On the morning of the 20th, as Lord Raglan, the Commander-in-Chief, was waiting, surrounded by his staff, for the troops to get into position, a gentleman joined them on a handsome grey pony.
The pony began neighing and screaming so loudly that no one could hear a word that was said. Lord Raglan turned and asked:
“Does anyone know who that gentleman is?”
One of the staff replied: “I think it is one of the newspaper reporters, my lord. Shall I ask him to go away?”
Lord Raglan laughed, and said: “If you do, he will show you up, you may depend upon it.”
“It is Mr. Kinglake, the author of ‘Eōthen,’” said another.
“Oh,” said my lord, “a most charming man,” and was going to speak to him, when the French Marshal St. Arnaud rode up and prevented it.
About an hour after, as Lord Raglan was nearing the Russian position, a pony dashed past at a furious pace, and who should it be but Mr. Kinglake, the future historian of the Crimean War? On he went right through the skirmishers, with his horse’s head between his legs. Fortunately for the rider, the saddle got forward, and soon went over the horse’s ears. Of course the author of “Eōthen” went with the saddle, which was better than riding into the enemy’s lines.
It struck the staff as rather an absurd thing just before a battle, and they all laughed; but Lord Raglan rode up and offered him another pony. Mr. Kinglake has not mentioned this personal adventure in his history.