Turkey from her unscrupulous assailant, or for the reduction of the preponderance in the Black Sea of a power whose aim at universal dominion, and whose tendencies to commercial exclusiveness, were alike to be dreaded, it was here that either question would receive its decisive solution. Sebastopol was no less a constant and alarming menace to the Porte, than the mistress of the naval superiority of the Euxine. Its remote position, sheltered: -fey nature»_and by the political status of the East, from the curious observation of other powers, afforded peculiar facilities for the construction and accumulation of ships and munitions of war, whilst its admirable harbour served both as a hiding-place from which to dart on an unsuspecting prey, and an inaccessible retreat in case of danger or repulse. Its importance was illustrated by, but not derived from, the unhappy and disgraceful affair at Sinope, when a Russian fleet of vastly superior force, and in violation of the inost solemn engagements, wantonly and barbarously destroyed a number of Turkish vessels lying at anchor in peaceful unconsciousness of danger.^ Most of the perpetrators of this atrocious butchery have gone to render their account to that God, whose name has been so frequently invoked to consecrate crimes the most abhorrent to his nature, and this consideration may serve to temper the indignation with which a contemporary narrator recalls so horrible a transaction. The last expiring cry from the lips of those heroic Turks, who knew how to die, but had never learned to yield, found a stern and terrible echo in the universal shout for vengeance, which arose from the startled West, as soon as the fatal intelligence was known.
The destruction of Sebastopol, it was felt, could alone atone for the foul outrage to which her walls had promised impunity, and the expedition to the Crimea became the fatal and necessary pendant to the massacre of Sinope.
The summer campaign in Turkey, though not so brilliant as had been anticipated by those at home, whose last recollections of a state of war were associated with Waterloo, had not been altogether barren in results. The raising of the siege of Silistria, and ultimately the evacuation of the Danubian Principalities, were among them; and while it would be unjust to deny to the stubborn valour of the Turks, and to the unparalleled sagacity of their leader, their share in bringing these events about, it can scarcely be supposed that they could have achieved them, unaided by the Allies. The details of this period do not enter into the scope of our narrative; but it is impossible, in referring to it, to pass over in silence that dread visitation which decimated our own and the French Troops, and whose mournful shadow throws into brighter relief the unfading glories of their subsequent exploits. It is as difficult to recognise in the cool and determined victors of the Alma the men who had been weakened by the most trying of diseases, and disheartened by the loss of so many of their comrades during a period of inaction, as it is to realise that many of the regiments which they composed, witnessed then, for the first time for forty years, shots fired in anger.
One other memory saddens at once and hallows the story of that summer campaign — the fate of the heroic and self-devoted Butler. The first British officer who fell in actual contest with the foe, he contributed by his cool sagacity, his judicious counsels, his unwearying activity, and his unparalleled personal daring, to the triumphant issue of the Siege of Silistria, vindicated on a new theatre the ancient glories of the British arms, and set that bright example which has since been so often and so nobly emulated. The fresh green laurels which should have crowned his brow lie sadly in the shadow of the cypress above his grave; and cold, indeed, must be the heart which can deny the tribute of a tear to the premature quenching of so brilliant a promise of future excellence.
It is time, however, to return to the more immediate subject of these pages.