remark that our army has not recovered its discipline since the war in the Crimea (discipline is lost in a campaign—virtue seems to go out of men); and also, that we have lost a great deal of precision in our movements, perhaps in imitation of our allies in the Crimea; but whether we make it up by adopting some of their good qualities remains to be proved.
They really are good soldiers, and what is more, they are great campaigners; that is, whilst our troops are on the bare ground waiting for the commissariat, a French soldier is under cover of some sort, and with a few sticks trying to cook his own dinner.
The Duke, in his despatches, makes frequent allusion to this quality in the French soldier, and also to the power of a French army to maintain itself on the ground where it stands.
Winter is not the season for drill. Though I frequently walked to the Champ de Mars for the purpose of seeing troops at exercise, I was seldom more lucky than to meet a regiment on its “promenade” or weekly march into the country, or to see a few companies of recruits at drill, or the bugles of a regiment marching and playing at the double, which they do for twenty minutes at a time.
The only occasion on which I saw a large body of troops was at the funeral of the Duc de Plaisance, but they only marched from the Madeleine to the cemetery of Père la Chaise in an open column of companies. However, I could see that the principles of their drill and ours are nearly the same. We are more precise than they are, and they attempt a greater speed than we consider compatible with steadiness.
They have three degrees of march—ordinaire, accéléré, and double. The first is the usual pace in columns of march and manœuvre in heavy marching order, and also at funerals, for they have no slow step. The cadence is quicker, but the pace is shorter than our quick step.
The pas accéléré is a quick walk used on the march and in action when speed is required. The double is nearly the same as ours, but used for greater distances, and the men are practised at it, as horses are trained for a race. The two latter steps may be useful on occasions and for short distances, but I do not believe in their extended use during a campaign.
The great object in equipping a soldier is to enable him to maintain himself on his ground. For this purpose, besides his arms, ammunition, and accoutrements, he carries food for two or more days according to the occasion, a great coat or blanket, or both, according to the season, and his knapsack, which with us constitute “heavy marching order.” Thus equipped, he is independent of the commissariat, and though he cannot run fast or far with the weight, he can hold a position, and maintain himself on his ground as long as food and ammunition last. Whereas a soldier in “light marching order,” that is with only his arms and accoutrements, cannot maintain himself for a night, for he is driven back by his wants.
It is a rule in marching, that to enable troops to arrive at the end of a long march without stragglers and in an efficient state, ready to go into action at once, they must all march with the slowest. As soon as the slow men are over-paced, they fall out, and the longer the march the more the regiment becomes inefficient. Spirit may carry on an out-paced soldier for a few days, but his heart soon fails, as does the heart of a horse, when put into harness with a quicker and an easier stepper than himself.
We can pick regiments, but we cannot pick men. Officers do not like to lose their best men, and men cannot bear the sense of inferiority implied by not being selected.
A regiment of the hardiest and most active men are but men. They cannot all be of one age and of one constitution. The strongest fall sick, and when they return from hospital and are outpaced in the first march under a hot sun, they fall out and become stragglers.
When I see, or am told by a witness who has seen, a French division march fifteen miles in a broiling sun, in heavy marching order, and then march for three miles more into action at the pas accéléré, and keep their formation to the end, and have no stragglers, I will believe in it,—“Mais il faut le voir pour le croire.” I saw a battalion of Chasseurs de Vincennes, supposed to be the best of the French infantry, marching for some immediate purpose along the Boulevards at the pas accéléré. They came from the barracks at the Château d’Eau, and were then near the Rue de la Paix, a distance of about two miles, and a great many of the men were out-paced, and some of them already in distress.
Luckily for the respectability of the British army (which is all we are allowed by our allies to have gained in the Crimea), there is such a thing as the pas accéléré, for, according to French history, we were in a bad position at Inkermann, and as usual had already commenced a retreat, when the day was saved by a French division, which had marched a distance of six miles, from Kamiesh Bay, at this useful pace. But as the French claim the merit of every victory in the Crimea, and lay the blame on us when anything went wrong, their accounts differ not a little from ours, or even general history.
The French army bears another and a great contrast to ours. Their officers are soldiers by profession, and ours too frequently enter the service for amusement and temporary occupation. Many of the former have risen from the ranks, and there are but a few who have any means besides their pay; their hopes in this world are in promotion and glory; when they lose their pay as officers, they become waiters at hotels and cab-drivers. Whereas our officers have generally some private means, and either can or do purchase some, if not all, of their commissions. With their private fortunes, and the value of their commissions to fall back upon, they will not face a disappointment in promotion, or a bad climate, or even a disagreeable quarter. On the breaking out of hostilities, the first impulse of every officer is to rush to the seat of war; the second is to rush back again. After a few weeks of the stern business of real war, and there is nothing so matter-of-fact, and on the spot has so little romance as war,