But the case 'goes much beyond camps of exercise. If ever the British Army is to be organized on an efficient and yet economical footing, it must be by a radical process of decentralization. Some War Minister must be found with sense and firmness enough to carry out a self-denying ordinance, and to transform the overgrown department he rules over, from an office overburdened with executive details, to one of manageable dimensions, charged only with duties of supervision. We pride ourselves on being a practical nation and adepts at business, but our army administration, when contrasted with what has been accomplished in other countries, may well tempt us to ask whether our common sense and aptitude for business have not passed over to some other nation. Seventeen years have gone by since the Crimean war, and we are really no nearer than we were then towards proper military organization; the first principles of the art have yet to be introduced. And it is curious to remark that while army affairs have been criticised to weariness in Parliament, and reforms of all kinds propounded, the greatest defect of all has remained almost unnoticed. The cost of the household cavalry, the bloated list of Generals, the wrongs of the artillery-these and other defects are dwelt on with nauseating frequency; but, strangely enough, no reformer has raised the cry for that decentralization which is the real want of the army. Merchants and manufacturers accustomed to do business on the principle of employing good agents and then trusting them, have probably no conception of the degree to which over-centralization has been carried in the British Army. Engineers can hardly drive in a nail, nor commissaries issue a wisp of straw, Generals can scarcely move a corporal's guard, without previous reference to the rabbitwarren in Pall Mall; quires of foolscap may be expended in discussing the momentous question, whether a brigadier is entitled to an extra barrack-table for his office; every voucher recorded for payment throughout the empire is passed

on to the same central destination, to form part of an audit ineffective because distant from the scene of outlay. And all this is not to satisfy the demands of some great administrator with an unlimited capacity for governing, some Napoleon or Frederick who holds all the business of the army in his grasp, for whom no combination is too large, and no detail too small. Our army is governed by a civilian generally of commonplace ability, who comes and goes as the exigencies of party determine, who never understands and seldom pretends to concern himself with details; all this controlling and centralizing and overgoverning is to satisfy the demands of a number of irresponsible officials, who never issue an order in their own name, and are, as often as not, at loggerheads with each other. And all this waste of power and waste of money-for the cost of the controlling departments is out of all proportion to the size of the army they have to deal with-are merely for administration during peace. war break out, and the army be despatched to foreign soil, and all this cumbrous machine at once collapses. The War Office officials sink into ob

Let

scurity; the Generals emerge from their bondage to the exercise of an unlimited power and responsibility for which their antecedents and training render them wholly unprepared; rules and regula tions are thrown to the winds; and unless a Wellington or a Marlborough comes on the scene, the confusion and mismanagement which arise are even worse than the circumlocution which they succeed. This is what happened in 1854; there is little reason to hope that it would not occur again.

The true aim of army reformers should be, then, we conceive, to secure a thorough decentralization of our military system; and, paradoxical as it may appear, we believe that if an Act of Parliament were passed to limit the War Office establishment to a couple of dozen clerks, the first step would be taken towards effective army reform. But this is not the place to indicate the exact mode in which reforms may

best be effected; it is sufficient here to indicate the want; and provided the true principle be distinctly kept in view, and all detailed arrangement made subordinate to it, the result cannot be otherwise than satisfactory. We may just notice that the Prussians have hit upon a system in which the principle contended for may be discerned at every point. The system may not be applicable to us, but the leading idea should be the same. In Prussia, side by side with the principle of decentralization is that of maintaining a complete chain of responsibility throughout all grades. The corps commander has his specific powers, which are not encroached upon by his superiors, and so on with the division and brigade generals. Even the captain of a company in Prussia possesses a degree of independence in his command which is quite unknown in our service. The chain of responsibility extends throughout the army, from the Emperor at the head down to the subaltern with his companysection. With us the only chain recognized is of a sort of which all the links are fastened to one staple.

Everybody has heard how Von Roon, the Prussian War Minister, was found smoking a leisurely cigar the day after war was declared, because, as he explained, all necessary orders had been given, and everybody throughout the army knew what had to be done. The story embodies in epigrammatic fashion the success of a thoroughly decentralized organization; and as another illustration of the sort of difference produced by working an army on common-sense principles in peace time, we may cite the account given by an officer, himself distinguished in arms, and a most competent judge, who was present with the German army at the outbreak of the late war. What most struck him, he said, was the entire absence of fuss. He joined the troops just after the battle of Spicheren, when they were hurrying through Saarbrücken, pressing on to the front, flushed with the exciting news of a first victory. If ever there be a time when a certain amount of over-activity would be natural and excusable, it

would be under such conditions, before an army has settled down to the realities of campaigning, and when the attention is strained to catch every indication of coming events. But nothing of the kind was visible here. Our informant occupied the same room in which the commander of the army corps marching through Saarbrücken was taking his luncheon, and the old gentleman was seated there quietly discussing his meal, as if there were no thought of the largest army the world has ever seen moving on outside. Officers came in and made their reports, and the General now and then wrote a brief pencil-note in reply, but the whole proceeding was done in as calm a fashion as if he were answering a dinner invitation. Outside it was just the same. There was little

or no galloping about of staff officers, no shouting of orders; everybody seemed to know what his orders were, and how to carry them out without interference from any one else. Contrast such a picture with the scene presented by our late manœuvres, ushered in by the pompous announcement that the War Department officials were working night and day upon the preparations-preparations with which properly they should have had no concern; officers arriving from all parts of the kingdom to take up some duty, the very nature of which was unknown either to themselves or the troops they were associated with; still more, contrast it with the state of things when the manoeuvres commenced, the transport department not knowing from one hour to another what they meant to do or how they meant to do it, the troops always holding well-justified doubts whether at the end of a few miles' march there would be anything available to eat; still more again, the spectacle presented by staff officers riding about in a helpless state, inquiring of every passing stranger where their General was to be foundthe General himself, on one notable day, riding about in an equally helpless state, asking where was to be found the enemy. The cause of the difference is plain: in the one case people were acting with the coolness that is born of habit; in the

all

other everyone was under the exciting influence of novelty. And if it be said that the comparison is not a fair one, because the Prussian army corps are permanent organizations, and General, staff, and troops are all well acquainted and accustomed to work with each other, whereas in our case, staff, regiments, and departments were brought hurriedly together-this admission is just the very point contended for. The scene lately enacted round Aldershot faithfully represents what would take place on a larger scale were the army suddenly called on to take part in a European war-an impossible contingency, according to our present Premier, but still one which the rest of the nation are resolved should be worth providing against; and the confusion which occurred at Aldershot, the want of mutual understanding between the staff and the troops, and, above all, the inefficiency of the great civil department without which the fighting part is helpless, show with perfect significance that the real work of organization has yet to be undertaken. We cannot, and need not, imitate servilely the Prussian system, which is unsuitable to the conditions involved in our Colonial and Indian service, but the principles which underlie it are applicable to all armies. Meanwhile, till some radical change is made, our military administration must be regarded as on its trial, and it remains to be seen whether the nation still possesses force enough to carry out a plain reform essential for the maintenance of its position among the great European Powers, or whether, as some declare, our efforts can only culminate in talk, and we are good only for spending money blindly, without knowing how to get a return for it.

We have made no reference here to the question of reserves, and to the fusion of the militia with the line, because, although these are matters of great importance, they are still, in truth, matters of detail, which will not be difficult of settlement when once army administration has been established

upon sound principles. Indeed, that sort of localization of all branches of our forces which is involved in any comprehensive system for forming army reserves, would naturally flow out of any thorough plan of administrative decentralization.

We would add one word more. Any one who watched the troops under canvas during this late exercise might have satisfied himself, had he any doubts on the subject before, that whatever may be our faults of organization, the military unit-the regiment -and the fighting elements are as sound as ever; and those who watched how the troops were cared for by their officers will probably have discovered that in the British regimental officer the nation has got an uncommonly good article for its money. Even in the matter of education, which is supposed to be their main deficiency, we believe our officers have kept more abreast with the times than people generally give them credit for. Indeed in some most

important respects it has gone further than most armies. In all physical respects-in the use of their eyesight and limbs, as riders across country, we venture to believe that the officers of the British Army are unrivalled, while for gaining knowledge of country there is no training equal to fox-hunting. Depressed and superseded by the relative rank so profusely bestowed on the non-combatant branches, the British captain and subaltern, although reduced to comparative nobodies, perform their duties, often tedious and always monotonous, with a zeal and thoroughness that leave nothing to be desired. It is this high standard of duty, extending through every part of the regimental system, which renders our battalions model units, and the only complete specimens of good organization to be found in the army. What we now need is statesmanship adequate to do justice to the excellent materials at its disposal; sagacity and determination of a kind sufficient for welding them into one harmonious whole.

CHAPTER I.

Ir was early in March, but the winter had been a mild one. The snows had melted, leaving the snowdrop and the crocus to show their heads above the soft, damp earth, and the lilac buds were growing larger every day. Even the White House was not unvisited by tokens of spring; there were a few daisies in the grass-plot before the windows, and the sunshine had crept into the darkened rooms. It was not a cheerful dwelling-place. The brown hills surrounded it on all sides but one; astony, winding road in front divided it from the woods and park enclosures of Cranford Manor, and the wooded hill overshadowed it on the south, while to the north another hill rose up in the distance bounding the moor. The gate was swinging in the wind, for no one had cared to fasten it; and the creepers were hanging down from the wall, for no one had thought of nailing them up. Inside there were long stone passages, and large low rooms; a wainscotted study at the back of the house where old Mr. North sat with his books, the relics of happier days; and an oldNo. 146.-VOL. XXV.

fashioned, whitewashed kitchen looking out on the road, where his granddaughter Christina was standing this afternoon, close by the window, with her knitting in her hands to catch the last gleam of sunlight; for the twilight was deepening in the further recesses of the room, and the glow of the fire was lost in the large grate and wide chimney-corner.

Even seen by the charm of the flickering, uncertain light, there was nothing picturesque or attractive in the bare red-tiled kitchen nothing, except the figure of the girl; a tall, slight figure, in a dark blue gown, leaning against the side of the window.

Though her face was in shadow, you could see that she was very pretty; beautiful, some people would have said, if they had seen her in a passing flush of happiness or excitement. Her eyes were cast down at this moment, but they were dark, quick gleaming eyes, which could light up at times; and her mouth was grave, and her face had a cloud upon it; but it was a face across which smiles were driven with the suddenness and rapidity which belong only to the time when sorrow is a stranger and hope is young.

She lived in the midst of poverty and regret and disappointment, but as yet she had not by experience made these things her own. As to poverty, she had been used to it nearly all her life, and made no account of personal privations; she could not remember happier days, and hope was still strong within her; yet, insensibly, the atmosphere in which she lived oppressed her, and she grew sad and impatient at times, striving to free herself from the oppression, and believing, with the strange unquenchable ardour of youth, in something higher and more beautiful which she should find some day: looking to the future with that half-conscious longing after change and happiness which belongs to a life spent as hers had been, in solitude and narrowness and petty cares.

Her grandfather spoke with a lingering regret, and yet with pride and pleasure, of his earlier days; days when he was the Squire of "the Park;" when his son had not deceived him and squandered his property; when his friends had not turned from him and his servants deserted him. Her mother, too, lived in the remembrance of what had been. Her husband had reduced her to poverty, and died miserably in a foreign land; but she could still look back to the time when she had believed in him, when he had been kind and loving, and she had thought him heroic; when his pride in his little daughter had called out all the softness of his nature; when she had leant upon his strength and thought him true. Yes, these were memories even for her, though life had taught her a hard lesson, and she had not learnt peace or submission. Now she was a middle-aged, discontented woman, and could no longer hope either for herself or for her child. She had seen Christina grow up free and frank, and beautiful and happy, even in her unsatisfied longing for the glories which must await her somewhere; and the mother knew, or thought she knew, that disappointment and sorrow, and death in life, were creeping over her girlhood. Hope had died within herself, and she Iwould have liked that it should have

died within Christina. Sooner or later all must end in misery or disappointment. Hope was a snare, a folly, a vision to be thrust aside;-so she went on singing its dirge, singing it in Christina's ears; but Christina laughed, and shook her head, and would not listen.

She would not listen even this afternoon, when there seemed to be no escape from the vexations and household cares: though bitterness and anger were surging up in her heart, she would not acquiesce.

"There is no end to it, Christina," her mother had said; "why will you expect anything else? expect anything else? Our life must be a struggle, it is always so in this world. Everything ends in disappointment. Be thankful that you have a home, and that nothing worse is likely to befall you: you have much to be thankful for."

Then she had answered that she would not believe it-that a change must come some day-that it could not be always the same succession of small duties and grievances that there must be something higher and happier and more exciting in store for her. What it should be she did not know, she did not even care to imagine; but she knew that it would come.

"I cannot grow old like this, and never have anything, and never see anything, and never know anything. I must do something else before I grow into a sad woman like you, mother, who think only of what is past and even you have something to look back to."

So Christina had said; and her mother had only sighed in answer, and then she had gone back to her account-books; and Christina had snatched up her knitting, and was hanging her head discontentedly over it, impatiently moving her needles, as she stood by the window in the twilight.

Suddenly she looked up at the sound of a footstep on the pebbled garden path, and saw a young man coming towards the house with a basket slung over his shoulder. This was Bernard Oswestry, her cousin, a near neighbour and constant visitor at the house. People said