The Express.
London, England, 1855-08-03 00:00:00

!THE CAMP OF THE FOREIGN LEGION AT
SHORNECLIFFE.

(r 201( ♦ COILIMPONDINT).
Allol7lll' 2.
Travelling westward from Folkestone, a walk of
less than half an hour brought me to the little town
of Sandgate. There are two roads leading there,
one a carriage road close to the beach, and another,
a footpath, high above, that follows the windings •if
the cliffs. I preferred the latter. It wu still very
early when I left Folkestone. The tide was out,
and the air quiet and heavy ; but as I walked
on, the tide turned, and a smart sea-breeze sprang
up that brought with it a dense mist from the sus-
hoe of the Channel. So thick wu the fog that I
could see it rising up around the cliffs,
like smoke curling up from a oottage
chimney. The subdued roar of the waves
began to make itself heard in the distance; it seemed
as though the sea were sending its "good morrow"
to the shore. None seemed abroad at that early hour,
besides myself and a lady, who was eagerly gather-
ing sprigs of the wild convolvulus that abounds
among the cliffs. I sat down upon a stile made out
of the axle-tree of an old cart, to await the clearing,
for I could hardly see where my path lay. The mist
soon passed overhead to settle down upon the hills
beyond, and the atmosphere became so transparent
that I could distinctly see the shores of France.
Before descending into the town of Sandgate, I
passed one of the numerous Martell* towers that
grew up in 1803 under our fear of French
invasion, but the walls of which the en-
tente cordial. has allowed to crack and
burst with impunity, while the fosse is turned
into a kitchen garden for the benefit of some pen-
sioner who holds the sinecure of watching the building.
Sandgate itself seems chiefly remarkable, as far as I
was enabled to judge, for its number of desolate-
looking empty houses, from whose dirty windows
large weird placards are constantly, bat unsuccess-
fully, enticing the unwary passer-by to "apply over
the way for farther particulars." The town was last
year rather severely visited by cholera, which cir-
cumstance, together with the proximity of the camp,
hu made it lose caste in the eyes of the sea-shore
visitors. Another characteristic—not of the nature

of the place, but of the times—ia presented by the
toy, stationery, sweetmeat, and millinery shop
and poet-office, where sundry English grammars
for Germans, and German and English Dictionaries
are awaiting purchasers, while an advertisement in a
large, firm Saxon hand, states that within English
is taught upon the newest and most approved prin-
ciples, and terms of the utmost moderation.
Leaving the beach at Sandgate, a shady lane
between parks and fields, leads up to the extensive
poesy plateau upon the cliffs, where the Foreign
Legion is encamped in rows of wooden and iron
huts, forming three sides of a parallelogram, the
fourth unoccupied side being the westward one. The
huts are not visible from below, so that the first sign
of the vicinity of the camp is given by the dark out-
line of a sentry standing out boldly against the blue
sky above, as he paces backward and forward on
the ridge of the hill. It was a rifleman,
in his plain dark dress and Albert hat,
with a true open German face, sunburnt and
bearded. The whole place is now surrounded by a
cordon of sentries, to guard against desertion, which
was not the case when I was here last ; but the fact
that no case could be made out at the Maidstone
Assizes against the man Hills, although it is noto-
rious that he induced several men to desert, coupled
with the other fact, that there is still skulking about
the camp another fellow, suspected of similar prac-
tices, and understood to be an agent of Hills, but
against whom they cannot as yet prove anything,
has put the authorities on their guard. Strict dis-
cipline is kept, and no man is allowed to leave the
camp. Measures of such doubtful policy natu-
rally excite a good deal of murmuring, but
they are only the natural consequence of
the manner in which some of these men
have been enlisted. As your correspondent justly
remarks, if we give a premium for desertion we can-
not expect that the deserter will be true to us. The
innocent suffer with the culprits. The Rifles will
tell you with pride that they have lost no one by
desertion, except a half crazy student of theology,
who has already returned voluntarily. But they have
a great advantage over the other regiments. They
are almost all from the same part of Germany,
Hanover and North Prussia, most of them are tried
soldiers, who have seen war under the same officers
who command them now; submission to camp discip-
line falls, therefore, less heavily upon them.
The north side of the camp is occupied, going from
east to west, by the artillery, the cavalry, and the
Rifles. The artillery corps left yesterday morning,
it is said for London, and it is not known whether
they will return. The cavalry consists at present, I
am told, of about three hundred men, only one hun-
dred of whom are in uniform, in consequence, I am
informed, of 100 of the suits sent down having
been found too small. The others exercise in blouses,
dress-coats, and smock-frocks, and every description
of hat, from a Gibus down to a wide-awake. The
men naturally wonder how it is that in this country,
of whose enormous riches, and of whose skilful menu-
lecturers they have heard so much, it takes such an
enormous time to make three hundred suits of
clothes, and that in the end they turn out too small.
But the most amusing—or perhaps I should say
the most scandalous—part of their story is, that their
sabres are not yet provided with the necessary straps
and buckles, so that the men go through their exer-
cises with their sabre in one hand and the sheath in
the other. The reason for this extraordinary delay I
have not been able to discover—perhaps there is no
reason. The whole of the Legion stationed here were
on parade when I arrived; they amount at present to
somewhat over two thousand, and are oertainly a fin*.
looking body of men. The drill was hardly over,
and the men might have been half an hour in their hate,
when suddenly the call sounded "to arms in marching
order." After a good deal of hurry and bustle, and
scolding and swearing, the men were at last ready, the
order to march was given, and the whole Legion
set out towards a high steep hill about two miles
from the shore, half-way between Folkestone and
Sandgate, known as COMA Camp. Part of the
Legion were to defend this hill, the real to attack
and take it. It was all very fine and rather nonsen-
sical; to take men who had only received their arms
a week ago away from the drilling they so much
require to attack and defend a position made almost
unassailable by nature alone, seemed rather mis-
placed activity ; and the disorder that prevailed
throughout, in spite of the efforts of the aides-
de-camp who carried messages indiscriminately
to friend and foe, did not tend to in-
mew the benefit the soldiers were intended
to derive from this manoeuvre. Unfortunately,
the display was attended by an accident of a serious
nature. Major Rodowitz, a highly esteemed officer,
fell with his horse on the uneven ground, broke his
foot, and received besides a bad wound in the head.
A good deal of powder was blazed away, and the
men returned to camp at a late hour of the evening.
Owing to the circumstance of the field-day, I had
not, of course, much opportunity of seeing the in-
ternal management of the Legion, but in my next I
hope to be able to give you some interesting infor-
mation.