Our fathers long ago,
They fought like Alexanders
Beneath old Marlborough!”
I know it, my friend, but they fought under great disadvantage. They were ill-provided with everything; they were badly paid, and their pay, small as it was, was kept; their sheer pluck, as we said before, won the battle—
“And still in fields of conquest
Our valour bright has shone,
With Wolfe and Abercrombie,
And Moore and Wellington.”
I am aware of it all, but they would have thrashed their foes as surely, and certainly with less inconvenience to themselves, had they been better cared for. “If you had to fight the battle of Waterloo again, how would you like to be dressed?” said the Prince Regent to a Guardsman. “In my shirt sleeves, your Majesty!” was the highly practical reply. Do you remember what use they made of the Grenadiers’ bearskin caps in the Crimea? They filled them with mud, and found them excellent building material. Do you remember the outcry there was when the stiff dog collars were taken off our half-strangled soldiers? Do you recollect how Miniés and revolvers were ridiculed by plethoric old officers? “I’ll tell you what, sir, our men didn’t want Miniés and revolvers and such new-fangled bosh at Waterloo, sir. They won without them, and can do it again, sir.”
I observe that you are observing the march of the British soldiers, more than my observations. Well—’tis a grand sight. Chobham and Aldershot have done something for them. Those are the Guards: the Household Brigade, composed of the Grenadiers, of three battalions, the Coldstream, of two, and the Fusiliers, of two battalions: forming a total of seven battalions, each with a strength of 900 men. They are fine, tall, powerful fellows—picked men. How bravely they bestirred themselves that foggy morning at Inkermann, when the Russians dropped in before breakfast! Who can forget that soldiers’ battle? The men who follow are the Infantry Regiments of the Line, all armed with rifles. There are 100 regiments, numbering somewhere about 130,000 men. There are the Rifle Brigade, in their uniform of dark green cloth and dull metal buttons; then a company of Amazons—no, the Highlanders, in their national garb. The pibroch tells of their coming: