Mr Kinglake has scarcely accomplished half of that task which is so weighty, but which his qualities as a narrator have made to seem so light. And it is because so many events yet remain to receive his impress, that we would venture to remind him how the French army in the Crimea, though it did not by its first achievements enhance its reputation, yet performed many great and gallant actions. The aid which Bosquet brought us at Inkermann, though long in coming, was effectual. The part of the French in that battle, infantry and artillery, was highly honourable. They often maintained terrible conflicts in the trenches, where both sides fought well, but where the French were victors. Their arrangements for receiving the attack on the Tchernaya were such that the assailant never had a chance of penetrating their lines. And their terrible losses in the final assault prove the magnitude of the obstacles they encountered, and the ardour with which they overcame them. But while we do not forget this, neither can we regret that thus far Mr Kinglake has sought to redress the balance of history, by awarding to our army its share of credit. Reputation is the breath of its nostrils, and our allies have appeared but too desirous to monopolise what was gained in this war. And we also venture to observe that Mr Kinglake’s enemies—and he has scattered in these volumes dragon’s teeth enough to produce a plentiful crop—may find occasion to say that in praising his friends he is equally uncompromising as in censuring his foes. Small traits of character receive undue prominence, small merits, undue laudation; as, for instance, when the way in which the Highland Brigade was made to drink at the Bulganak is praised as if it were a stroke of military genius, and where a paragraph is devoted to describing how its commander pronounced the not very remarkable words, “Forward, 42d!” and when it is further added, “‘As a steed that knows his rider,’ the great heart of the battalion bounded proudly to his touch,” Mr Kinglake lets himself slip into a style much beneath his own. But what no enemy can deny is the extraordinary animation, clearness, sustained interest, and dramatic as well as descriptive excellence of the work. A vast field for these qualities yet remains—the flank march, the commencement of the siege, the hurricane, the action of Balaklava (fine soil for dragon’s teeth), the battle of Inkermann, the long calamities and glories of the trenches, the death of the Czar, and of the English commander, the final assault, and the destruction of the stronghold—into all these scenes we shall follow Mr Kinglake, confident of seeing them treated by a great artist.