“Magnificent!” was the verdict of Bosquet, a friendly but experienced French critic.  “But it is not war.”

Not war—­murder, rather, and sudden death.

The ceaseless fire of the guns they faced wrought fearful havoc in the ranks of the horsemen as they galloped on.  Still the survivors went forward, unappalled; but it was with sadly diminished numbers that they reached the object of their attack.  The few that got to the guns did splendid service with their swords.  The gunners were cut down as they stood, and for the moment the battery was ours.  But it was impossible to hold it; the Light Brigade had almost ceased to exist.  Presently its shattered remnants fell slowly back, covered by the Heavies against the pursuit of the once more audacious Russian cavalry.

Barely half an hour had sufficed for the annihilation of nearly six hundred soldiers, the flower of the British Light Horse.  The northern valley was like a shambles, strewn with the dead and dying, while all about galloped riderless horses, and dismounted troopers seeking to regain their lines on foot.  Quite half of the whole force had been struck down, among the rest Hugo Wilders, whose forehead a grape-shot had pierced.

The muster of regiments after such a fight was but a mournful ceremony.  When at length the now decimated line was re-formed, the horror of the action was plainly seen.

“It was a mad-brained trick,” said Lord Cardigan, who had marvellously escaped—­“a monstrous blunder, but it was no fault of mine.”

“Never mind, my lord!” cried many gallant spirits.  “We are ready to charge again!”

“No, no, men,” replied Lord Cardigan, hastily; “you have done enough.”

It was at this moment that Lord Raglan rode up, and angrily called Lord Cardigan to account.

“What did you mean, sir, by attacking guns in front with cavalry, contrary to the usages of war?”

“You must not blame me, my lord,” replied Lord Cardigan.  “I only obeyed the orders of my superior officer,” and he pointed to Lord Lucan, whom Lord Raglan then addressed with the severe reproof—­

“You have sacrificed the Light Brigade, Lord Lucan.  You should have used more discretion.”

“I never approved of the charge,” protested Lord Lucan.

“Then you should not have allowed it to be made.”

The battle of Balaclava was practically over, and, although they had suffered no reverse, its results were decidedly disadvantageous to the allies.  The massacre of the Light Brigade encouraged the Russian general to advance again; his columns once more crossed the Woronzoff road, and re-occupied the redoubts in force.  The immediate result was the narrowing of the communications between the front and the base.  The use of a great length of this Woronzoff road was forbidden, and the British were restricted to the insufficient tracks through Kadikoi.  A principal cause this of the difficulties of supply during the dread winter now close at hand.