[In a letter to the London Times Mr. W. H. Russell, the war correspondent, described the charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava, one of the most notable incidents of the Crimean War.]
Supposing the spectator, then, to take his stand on one of the heights forming the rear of our camp before Sebastopol, he would have seen the town of Balaklava, with its scanty shipping, its narrow strip of water, and its old forts, on his right hand; immediately below he would have beheld the valley and plain of coarse meadowland, occupied by our cavalry tents, and stretching from the base of the ridge on which he stood to the foot of the formidable heights at the other side; he would have seen the French trenches lined with zouaves a few feet beneath, and distant from him, on the slope of the hill; a Turkish redoubt lower down, then another in the valley, then, in a line with it, some angular earthworks; then, in succession, the other two redoubts up to Canrobert's Hill.
At the distance of two and a half miles across the valley is an abrupt rocky mountain range of most irregular and picturesque formation, covered with scanty brushwood here and there, or rising into barren pinnacles and plateaux of rock. In outline and appearance this portion of the landscape was wonderfully like the Trosachs. A patch of blue sea was caught in between the overhanging cliffs of Balaklava as they closed in the entrance to the harbor on the right. The camp of the marines, pitched on the hillsides more than ten hundred feet above the level of the sea, was opposite to the spectator as his back was turned to Sebastopol and his right side towards Balaklava…..
Soon after occurred the glorious catastrophe which filled us all with sorrow. It appeared that the Quartermaster-General, Brigadier Airey, thinking that the light cavalry had not gone far enough in front when the enemy's horse had fled, gave an order in writing to Captain Nolan, Fifteenth Hussars, to take to Lord Lucan, directing his lordship "to advance" his cavalry nearer to the enemy. A braver soldier than Captain Nolan the army did not possess…..I had the pleasure of his acquaintance, and I know he entertained the most exalted opinions respecting the capabilities of the English horse soldier. Properly led, the British hussar and dragoon could, in his mind, break square, take batteries, ride over columns of infantry, and pierce any other cavalry in the world as if they were made of straw. He thought they had not had the opportunity of doing all that was in their power, and that they missed even such chances as had been offered to them— that, in fact, they were in some measure disgraced. A matchless horseman and a first-rate swordsman, he held in contempt, I am afraid, even grape and canister. He rode off with his orders to Lord Lucan.
…. When Lord Lucan received the order from Captain Nolan, and had read it, he asked, we are told, "Where are we to advance to?" Captain Nolan pointed with his finger to the line of the Russians, and said, "There are the enemy, and there are the guns," or words to that effect, according to the statements made after his death.
It must be premised that Lord Raglan had in the morning only ordered Lord Lucan to move from the position he had taken near the center redoubt to "the left of the second line of redoubts occupied by the Turks." Seeing that the ninety-third and invalids were cut off from the aid of the cavalry, Lord Raglan sent another order to Lord Lucan to send his heavy horse towards Balaklava, and that officer was executing it just as the Russian horse came over the bridge. The heavy cavalry charge took place, and afterwards the men dismounted on the scene of it. After an interval of half an hour, Lord Raglan again sent an order to Lord Lucan: "Cavalry to advance and take advantage of any opportunity to recover the heights. They will be supported by infantry, which has been ordered to advance upon two fronts." Lord Raglan's reading of this order is, that the infantry had been ordered to advance on two fronts; but no such interpretation is borne out by the wording of the order. It does not appear either that the infantry had received orders to advance, for the Duke of Cambridge and Sir G. Cathcart state that they were not in receipt of such instruction. Lord Lucan advanced his cavalry to the ridge, close to No. 5 redoubt, and while there received from Captain Nolan an order which is, verbatim, as follows: "Lord Raglan wishes the cavalry to advance rapidly to the front, follow the enemy, and try to prevent the enemy carrying away the guns; troops of horse artillery may accompany. French cavalry is on your left. Immediate."
Lord Lucan with reluctance—gave the order to Lord Cardigan to advance upon the guns, conceiving that his orders compelled him to do so…..It is a maxim of war that "cavalry never act without a support," that "infantry should be close at hand when cavalry carry guns, as the effect is only instantaneous," and that it is necessary to have on the flank of a line of cavalry some squadrons in column, the attack on the flank being most dangerous. The only support our light cavalry had was the reserve of heavy cavalry at a great distance behind them, the infantry and guns being far in the rear. There were no squadrons in column at all, and there was a plain to charge over, before the enemy's guns could be reached, of a mile and a half in length.
At ten minutes past eleven our light cavalry brigade advanced. The whole brigade scarcely made one effective regiment, according to the numbers of continental armies; and yet it was more than we could spare. As they rushed towards the front, the Russians opened on them from the guns in the redoubt on the right, with volleys of musketry and rifles. They swept proudly past, glittering in the morning sun in all the pride and splendor of war. We could scarcely believe our senses! Surely that handful of men were not going to charge an army in position? …. They advanced in two lines, quickening their pace as they closed towards the enemy. A more fearful spectacle was never witnessed by those who, without power to aid, beheld their heroic countrymen rushing to the arms of death. At the distance of twelve hundred yards, the whole line of the enemy belched forth, from thirty iron mouths, a flood of smoke and flame, through which hissed the deadly balls. Their flight was marked by instant gaps in our ranks, by dead men and horses, by steeds flying wounded or riderless across the plain. The first line was broken- -it was joined by the second, they never halted or checked their speed an instant. With diminished ranks, thinned by those thirty guns, which the Russians had laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of flashing steel above their heads, and with a cheer which was many a noble fellow's death-cry, they flew into the smoke of the batteries; but ere they were lost to view, the plain was strewed with their bodies and with the carcasses of horses. They were exposed to an oblique fire from the batteries on the hills on both sides, as well as to the direct fire of musketry.
Through the clouds of smoke we could see their sabres flashing as they rode up to the guns and dashed between them, cutting down the gunners as they stood. We saw them riding through the guns, as I have said; to our delight we saw them returning, after breaking through a column of Russian infantry, and scattering them like chaff, when the flank fire of the battery on the hill swept them down. Wounded men and dismounted troopers flying towards us told the sad tale—demi-gods could not have done what they had failed to do. At the very moment when they were about to retreat a regiment of lancers was hurled upon their flank. Colonel Shewell, of the Eighth Hussars, whose attention was drawn to them by Lieutenant Phillips, saw the danger, and rode his few men straight at them, cutting his way through with fearful loss….. It was as much as our heavy cavalry brigade could do to cover the retreat of the miserable remnants of that band of heroes as they returned to the place they had so lately quitted in all the pride of life. At thirty-five minutes past eleven not a British soldier, except the dead and dying, was left in front of these bloody Muscovite guns.
[In 1886, Mr. Gladstone, being then in his seventy-seventh year, brought in his first bill for Irish Home Rule. The wonderful series of speeches in its behalf was closed by one of great power on the night of June 7th. It was already clear that the secessions from the Liberal ranks would prevent the passage of the bill to its second reading. Just before the division the Prime Minister spoke. The extract given below reproduces his final appeal.]
This is the earliest moment in our parliamentary history when we have the voice of Ireland authentically expressed in our hearing. Majorities of Home Rulers there may have been upon other occasions; a practical majority of Irish members never has been brought together for such a purpose. Now, first, we can understand her; now, first, we are able to deal with her; we are able to learn authentically what she wants and wishes, what she offers and will do; and as we ourselves enter into the strongest moral and honorable obligations by the steps which we take in this House, so we have before us practically an Ireland under the representative system able to give us equally authentic information, able morally to convey to us an assurance the breach and rupture of which would cover Ireland with disgrace…..What is the case of Ireland at this moment? Have honorable gentlemen considered that they are coming into conflict with a nation? Can anything stop a nation's demand, except its being proved to be immoderate and unsafe? But here are multitudes, and I believe millions upon millions, out-of-doors, who feel this demand to be neither immoderate nor unsafe. In our opinion, there is but one question before us about this demand. It is as to the time and circumstance of granting it. There is no question in our minds that it will be granted. We wish it to be granted in the mode prescribed by Mr. Burke. Mr. Burke said, in his first speech at Bristol:
"I was true to my old-standing, invariable principle, that all things which came from Great Britain should issue as a gift of her bounty and beneficence, rather than as claims recovered against struggling litigants, or at least if your beneficence obtained no credit in your concessions, yet that they should appear the salutary provisions of your wisdom and foresight—not as things wrung from you with your blood by the cruel gripe of a rigid necessity."
The difference between giving with freedom and dignity on the one side, with acknowledgment and gratitude on the other, and giving under compulsion, giving with disgrace, giving with resentment dogging you at every step of your path, this difference is, in our eyes, fundamental, and this is the main reason not only why we have acted, but why we have acted now. This, if I understand it, is one of the golden moments of our history—one of those opportunities which may come and may go, but which rarely return, or, if they return, return at long intervals, and under circumstances which no man can forecast.
There have been such golden moments even in the tragic history ofIreland, as her poet says—
"One time the harp of InnisfailWas tuned to notes of gladness."
And then he goes on to say—
" But yet did oftener tell a taleOf more prevailing sadness."
But there was such a golden moment—it was in 1795—it was on the mission of Lord Fitzwilliam. At that moment it is historically clear that the Parliament of Grattan was on the point of solving the Irish problem. The two great knots of that problem were, in the first place, Roman Catholic emancipation; and in the second place, the Reform of Parliament. The cup was at her lips, and she was ready to drink it, when the hand of England rudely and ruthlessly dashed it to the ground in obedience to the wild and dangerous intimations of an Irish faction.
"Ex illo fluere ac retro sublapsa referri,Spes Danaum."
There has been no great day of hope for Ireland, no day when you might hope completely and definitely to end the controversy, till now—more than ninety years. The long periodic time has at last run out, and the star has again mounted into the heavens. What Ireland was doing for herself in 1795 we at length have done. The Roman Catholics have been emancipated—emancipated after a woeful disregard of solemn promises through twenty-nine years, emancipated slowly, sullenly, not from good will, but from abject terror, with all the fruits and consequences which will always follow that method of legislation. The second problem has been also solved, and the representation of Ireland has been thoroughly reformed; and I am thankful to say that the franchise was given to Ireland on the readjustment of last year with a free heart, with an open hand, and the gift of that franchise was the last act required to make the success of Ireland in her final effort absolutely sure. We have given Ireland a voice; we must all listen for a moment to what she says. We must all listen— both sides, both parties, I mean as they are, divided on this question—divided, I am afraid, by an almost immeasurable gap. We do not undervalue or despise the forces opposed to us. I have described them as the forces of class and its dependents; and that as a general description—as a slight and rude outline of a description—is, I believe, perfectly true. I do not deny that many are against us whom we should have expected to be for us. I do not deny that some whom we see against us have caused us by their conscientious action the bitterest disappointment. You have power, you have wealth, you have rank, you have station, you have organization. What have we? We think that we have the people's heart; we believe and we know we have the promise of the harvest of the future. As to the people's heart, you may dispute it, and dispute it with perfect sincerity. Let that matter make its own proof. As to the harvest of the future, I doubt if you have so much confidence, and I believe that there is in the breast of many a man who means to vote against us to-night a profound misgiving approaching even to a deep conviction that the end will be as we foresee, and not as you do—that the ebbing tide is with you and the flowing tide is with us. Ireland stands at your bar expectant, hopeful, almost suppliant. Her words are the words of truth and soberness. She asks a blessed oblivion of the past, and in that oblivion our interest is deeper than even hers. My right honorable friend, the member for East Edinburgh (Mr. Goschen) asks us to-night to abide by the traditions of which we are the heirs. What traditions? By the Irish traditions? Go into the length and breadth of the world, ransack the literature of all countries, find, if you can, a single voice, a single book, find, I would almost say, as much as a single newspaper article, unless the product of the day, in which the conduct of England towards Ireland is anywhere treated except with profound and bitter condemnation. Are these the traditions by which we are exhorted to stand? No; they are a sad exception to the glory of our country. They are a broad and black blot upon the pages of its history; and what we want to do is to stand by the traditions of which we are the heirs in all matters except our relations with Ireland, and to make our relations with Ireland to conform to the other traditions of our country. So we treat our traditions—so we hail the demand of Ireland for what I call a blessed oblivion of the past. She asks also a boon for the future; and that boon for the future, unless we are much mistaken, will be a boon to us in respect of honor, no less than a boon to her in respect of happiness, prosperity, and peace. Such, sir, is her prayer. Think, I beseech you, think well, think wisely, think not for the moment, but for the years that are to come, before you reject this bill.
[From the abundance of poetry which has been inspired by the Irish Nationalist cause, the two following poems have been selected as characteristic. The first, by Michael Scanlan, has been called the Marseillaise of the Fenian movement. The second is by Fanny Parnell.]
See who come over the red-blossomed heather,Their green banners kissing the pure mountain air,Heads erect, eyes to front, stepping proudly together,Sure freedom sits throned in each proud spirit there!Down the hills twining,Their blessed steel shiningLike rivers of beauty they flow from each glen,From mountain and valley, 'tis liberty's rallyOut, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Our prayers and our tears have been scoffed and derided,They've shut out God's sunlight from spirit and mind;Our foes were united and we were divided,We met, and they scattered us all to the wind;But once more returning,Within our veins burningThe fires that illumined dark Aherlou glen,We raise the old cry anew,Slogan of Con and Hugh,Out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
We have men from the Nore, from the Suir, and the Shannon;Let the tyrants come forth, we'll bring force against force;Our pen is the sword and our voice is the cannon,Rifle for rifle, horse against horse.We've made the false Saxon yieldMany a red battle-field,God on our side we will do so again;Pay them back woe for woe,Give them back blow for blow,Out, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Side by side for this cause have our forefathers battledWhen our hills never echoed the tread of a slave;On many green fields, where the leaden hail rattledThro' the red gap of glory they marched to the grave,And we who inheritTheir names and their spiritWill march 'neath our banner of liberty;then All who love Saxon lawNative or SassenahOut, and make way for the Fenian Men!
Up for the cause, then, fling forth our green banners,From the east to the west, from the south to the north—Irish land, Irish men, Irish mirth, Irish manners—From the mansion and cot let the slogan go forth;Sons of old Ireland now,Love you our sireland now?Come from the kirk, or the chapel, or glen;Down with all faction old;Concert and action bold,This is the creed of the Fenian Men!
Shall mine eyes behold thy glory, O my country,Shall mine eyes behold thy glory?Or shall the darkness close around them ere the sun blazeBreak at last upon thy story?
When the nations ope for thee their queenly circle,As a sweet new sister hail thee,Shall these lips be sealed in callous death and silenceThat have known but to bewail thee?
Shall the ear be deaf that only loved thy praisesWhen all men their tribute bring thee?Shall the mouth be clay that sang thee in thy squalorWhen all poet's mouths shall sing thee?
Ah, the harpings and the salvos and the shoutingsOf thy exiled sons returning!I should hear though dead and moldered, and the grave-dampsShould not chill my bosom's burning.
Ah, the tramp of feet victorious! I should hear them'Mid the shamrocks and the mosses,And my heart should toll within the shroud and quarterAs a captive dreamer tosses.
I should turn and rend the cere-clothes round me,Giant sinews I should borrow,Crying, "Oh, my brothers, I have also loved her,In her loneliness and sorrow.
"Let me join with you the jubilant procession,Let me chant with you her story;Then contented I shall go back to the shamrocksNow mine eyes have seen her glory."
[The speech which most endeared Disraeli to the Tories was delivered in the House of Commons January 22,1846. Peel had just declared his conversion to free trade and his intention to repeal the Corn Law duties, when Disraeli rose and in behalf of the unconverted Tory protectionists poured his fire into the face of the Prime Minister.]
Sir, I rise with some feeling of embarrassment to address the House at this stage of the debate, as it is only since I have entered the House that I have had the advantage of reading her Majesty's speech; and I had understood that the great question which now agitates the country was not to be discussed on the present occasion…..I should have abstained from intruding myself on the House at the present moment, had it not been for the peculiar tone of the right honorable gentleman (Sir Robert Peel). I think that tone ought not to pass unnoticed. At the same time I do not wish to conceal my opinions on the general subject. I am not one of the converts. I am, perhaps, a member of a fallen party. To the opinions which I have expressed in this House in favor of protection I adhere. They sent me to this House, and if I had relinquished them, I should have relinquished my seat also. I must say that the tone of the right honorable gentleman is hardly fair towards the House, while he stops discussion upon a subject on which he himself has entered and given vent to his feelings with a fervency unusual to him. Sir, I admire a minister who says he holds power to give effect to his own convictions. These are sentiments that we must all applaud. Unfortunate will be the position of this country when a minister pursues a line of policy adverse to the convictions which he himself entertains. But when we come to a question of such high delicacy as the present, we may be permitted to ask ourselves what are the circumstances which require one so able, and one so eminent, to enter upon the vindication of himself, and to rise in this House, amid the cheers of his former opponents, to place himself in a position of an apologetical character to those who were once of his own party? I have no doubt that the right honorable gentleman has arrived at a conscientious conclusion on this great subject. The right honorable gentleman says that it is not so much by force of argument as by the cogency of observation that he has arrived at this conclusion. But, sir, surely the observation which the right honorable gentleman has made might have been made when he filled a post scarcely less considerable than that which he now occupies, and enjoyed power scarcely less ample than that which he now wields in this House. I want to know how it is that the right honorable gentleman, who certainly enjoys the full maturity of manhood, should not have arrived at this opinion, which I deplore, although conscientious, at the moment when his present government was formed! What, sir, are we to think of the eminent statesman who, having served under four sovereigns; unable to complain of want of experience or royal confidence; who, having been called on to steer the ship on so many occasions, and under such perilous circumstances, has only during the last three years found it necessary entirely to change his convictions on that important topic which must have presented itself for more than a quarter of a century to his consideration?
Sir, I must say that such a minister may be conscientious, but that he is unfortunate. I will say, also, that he ought to be the last man in the world to turn round and upbraid his party in a tone of menace. Sir, there is a difficulty in finding a parallel to the position of the right honorable gentleman in any part of history. The only parallel which I can find is an incident in the late war in the Levant…..I remember when that great struggle was taking place, when the existence of the Turkish empire was at stake, the late Sultan, a man of great energy and fertile in resources, was determined to fit out an immense fleet to maintain his empire. Accordingly a vast armament was collected. It consisted of some of the finest ships that were ever built. The crews were picked men, the officers were the ablest that could be found, and both officers and men were rewarded before they fought. There never was an armament which left the Dardanelles similarly appointed since the days of Solyman the Great. The Sultan personally witnessed the departure of the fleet; all the muftis prayed for the success of the expedition, as all the muftis here prayed for the success of the last general election. Away went the fleet, but what was the Sultan's consternation when the Lord High Admiral steered at once into the enemy's port! Now, sir, the Lord High Admiral on that occasion was very much misrepresented. He, too, was called a traitor, and he, too, vindicated himself. "True it is," said he, "I did place myself at the head of this valiant armada; true it is that my sovereign embraced me; true it is that all the muftis in the empire offered up prayers for my success; but I have an objection to war. I see no use in prolonging the struggle, and the only reason I had for accepting the command was that I might terminate the contest by betraying my master." ….
Well, now, the right honorable gentleman has turned round on us, and in a peroration, the elaborate character of which remarkably contrasted with the garrulous confidence of all the doings of his cabinet, the right honorable gentleman told us that he had been assured that a certain power had made him minister, and that a certain power would prevent him from being a minister; but that he protested against such an authority, and that he never would hold office by so servile a tenure. Sir, no one can fill a position such as that of the right honorable gentleman and give utterance to sentiments so magnanimous as his without reference to antecedents. And that leads us to the consideration of that government by parties, which must never be lost sight of in estimating the position of the right honorable gentleman. It is all very well for the right honorable gentleman to say, "I am the First Minister"—and by the by, I think the right honorable gentleman might as well adopt the phraseology of Walpole, and call himself the sole minister, for his speech was rich in egoistic rhetoric—it is all very well for him to speak of himself as the sole minister, for as all his cabinet voted against him, he is quite right not to notice them. I repeat, it is all very well for the right honorable gentleman to come forward to this table and say, "I am thinking of posterity, although certainly I am doing on this side of the table the contrary to that which I counseled when I stood upon the other; but my sentiments are magnanimous, my aim is heroic, and appealing to posterity, I care neither for your cheers nor your taunts."
But, sir, we must ask ourselves, as members of the House of Commons, as the subjects of a popular government—we must ask ourselves, what were the means, what the machinery, by which the right honorable gentleman acquired his position, how he obtained power to turn round upon his supporters, and to treat them with contempt and disdain? Sir, the right honorable gentleman has supported a different policy for a number of years. Well do we remember on this side of the House—perhaps not without a blush— well do we remember the efforts which we made to raise him to the bench on which he now sits. Who does not remember the "sacred cause of protection," the cause for which sovereigns were thwarted, Parliaments dissolved, and a nation taken in? Delightful, indeed, to have the right honorable gentleman entering into all his confidential details, when, to use his courtly language, he "called" upon his sovereign. Sir, he called on his sovereign; but would his sovereign have called on the right honorable baronet, if, in 1841, he had not placed himself, as he said, at the head of the gentlemen of England—that well- known position, to be preferred even to the confidence of sovereigns and courts? It is all very well for the right honorable baronet to take this high-flying course, but I think myself, I say it with great respect for gentlemen on this side of the House, and gentlemen on the other; I say it without any wish to achieve a party triumph, for I believe I belong to a party which can triumph no more, for we have nothing left on our side except the constituencies which we have betrayed; but I do say my conception of a great statesman is of one who represents a great idea—an idea which may lead him to power; an idea with which he may identify himself; an idea which he may develop; an idea which he may and can impress on the mind and conscience of a nation. That, sir, is my notion of what makes a man a great statesman. I do not care whether he be a manufacturer or a manufacturer's son. That is a grand, that is indeed an heroic, position. But I care not what may be the position of a man who never originates an idea—a watcher of the atmosphere, a man who, as he says, takes his observations, and when he finds the wind in a certain quarter, trims to suit it. Such a person may be a powerful minister, but he is no more a great statesman than the man who gets up behind a carriage is a great whip. Both are disciples of progress; both perhaps may get a good place. But how far the original momentum is indebted to their powers, and how far their guiding prudence regulates the lash or the rein, it is not necessary for me to notice.
[Rudyard Kipling's long poem "A Song of the English," and the shorter, "White Man's Burden," may be read in connection with this topic; but nothing better asserts the imperial idea than the lines written by Tennyson at the request of the Prince of Wales (Edward VII.) for the opening of the Indian and Colonial Exhibition in 1886.]
Welcome, welcome with one voice!In your welfare we rejoice,Sons and brothers that have sent,From isle and cape and continent,Produce of your field and flood,Mount and mine and primal wood;Works of subtle brain and hand,And splendors of the morning land,Gifts from every British zone;Britons, hold your own!
May we find, as ages run,The mother featured in the son;And may yours forever beThat old strength and constancyWhich has made your fathers greatIn our ancient island state;And wherever her flag fly,Glorying between sea and sky,Makes the might of Britain known,Britons, hold your own!
Britain fought her sons of yore—Britain failed; and nevermore,Careless of our growing kin,Shall we sin our fathers' sin;Men that in a narrower day—Unprophetic rulers they—Drove from out the mother's nestThat young eagle of the WestTo forage for herself alone;Britons, hold your own!
Sharers of our glorious past,Brothers, must we part at last?Shall we not thro' good and illCleave to one another still?Britain's myriad voices call,"Sons, be welded, each and all,Into one imperial whole,One with Britain, heart and soul!One life, one flag, one fleet, one throne;Britons, hold your own!