# The Dilemma/Chapter V

CHAPTER V.
The visit of the distinguished personage to Mustaphabad was of course made the occasion for holding a grand review of all the troops at the station, which took place at seven o'clock the next morning but one after the ball. According to usual practice at such exhibitions, the brigade was organized for the purpose as a complete division of all arms. Colonel Tartar assumed command of the cavalry and horse-artillery, his own regiment being taken charge of for the day by Major Winge; similarly Brevet-Major Gurney of the horse-artillery, in the absence of any regimental field-officer, took charge of the whole arm, so that his troop fell to be commanded by Lieutenant Cubitt, who rode past proudly at the head of it. The four battalions of infantry were divided into two brigades under the senior field-officers, giving temporary steps of promotion of the same sort; while the number of acting appointments made, of brigade-majors, aides-de-camp, and orderly officers, covered the ground with a motley staff in every variety of uniform, and mounted on every description of steed, from high-caste Arab to Deccanee pony, and left hardly any officers for regimental duty. None of these good things, however, fell to the lot of our subaltern, who was fain to be content with his place at the head of the light company.
The force was drawn up in the first instance in line of battalions in column, with the horse-artillery and cavalry on the right, and the field-battery on the left; and as the 76th move down from ​their regimental parade to take up their appointed place, Yorke scans the miscellaneous company of equestrians and occupants of carriages assembled by the saluting-flag, looking in vain for the one object which makes the review, and life generally, interesting to him. "Here she comes at last," he said to himself, with a flutter at his heart, as he descried three riders cantering across the plain from the direction of the city. Even at this distance he can distinguish them — the commissioner and Colonel Falkland, each riding a big horse, and Miss Cunningham on her little high-bred chestnut Arab between them. But now the 76th wheel into their place; and our subaltern in the hindmost company finds his view for the present limited by the backs of the rear-rank of number eight.
Presently there is a stir, and the line is called to attention, the word of command being repeated by acting brigadiers, and again by commanders of battalions. It is evident that the eminent personage and his staff are coming on the ground; but Yorke can see nothing. Then the word is given to present arms, while the bands strike up, very improperly, the national anthem. Then there is a tedious pause for all in the rear: the eminent personage, accompanied by the brigadier and staff, is riding down the line from right to left. There is perfect silence through the ranks, broken only by the occasional move of a battery-horse shaking its harness. Peeping to his left, Yorke gets a momentary glimpse of the different cavaliers as they pass along the field of view of the little lane between his regiment, which is on the left of the infantry, and the adjacent field-battery. First, various staff-officers, singly or in couples; then the eminent personage on a big English horse, the brigadier on his Cabulee cob ambling by his side, and looking up in conversation; then a motley group of other staff-officers, including the happy holders of acting appointments for the day. Among these are three or four ladies, one of whom Yorke recognizes in his momentary view as plainly as if he had been looking for an hour. Miss Cunningham riding between two men in plain clothes, one in a round hat, the other strong and erect, wearing a sun-helmet. And now the cavalcade having reached the end of the line, turns round the flank of the field-battery, and begins to return by the rear, the eminent personage as he rides along at a foot-pace regarding intently the backs of the men as if the spectacle afforded him the deepest interest. Our subaltern of course can see nothing, for he must needs look straight to his front; but soon the sound of voices and subdued laughter announces that the tail of the equestrian party is passing behind him, and he feels the hardness of the fate which keeps him a mere dust-crusher, while so many other fellows are enjoying themselves on horseback; still more at not knowing whether Miss Cunningham even so much as saw him. Just at this moment two artillery-horses, tired of standing at attention, took to fighting and kicking, and the challenge being taken up by several others, a sensible commotion was caused in the cavalcade; and, hearing a little feminine scream, Yorke could not resist looking round. The cry had proceeded from Miss Peart, whose country-bred pony, with the combative habits of its race, had replied to the challenge by kicking out at the beast next to it, which happily being that of Mr. Lunge, the riding-master of the hussars, a gaunt and lofty animal, had kept its rider's legs beyond range of the pony's heels; but the commotion had set Miss Cunningham's lively chestnut Arab a-prancing, and Yorke had just time to notice the grace with which it's rider kept her seat.
And now begins the serious business of the day. First, the horse-artillery and cavalry canter to the front, and the former open a hot fire on an imaginary enemy; soon the latter is found to be in force, the guns are retired, and the infantry advance into action, the first brigade leading with skirmishers in advance, the second brigade in column in reserve. The said skirmishers advance in approved form, running forward a little way at the rate of about three miles an hour, then lying down and firing; and the parade being as flat as a billiard-table, without any cover or irregularity of surface as large as a walnut, this proceeding is by general consent pronounced to be a most vivid representation of the realities of war. Then of a sudden the enemy is supposed to disappear from the front, and appear simultaneously on the right flank, a transformation which naturally involves a change of front on the part of our side — a favourite manœuvre of the brigadier in fact, executed in his best style. And now the force, its unprotected left flank pointing in the direction towards which it had just been fighting, goes to work again in the same approved style — skirmishers lying down, the ​supports standing just far enough off to get all the shots meant for the other, the whole advancing at about half-a-mile an hour. But now the first brigade has had enough of it, and falls back on the second, advancing thereon in line to support it. This is surely the crisis of the day, the time of all others to be watching the infantry — to see especially the 76th marching in line like a living wall. But alas! Yorke throwing a hurried glance across the field of view, sees that the equestrian spectators are following in the wake of the dust of the cavalry, executing some mysterious manœuvre in the far distance, and is more than ever oppressed with a sense of his own insignificance. The grand advance of the second brigade is practically thrown away, and all interest now centres in the charge made across their front by the returning hussars, with the irregular cavalry close behind them.
There still remains the march past; and as the troops move along to take up their places preparatory to it, our subaltern passing with his battalion just by the saluting-flag, observes the eminent personage gallantly bowing to the commissioner and party, as if inviting them to take up a good position close to himself. Mrs. Polwheedle's carriage draws up at the same time, and its occupant feels this to be one of the proud moments of her life. It was only a few months ago that an illustrated paper had a wood-cut of her Majesty reviewing the troops in Windsor Park, the royal carriage drawn up by the royal standard, and the prince consort on horseback just in front. Why, this seemed almost a reproduction of the picture. Here, too, was an eminent personage immediately in front of a barouche which, if it had not the royal arms on it, was still an elegant vehicle. But unalloyed happiness is seldom the lot of mortals; the company, it must be confessed, showed a total want of the respect due to high official rank, in pressing so closely round the carriage. Mrs. Polwheedle had sounded the brigadier over-night as to the propriety of railing off a space round the flagstaff, to be kept sacred for her carriage, and perhaps the commissioner and his daughter, but that gallant officer said he was afraid such a thing was not usual; and the crowd of equestrians gradually closed up, till the charmed circle of her fancy was utterly blotted out, the Roman nose of Mr. Lunge's horse actually projecting into the carriage. "A pushing man," Mrs. Polwheedle was heard to say; "but these rankers never know manners." Mrs. Polwheedle felt with a pang that in this respect the real fell painfully short of the ideal glory suggested by the illustrated paper.
For our subaltern, too, there was a disappointment in store. The time for the infantry was now coming. It was all very well for the cavalry and horse-artillery to go scampering about during a review, kicking up a dust and showing off; but everybody knows that in a march past the infantry is the sight worth seeing. The steadiest cavalry in the world is not to be compared in steadiness with well-drilled infantry; and if there was a regiment in the Bengal army which could march steadily, it was the 76th. We come last, thought Yorke, but we shall look best; and indeed, as the battalion came up, over a thousand bayonets, in ten strong companies, no regiment could look better, for Major Dumble had not had time yet to spoil it. But alas for human aspirations! It was the major's duty, after passing the saluting-flag, to recover his sword, and then, wheeling sharp round, to canter gracefully up to the eminent personage and remain in attendance on him till the battalion had marched past. And that worthy officer did his best to accomplish the manœuvre, albeit unaccustomed to equestrian exercise. Grasping his horse's mane firmly with the left hand, at the appointed moment, he boldly struck his right spur into the animal, and pulled the right rein smartly. Too smartly, indeed; for the charger, unaccustomed to such decided treatment from his master, gave an unwieldy plunge which nearly unseated its rider, and turning sharp round in face of the advancing grenadier company, commenced backing steadily, with its stern down and its nose up in the air. In vain Major Dumble, his left hand still holding by the friendly mane, tried by tugging at the right rein to complete the circle, and so front once more the proper way — the advancing line was on him before he could escape. The grenadiers before him began marking time; the flanks of the company continued to move on; the noble line became a curve, and the confusion thus created in the leading company spread in a few seconds from front to rear. The brigadier, flushing with rage, trotted into the fray to give some angry orders; the staff laughed, the eminent personage smiled; but at this critical point a rescue came in the person of the major's native groom, who, ​hovering with the rest of his fraternity in rear of the spectators, was descried by Dr. Grumbull, the surgeon of the 76th, who happened to be among the lookers-on, and was told by him to go to his master's help. This worthy, hurrying to the front, barefooted, and horse-flapper in hand, by dint of gentle coaxing, patting the horse on the neck, and calling it his son and other terms of endearment in the vernacular, succeeded in leading it to the rear, but not until the whole battalion had been covered with confusion. And as poor Yorke passed by at the head of the light company unobserved, for all eyes were now turned away, he had just time to notice that even Miss Cunningham was smiling and looking up towards Colonel Falkland, as if asking for information, while he, leaning towards her, was evidently explaining what had happened.