Here come the heavy Landwehr Regiments, in dark blue tunics and bright helmets; in their rear ride the Italians, their dark blue jackets, all picked out with red, are armed with long lances with black and white pennons. These are followed by the Dragoons, in light blue tunics with different coloured facings; Hussars, with black fur shakos and cloaks, and trousers of light grey. And after them thunder the Artillery, on a war footing, with some 34,000 horses and a proportionate number of men.
In time of peace the Prussian army is only 122,260 strong, with 5500 officers; while on a war footing it numbers 299,401 men, who can take the field, while 95,957 men are left behind for home contingencies. The difference between the peace and war establishment of Prussia is greater than in any other European nation.
Universal service is the rule in Prussia, and every healthy man, without distinction of rank, must personally perform military duty; but the period a soldier remains in the standing army is short. The majority only serve three years—from twenty-one to twenty-four; after which they are enrolled for two further years in the reserve, and then pass to the Landwehr of the final levy. The Prussian is aware from his earliest years that he will have to enter the army, and hence even his childish amusements bear a military stamp, and military drill forms part of his common education. It is no small thing to demand of a nation that its entire population must belong to the army up to the thirty-fifth year, and be ready at any moment to quit home and family and to march wherever it is commanded. But so it is in Prussia.
The non-commissioned officers of the Prussian army as a body are probably the best in the world. They have the privilege before them of a civil appointment after twelve years’ service, and they would rather work hard for this than obtain a commission. There is a striking difference between them and the French sergeants, whose only ambition seems to be to rise from the ranks—to pluck at the bâton which is found—with how much of difficulty!—in every man’s knapsack.
The French! Well, the French, you know, are an enthusiastic people—they lead, in civil as well as military circles, rather stagey lives. Have you seen Gustave Doré’s admirable pictures illustrative of the life of a certain Captain Castagnette? Now he loses an eye—now an arm—now two legs; now he has a bomb in his back which cannot be extracted; and now, finally, sans everything, he dozes by the fireside, sets fire to his wooden leg, expels that ugly lodger, the bomb in his back, and is himself dashed into a thousand or more pieces, nothing remaining but the Cross of the Legion! All is lost, save honour! It is very French.
But here are the Frenchmen, ready to fight for honour and glory. Vive l’Empereur! Here are they, 500,000 strong. “L’Empire c’est la Paix,” is it? Every Frenchman is a soldier by birth. Born in the purple were the imperial children of Rome—born, or cradled in the buckler are these children of the modern Empire! It may serve the turn of a Russian or a German to aver that the most stupid soldiers are the best—that it is not a soldier’s business to think, but simply to obey. Not so think the Frenchmen. Intelligent, active, independent, are these brave Gallic heroes. “Your hand, brave comrade—nay, never apologize. If the right hand has been knocked off in fair fighting, give me your left hand.”
Here are the Infantry, in light blue tunics, longer and wider than those of Prussia, a black belt, to which is attached cartouche box, bayonet, and sabre sheath; knapsack of brown calf-skin; large fringe epaulettes, red trousers, small low shako of blue cloth, with a brass shield in front, short half-boots, and gaiters. Here are the buglers and sappers, armed with short rifles, and here are twenty battalions of light infantry, each battalion numbering more than 1200 men. There are the Chasseurs, consisting entirely of picked, active, strong soldiers—hardy mountaineers of Auvergne, the Vosges, the Ardennes, the French Alps, the Pyrenees, and Corsica. Here are the bronze-visaged sons of Algeria, the Zouaves, their ranks recruited by a vast number of Frenchmen, and a sprinkling of Germans, Poles, and Italians, attracted by the fiery impetuosity, almost boyish fun, and Oriental costume of the band. They number about 8000 men. They are closely followed by battalions of Light African Infantry, four battalions of Native African Skirmishers, wearing the Zouave dress; and these, again, by the old Foreign Legion, made up of Germans, Prussians, Bavarians, Poles, Hungarians, Spaniards, and Italians. Next come the Disciplinary Corps, 1600 strong; and, lastly, six companies of Hospital Orderlies, amounting to 1600 or 1700 men.
The helmeted men who ride those powerfully made horses, that you might swear were raised in Normandy, are the Cuirassiers. They are all tall, athletic men; so also are the Carbineers, who follow them. Next come the Dragoons, forming a total of seventy-two squadrons, who can take the field with 13,000 horses, and forty-eight squadrons of Lancers, with 8,000 horses. The Light Cavalry consists of twelve regiments of Chasseurs à Cheval and nine Hussar regiments—on a war footing, 24,000 or 25,000 strong. The Hussar and Chasseur are only distinguished from each other by their gay and overladen uniform; their arms and horses are very much alike. They ride little, strong, but terribly ugly horses, reared in the mountainous parts of France. Next come the Chasseurs d’Afrique, numbering about 3,000. They wear light blue tunics of the Polish cut, red shakos, and white capote cloaks. They are armed with long rifles and light sabres. The Spahis—numbering about 3,000 men, principally natives of Algeria, mounted on Moorish stallions, their uniform, armament and horse equipment perfectly Oriental in style—next pass in review; and then the eye is dazzled by the splendid spectacle of the Cent Gardes. Their uniform is magnificent, and every man is fit for a sculptor’s model. And lastly, there is a large body of the Imperial Guard—the Cuirassiers—splendidly built fellows, mounted on sturdy horses of the Norman breed.
Here’s the Artillery—the finest arm of the French service. Has not the Emperor himself written a hand-book on artillery practice? The uniform of the men is tasteful and richly decorated; red-fringed epaulettes and red-bordered shakos, short dark blue jacket with red facings, trousers of the same with a broad red stripe. All the foot artillerymen are armed with a short straight sword; all who serve on horseback carry cavalry sabres. The guns are horsed by country-bred horses—compact, strong brutes, not particularly attractive to the eye, but useful, and well able to stand any climate. If the French Artillery were placed on the war establishment, it would number 60,000 strong, with 49,000 horses and nearly 1200 guns. The Commissariat troops and the indispensable Engineers, in their blue tunics, come next, and while they pass before us we may offer a few words on the army in general.