Part 18

Frail were the works that defended the hold that we held with our lives- Women and children among us, God help them, our children and wives! Hold it we might, and for fifteen days, or for twenty at most. "Never surrender, I charge you, but every man die at his post!" Voice of the dead whom we loved, our Laurence, the best of the brave: Cold were his brows when we kissed him-we laid him that night in his grave. "Every man die at his post!" and there halted on our houses and halls Death from their rifle-bullets, and death from their cannon- balls; Death in our innermost chamber, and death at our slight barricade; Death while we stood with the musket, and death while we stooped to the spade; Death to the dying, and wounds to the wounded, for often there fell, Striking the hospital wall, crashing thro' it, their shot and their shell; Death--for their spies were among us, their marksmen were told of our best, So that the brute bullet broke thro' the brain that would think for the rest; Bullets would sing by our foreheads, and bullets would rain at our feet-- Fire from ten thousand at once of the rebels who girdled us round-- Death at the glimpse of a finger from over the breadth of a street; Death from the heights of the mosque and the palace, and death in the ground! Mine? Yes, a mine. Countermine! down, down! and creep thro' the hole! Keep the revolver in hand! you can hear him--the murderous mole! Quiet, ah! quiet--wait till the point of the pick-ax be thro'! Click with the pick coming nearer and nearer again than before-- Now let it speak, and you fire, and the dark pioneer is no more; And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.

III

Aye, but the foe sprung his mine many times, and it chanced on a day Soon as the blast of that underground thunder-clap echoed away, Dark thro' the smoke and the sulphur, like so many fiends in their hell, Cannon-shot, musket-shot, volley on volley, and yell upon yell-- Fiercely on all the defenses our myriad enemy fell. What have they done? Where is it? Out yonder, guard the Redan! Storm at the water-gate! storm at the Bailey-gate! storm! and it ran Surging and swaying all round us, as ocean on every side Plunges and heaves at a bank that is daily drowned by the tide-- So many thousands, that if they be bold enough, who shall escape? Kill or be killed, live or die, they shall know we are soldiers and men! Ready! take aim at their leaders--their masses are gapped with our grape-- Backward they reel like the wave, like the wave flinging forward again, Flying and foiled at the last by the handful they could not subdue; And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.

Handful of men as we were, we were English in heart and in limb, Strong with the strength of the race, to command, to obey, to endure, Each of us fought as if hope for the garrison hung but on him; Still, could we watch at all points? We were every day fewer and fewer. There was a whisper among us, but only a whisper that passed: "Children and wives--if the tigers leap into the fold unawares- Every man die at his post-and the foe may outlive us at last-- Better to fall by the hands that they love, than to fall into theirs." Roar upon roar in a moment, two mines by the enemy sprung, Clove into perilous chasms our walls and our poor palisades, Rifleman, true is your heart, but be sure that your hand be as true! Sharp is the fire of assault, better aimed are your flank fusillades-- Twice do we hurl them to earth from the ladders to which they had clung, Twice from the ditch where they shelter, we drive them with hand- grenades; And ever upon our topmost roof our banner of England blew.

Then on another wild morning, another wild earthquake out-tore, Clean from our lines of defense ten or twelve good paces or more. Rifleman high on the roof, hidden there from the light of the sun-- One has leapt upon the breach crying out, "Follow me, follow me!" Mark him-he falls! then another, and down goes he. Had they been bold enough then, who can tell but the traitors had won? Boardings and rafters and doors! an embrasure! make way for the gun! Now double-charge it with grape! it is charged and we fire and they run. Praise to our Indian brothers, and let the dark face have his due! Thanks to the kindly dark faces who fought with us, faithful and few, Fought with the bravest among us, and drove them, and smote them and slew, That ever upon our topmost roof our banner in India blew.

Men will forget what we suffer, and not what we do; we can fight! But to be soldier all day, and be sentinel all thro' the night-- Ever the mine and assault, our sallies, their lying alarms, Bugles and drums in the darkness, and shoutings and soundings to arms; Ever the labor of fifty that had to be done by five; Ever the marvel among us that one should be left alive; Ever the day with its traitorous death from the loopholes around; Ever the night with its coffinless corpse to be laid in the ground; Heat like the mouth of a hell, or a deluge of cataract skies, Stench of old offal decaying, and infinite torment of flies, Thoughts of the breezes of May blowing over an English field, Cholera, scurvy, and fever, the wound that would not be healed; Lopping away of the limb by the pitiful, pitiless knife-- Torture and trouble in vain-for it never could save us a life. Valor of delicate women who tended the hospital bed; Horror of women in travail among the dying and dead; Grief for our perishing children, and never a moment for grief, Toil and ineffable weariness, faltering hopes of relief; Havelock baffled, or beaten, or butchered for all that we knew-- Then day and night, day and night coming down on the still shatter'd walls Millions of musket-bullets and thousands of cannon-balls; But ever upon the topmost roof our banner of England blew.

VII

Hark, cannonade, fusillade! Is it true what was told by the scout, Outram and Havelock breaking their way thro' the fell mutineers? Surely the pibroch of Europe is ringing again in our ears! All on a sudden the garrison utter a jubilant shout, Havelock's glorious Highlanders answer with conquering cheers, Sick from the hospital echo them, women and children come out, Blessing the wholesome white faces of Havelock's good fusileers, Kissing the war-hardened hand of the Highlander, wet with their tears! Dance to the pibroch! Saved! We are saved! Is it you? Is it you? Saved by the valor of Havelock; saved by the blessing of heaven! "Hold it for fifteen days!" We have held it for eighty-seven! And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England blew.

THE LIGHT BRIGADE AT BALAKLAVA

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.

WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE

HOME RULE FOR IRELAND

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 of Ireland, as her poet says--

"One time the harp of Innisfail Was tuned to notes of gladness."

And then he goes on to say--

" But yet did oftener tell a tale Of 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."