The Sun.
London, England, 1855-10-26 00:00:00

THE SUN, LONDON, FRIDAY EY gNING; OCTOBER 26 1855

of Europe, then will be the time to talk about
costs." It may be as well, however, for the public
to establish their opinion on the matter, and
fortify their understandings in preparation for
the assaults that will be—indeed, are now being
made on them.

Russia has broken the peace by invading Tur-
key, and has satisfied all reasonable men of the
existence of a long-premeditated design on her
part to ride rough-shod over law, freedom, and
civilisation in Europe. France and England
rushed to the rescue, in conformity with the obli-
gations their position and interests imposed upon
them ; and it would be somewhat audacious to
say that they are not entitled to insist on having
the expenditure they and their allies have been,
and will be, put to in the vindication of the
rights of nations refunded. Pragmatic individuals
and political trimmers are, however, to be found
who would have the public take another view of
the matter. These domestic traitors, in further-
ance of a conspiracy they have entered into to
put a stop to the War, at whatever cost, have re-
course to sophistry, ix order at once to gull
the nation, and divert the odium a naked revela-
tion of their miserable aim would bring down upon
them. " Russia," they propound, " will not pay
the costs of the War if she can help it. To pre-
vent, therefore, that further slaughter of our
brave troops which a continuance of the bloody
struggle will necessitate, would it not be wise and
humane not to insist on the payment of costs ?
To do otherwise, would it not be to sell our
soldiers' blood for gold ?' " Plausible enough,
humane reader, is it not? Yes, we admit ; but
diabolically inhuman. Russia, we grant, is not
likely to pay " the costs of the bloody suit" if she
can help it. Eut the object of the War is so to
reduce her over-grown pride and strength that
she cannot help paying them, were it only from a
regard for her own interests. To let her off scot
free would be to " sell our soldiers' blood" for the
profit of knaves. It would be to rob the glorious
sacrifice of our slaughtered heroes of its efficacy—
to cast away the pearl of safety (from barbaric
outrage) to swine. It would be to plunder the
bereaved parent, the widow, and the orphan of
that righteous consolation that soothes their re-
gret for the dear ones they have lost—the reflec-
tion that they fell fighting for the liberties of
Europe, and that their blood was not shed in vain.
It would be to stultify the patriotism, humanity,
and wisdom of our times, and write us down
heartless ingrates, inhuman spendthrifts, and con-
summate asses to boot. When the grand object
of the War is attained, and not till then, Russia
will be prepared to pay the costs ; and until that
time arrives hostilities must be carried on with
the utmost vigour. This is pretty much the real
logic of the War, and it is very simple.

PORTRAIT OF MR. RUSSELL,

' g THE TIMES CORRESPONDENT."

There he sits—sketched off to the very life by
the magic pencil of the sunbeam—that wonder-
ful historian of the war, The Times "Special
Correspondent" before Sebastopol. Who is there
in Englandl4 401wpikti interest in scanning his
effigy ? 'Who -that does nod entertain some rational
feelings of curiosity as to the aspect of this daring
Critic of the Camp—no longer a vague mysterious
entity, but a substantial representative of Journal-
ism on the great battle-field of European civilisation.
yalk as welnay about the inconvenience of hav-
oitr Military plans and operations analysed in

re face of day by the adventurous intellect of a
civilian—it is scarcely possible to overrate the
advantages accruing to the common interests now
at stake, to the grand cause now at issue in this
momentous struggle between the East and the
West, between the Allies and Russia, from the
vigilance of a keen and impartial observer like
the one here presented to our view in his strongly-
defined and vivid individuality. It is scarcely
so much William Russell in his own proper person
who may be herein recognised by his numerous
friends, and let us add, too, by his innu-
merable admirers, as a man of this age,
so essentially a type of his class as to
have assumed, permanently, a foremost rank
among the eminent public characters of our gene-
ration. As such the portrait-sketch, lithographed
by M. and N. Hanhart, after a drawing by J. H.
Lynch, from the original photograph by R. Fenton,
now in the possession of the Messrs. Agnew and
Sons, the enterprising art-publishers of Man-
chester represents scarcely so much W. H.
Russell as The Times Correspondent, scarcely so
much The Tunes Correspondent, indeed, as
what shall we say—CAPTAIN PEN. Yes ! there,
in that graphic limning, is the veritable imper-
sonation of that hitherto merely mythic, or purely
imaginary being, Captain Pen ! Capped a la
militaire, coated as a civilian, booted (vigor-
ously) like one accustomed to the saddle
on the miry roads of Crim Tartary, bearded
like the pard, or, what is pretty much the same
nowadays, like any wandering gentleixiau in the
far East—there he sits—that Champion of the
Soldier and Inteliigencer of the People—watchfully
observant from his camp-stool, perhaps, of some
incident of the contest, the chivalrous execution
of which his hand will be the first to celebrate, or
the blundering design of which his judgment
will be the first and foremost to arraign. Shine'
at his side—no sword—but a telescope, or, may
be, a pouch with a scroll of paper, destined by its
luminous perspicuity of statement, or by its rhe-
torical brilliancy of description, to contrast almost
painfully with the bungling and incoherent Des-
patch transmitted by the same mail from head-
quarters, signed and sealed by an unlettered Com-
mander-in-Chief. Every one we are persuaded
thewil l
eeffixagmyi an ned thewith sign-manual
interest,
of this bold, manly,
many with admiration,
uncompromising, patriotic Correspondent. Every
one must assuredly so do who recalls to mind for
one instant some few of the great things which have
been accomplished, beyond all doubt chiefly through
the instrumentality of Mr. RUSSELL, acting in his
very delicate and responsible capacity as The Times
Correspondent. It will be remembered how nobly
out-spoken were his words of indignant remon-
strance as the dread Crimean winter closed in
upon the British army encamped before Sebas-
topol, without those provisions for its com-
fort, the want of which his prescience recog-
nised from the first as being calculated to prove
so dismally and deplorably destructive. It
cannot he forgotten how resolutely, moreover,
from first to last, his pen has dealt with
the whole series of delinquencies by which these
two memorable campaigns have in so many in-
stances been most lamentably illustrated—his
reprehension being no less severely articulated in
reference to the wielder of the Marshal's baton,
or the potterer over the inkhorn of some obscure
or subordinate Commissary. Neither can it
very speedily pass away from the popular remem-
brance—the recollection of those brilliant chap-
ters of contemporary history, in which the great
deeds of the War against Russia are acknowledged,
far and wide, to have been the most picturesquely
and the most durably commemorated. For, as-
suredly, such must be the almost universally
unanimous opinion pronounced over that earnest
narrative, in which the glorious storming of the
heights of the Alma, and the magnificent cavalry
charges at Balaklava, and the desperate hand-to-
hand struggle at Inkerman, and the deadly night
work in the trenches, and the final assaults upon
the Redan and the Malakhoff have been told, so
to speak, in characters of blood and tears, by the
nervous pen of The Times Correspondent.

THE SUCCESSOR OF GENERAL SimpsoN.—Wre believe
there is no longer any reason to doubt that Sir William
Codrington has been appointed to succeed Gam Simpson
a 9 Commander-in-Chief of our army in the Crimea. A
telegraphic communication to that effect was transmitted
to General Codrington on Monday last.—Aforning
A (-•
.12crtiser.