For downright childishness the modern English soldier, whether he be officer or file-man, has perhaps no compeer. When the South African War broke out, Tommy and his officers were men of scarlet and pipe-clay and gold lace and magnificent head-dresses. Also all drill was in close order; you were to shove in your infantry first, supported by your artillery, and deliver your last brilliant stroke with your cavalry. The men should go into the fray with bands playing, flags flying, and dressed as for parade. You commenced operations with move No. 1; the enemy would assuredly reply with move No. 2; you would then rush in with move No. 3; there would be a famous victory, and the streets of London would be illuminated at great expense. In South Africa matters did not quite pan out that way; the enemy declined absolutely to play the stereotyped war-game, for the very simple reason that they did not know it, and that South Africa is not quite of the contour of a chess-board. And so the English had to change their cherished system, and to learn to ride, and to throw their pretty uniforms into the old-clothes baskets, and to get out of their old drill into a drill which was no drill at all, and to give up resting their last hope on the British square, and to get accustomed to deadly conflict with an enemy whom they never saw and who never took the trouble to inform them whether they had beaten him or not. It was all very trying and all very bewildering, and it is to the credit of the English army that in the course of a year or two it did actually manage to understand the precise nature of the work cut out for it and made some show of dealing with it in a workman-like way.
Here was a lesson for us, and we learned it. An Englishman, you know, can learn anything when he makes up his mind to it. And he has learned this South African lesson thoroughly well; so well, indeed, that it looks like being the only lesson he will be able to repeat any time in the next half-century. For what has he done? Well, to judge by appearances, we must reason this way: "I was not prepared for this South African business. It was a new thing to me. It gave me a new notion of the whole art and practice of war. The old authorities were clean out of it. Therefore I solemnly abjure the old authorities. For the future I wear slouch-hats and khaki and puttees and a jacket full of pockets, and I drill for the express notion that I may some day meet a Boer farmer. The entire sartorial and general aspect of my army shall be remodelled on lines which might induce one to think that the sole enemy of mankind was Mr. Kruger, and the great military centre of the world was Pretoria." It does not seem to occur to the poor body that his next great trial is not in the least likely to overtake him in South Africa. He has had to fight on the Continent of Europe before to-day, and I shall not be surprised if he has to do it again before many years have passed over his head. Yet, wherever his next large fighting has to be done, you will find that he will sail into it in his good old infantile, stupid English way, armed cap-a-pie for the special destruction of Boers. It is just gross want of sense, and that is all that can be said for it.
THE NAVY
Since Trafalgar, the English navy has been the apple of the Englishman's eye. He holds that the English power is a sea-power; that these leviathans afloat, the King's ships, are his first line of defence; and that so long as he keeps the English navy up to the mark he can defy the world. His method of keeping it up to the mark is most singular. It consists of tinkering with old ships generation after generation, laying down new ones which seemingly never get finished, and of being chronically short of men. The naval critics of England may be divided sharply into two camps. In the one we have a number of gentlemen who are naval critics simply because they happen to be connected with newspapers. These young persons are naturally anxious to do the best that can be done for their papers and for themselves. They recognise that if they are to be in a position to obtain immediate and first-hand information—not to say exclusive information—as to naval doings, they must stand well with the Admiralty and the authorities. The Admiralty and the authorities are not in need of adverse critics. What they like and what they will have are smily, wily reporters, who will swear with the official word, see with the official eye, and take the rest for granted. In the other camp of naval critics you have a bright collection of book-compilers, naval architects, and patent-mongers, all of whom have some sort of fad to exploit or some private axe to grind. Hence the amiable English taxpayer knows just as much at the present moment about his navy as he knew three years ago about his army. In spite of the perfervid assurances of Mr. Kipling, and of the ill-written, anti-scare manifestoes of the morning papers, the English taxpayer knows in his heart that all is not so well as it might be with the English navy. What is wrong the English taxpayer cannot tell you; but there it is, and he has a sort of feeling that, when the big sea-tussle comes, the English navy, being tried, will be found wanting. Herein I think he shows great prescience. The superstition to the effect that the English rule the waves has of late begun to be known for what it is. There are nowadays other Richmonds in the field, all bent on doing a little wave-ruling on their own account. And after the first start of surprise and astonishment, the sleepy, slack, undiscerning Englishman has just let things go on as they were, and has just dilly-dallied what time the new wave-rulers were building and equipping the finest battle-ships that modern science can put afloat, and making arrangements for the acquisition of as much naval supremacy as they can lay their hands on. And whether the English navy be or be not as efficient as the Admiralty and the admirals would have us believe, it is quite certain that, in consequence of budding wave-rulers, the English navy is not, on the whole, so formidable a weapon or so impregnable a defence as it ought to be. The fact is, that in the matter of naval strength, offensive and defensive, the English are just a quarter of a century behind. They slept whilst their good friends the French, the Russians, and the Germans were climbing upward in the dark; and when they woke it was to perceive that another navy had sprung into existence by the side of the English navy, and that the task of catching up, of putting the old navy into a position of absolute supremacy over the new, was well-nigh an impossible one. You cannot build line-of-battle ships in an hour. Furthermore, the yards of England, though capable of extraordinary achievements, are not capable of a greater output than the yards of France, Russia, and Germany conjoined. Half a century ago the English had a distinct and preponderating start. When the other powers began to show increased activity in the matter of shipbuilding, the English said, "It is of no consequence; let 'em build." They threw their start clean away. The probabilities are that they will never be able to regain it.
Quite apart from the large general question, however, and granting that on paper England's sea-power is equal to that of any three powers combined, it cannot have escaped the attention of the interested that the foreign naval experts view our whole flotilla with a singular calm, and appear to be quite amused when we talk of naval efficiency and advancement. It is pretty certain that this calm and this amusement are not based entirely in either ignorance or arrogance. Ships built and fitted in Continental yards may lack the advantage of being English built, but they are fighting-ships nevertheless, and they have not much to lose by comparison with the best English fighting-ships, even when the comparison is made by English experts. Indeed, it is very much open to question whether some of the Continental ships are not a long way ahead of some of the best English ships in destructive power and possibilities for fight. Of course the common reply to this is, that it is no good having a fine machine unless you have the right man to handle it. And Jack, of course,—the honest English Jack,—is the only man in the world that really knows how to handle fighting-ships. Well, it may be so, or it may not be so. The Englishman will undoubtedly keep his engines going and stick to his guns till chaos engulfs him. It seems possible, too, that he has made himself thoroughly familiar with every detail of the machine he has got to work, and that he knows his business in a way which leaves precious little room for more intimate knowledge. In spite of all this, however, it cannot be denied that the Continental navy-man is slowly but surely creeping up to the English standard. That as a rule he is a man of better family than the English navy-man, that his conditions of service are more favourable, and that his food and accommodation are better, are all in his favour. He may lack the steadiness and the grit of the old original English hearts of oak. Still, he is coming on and making progress; whereas the old original English hearts of oak do not appear to be getting much "forrader." Besides, it is well known that the English do not possess anything like enough of them, and those whom they do possess have such a love for the service that they take particularly good care to warn would-be recruits off it.
From time immemorial the English have made a point of treating the saviours of their country meanly and shabbily. In the Crimea the English troops were half-starved and went about in rags, while a lot of broad-shouldered, genial Englishmen made fortunes out of army contracts. It was the same in the Transvaal, and it will be the same whenever England is at war. In peace-time she does manage to keep her soldiers and sailors decently dressed, but it is notorious that she nips them in the paunch, and that the roast beef and plum-pudding and flagons of October which are supposed to be the meat and drink of John Bull are not considered good for his brave defenders. A beef-fed army and a beef-fed navy are what Englishmen believe they get for their money. The rank and file of the army and navy are better informed. With a navy that is undersized, undermanned, underfed, and underpaid, the English chances of triumph, when her real strength is put to the test, are problematical. Meanwhile, we may comfort ourselves with Mr. Kipling and the Daily Telegraph.