Crimean texts
[Transcribed by Megan Stevens]
Yesterday evening a brilliant audience, comprising nearly all the literary celebrities who figure in the London world, assembled in Willis’s-rooms to hear the first of the three lectures in which Mr. W. Russell purposes to give a description of the late war. A general feeling of curiosity manifestly pervaded the whole assemblage. The excitement produced by the written descriptions of the lecturer was still fresh in the minds of all, and all therefore were anxious to ascertain whether he was as potent with his voice as with his pen. Let us add that among the literary portion of the audience a general sympathy with Mr. Russell was plainly visible. The zeal and energy that he has displayed on so many occasions, the vivacity of his descriptive powers, and the geniality of his disposition have made him an object of admiration, and, we may say, of affection, among his fellow-craftsmen, and he himself could hardly have been more anxious for his own success than many of those who had gathered together for the purpose of hearing him.
On the appearance of Mr. Russell in front of a large map representing the Black Sea and its vicinity an encouraging cheer arose from every part of the room. He modestly stated that his intention was merely to describe his own personal impressions, without dogmatically claiming for them any exclusive value, and, consistently with this prefatory declaration, the vicissitudes that he experienced in the course of his visit to the seat of war were interwoven throughout with the series of great events of which he was a spectator.
The first part of his lecture comprised his fortunes from the time when he left Marseilles to the arrival of the allied forces in the Crimea, — and at the beginning was jocular enough. The nuisances endured at Gallipoli, though serious at the time of endurance, can be laughed at when they are over, and Mr. W. Russell’s record of “villainous smells” created as much mirth as Falstaff’s. Even the scanty supplies of tents, provisions, and ammunition could be lightly treated, and the remark of somebody that “an army directed by stationery was sure to be a stationary army,” was an acceptable bon mot. The early portion of the sojourn in and about Varna allowed the narrative to be continued in the same pleasant vein, and the description of a camp starting into activity in the morning was as fine a specimen of word painting as one would wish to hear. The pleasures attendant on various excitements were narrated in the best possible humour, but the narrative became more grave as it proceeded. The lassitude that took possession of the army as a result of long inactivity and the failure of all means of amusement came as a sort of prelude to the cholera, the ravages of which were described by Mr. Russell with immense power — the lecturer allowing himself a more liberal use of allegorical imagery than at the commencement of his narrative. The departure for the Crimea brought the tale of horror to its termination, and the landing of the troops led to a consolatory remark with reference to the possibility of a French invasion. Although no enemy was at hand and no obstacle was presented by stress of weather, four days were occupied in landing an army that even when on shore was in no immediate condition to begin a campaign.
At this point Mr. Russell retired for a few minutes, and the map was changed for a plan of the battle of the Alma. To this great battle, and the events that immediately preceded it, the whole of the second part of the lecture was devoted. Wand in hand, Mr. Russell designated the various positions marked on the plan, and went through the entire battle as if he were witnessing it once more. The glittering of bayonets in the sun, the movement of red masses up the heights, the dark gray coats of the enemy, which at a distance looked like patches of wood, were reproduced with wonderful vivacity in the imagination of the lecturer, and, through him, in that of the hearers. With particular impressiveness did he dwell on the manifestation of a certain feeling, unknown in times of peace, when the Russians were first in sight — the “Cain-like feeling” when the prospect of homicide afford a ferocious pleasure. At each point of his narrative he boldly claimed the sympathies of his hearers, and at the record of some particularly gallant deed they cheered aloud as if the exploit belonged t the preceding moment. The announcement of the victory — for so we may call it — was received with a burst of enthusiasm. However, Mr. Russell did not allow his audience to leave him in a state of unmixed exultation, but gave a most thrilling description of the horrors of a battlefield when the contest is over.
Few lecturers have ever undertaken so weighty a task as Mr. Russell. His discourse lasted for full two hours and a-half, and required greater exertion at the end than at the beginning. He departed from the platform followed by loud acclamations, and will resume his narrative on Thursday next.