Another noted alarum, sounded in January 1852, commences thus:—
"Englishmen, up! make ready your rifles!
Who can tell now what a day may bring forth?
Patch up all quarrels, and stick at no trifles,—
Let the world see what your loyalty's worth!
Loyalty?—selfishness, cowardice, terror
Stoutly will multiply loyalty's sum,
When to astonish presumption and error
Soon the shout rises—the brigands are come!"
After four stanzas of happily unfulfilled prognostication, the last is—
"Up then and arm! it is wisdom and duty;
We are too tempting a prize to be weak:
Lo, what a pillage of riches and beauty,
Glories to gain and revenges to wreak!
Run for your rifles, and stand to your drilling;
Let not the wolf have his will, as he might,
If in the midst of their trading and tilling
Englishmen cannot—or care not to—fight!"
One only stanza more, the last of another also in 1852.
"Arm then at once! If no one attack us
Better than well, for the rifle may rust;
But if the pirates be coming to sack us,
Level it calmly, and God be your trust!
Only, while yet there's a moment, keep steady;
Skilfully, duteously, quickly prepare,—
Then with a nation of riflemen ready,
Nobody'll come because no one will dare!"
In those days of a generation back, so great was the scare everywhere of Napoleon's rabid colonels a-coming that I remember my brother Arthur counselling me to sink our plate down a well for safety; and Mr. Drummond in a pamphlet exhorted the creation of refuges round the coast by getting the owners of mansions to fortify them as strongholds, filling the windows with grates and mattresses, and loopholing garden-walls for shots at marauders on the roads!
Yet, so sleepy was the British Lion that neither Drummond nor I, nor even the Times, which I invoked, could wake him up for many years: and the Volunteer movement did not take effect till Louis Napoleon kindly urged Palmerston to check his rabid colonels by a bold front of preparation.
I am minded to finish with a mild anecdote which carries its moral. Now, understand that I never pretended to be a crack shot, though I did make fair practice through "the Indian twist," the sling supporting one's arm; if I hit the target occasionally, I was satisfied. But it once happened (at Teignmouth, where I was a casual visitor) that, seeing a squad of volunteers practising at a mark on the beach, I went to look on, and was courteously offered a shot, being not unknown by fame to some of them. The target was at some 500 yards (say about a third of a mile), so it was not likely I could hit it, with a chance rifle, perhaps carelessly sighted; yet, when I did let fly, to the loud admiration of the others and to my own astonishment (which of course I did not reveal), the marker signalled for a bull's eye! Entreated to do it again, this prudent rifleman modestly declined, for he remembered Sam Slick's lucky shot at the floating bottle; it was manifestly his wisdom not to risk fame won by a fluke. So the moral is, don't try to do twice what you've done well once.