there seemed to be no means of making it available. Giving money to increase the army would not do. We did not know what the army was worth; and we had no great belief in it, after seeing what the common run of officers thought of their profession during a quarter of a century of peace. And what could the citizens do? They could not acquire muscular limbs and expanded lungs, and a trained eye all in a moment. There was no central rendezvous of the national force of mind and body. Each man’s good will and courage would go for nothing, in the absence of organisation. Considerations like these, far more than the condition of Ireland at that time, or squabbles with America, or anything else, sent a cold shudder through many brave hearts at the thought of a French invasion.
What changes may we note since then?
The revival of the military spirit among us perhaps strikes us most. It began with the existing imperial régime of France. It was a confused business — the reinstitution of the arts of defence after they had been so nearly lost. The young men showed the strongest reluctance to bestir themselves at first — to the shame and surprise of elders who remembered what their own martial youth had been. It was mere inexperience, and obedience to custom, as we see now. They talked of waste of time and expense, and the breaking up of regular and peaceful habits; and their sisters talked of danger and dissipation, while father and mother mentally held up hands and eyes. There was, however, the great order of public schoolmen, — the sporting-men and country-gentlemen, who keep up traditions of bodily exercises and the good fellowship which belongs to them. Under the lead of these adepts we became, as a nation, more apt in the use of our limbs and senses, and better aware of the privilege of being Englishmen, before the alarm passed away.
Then came the Russian war, giving us just the education we wanted, and were beginning to crave. We learned the quality of the British soldier, which we had often talked about, but had not been able to feel, in the absence of actual observation. We became a military nation again; and we now know better how to secure our remaining so, as far as our national safety requires it. We suffered such anguish under the discovery of the bad administration of military and naval affairs, that we are more in the way of a good administration of our forces than we have ever been before. This is one great and good result of the war. Another is the utter shaming and silencing of persons who recognise no higher stake than “blood and treasure.” Some time since, when it was proved that any procedure caused “a waste of blood and treasure,” the argument stopped, as completed. The roused spirit of the nation now (admitting that there may be arguments as to the fact of “waste”) considers that there are things for which “blood and treasure“ may be wisely expended.
We have gone on rising in views and in spirit till now, when perhaps our national mood is as satisfactory as it has been at any time in history. Our navy is improving in all dimensions and directions; our army is growing healthful, busy, respectable, contented, and ambitious, even while still troubled with scamps who enter to desert, and with a certain portion of officers who cannot be turned into men of business in a hurry. A few months more of such vigorous reform as is now going on in the army, and that force will be superior to anything we expected to have — or to need to have — again. But the strongest interest at the moment is the civilian force — the national force — which is hourly preparing to abide the critical events which all Europe believes to be impending.
The interest is only too strong; for there is the doubt hanging upon it whether the spirit of the men, and the mastery of the arms will spread fast enough to keep pace with the need we may have of them. The volunteer movement of 1859 is not exactly a new sport, — a wholesome exercise to be taken leisurely in a season of peace; and the interest of it grows more solemn with the lapse of every precious week of the few or many which may be allowed us for making our island-home secure.
Looking at the bright side of the movement, there is much that is animating. It is pleasant to bo awakened in the autumn mornings by the reveille, the sweet and thrilling bugle tones sounding through the last of one’s dreams. A young friend, the bugler of the volunteer rifle corps, comes to rouse the men of the household for their six o’clock drill, and every child in the family begins trumpeting the reveille for the day. This and marching will fill up all intervals of business to day, as yesterday and the day before.
The spirit goes down to the very humblest. The poor school-child begs to be excused coming home for dinner-hour. The bugle sounds at that hour, and the boys like to march to it in the churchyard, and to go through their exercise. The professors of our universities, the wealthiest of our merchants, the humanest of our clergy, are as earnest as they. As there is due cause for the earnestness, the enthusiasm is so much pure blessing. It is not a mere mode, turning men into children in their eagerness about a transient interest: it is a true enthusiasm, turning children into men, and men into patriots. This is shown by the fine spirit in which our middle and lower class young men offer what they have to give. They have no false shame about asking for arms or uniform, if they cannot afford to buy them. They offer themselves — aware that they are of greater value than rifles and military dress.
In high places the change in half a century is as great as in low. Before, there was always a hanging back of the government, which chafed the people, and puzzled all observers. The truth was, the governments of former days feared to arm the people. It seems scarcely credible now, when the making of rifles and the preparation of cannon are going on night and day, without being able to overtake the demand of the one for the volunteer rifle-corps, and of the other for the volunteer artillery on the coast. As fast as the arms are ready, they are furnished to all volunteers who subscribe to the necessary conditions agreed upon: and then, in a great municipal hall or on an archery-ground, and on moors here and market -places there, the indigenous soldiery of England go gaily but steadily through their training.
The pleasant part is chiefly to come, — that of