Journal Kept During The Russian War
I am happy to announce Celebration Edition # 305:

"Journal Kept During The Russian War: From The Departure Of The Army From England In April 1854, To The Fall Of Sebastopol."
By Frances Isabella Locke Duberly [aka Mrs. Henry Duberly] (1829-1903).
London: Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1856 (Second Edition).
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/duberly/journal/journal.html

Fanny Duberly, at age 25, accompanied her husband to the Crimea, and remained there until the end of the fighting. She was the only officer's wife to remain throughout the entire campaign. She survived the severe winter of 1854-55, witnessed the battle of Balaklava, and rode through the ruins of Sebastopol. Through it all, she was determined to keep a brave face: "I would scorn & dread to let them [the soldiers] know such thoughts were ever in my mind. Half of them know me as the never omitted guest, where a dinner is wanted to be amusing & brilliant & half as the rider of their troublesome horses. I wish I was a man."

So wrote Fanny in a private letter to her sister Selina. I suspect Fanny would have been quite successful as a man -- indeed, as an officer. Intelligent, forceful, with a grasp of military tactics, a passionate love of horses, and an impressive resistance to cold, scant food, and unsanitary conditions, I can imagine her storming the barricades of Balaklava with the best of the them.

But Fanny, with all her intelligence and determination, was restricted to being the wife of a soldier. Her husband Henry was a poor youngest son, whose ability to rise in the military was restricted by his lack of money, and it must be admitted, by his placidity and lack of "dash". As army Paymaster for a "smart" cavalry regiment, Henry achieved an akward balance between financial security and social status.

Despite differences in personality, restless Fanny and quiet Henry were a devoted couple, rarely apart. Fanny's letters show a deep and consistent attachment to Henry, and it is clear that his presence was essential to her comfort. Fanny was determined to accompany her husband wherever he was posted, and went to considerable lengths to do so. She was aided and abetted by friends in both the army and navy. Without their help -- especially the navy -- she could never have made it to the Crimea.

At one point she writes, 'Lord Lucan, who commands the Cavalry, sent an order to Major De Salis, yesterday, to the effect that, "unless Mrs. Duberly had an order sanctioning her doing so, she was not to re-embark on board the 'Shooting Star,' about to proceed to Varna." Major De Salis returned for answer, that "Mrs. Duberly had not disembarked from the 'Shooting Star,' and he had not sufficient authority to order her to do so."'

After an order restricted the number of horses to be taken, making it impossible for Fanny to ride with the army, she deeply lamented her separation from Henry. "At ten o'clock to-day, with failing heart, I parted from my dear husband, and watched him go ashore; whilst I, alas! having no horse, cannot follow him, but must go on board the "Shooting Star," and get round by sea. How I hate it! How much rather I would endure any hardship than be separated from him at this time!"

Fanny eventually arrived at Balaklava, where she was reunited with her Henry. Conditions on shore were so bad that she regretfully begged a place to live on board ship. On the "Star of the South," within the partial protection of the harbour, she rode out a violent storm which destroyed ships and badly-needed supplies. Two weeks later, bodies were still afloat in the harbour. "I was scarcely over the ship's side, when the boat drifted – oh, horror! – against a dead body, one of the many that were floating in from the wrecks outside."

The situation in the Crimea were appalling, and bad decisions created extra hardships for the British army. The harsh conditions of daily life -- starving, wet, freezing, and surrounded by cholera-carrying filth -- killed thousands of men and horses. Fanny wrote scathingly:

'If any body should ever wish to erect a "Model Balaklava" in England, I will tell him the ingredients necessary. Take a village of ruined houses and hovels in the extremest state of all imaginable dirt; allow the rain to pour into and outside them, until the whole place is a swamp of filth ancle-deep; catch about, on an average, 1000 sick Turks with the plague, and cram them into the houses indiscriminately; kill about 100 a-day, and bury them so as to be scarcely covered with earth, leaving them to rot at leisure – taking care to keep up the supply. On to one part of the beach drive all the exhausted bât ponies, dying bullocks, and worn-out camels, and leave them to die of starvation. They will generally do so in about three days, when they will soon begin to rot, and smell accordingly. Collect together from the water of the harbour all the offal of the animals slaughtered for the use of the occupants of above 100 ships, to say nothing of the inhabitants of the town, – which, together with an occasional floating human body, whole or in parts, and the driftwood of the wrecks, pretty well covers the water – and stew them all up together in a narrow harbour, and you will have a tolerable imitation of the real essence of Balaklava.'

Not surprisingly, the British soldiers on shore were in poor condition to fight an opposing army. "The appearance of the officers very much resembles that of the horses; they all look equally thin, worn, ragged, and out of condition in every way." If Fanny sometimes seems to have more sympathy for the horses than for the men, perhaps it is because the horses had no share in creating the conditions which they must endure.

From the heights above, on October 25, 1854, Fanny saw both the triumph of Sir Colin Campbell's thin red line, and the heart-breaking destruction of the Light Brigade. "Now came the disaster of the day – our glorious and fatal charge. But so sick at heart am I that I can barely write of it even now. ... presently the Light Brigade, leaving their position, advanced by themselves, although in the face of the whole Russian force, and under a fire that seemed pouring from all sides, as though every bush was a musket, every stone in the hill side a gun. Faster and faster they rode. How we watched them! ... presently come a few horsemen, straggling, galloping back. "What can those skirmishers be doing? See, they form up together again. Good God! it is the Light Brigade!"

Fanny laments the decisions of the British leaders on several occasions. "Ah, how have our resources been wasted! – our horses killed! – our men invalided; while over it all broods the most culpable indifference!"

The Crimean war was a time of great hardships, great mistakes, and great sorrows. But Fanny Duberly was a woman of great spirit! She survived the entire war -- and a later posting to mutinous India -- before settling down with her beloved Henry in England.