The Sun.
London, England, 1847-02-15 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

The CAMP and the BARRACK-ROOM ; or, the
BRITISH ARMY AS IT IS, by a late Staff-
Sergeant of the 13th Light Infantry.
The author of this work is by birth and education
a gentleman. It appears that he was engaged in
mercantile pursuits in Dublin, but that in conse-
quence of severe losses sustained by a mercantile
friend, it became necessary for him to seek other
means of support besides those arising from his
position as a junior partner. Under these circum-
stances being compelled to "seek service," and be-
lieving the service of her Majesty to be less degrading
than that of any private individual, he enlisted in the
13th Light Infantry, was sent out to India to join
his regiment, proceeded to Calcutta, from thence to
Bombay, and from there to Sinde, where he remained
some time in garrison at Kurrachee and Sukkur,
and on arriving home with his regiment, after an absence
of two years, purchased his discharge. Considered
merely as a book of travels, this is one of the most amnFing
ever published. The author possesses the art of nar-
ration in the highest perfection. His descriptions of
scenery are dashed off with the touch of an artist,
and his reflections on the manners and customs of the
natives of India are sound and philosophical. The
chief value, however, of this book consists in the fact
that it shows us the British army as it is—that it
rends in twain the veil which has hitherto screened
the doings at the Horse Guards and in the army for
the public. The great cause of all the evils
in the army may be traced to ignorance—the
gross and crass ignorance of the officers who,
without being subjected to any examination, are per-
mitted to purchase their commissions, utterly ignorant
of military duties, without even the rudiments of an
ordinary education, unable in many instances even to
spell, they are obliged to delegate their powers to
non-commissioned officers, at whose tyranny, bru-
tality, and dishonesty, they connive, because they are
entirely dependent upon them. From the moment a
recruit enlists, he is subject to the peculations of non-
commissioned officers at the depot where he may be
stationed, who practice all sorts of tricks to deprive
him of his pay.
" One mode of depriving the recruit of his pay, is to
give him an old shattered musket, easily injured ; thus
there are ten chances to one, that some part of it gets
broken, while it is in his possession ; and he has in
consequence a round sum to pay on delivering it into
the store, when leaving the garrison. I have known
this to be the case with many persons, some of whom
had to pay ten shillings for stocking an old musket in
use for the past forty years, and the intrinsic value of
which might be ascertained by weighing the barrel,
and calculating its worth at twopence per pound.
Whether such were ever stocked, is a question the ar-
mourer alone can decide ; but in any case, he and the
pay sergeants quietly arranged it all their own way."
The commissioned officer is generally severe, in pro-
portion to his ignorance. One of these martinets is
thus described by our author :
" He used frequently to visit the barracks ; and woe
then to the unlucky wight who had a fold wrong in his
bedding, a knapsack-strap out of its place, or his chin-
strap fastened above the number on his forage-cap ;
three days taps being his ordinary punishment for
offences of this character. Yet I have seen this offi-

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cer, who was so strict a disciplinarian as regarded tri-
vial matters, at a subsequent period, when he had be-
come first major of his corps, unable to put the regi-
ment through the manual and platoon exercise ; while
on another occasion, when an inspecting-general was on
the ground, he could not find where the points were
when directed to dress them by his colonel.
"There are many such in the service; men who strait.
at a gnat and swallow a camel; and consequently, our
armies will never be destitute of a Braddock or an
Elphinstone; in spite of our having a Marlborough in
one age, and a Wellington in another, to remodel and
mould them anew. England wants a polytechnique '
school. She requires teat merit, not money, should
elevate men in her military service; and were this desi-
deratum achieved, her troops would be indeed invincible.
In the existing state of things, many creep in time of
peace to the command of corps, by purchase or seniority,
who are about as fit to lead a regiment as a peasant
from the plough-tail is to turn courtier; their inability
being never ascertained until some capital faux pas is
committed in front of an enemy, which sullies our na-
tional honour."
These last observations are worthy of most serious
consideration. It is absurd to expect that a better
class of men will be induced to enter the army, so
long as they are liable to be tyrannised over by
officers who are in every respect their inferiors. The
true way to elevate the character of the men is to
elevate the character of the officers, by doing away
altogether with the system of purchase, and by sub-
jecting every candidate for a commission to a rigid
examination, so as to ascertain that he possesses a
certain amount of professional and of general
knowledge, to insist upon a certain period of
actual service in an inferior grade before pro-
motion to a superior one, and to precede each step
by another examination. As to the necessity of some
such reform taking place, if it is considered desirable,
to attempt to elevate the character of the soldier, let
the reader judge, after the perusal of the following
advice given by the author to any young man who is
thinking about entering the army :
" And now, reader, if you are a young man dissatis-
fied with your condition in life because you consider
yourself superior to it, and have been induced to sup-
pose you will get into your proper sphere by entering
the army, I would offer you, in conclusion, a word of
advice.
"If dissatisfied with your condition, reflect well
before you take a step which will have the most impor-
tant influence on all your after life; a man who binds
himself for an unlimited period, must be guilty of the
greatest folly, should he do so rashly or inconside-
rately. You' are already aware, that to succeed in improv-
ing your condition in the army, you must be patient, in-
dustrious, methodical, humble, and, as the truth had better
be told, servile. Do not suppose for a single moment
you can do much good there, without at the least a
major part of these qualifications; I thought I could be
a soldier without being servile; I was simple enough to
imagine that unblemished reputation, zeal for the ser
vice, and an earnest desire to be useful, would be my
stepping-stones to preferment:—l need scercely say that
I was deceived.
" In the army, you will have to be your own servant:
to perform all the menial offices so disagreeable to those
who have had persons hitherto to wait on them. You
must not resent insult, if the person offering it be only
a lance-corporal; and you will have to listen patiently
and in silence to the contemptuous remarks of a man
who, very probably, is your superior only because his
father was fortunate in trade, and therefore able to pay
4501. for a commission for his son; who has in his turn
learned (to him, perchance, an unmeaning phrase) to
say, "Pon his honour,' and to look down on you with
all the quaint consequence of little-mindedness, as a
being of an inferior species.
" If you are a person of intelligence, therefore, and
capable of earning a subsistence in any respectable way,
I would advise you to eschew the army while the exist-
ing state of things there continues; until, at the verb
least, the officer is taught to act agreeably to the laws .1
the service, in his dealings with those under him; and
when he cannot, at any rate, compel them to be servile
or mean, if not themselves so disposed. As matte's
stand at present, the man who may have learned at
hedge-school to half spell, half read a page or two, and
to scrawl his copy dated,' will be almost certain to get
the whip hand of you in the race for promotion; for h,
is a useful person, and will assist the lieutenant's servant
occasionally, or help to clean the captain's boots. Rest
assured, the army, as now administered, is the last
place you should go to for the purpose of improving
your condition. Resolve rather to be a citizen of the
world, and to take the energy and intelligence you may
possess to where they will have a reasonable chance of
being fairly appreciated."
DIARY

AND LET.Th.II OP MADAME
D'ARBLAY. Vols. VI. and VII.
Many pleasant and sparkling books of gossip have
been written and published by contemporaries of the age
in which Oliver Goldsmith and Dr. Johnson made their
last appearance, and in which Lord Byron and Sir
Walter Scott made their first appearance. Actors and
dramatists, authors and artists, courtiers and petit maiires
soldiers and statesmen, sailors and civilians of every
grade and distinction, have contributed volume upon
volume to the enormous library illustrative of the occur-
rences and personage.s of that extraordinary epoch.
ofoch.
Perhaps the century comprised between the mid
the eighteenth and towards the middle of the nineteenth
must be regarded par exellence as the most
tr
thatepoch
America
in the worl
achieved's history.
h e
rindependence,l t was during
ae thatnx.d
that,
a tintervaluarpy_
re had
übep-
wards s
discoveredo f two centuries
Columbus, after t hae
reew
public
b lhi c wla e m sps
h fe founded
beyond the Atlantic by the
,polrd of
ainhoameeoluynsternysgeeontale jour-
neymanman printer and the swl .
It
Julius
s duringnd
the
youngthat i n t
Kingerva that a
Macedon
itaheee
ddeeds
wereof the
exceededgreat
in
civilised Europe by a Corsican adventurer. Then it
was that lived our English Cicero—Pitt; and our Irish
Demosthenes—Grattan: one of the greatest poets of
England—Byron: the greatest poet of France—Beranger.
It were hopeless, however, to enumerate even the mere
names of the remarkable characters of this generation,
without encroaching upon our columns to an extent
from which we are precluded by the sitting of Parlia-
ment. Besides, it would be altogether superfluous to the
vast majority, seeing that there is no other period with
the outlines of which the majority is so intimately and
naturally familiarised. Nevertheless the multitude is
not so far familiarised with the domestic lives of the men
and women in question that they can regard with little
curiosity the contents of such autobiographies as this
straggling diary of Madame D'Arblay. There is an in-
terest about volumes of this character altogether irre-
spective of the genius or idiosyncracy of the narrator.
To the million, for example, it matters not the value of
twopence what were the compliments paid to Madame
D'Arblay, nee Burney, or what were the peregrinations
of Madame D'Arblay, nee Burney, considered in her in-
dividuality. Not that we by any means deprecate
the abilities of that deceased lady, but that, clever as we
perforce regard " Evelina," and humorous as we ac-
knowledge" Cecilia" to be, we are thoroughly convinced
that they have not sufficientgenius to render them classics,
and thereby to obtain for their writer a place in the
thoughts and affections of posterity. It would be an
absurdity to maintain otherwise. For the day—for the
hour—pour passer le temps, when afflicted with dyspepsia
or the he:id?cht• tietioni
solaet• to Luudreds. But they lavr not the golden
stamp of perpetual attraction—they cannot rank even
with the =allot of the indestruotable treasures of our

ba,.......411 ...wag*

lions

literature: and to mi. hence it is indisputable that ,
care not the value of twopence fur the individu tli' linions
A) rblaY ,
or the individual circumstances, of Madame
D
nee Burney. It is only as an intelligent by 3ctator of
wonderful occurrences, an observant companion of
much
greater people than herself, that the " author
lina," as her editor delights to call her, is web (Lme to
the generality of readers now Yet the 'moat
-a-days. • verti-
delightful characteristic of this " Diary " is the im
tient modesty with which Madame D'Arblay bctra)
*4s e'er
own belief that she must cont;nue the heroine tbs.,' ugh-
out, that her figure is most prominent; in the diffi !rent
scenes, that her name, and her observatiood, and ter
frivolities, and her meditations, must prove the I airs'
mount attraction to every reader to the remotes,'
b`'tds
o; time, and the furthermost limits of Mace. 04:atial nap
D'Arblay is assuredly ore of the greatest* egoti StS tti a"
ever breathed. Jean Jacques was nothing to Lit
r.
" Self " is the circumference in which all her id eas C tr-
culate—it is like the " incorruptible Concave " c f 15.16_:-
totle, embracing the whole universe to her naiad, end"'
lowing 3 very other sphere of intellect to revolve in i t *lone.
Egotism, however, while being one of the mo Pr°-
yoking of the smaller vices, is at the same time e" Of
the most forgiveable. We madly forgive the ego firm o
the illustrious, such as that of Horatius Flaccus, I ecaase
we are almost rejoiced to find them conscious e (their
own immortality. We can forgive the egotism of OW.
again, who are the least entitled to indulge in , thitt
fashionable failing; and, among such, MadatneD'A cblaYe
nee Burney, is pre eminent;" because:we are amuse ti .With
their extravagant and pitiable effrontery. The
nous diary of which these sixth and seventh v skim°'
form the conclusion, is rendered most amusing I ty this
very extravagance of effrontery. Such complim3 tots ad
Madame D'Arblay records about herself ! Such
panegyrics upon her writings ! Such egi 4gl.ous
goose - flattery from the mouths of sitcetruig
imbeciles clad in ermine and crowned with din demi
And Madame D'Arblay swallows all these sickly condi"
ments with an avidity actually ridiculous, and es ;Its 111
the repast, as if these sugared words were food erutri-
tious to the mind, and astringent to the charact. sr 1
paradox of woman ! 0 large-witted " author r)t • Eve.
lina !" 0 small-witted writer of the Diary ! , It id
amusing to observe the tremors and agitation wit] v. • which
Madame D'Arblay always enters the presence oft xr. OUP
whether it be the Duchess d'Angoulime, Geot .g 4 3 the
Third, or Louis le Desirt Her heart is alwa ; inr
nervous state of palpitation when a Royal Bight let du"
dresses her ; when a sovereign speaks to her of I the
terrace at Windsor, she is ready to fall down tt hie
feet" from emotion (vide Vol. VI., p. 221). ft
_is all
very picturesque for her to affect a love for sy lva n re-
treats, but her heart is only elated when beatii ig i n the
precincts of a court. She may, for a moment, a; ?pet date
that beautiful verse of Metastasio—
" In quel rozzo angusto tetto,
Che ricetto a not
Con la gioja e col diletto •
L'innocenza alberghera."
She may even appreciate it so far as to trans] Ito .it into
words as beautiful as tilip following:—
Our simple narrow mansion
Will suit our station well ;
There's room for heart expansion,
And peace and joy to dwell.

But it is evident, from the Miele colouring of b Mina'
that she only enjoyed life in the salons of the ce-onto
la crime, or, better still, in the drawing-roe. rt Is of g/,
palace. While wo feel compelled to as y
much in depreciation of the strength if Dir
dame D'Arblay's character, we must a
c know-
ledge that her writings are throughout keen, spa s.
and satirical. Wherever there is fun, there, be tll re' to
sufficient cause for laughter, either on the lip, or it Itr
sleeve of isladame D'Arblay. Her portraitures ot.
dame Duval, of the " vulgar cousins," of Evelins, 4)/
Mister Briggs, and of Captain Mervyn are good p;
of this. Sly humour was her delight, and we wt. li';
wager that her features relaxed considerably at 'A".
queer assurance with which the Chevalier D'Arblay.
eluded his letter to her on the 16th of November, 13',;
lie has been commenting upon the suppression of °-
vicious practice of duelling by the First Consul, Be olr,
parte. and asks how could dishonour attach itself' to
breve soldiers, from refusing to fight with their co. 11/:,
rades. Then, says he, •‘ Depuis ma conversation
sujet, je n'en vois pas passer un sand etre ten
d'aller, shake hand, nv,c lot." In this portion of a ';e
correspondence Madame D'Arblay describes her at /i
impressions on beholding the youthful conqueror
Italy and Egypt in his Consular Palace of the Tuillerli
For the satisfaction of the readers we transcribe this i 11;
teresting portion of the narrative. The English ladsv
standng at one of the windows of the chateau, in ex'
tation of a review by the First Consul:—
34 0
" The scene now, with regard to all that was press s
was splendidly gay and highly animating. The rot'
was full, but not crowded, with officers of rank in su
tuous rather than rich uniforms and exhibing a ataWi,
air that became their attire, which, however, gener I
speaking, was too gorgeous to be noble. t'
" Our window was that next to the consular apt OA
naent, in which Bonaparte was holding a levee, '1143
it was close to the steps ascending to it ; by wh /-0(1
means we saw all the forms of the various exits es
entrances, and had opportunity to examine every dr,to
,
and every countenance that passed and rep '1
assed. °1
was highly amusing, I might say historic, where the pa,
histcry and the present office were known.
"Sundry footmen of the First Consul,
liveries, were attending to bring or arrange' inn
hairs
required them ; various peace-officers,
.haeseler,
begilt, paraded occasionally up and down the 4,
to keep the ladies to their windows, and the g•mtlemen
to their ranks, so as to preserve the passaL,•,e or lane
through which the First Consul was to walk -.upon hill
entrance, clear and open ; and several. gent le manlike
looking persons, whom in former times I sit :heart); s ant.;
supposed pages of the back stairs, dressed in black*
sld
with gold chains hanging round their necks, a at I medal-
) I ba 1
T.:
lions pending from them, seemed to have the ei large Of
the door itself, leading immediately to the Audience
chamber of the First Consul.
"But what was most prominent in co:m manding
notice, was the array of the aides-de-camp a Bonr,
parte, which was so almost furiously striking;, that s!:
other vestments, even the most gaudy,
denly under a gloomy cloud when contrasteet with f
brightness."
•
" The Prince of Orange then passed us to enter ...-
audience chamber, with a look so serious, an air SO de,
to ,h
pressed, that I have not been at all surprised tear
he
was that very night taken very ill. aPpeatared su.do
" The last object for whom the way was cleared oil
the Second Consul, Cambae‘ris, who advanced with
stately and solemn pace, slow, regular, and consequee'
tial, dressed richly in scarlet and gold, and never tooli
ing to the right or left, but wearing a mien of fill.'
gravity and importance. He had several persons 1„;
his suite who, I think, but am not sure, were Minister
of State."
"At length the two human hedges were finsll/
formed, the door of the audience chainner was thrown
wide open with a commanding crash, ,and a viveeil,
officer—sentinel—or I know not what, nimbly descend a
the three steps into our apartment, lied placing infuse'
at the side of the door. with one hand spread as high ll°
possible above his head, and the other Extended horizon'
tally, called out in a loud and authoritative voice, '
t'reinier Consul 1'
" You will easily believe nothing more was necessarf
to obtain attention ; not a soul either. spoke or stirred
ae he and his suite passed along, wh icb, was so quickl),.
that, had I not been placed so near the door, and had
not all about me facilitated my standing foremost, and
being least crowd-obstructed, I could ;hardly have sees
trim. As it was I had a view so near, though so brio'
of his face, as to be very muc,! struck by it. It is of 1),
deeply impressive cast, pal _. uven to saikwness, while not
only in the eye, but in every feature, care, thought'
melancholy, and meditation are strongly- marked, pith
so much of character, nay, genius; and'. so penetrating
seriousness, or rather sadness, as powerfully to sick lot°
an observer's mind.
" Yet, though the busts and medall ions I have seal
are, in general, such good resemblances that I thick
I should have known him untold, he has by no WO°
the look to be expected from Bonap: irte, but rather
that of a profoundly studious and coulteniplative insoo
who o'er books consumes' not only the 'midnight
oil,' but his own daily strength, ' and wastes till'
puny body to decay' by abstruse speculation sod
theoretic plans or rather visions, ingenio us but not prat'
ticable. But the look of the commander who heads
his own army, who fights his own battles, who con-
quers every difficulty by personal exert ion, who eXe'
cotes all he plans, who performs even. all he suggests,
whose ambition is of the most enterprising, and whose
bravery is of the most daring cast ;—this, which is the
look to be expected from his situation, and these:pions
which have led to it, the spectator watt:l:l,es for in vain.
The plainness also of his dress, so cot. Lai dcuously Con-
trasted by the finery of all around him,. ‘conspires for-
cibly with his countenance, so ' sicklied o'er with the
pale hue of thought,' to give him far mote the air of *
student than a warrior."

" The review I shall attempt no der eruption of.
have no knowledge of the subject, and no fondness for
its object. It was far more superb than anything IMO
ever beheld ; but while all the pomp aad circumstance
of war animated others, it only saddened me ; and a
of past reflection, all of future dread, maide the whole
grandeur of the martial scene, and all the delusive
seduction of martial music, fill my eyes frequentlywit.ll
tears, but not rQgale my poor znascles with one single
smile.

"Bonaparte, mounting a beautiful and :spirited white
horse, closely encircled by his glittering Aides-de campy
and accompanied by his generals, rode rottnd the ranks,
holding his bridle indifferently in either ham d, and soul'
ing utterly careless of the prancing, rearing, and other
freaks of his horse, insomuch as to mike si Nine who were
near me with a notion of his being a bad horseman. I
am the last to be a judge upon this subj€ et ; but, as a
remarker, he only appeared to me a man who knew 50
well he could manage the animal when he. ,pleased, that
he did not deem it worth his while to keep constantly in
order what he knew, if urged or provoked, h:e could sub-
due in a moment.

" Precisely opposite to the window at lw.hich I Was
placed, the Chief Consul stationed himself after
making his round ; and thence he prefiented scale
swords of honour, spreading out one arm \with an air
and mien which changed his look from that of scho-
lastic severity to one that was highly mi litary gal
commanding.
"Just as the consular band, with their brazen drunis
as well as trumpets, marched facing the Fir st Consuir
the sun broke suddenly out from the clouds %which had
obscured it all the morning; and the effect was BO abrupt
and so dazzling that I could not help observing it to n3f
friend."

Besides these passages there are a multitud.a of sketches
of the pr;nPipal a,.!tors in the military scenes of the time. In
:=.;.gt:, of I.7,nelit] walking with wile in lac? CLawf'`
rnufded up in gain brown roeolo,"in sinotlierot a
Very different person, M. de Chateaubriand, who is de-
scribed as "by no means tall, and is rather Wallet ;