry to such a frightful extent as England, whose National Debt of £750,000,000 exceeded that of all countries in the world put together. Without pledging themselves to pay all future war charges out of the revenue of each year, Mr. Gladstone said it was as yet possible for the House of Commons “to put a stout heart upon the matter, and to determine that so long as these burdens are bearable, and so long as the supplies necessary for the service of the year can be raised within the year, so long we will not resort to the system of loans.” The expenses of a war, he observed, “are the moral check which it has pleased the Almighty to impose upon the ambition and the lust of conquest that are inherent in nations.” He therefore proposed to increase the Income Tax by one-half, but to collect the whole of the increase in the first six months of 1854; in other words, he doubled the tax in the first half year. He was assailed on two grounds. The Tories protested against the doctrine of meeting war expenditure out of current revenue, and they taunted him with the failure of his scheme for the conversion of the debt,[170] which, they pretended, had been disastrous. “The next Party conflict,” wrote Prince Albert in a letter to Stockmar on the 18th of April, “will be upon finance. Gladstone wants to pay for the war out of the current revenue, so long as he does not require more than ten millions sterling above the ordinary expenditure, and to increase the taxes for the purpose. The Opposition are for borrowing—that is, increasing the debt—and do not wish to impose in the meantime any further burdens on themselves. The former course is manly, statesmanlike, and honest; the latter is convenient, cowardly, perhaps popular. We shall see.”[171] This is a masterly summary of the great financial controversy that raged throughout the Session of 1854. It leaves nothing more to be said save this, that when Mr. Gladstone explained his second or War Budget (8th of May), after war had been declared, his eloquence carried the country in favour of his policy. He obtained his war expenditure by doubling the Income Tax and increasing the duty on spirits and malt, and he pointed to the rapidly-growing trade of the nation as a proof that it ought not to adopt the course which Pitt found ruinous,[172] and which Prince Albert so justly described as “convenient and cowardly.”

Perhaps the first Budget in February had slightly sobered the country—at all events, the 26th of April was set apart for a day of Fast, Humiliation, and Prayer. Over this a slight controversy had broken out. The Queen was a little offended that Lord Aberdeen had announced, without consulting her, in the House of Lords, on the 31st of March, that such a Fast would be proclaimed. She thought Fasts of Humiliation were resorted to too often, and that it was hypocritical to publicly confess in the stereotyped form that “the great sinfulness of the nation had brought about this war.” Therefore she desired that the Fast should be called a Day of Prayer and Supplication, and urged Lord Aberdeen “to inculcate the Queen’s wishes into the Archbishop’s mind, that there be no Jewish imprecations against our enemies.” Her desire was to adapt the prayer in the Church Service, “To be used before a Fight at Sea,” to the occasion.[173] According to Mr. Greville, bankers in the City pointed out that if the word “Fast” were omitted, Bills would be payable on that day and not on the day before, as Masterman’s Act provides in such cases. The Queen was, therefore, persuaded by Lord Aberdeen to proclaim “a Day of Solemn Fast, Humiliation, and Prayer, to be kept on the 26th.” It was observed solemnly in the United Kingdom, India, and the Colonies, by British subjects of all races and creeds.

When it was found that the object for which the war was undertaken—the evacuation of the Principalities—had been effected by the retreat of the Russians across the Pruth on the 28th of July, there was some fear lest the taxpayers, who were painfully digesting Mr. Gladstone’s War Budget, might consider enough had been done to bring Russia to reason. Russia, it has been shown, was now in such a position that her surrender, under the passive pressure of the Powers, was inevitable, so as a matter-of-fact enough had been done. But the growth of this feeling had to be stopped, for the War Party insisted that Russia must be rendered incapable of again disturbing Europe. It was a curious revival of a policy, the practicability of which Napoleon I. had ruined himself to illustrate. Yet on the 19th of June Lord Lyndhurst invited the House of Lords to preside at its resurrection. The long, virulent, and passionate harangue by which he endeavoured to excite the hatred of England against Russia, his indictment of her as an enemy of the human race, his appeals for her destruction in the sacred interests of liberty and civilisation, drew forth cheer after cheer even from that frigid Assembly of patricians. It produced a prodigious effect on the country, and forthwith Englishmen worked themselves up into a belief that unless a mortal blow were dealt at Russia, Europe would be overrun by Cossacks, and every honest man in England would be buried alive in Siberia. Lord Aberdeen ventured to protest against Lyndhurst’s extravagant and scurrilous abuse of the Czar, and to remind the Peers that in 1829, when Turkey was at his mercy, he had not seized Turkish territory, but had been content with the Treaty of Adrianople. For this Aberdeen was denounced as a tool of Russia, who desired to patch up a hasty and dishonourable peace.

Mr. Layard, on the 23rd of June, gave notice of motion in the House of Commons, “that, in the opinion of this House, the language held by the First Minister of the Crown was calculated to raise grave doubts in the public mind as to the objects and results of the present war, and to lessen the prospect of a durable peace.” Even the Queen wrote to the aged statesman a letter scolding him because he had annoyed the public by “an impartial examination of the Emperor of Russia’s conduct.” She admired Aberdeen’s courage and honesty, but expressed a hope—in the circumstances her “hope” was a command—that in any explanation of his unlucky speech “he will not undertake the ungrateful and injurious task of vindicating the Emperor of Russia from any of the exaggerated charges brought against him and his policy, at a time when there is enough in that policy to make us fight with all our might against it.”[174] What Aberdeen said was that he objected to Russian aggression on Turkey, but as for Russian aggression on Europe, he did not fear it in the least. There was nothing in that to cause offence, except to those who, suddenly finding that Russian aggression on Turkey had been repelled by Omar Pasha, supported by the hostile demonstrations of the Western Powers, were now at a loss to discover another form of Russian encroachment, real or imaginary, to repel. There must therefore, cried Lyndhurst and the War Party, be no talk of peace till the Russian fleet in the Black Sea was destroyed, and the walls of Sebastopol razed to the ground. “For the future,” exclaimed Lord Derby, “it was impossible to permit the Black Sea to be a Russian lake, or that the Danube should be a Russian ditch, choked with mud and filth.”[175] A great army had been sent to Turkey; but the fighting and the glory had fallen to Omar Pasha on the Danube. As Lord Hardwicke said, in the debate in the House of Lords on a Vote of Credit (24th of July), “if the present campaign closed without some great deed of arms equal to the power and dignity of this country, Her Majesty’s Government would lie under a heavy responsibility.”

Lord John Russell, in defending this Vote of Credit in the House of Commons, said that the Government had now three objects in view besides the evacuation of the Principalities: (1) to place Turkey under the protection of the European Powers, to whom, and not to Russia alone, she should be asked for the future to guarantee the privileges of her Christian subjects; (2) to deprive Russia of her special right of protecting the Principalities under the Treaty of Adrianople; (3) to reduce the power of Russia in the Black Sea, so that she should not be able to menace Turkey. In connection with this third aim, Lord John threw out a sinister allusion to the destruction of Sebastopol, which Mr. Disraeli protested he heard with “consternation,” and which Lord John vainly endeavoured to explain away. The German Powers objected as much to the occupation of Russian territory by England or Turkey, as to the occupation of Turkish territory by Russia. Lord John Russell had, therefore, emulated Lyndhurst in his eagerness to give Austria and Prussia a pretext for refusing England and France their co-operation.

It was in truth easy to whet the fashionable appetite for adventure and glory. The country sulked over the inaction of the British fleet in the Baltic and the army at Varna. Yet the fleet under Napier, though it failed to make good the foolish vaunting of its commander when he started, did some useful work. It found the frowning fortifications of Cronstadt impregnable,[176] but at all events it shut up the Russian navy in their harbours, and swept their commerce from the sea. Captain Hall’s daring reconnoissance of Hango Bay in the month of May, elicited a tribute of admiration from the Grand Duke Constantine himself. Admiral Plumridge destroyed Bomarsund, a fortress built to dominate the Gulf of Bothnia. But in the Pacific the Allies were decidedly less successful in August in their attack on Petropaulovski. The English Admiral, Price, had committed suicide, and was succeeded by Sir F. Nicholson. On the 4th of September an attempt was made to take the place in the rear, but owing to the treachery of two guides, our men were misled and repulsed. They were driven over a precipice 70 feet high which lay between them and the shore, many of them being killed, and still more being wounded in taking a headlong leap for their lives.

In the Black Sea the record was more brilliant. The first shot fired in the war was at Odessa, which was bombarded for ten hours on the 22nd of April, in revenge for an outrage committed by the Russians, who fired on a flag of truce. This was followed by a challenge to the Russian fleet in Sebastopol, which was not accepted. On the 12th of May the Tiger ran aground off Odessa, and had to strike her flag. Her crew were made prisoners, but treated with the utmost kindness and courtesy by the Russians. The captain (Gifford) died of his wounds on the 19th of June, and the lieutenant (Royer) was sent to St. Petersburg by order of the Czar, who at once set him free. Captain Parker, on the 8th of July, destroyed the Russian works at the Sulina mouth of the Danube.

In May there were 20,000 French on the European and 10,000 British troops on the Asiatic side of the Danube. Gallipoli was fortified, and works thrown up in order to check the Russians had they crossed the Danube. Constantinople was also fortified, and then the Allies concentrated at Varna, ready, if need be, to carry war into the enemy’s territory. They were encamped at a spot which was saturated with the germs of malaria, and which was chosen with a reckless disregard of sanitary considerations. During June and July malaria, dysentery, and cholera decimated their ranks. They sat brooding listlessly in the shadow of death all through that fatal summer, chafing, as did their countrymen at home, over their inglorious fortune. Cardigan’s reconnoissance of the country up to Trajan’s Wall on the confines of the Dobrudscha alone broke the monotony of their existence, and on his return they were cheered by his news of the disastrous retreat of the Russians on Bessarabia. On the 26th of August a Council of War was held at Varna, and the rumour that the army was to be led to the invasion of the Crimea flew through the disheartened camp like tidings of great joy. It has been shown by what steps the English Government was lured on to this fatal decision. Yet it is due to Lord Aberdeen’s Cabinet to say, that it was not at first unanimous as to the expediency of widening the area of conflict, and attempting to break the power of Russia, “by razing Sebastopol to the ground.” Mr. Kinglake[177] has stated that this enterprise was sanctioned at a Cabinet meeting held on June 28 in Lord John Russell’s house (Pembroke Lodge). Mr. Kinglake, at a loss to explain to posterity how a number of intelligent men could have approved an act of such stupendous folly, has invented an ingenious theory. The Duke of Newcastle, as Secretary of State for War, subsequently blamed Lord Raglan for mismanaging the campaign. But Mr. Kinglake has constituted himself Lord Raglan’s champion, and he accordingly endeavours to lay as much blame as possible on the Duke. The Duke came to the meeting, says Mr. Kinglake, with a ponderous despatch, which he proposed, with the approval of his colleagues, to send to Lord Raglan ordering him to invade the Crimea. As he went on reading it, one Minister after another fell asleep. When he finished, they awoke, and sanctioned the Duke’s instructions without knowing what they were. It is unfortunately not possible to save the reputation of the Aberdeen Ministry by making drowsiness an excuse for blundering. Sir George Cornewall Lewis, in one of his letters,[178] gives the flattest contradiction to Mr. Kinglake’s amusing fable, and so does Sir Theodore Martin.

An eccentric Member of the House of Commons, Mr. H. Drummond, in one of the debates on the War, said that there was a division of labour in the operations, for whilst we found the money, the French Emperor found the brains. The project of wounding Russia in a vital point by invading the Crimea, was originated by the French Emperor, who possibly thought his illustrious uncle’s experiment at Moscow needed no verification. The French Emperor’s plan was submitted to the Queen on the 14th of March as one approved of by Lord Raglan, Lord de Ros, Lord Clarendon, and the Duke of Newcastle. It was dropped because some sensible person suggested that it would be hardly safe to leave Constantinople, then covered by the allied troops, at the mercy of the Russians. But after Constantinople was fortified against attack, the mischievous idea was revived. On the 28th of June it was embodied in the draft despatch containing the instructions to Lord Raglan, which was sanctioned by that fatigued Cabinet, the Members of which, according to Mr. Kinglake, fell asleep. One other fact may be cited against Mr. Kinglake. The plan was opposed by certain Members of the Ministry who, though they thought something should be done to limit Russia’s opportunities of interfering with Turkey in future, felt sure that an invasion of the Crimea must end in failure. They complained that nobody knew what could be done with the Crimea even if it were taken, or how the Russians could be stopped from rebuilding Sebastopol, except by another war, after it was destroyed. But why has there ever been any controversy over the point at all? Simply because the project was such a mad one, that everybody who had anything to do with it, has been anxious to blame somebody else for originating it. The Ministry and their apologists declared that they left the whole affair to the discretion of Lord Raglan. He was only instructed to invade the Crimea if as a soldier he thought an invasion practicable. Lord Raglan and his friends declared that he had no discretion in the matter, and that the instructions of the Cabinet amounted to an order from the Secretary of State for War, which he as the General in command had no option but to obey. Lord Aberdeen’s account of the matter to the Queen was that, “although the expedition to the Crimea was pressed very warmly” on Lord Raglan, “the final decision was left to the judgment and discretion” of Raglan and St. Arnaud, “after they should have communicated with Omar Pasha.” Sir George Cornewall Lewis, in the letter already quoted, says he does not think that the Cabinet could have given Raglan a wider discretion, because they would have probably thought they were throwing too much responsibility on him. But the obvious truth is that, as the Cabinet and the General had approved of the plan in March, they were alike responsible for it, and that if it had not been disastrous to their reputations, they would have each claimed credit for it.[179] Mr. Kinglake says that St. Arnaud was also opposed to the invasion of the Crimea, but it was his Imperial Master’s plan, and he had to adopt it against his better judgment. Possibly, Raglan’s doubts, confided to Sir G. Brown at Varna, sprang from conferences with St. Arnaud.[180]

The order to invade was dated the 28th of June, and two months were spent in preparing for the expedition. At the last moment it was found that there was no means of embarking and disembarking the cavalry and artillery. This difficulty was cleverly overcome by Mr. Roberts, a master in the navy. “Roberts did more for us than anybody,” said Lord Raglan to Admiral Lyons. He set the Turkish caïques in rows, and built great pontoons on them buoyant enough to support the enormous weight of horses and guns.[181] On the 13th of September the expedition sighted the shores of the Crimea. The allied troops skilfully disembarked without loss or confusion at the Old Fort, a spot twenty miles south of Eupatoria. Twenty thousand French and twenty thousand English soldiers, with a powerful artillery, were thus thrown upon a hostile coast in perfect marching order in one single day. On the 19th of September they moved southwards, and got touch of the Russians under Prince Menschikoff. These were 40,000 strong, and they held a fortified position on the heights of the Alma, a little river which flowed between them and the Allies. On the morning of the 20th the battle began. St. Arnaud was to attack, and if possible turn the Russian left. When that had been done, the English were to dash at the right wing of the Russians. St. Arnaud was farther away from his objective point than our men, and before he completed his manœuvre, he seems to have asked Lord Raglan to advance. Abandoning the original plan of the battle, Raglan moved forward on the swarming masses of Russians in front of him, and drove them from their position. In this contest one sees nothing admirable save the rough masculine vigour of the English attack, and the skill with which the battle was planned by St. Arnaud. Lord Raglan’s conduct was likened by the Secretary of State to that of the Duke of Wellington. As a matter of fact, at the outset he seems to have plunged into the river with his Staff, dashed on into the enemy’s lines, till he found himself on the extreme left of the French, without any control over his army. It was really led into action by his Generals of Divisions, who, till after the crisis of the battle was over, seemed scarcely conscious of the existence of their Commander-in-Chief.[182] The French attack was dashing, but somehow it did not succeed quickly.[183] As for the Russians, they were clumsily handled. Menschikoff chose a good position—so good that he staked his field defence of Sebastopol on it. But he manœuvred in massive columns, so that his front did not nearly cover all his ground. He seemed nervously anxious to meet attacks in detail, hurrying regiments from point to point wherever he thought his troops were being hard pressed, to the utter confusion of his formation. His subordinates were so stupid that they did not even think of bringing their strongest arm, the cavalry, into action.

Curiously enough at this point, the expedition, owing to Menschikoff’s bungling, had success within its grasp. The defence of Sebastopol was staked upon the army of the Alma. The stronghold lay at the mercy of the Allies after that army was routed, and could have been taken next morning by a coup de main. Raglan, to do him justice, was eager to press on, but St. Arnaud held him back. The Allies then spent three days in burying the dead, and by that time the Russians had considerably strengthened their fortifications. Raglan again urged that the city should be attacked, but, as St. Arnaud was unwilling to risk an assault, it was agreed that the invaders should march round to the south of the citadel, and attack it from that aspect. On the 29th St. Arnaud, whose health and brain had been long failing him, died, and Canrobert, an equally sluggish soldier, succeeded to his command. Whilst the Allies were, at Raglan’s instigation, marching round to the south of Sebastopol, they were for a whole day exposed to a flank attack from the enemy, which, had it been delivered, would have simply cut them to pieces. Menschikoff’s incapacity saved them from this disaster, and on the 28th of September the Russians, who had been looking for an attack from the north, to their surprise found their feeble works on the south at the mercy of their enemies. Some of the divisional commanders, like Cathcart and Campbell, were eager for storming the place at once, and, had they done so, they could have captured it with hardly any appreciable loss. Sir John Burgoyne—then supposed to be infallible as a military engineer—and General Canrobert thought the risks too great, and said that the army must wait till the siege-train was brought up. Raglan yielded to Canrobert’s hesitancy and Burgoyne’s ignorance.

The Russians, who expected every moment to see the enemy swarming over their walls, must have looked on the unintelligible paralysis of the Allies as an intervention of Providence on their behalf. Oddly enough, when Raglan was making his flank march from north to south, Menschikoff, instead of springing on him and destroying his army, was marching with equal stupidity from the south to the north.[184] Here the allied attack was looked for; here all available troops were hurried. Nachimoff, who remained on the south bank of the harbour, had just 3,000 troops to hold indefensible works against an army of 40,000 men. He behaved with high spirit; he sank his ships so as to block the channel. Admiral Korniloff hastened from the north side to his aid and took command, and filled the troops with his own determination to hold out to the last, no matter how heavy were the odds against them. Colonel Todleben—whose master mind was about to revolutionise the art of fortification—accompanied him, and these two perfectly dauntless men, profiting by the blunder of Canrobert and Burgoyne, simply wrecked the expedition of the Allies. The time spent in waiting for the siege-train was precisely what Todleben prayed for.

Inspirited by Korniloff’s enthusiasm, and guided by Todleben’s genius, the Russians toiled like galley-slaves to strengthen their fortifications. Korniloff succeeded in inducing Menschikoff to march 25,000 troops into the town, so that on the 17th of October, when the siege-train of the Allies had arrived, Sebastopol, which had been at their mercy on the 25th of September, was virtually impregnable. On the 17th of October an attempt was made to demolish the earthworks of the enemy by a general bombardment, after which it was the intention of the Allies to dash forward and storm the southern half of the town.[185] The English batteries did not fail, for they seriously damaged the Redan Fort of the enemy. Nachimoff’s sacrifice of the sunken fleet, however, prevented our ships from getting far enough up the harbour to assist our land force, and though the sea batteries were open to attack, shoal water prevented our ships from getting close enough to them to do them much harm.[186] The failure of the bombardment was followed up by a series of attacks on the position of the Allies, the results of which may now be summarised. The great flank march from north to south had left every road from Russia open to the enemy. Reinforcements swarmed into the Crimea, even from the Russian Army of the Danube, which was liberated when the Austrians occupied the Principalities. The English army at the end of October numbered 25,000. The French had 40,000 in the field. But 120,000 combatants had rallied to the standards of Prince Menschikoff. They held not a fortress but a great entrenched camp, defended by impregnable works on which, says Lord Raglan, plaintively, in one of his despatches, “an apparently unlimited number of heavy guns, amply provided with gunners and ammunition, are mounted.” Now, it is a rule of warfare that the besieging force should be five times as strong as the besieged. No general with a grain of prudence will attempt to lay siege to a stronghold unless his force is three times as strong as that of the garrison, and unless he has an army of observation besides to protect him from molestation. Before Sebastopol the besiegers were only half as strong as the besieged, and they had no covering force whatever. Like the Athenians at Syracuse, the besiegers had become the besieged. If Lord Raglan did not complete the parallel by sacrificing his army to an eclipse of the moon, he did his best to emulate that historic achievement by sacrificing it to the flank march from the Belbeck to Balaclava.[187]

In these circumstances the Russians promptly adopted offensive tactics. Menschikoff ordered Liprandi to march round to the rear of the British position and attack Balaclava, from which we drew our supplies, and on the 25th of October the Russians suddenly drove the Turks from the redoubts that formed one of our chief defences. This gave him the northern half of the Balaclava valley. The British cavalry were withdrawn from the southern half westwards behind redoubts, which were still in our hands, and the road to Balaclava, with all our shipping and our stores, was clear. Yet not quite clear. Sir Colin Campbell and the 93rd Highlanders were in the way, and his consummate skill and their stubborn valour saved our base of operations. At a glance Campbell saw that Liprandi meant to annihilate the Scots, by hurling against them overwhelming masses of cavalry covered by artillery. To such an onset a single regiment in square formation could obviously offer no effective resistance whatever. In an instant Campbell conceived the novel and daring project of receiving the Russian cavalry in line.[188] Such a

manœuvre could be possible only where a commander and his troops had implicit confidence in each other, and where officers and men, instinct with barbaric strength and courage, went forth to battle under the iron discipline of civilised warfare. In grim silence the Scots obeyed the stern, curt orders of their leader, and formed the famous “thin red line tipped with steel,” on the solidity of which, for a moment, the fate of the army depended. Their flanks were covered by the Turks who had fled from the redoubts. A hundred sick men, who crawled from the hospital to rally round their chief, were formed under Lieutenant-Colonel Daveney as “supports.” The Russian commander, with great ability, modified his plan of attack and struck swiftly not only at the centre, but strongly at Campbell’s right flank, where the Turks were posted. The dense masses of cavalry first reeled and then broke up when they came within the central zone of fire, but the Turks fled, leaving the “thin red line” uncovered on the right. The Russians, feeling that the game was now in their hands, charged again, confident that they could roll up the line at this unprotected spot. Campbell was, however, equally alert. When the Turks ran away he ordered his grenadier company to wheel to the right. It went swiftly and silently round, with automatic precision, like a door on a hinge, and met the

Russian squadrons with a scorching storm of fire, that sent them flying in confusion from the field. “During the rest of the day,” said Sir Colin Campbell, with a touch of grim humour in his despatch, “the troops under my command received no further molestation from the Russians.” A still more formidable body of Russian horse, however, had swooped down on our Heavy Cavalry (Brigadier-General Scarlett). The Scots Greys and Enniskilling Dragoons sprang forward to meet them, tore through the first and second lines of the enemy, and, supported by the Dragoon Guards, broke up their heavy masses in utter rout. At this moment Lord Raglan ordered Lord Lucan, who was in command of the cavalry, to advance his Light Brigade and prevent the Russians from carrying away some of the guns which the Turks had abandoned in the redoubts. When the order was carried to Lucan by Captain Nolan, Raglan’s aide-de-camp, the Russians had recovered from their reverses and had completely re-formed on their own ground. Raglan’s order, therefore, had come to mean that Lucan was to hurl his slender Light Cavalry Brigade, utterly devoid of supports, against a great army holding a strong position, flanked and covered on all sides by murderous artillery. For a moment he hesitated, appalled by the hideous madness of the order. A taunt from Nolan stung him to the quick, and he spoke the word that sent Cardigan into the “valley of death” with the far-famed Six Hundred.

how they rode onward—through the smoke and fire that belched forth from the iron throats of the Russian cannon—how they clove their way through the Russian masses and cut down the gunners at their guns—how they cut their way back, “stormed at with shot and shell,” a broken remnant of wounded and dismounted troopers, who had to report that they had failed to do that which even the demigods of ancient legend would not have been reckless enough to attempt. Nolan was killed at the very first onset—whilst riding far in advance cheering on the Brigade.[189] “It was magnificent, but it was not war” was the comment of the French General Bosquet, on this horrible sacrifice—a sacrifice so horrible that, when it was over, even the Russians ceased firing and stood motionless and awe-stricken, gazing at the sickening scene. They claim Balaclava as a victory. Certainly they took more than half the field from us; but on the other hand, thanks to the obstinate tenacity of the 93rd Highlanders, we repelled their attack on our base of operations, which was, of course, their objective point.[190]

After this fight the Russians concentrated an overwhelming force and planned an attack on our position at Inkermann. Its weakest point, in spite of the warnings of Lieutenant-General Sir De Lacy Evans, had been left badly protected, and on the 5th of November the Russians surprised our pickets. Having driven them in they fell on our Second Division, who had barely time to stand to their arms when they found themselves struggling with overwhelming masses of the enemy. Pennefather was in command, for, unfortunately, De Lacy Evans was disabled. Instead of retiring in order and attempting to ward off the attack by artillery, Pennefather hurried up little mobs of troops to his outposts, and there waged a dreadful hand to hand fight against an army ten times as strong as his own. It was “a soldiers’ battle” that raged through the morning on these misty heights—a confused melée, in which officers lost their men, and men lost their officers—in which, when ammunition failed, the English troops fought with bayonets; when these broke or bent, with stones; and when these failed, with clenched fists. Column after column of Russians was hurled at our little force—but without avail. No man could be moved from his position till he was shot or cut down, and the indomitable courage of the Duke of Cambridge and his Guards—for his Royal Highness, though he lacked skill and knowledge, never lacked pluck—held the Russians in check so long, that the French had time to come to the rescue. Then the enemy beat a retreat. We retook the positions we had lost, and once again demonstrated that the English infantry were without a rival in the world. The Russian plans were so laid, that it was a mathematical certainty our army must be driven into the sea. Two sons of the Czar had been invited to witness this catastrophe. And, in spite of the splendid fighting qualities of our men, the catastrophe must have happened, had it not been for two blunders which the Russians committed. In the first place, Menschikoff, who seems to have been even a stupider person than Raglan or Burgoyne, attacked in massive columns. This so reduced his fighting front that our weak detachments formed in line decimated them with their fire, and when our artillery came into action every shot and every shell also told on them with deadly effect. The Russian sortie from Sebastopol, moreover, was mismanaged. The commander lost his way in the mist, and instead of falling on us, he found himself entangled with the French far away on our left, so that he gave no real aid to the main attack.

The Russians lost 12,000 men in this battle, the French lost 1,800, and the British lost 2,600. It was therefore clear that the siege must be raised, or that the Allies must enter on a winter campaign. Up till now the troops had suffered very little hardship; but, alas! when winter set in they were doomed to cruel suffering. A terrific storm on the 14th of November blew

down their tents and destroyed twenty-one vessels in Balaclava Bay laden with supplies. It rendered the valley from Balaclava to the camp—a distance of nine miles—almost impassable. Two-thirds of the transport horses died, and there was hardly any forage obtainable for the remainder. Cholera—the germs of which had been carried to the Crimea from Varna—raged in our lines, and those who escaped it fell victims to scurvy, dysentery, or fever. “Between the beginning of November,” writes Mr. Spencer Walpole, “and the end of February, 8,898 British troops perished in hospital. At the last of these dates 13,608 men were still in hospital.”[191] The state of the hospitals was so bad that men died there more quickly than on the field. Part of the ghastly tale of mismanagement had been told by Mr. W. H. Russell, the special correspondent of the Times, when Parliament met on the 12th of December, and empowered the Queen to raise a foreign legion and utilise the Militia for foreign service—measures forced on the Ministry by Prince Albert. But soon after it separated the cry of distress from the Crimea grew too loud to be stifled. When it rang through England the people turned on the Government in furious anger, and called them to account for their gross mismanagement of the war. The Duke of Newcastle, being Secretary of State for War, was blamed because he was alleged to be incompetent. Aberdeen was blamed because it was said he was at heart a Russian. The scurrilous charges against Prince Albert were revived, and he was accused of impeding the operations of our army by his treacherous interference. As a matter of fact, these charges were all untrue. Prince Albert, Aberdeen, and Newcastle were the three men who alone had courage to face the situation, when they suddenly discovered that the military system of England had failed them, and that the military machine which they inherited from Wellington had broken down. They had toiled long and wearily to mend it when the distinguished persons who afterwards attacked them were away enjoying their holidays. But when Parliament reassembled on the 23rd of January, 1855, the gathering storm broke on the head of the Government. Mr. Roebuck gave notice of a motion for the appointment of a committee to inquire into the mismanagement of the war; Lord John Russell deserted his colleagues and resigned. The Ministry, who resisted Mr. Roebuck’s motion, were beaten, on a division, by 305 votes to 148, and the Coalition Government resigned on the 31st of January, 1855. The army was starving, with abundance of supplies within its reach, through the sheer stupidity of those whose duty it was to feed it. Its camp was a hospital, and its hospitals were pest-houses. The nation was utterly humiliated. As for the War Party, which was really responsible for the invasion of the Crimea, it naturally destroyed the Ministry which had stooped to be the instrument of its braggart passions and its ignorant policy.

CHAPTER XXXI.

PARTY GOVERNMENT AND WAR.

During the Parliamentary Session of 1854, it was very plainly shown that Government by Party is not the best kind of Government for carrying on diplomacy or warfare. The Opposition in the House of Commons, instead of checking the drift of the Cabinet towards war, seemed ever bent on hounding them on. They hardly ever gave a vote save for the purpose of discrediting and weakening the Ministry. It is, therefore, not unfair to infer that they rejoiced in the prospect of war, because they foresaw that its hazards and its chances might lead to the destruction of the Government. The temper of the Tories at this time was admirably illustrated by Mr. Disraeli. When a motion was brought before the House of Commons by Mr. Chambers early in February, 1854, to investigate the claims of an English company at Madeira against Portugal, Lord Malmesbury writes of the Ministerial defeat as follows: “I fear Disraeli voted against the Government, as it is his policy to join with anybody to defeat them.”[192] With such a spirit of faction animating the Opposition, it was hardly possible for the Ministry to steer a steady course in the stormy sea of diplomatic intrigue on which it had embarked. Yet it is but right to say that there were some patriotic Tories who objected very strongly to the tactics and strategy of their Party. John Wilson Croker was so firmly opposed to the policy of the war, and the entangling alliance with the French Emperor,[193] that he severed his connection with the Quarterly Review on this account. Croker’s belief was that France was an unsafe ally, that the French had manufactured the quarrel with Russia and inveigled us into it; that our Government knowing, from the Secret Memorandum of 1844, what the Czar’s views were, should have urged Turkey to resist the intimidation of France at the outset. We should have warned her of the peril she stood in from Russia, whilst at the same time we warned Russia that, though we had no objection to induce Turkey to do her justice, we could not sanction the partition of the Ottoman Empire. This course, says Mr. Croker, in a remarkable letter to Lord Lyndhurst, “would have placed the matter on its real grounds—that is, a struggle between France and Russia, in which we should have been spectators, and eventually mediators, but not parties, till some pretensions contrary to the permanent balance of power should be raised by any of the belligerents.”[194] Lyndhurst himself began towards the end of the year to doubt whether our alliance with the French was not as dangerous as Russian pretensions. Very few members of the House of Commons, however, shared these doubts. The House, in fact, rapidly became unmanageable, and, as Lord Malmesbury says in his “Memoirs” would support nothing but the war. Bill after Bill had to be withdrawn by Aberdeen’s Government, so that its legislative achievements can be briefly recorded. During the first Session of the year the Oxford University Bill was passed. It substituted for an incompetent governing oligarchy a Council of eminent and talented men, and gave the Colleges great powers for self-improvement. Mercantile laws were consolidated into one Act. Usury laws were abolished. The principle of allowing traders to form Joint Stock Companies under limited liability of partnership was affirmed by the House of Commons, and the old system of granting such undertakings charters from the Board of Trade, finally condemned. Lord John Russell’s Reform Bill was one of the measures which were introduced, debated, and withdrawn. It had produced a second crisis in the Cabinet in early spring, which was overcome by Lord Aberdeen’s mediation between Lord John and Lord Palmerston. This episode seriously disturbed the Queen’s peace of mind, and in one of her letters she expresses her deep gratitude to the Prime Minister for his devotion to her. Nothing, indeed, is more touching than the references to the aged statesman with which the Queen’s letters are filled at this period. She is found frequently devising plans for the purpose of lightening the burden of care that was crushing his spirits. On the 1st of May, Prince Arthur’s birthday, she writes as follows:—“Though the Queen cannot send Lord Aberdeen a card for a child’s ball, perhaps he may not disdain coming for a short time to see a number of happy little people, including some of his grandchildren, enjoying themselves.” In September, again, she writes to him from Balmoral, peremptorily insisting on his leaving London and proceeding to Scotland at once to recruit his health. At Haddo, she says, he will be near her, and, she adds, “Lord Aberdeen knows that his health is not his own alone, but that