‘The Charge of the Heavy Brigade’

I was doing some historical research last night when I discovered that Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who wrote “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” also wrote “The Charge of the Heavy Brigade.”

No kidding.

Apparently, there were several phases to the October 1854 Battle of Balaclava, in which the British and French fought the Russians in the Ukraine, near the Crimean Sea. The first phase involved the British Heavy Brigade attacking the Russian cavalry.

The Heavy Brigade was commanded by Major General James Scarlett.

Redcoats like drops of blood. Tennyson’s poem on the Heavy Brigade is not so melodic as the “Charge of the Light Brigade.” Its weakness explains why the verses are little remembered. But here is one of the more interesting stanzas from “The Charge of the Heavy Brigade at Balaclava”:

Fell like a cannon-shot,
Burst like a thunderbolt,
Crash’d like a hurricane,
Broke thro’ the mass from below,
Drove thro’ the midst of the foe,
Plunged up and down, to and fro,
Rode flashing blow upon blow,
Brave Inniskillens and Greys
Whirling their sabres in circles of light!
And some of us, all in amaze,
Who were held for a while from the fight,
And were only standing at gaze,
When the dark-muffled Russian crowd
Folded its wings from the left and the right,
And roll’d them around like a cloud,–
O, mad for the charge and the battle were we,
When our own good redcoats sank from sight,
Like drops of blood in a dark-gray sea,
And we turn’d to each other, whispering, all dismay’d,
‘Lost are the gallant three hundred of Scarlett’s Brigade!’

In the second phase of the battle, the 93rd Highlanders regiment under Sir Colin Campbell slowed the Russians’ advance by forming a “thin red line” below the Causeway Heights.

Theirs not to reason why. The final phase was the ill-fated, but much celebrated Charge of the Light Brigade. Here’s part of Tennyson’s memorable account:

Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
'Forward the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
'Forward, the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Some one had blundered:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Much of 18th and 19th century history appears to be recorded in poetry. Much more than I suspected.

Frank Warner