Its other side, the paean of sorrow for a self-
destructive exploit, the dirge on lives wantonly thrown away, the
deep blame attaching to the untractableness which sent them to
their doom, was the task of the historian, and that too has been
faithfully and lastingly accomplished.
Inkerman was the most complicated of the battles; the chapters
which record it are correspondingly taxing to the reader. More
than once or twice they must be scanned, with close study of their
lucid maps, before the intricate sequences are fairly and
distinctively grasped; the sixth book of Thucydides, a standing
terror to young Greek students, is light and easy reading compared
with the bulky sixth volume of Kinglake. The hero of the day was
Pennefather; he maintained on Mount Inkerman a combat of pickets
reinforced from time to time, while around him through nine hours
successive attacks of thousands were met by hundreds. The
disparity of numbers was appalling. At daybreak 40,000 Russian
troops advanced against 3,000 English and were repulsed. Three
hours later 19,000 fresh troops came on, passed through a gap in
our lines, which Cathcart's disobedience, atoned for presently by
his death, had left unoccupied, and seized the heights behind us;
they too were dispossessed, but our numbers were dwindling and our
strength diminishing.
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