If you were to see a regiment of conscripts on the march[3] you would not be much impressed. Compared with the well-set-up, smartly-uniformed British soldiers, they would seem to you to be badly drilled and badly clothed, and to slouch along in any sort of order. You would perhaps smile at their blue overcoats buttoned behind the knees, and their ill-fitting red trousers; but you must remember that the French do not believe in the pomps and vanities of military show, but in making men fit for the actual work of war. Battles are not won by clothes, but by the men who wear them. The French soldier is very brave, a great lover of his country, and a splendid fighter, even though he may not look the part in your eyes.
The officers are educated for their profession at one or other of the great military schools, and they must pass difficult examinations before they receive their commissions. Infantry officers are trained at the famous school of St. Cyr, which was founded by Napoleon in 1806. Foreigners are admitted to this school, but not Germans or Austrians. All French officers must learn to speak German, and this knowledge of the enemy's language has more than once proved useful in the present war. Some time ago a French officer captured one end of a field telephone unknown to the Germans at the other end. He replied in German to the questions addressed to him, and was told that a train of reinforcements would pass a certain station at a certain time. At once he made his plans, and before the train reached the station it was blown up.
You know that in the German army the officers belong to the higher classes of society, and that few if any of them have risen from the ranks. In France any man who has the ability may rise to the highest posts in the army. There is a great gulf fixed between the private soldier and the officer in Germany; but in France there is a strong spirit of comradeship between all ranks, and this knits them together far better than the iron discipline of the Germans.
The army of France is inferior in numbers to that of Germany, but it easily ranks as the second of the armies of the world. Our regular army, as you know, is trained in India; France uses her North African colony of Algeria for the same purpose. Her infantry have long been renowned for their dash and spirit, and they are, next to our own regulars, the best marchers in Europe. The Zouaves, with their baggy red trousers and short blue jackets, are picked men. They are to the French army what the Highlanders are to our army--men of the most fearless bravery, and almost irresistible at the charge. The bayonet, which the Highlander calls the "wee bit steel," is their favourite weapon; the Zouave calls it by the poetical name of "Rosalie."
