The Press.
London, England, 1855-05-26 00:00:00

THE ?ItESS.

Scott's narrative. The story is confused to the
lust degree, and the incidents crowded toge-
ther in defiance of all probability, and in
direct opposition to that nervous and vivid
style of representation which Scott retained
to the last. In a word, we conceive that a
more bungling, and, on the whole, unsuccess-
ful attempt to imitate the manner of a great
author has never been put forth in a published
shape.
Of other novels recently published we notice
Edith Vernon,: which gives us the impression of
its being the first attempt of an inexperienced
writer. The style is better than the story
Some descriptive passages are penned with
great distinctness, as the notice of the village
churchyard (ii., 127 81, and we continually
meet with indications of an observant and
thoughtful mind, as in the following reflection
on the strength of those attachments conceived
in mature age :

Those emotions which are excited in any individual in
the autumn of life are peculiarly powerful, and their
thoughts are liable, when once disturbed, to return no more
to their former channel. A man of middle age who loves
for the first time has reason added to the force of passion.
With him it is far more than a sentiment. His thoughts
and feelings, thus awakened in mature age, gather strength
and durability from increased years and unfolded energies.
There is less of wild passion, but there is a proportionate
endurance, that makes love when felt thus late in life to
know no ebb or flow, to be proof against change. It
argues that the feelings have lost none of their force from
having been widely scattered, but that the narrow channel
has worn for itself a course so deep, that the stream is sup-
plied from a source so plentiful and unused, that life and
energy are centred there ; and in disturbing or checking its
progress you hazard life and reason. Youth flies from one
object to another—there is hope in its bright future—there
is time in advance—there are a variety of calls on the dif-
ferent passions—and, though disappointment may be
keenly felt, still there is nothing that precludes our trying
the enjoyment there may be in store.
But the talc itself is destitute of all kind of
artistical proportion. The heroine is twice
married and twice NI idowed in the narrative;
her trials conduce to no result. She had better
have been left as Lady Fernmore, with her
jointure of 10,0001. a year, than have been
wedded a second time only to follow her
husband to the grave. It is strange that a
writer, evidently possessing so much intelli
genre and feeling, should not have been more
successful in the construction of a story.
Other novels on our list we must reseve for
a future notice.

Narrative of a Campaign in the Crimea. By
Lieutenant George S. Peard. London :
Bentley.
WE have had several accounts of the Crimean
campaign from amateur pens, and the
periodical correspondence of the newspapers
supplies in great measure all the information
which the public might wish generally to ob
twin ; but a plain straightforward narrative by
an officer who started with the expedition and
served throughout the winter in the trenches
is, after all, but slightly shorn of its interest
by the more lively sketches of amateurs. An
amateur either sees things all couleur de rose
or refuses to allow any couleur to exist at all,
and hence few of us are inclined to believe
implicitly everything which he relates. We
are always glad to hear what the professional
man has to say upon the same subject ; but
no one after reading Lieutenant Peard's un-
assuming narrative will hesitate to acknow-
ledge the thorough truthfulness which has cha
racterised the accounts hitherto given either of
the sufferings or deeds of the army. Lieutenant
Peard sailed with his regiment in July 1854,
reaching Beicos in sixteen days, where they
remained for nearly two months, encamped on
the Asiatic shore, whence they sailed for Varna,
and from thence on the Sth of September
started on the great expedition to the Crimea.
The embarkation and landing of the army are
described in a few lines ; and the description
of the first morning's march, under a broiling
sun, and with no water at hand, is told with
the impressive simplicity of truth :

It was nine o'clock before the whole of the army was
prepared to march, being delayed b, the inadequate transport
provided for the stores, baggage, d:c. Many of our men
fell down in the ranks, attacked by cholera, or from be.
coming faint and exhausted for want of water. If they
recovered shortly, they followed us, with the rear guard;
but if not, they were left to the tender mercies of any

2 Edith Vernon. London

passer-by. It was certainly much to be lamented that we
had no ambulance-waggons for these poor sick fellows,
who fell out on the march ; for had they been carried a
mile or two, or had a drink of water, 1 have no doubt half
of them would have rejoined their oompanies. Ambulance•
carts ought surely to have attended each brigade, and each
should have carried some medicine, particularly where the
cholera was likely to affect the army. The medical off•
cers in general carried a small bottle of brandy and flask
of water, which they gave the men, and were thus enabled
to do much good. Some of our poor fellows actually came
to me, and ou their knees besought me for a drink out of
my flask; and 1 am happy to say that I managed to relieve
a few of them. I found in our brigade that the men of
the other regiments fell out almost ten to our one.

After a day's march like this, the fortune of
war picks out our lieutenant, just as he had
washed and composed himself to rest, " to go
" on outlying picket and visit the sentries
" every hour during the night." Not a plea-
sant duty, he remarks, after so hard a day's
march under a broiling sun. The battle of
Alma, and the famous, or rather unlucky,
flank march, are very well and fully described.
The same want of ambulance-waggons is ex-
perienced here:—
In the bushes by the roadside lay many dead and dying,
who had suffered from the chill of the night, the morning
dew, and the broiling sun. A wounded Turk, with folded
arms, which clasped his firelock, gazed at us with ghastly
countenance, whereon was written agony ; and the groans
of those still unrelieved by death came piercingly into our
ears. What assistance could we render ? The cry of the
physicians was, " We have no physic for them."
While halting for the night in the valley of
the Black River an amusing surprise took
place :
An hour before sunset we arrived at the Rlack River,
and just as we had taken up our position for the night we
were alarmed by the err, " Here they come !" Seeing
numbers of soldiers rushing to their respective corps,
both French and English, our gallant commander imme-
diately faced us in the direction of the as yet invisible
enemy, and prepared for an attack. But it turned out
that our men and the French had wandered np on the
hills to some village gardens, and the Tartan had come
out and chased them with broomsticks, in a most suc-
cesful manner. The retreat of a fat officer amused us
much.

Tho anxiety manifested by all ranks to
assault Sebastopol is admitted by the narrator,
but he allows that even had the assault been
successful we could scarcely hope to have held
the position an hour. The extraordinary
confidence which every one, from the Com-
mander•in•Chief downwards, felt in the sue-

cess of the first b
the engineers :

is thrown upon

Our Engineers and Artillery led us to expect great
things, and we placed implicit faith in their statement that
the place would fall in a week. They also spoke moat
disparagingly of the Russian artillery, which was then sup-
posed to be in an infamous state. We however found out
that this was a great mistake ; their fire might have been
rather wide at first, before getting the range, bnt when the
elevation and distance of some of their shots are taken into
consideration they were wonderfully precise.


Shortly after the tire commenced, that of our gallant
allies was heard playing away in right good earnest, and a
tremendous roll of cannon, like a perpetual peal of thun-
der, burst on our ears from our noble fleet. It was, how-
ever, impossible to discern anything, from the dense smoke
which floated over the town. So constant was the fire,
and so good the practice, that it was a matter of some
danger to look over the parapet. Great reliance was
placed in our wooden walls, and the greatest enthusiasm
was heard when they first opened their tremendous broad-
side. We were almost smothered by the dust and sand
which was flying on all shies, and the earth seemed to
tremble. The activity displayed by our artillerymen arid
sailors was most wonderful, their guns being loaded and
fired as fast as it wasipossible to do so. An awful explosion
shortly afterwards ensued, and our parapets were crowned
wi•.h men waving their hands and caps and giving hearty
cheers. It was reported that a Russian magazine on the
left had been blown up; but it turned out, after all our
enthusiasm, to have belonged to the French, which was a
very mortifying disappointment to us. After this sad
catastrophe their batteries were almost silenced, having
received great damage from the Flagstaff work which was
opposed to them.
Just at this moment poor Dr. O'Leary, of the 6Sth, who
was sitting on the outer end of a traverse with another
officer and man, where there was a cross fire, was com-
pletely blown away by a shot, and it was some little time
before his body was found. The man had his legs out off,
but the other officer fortunately escaped. I had been
speaking to poor O'Leary ten minutes before. At this
time the trenches presented a scene of horror and con-
fusion. Here and there amputations were going on, and
the groans of the sufferers were frightful. K was
busily engaged in filling shaft for use, and seemed quite
an adept at his new occupation. Oar sailors and artillery.
men served their guns so fast that at eight a.m. we had
hardly any ammunition remaining, and the batteries were
nearly silent. This was truly disheartening, and the
Russians were firing away almost as hard as ever. Our
guns were only fired at intervals, about one shot every ten
minutes. The het, I believe, was that the magazines were
not large enough for the undettakthg, and it Val lattlOSt