Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 59, No. 363, January, 1846

There is only this choice for the useful and graceful covering of the foot-soldier's head; either the small slouched hat of the old Spanish infantry – a hat very liable to be turned into something slovenly and dirty – or the foraging cap of our undress – a covering most comfortable, but not quite strong enough for campaigning use, as well as for parade; or the helmet of antique form, shaped, that is to say, in some conformity with the make of the head, and more or less ornamented with crest and plume. We incline on the whole to the latter, and for two reasons: it is not so liable to get altered in shape by service as the others; it will wear well for a longer time; it is more useful in mêlées and against cavalry; and it is the most becoming of any. In Prussia it has lately been adopted with great success; and the appearance of the infantry there is now warlike and graceful in the highest degree. The helmet need not be made of metal; boiled leather is the proper material – ventilation and lightness can be easily provided for in it, and any degree of ornament may be superadded – crest or feathers, each is becoming.

For Eastern service something lighter than this is of course necessary – a cap or a broad hat might easily be adopted there; and for American service another description of covering is also most essential to the health and comfort of the soldier. We mean the close-fitting and well-formed fur cap, which can protect the head, neck, and cheeks of the wearer from the extraordinary rigour of a Canadian winter. The cap worn by our guards when last on service in these regions, was at once comfortable, useful, and handsome.

For the cavalry, where ornament seems to be required much more than amongst the infantry – for they fancy themselves, if indeed they are not, the top sawyers in all matters of service – the head-dress must be not only useful, but can hardly be made too ornamental, within the limits of good taste. And here allow us to say that the infantry shako and the great grenadier's cap are perfectly absurd and misplaced; the one will never give a man any chance against a sabre-cut, and the other is fit only to tumble off within the first two minutes of a charge. In heavy cavalry nothing but the helmet, richly plumed and crested, should be allowed; constructed either of leather or metal, yellow brass or silvery steel, and adorned sometimes with skins, sometimes with graven plates. The handsomest helmet worn by any regiment in Europe, is that of the old gardes du corps of Charles X., the same as that now worn by the gardes municipaux à cheval in Paris; a metal helm with leopard-skin visir; a lofty crest, with a horse-tail streaming down the back, and a high red and white feather rising from the left side. Beauty of natural form, the sharp contrast of flowing lines between the feather and the tailed crest, and the general brilliancy of colour, render this by far the most effective head-dress for cavalry which we have ever seen. Our helmets in England, for the dragoon guards, are too heavy, too theatrical; there is no life and spirit in them.

In light cavalry of all kinds, except lancers, the fur cap, lately re-introduced into the British army, is the most useful and most suitable covering; it is at once comfortable and becoming; its form is warlike and harmonious; its colour rich; and it admits of as much or as little ornament as you please to put upon it. Without a feather it is good, with one it is better; guard-bands add to its appearance without troubling the wearer; and it has the merit of lasting to look well longer than any other kind of cap whatever. In the lancers they should always preserve that national cap which tells us of the origin of this arm, and which is an ingenious and elegant adaptation of the strength of the helmet to the lightness of the shako; it is beautiful and graceful as the lance itself; we have nothing to say of it but what is in its favour.

Heavy cavalry, in our opinion, ought to wear the cuirass; this is the only relic of ancient defence which we are advocates for keeping up, and we do so upon the score of utility. It is rather heavy for the men, but only so because they are not accustomed to wear it in a judicious manner; it is of real service to the arm in question, and is the greatest ornament that a soldier can put on. It is true that our heavy cavalry did all their gallant deeds without it, and may do so over again; still it can do no harm, and may be of much use to a brigade of decidedly heavy cavalry; the helmet and the cuirass should always go together, neither without the other, as we see it often now, forming an absurd anomaly. The coat of the cavalry should be long, like the frock-coat for the heavy regiments; short, like the lengthened jacket of the light infantry, for the corresponding branch of the mounted soldiers; and the lancers should all wear the Andalusian or Hungarian jacket. While these may be ornamented with all the fancies of lace, embroidery, and buttons, the dress of the cuirassiers should be severely plain and simple. Epaulettes here, if worn, should be mere enrichments of the top of the sleeve; no weight has to be carried on the horseman's shoulder, and therefore our metal plates now stuck upon them are useless. The belt of the cartouche-box, if needed, can be confined on the shoulder by other means; and this, as well as the waist-belt for the sabre, should be broad and serviceable, fit for the roughest use.

To complete the clothing of our brave cavaliers, we would urge that wherever the helmet and cuirass are used, there the long boot should be adopted, were it only for harmony of purpose, to say nothing of means of defence. They need not be stiff, unwieldy, and so-called sword-proof boots, like those of the Life-guards, but equally high and much more flexible; they would cost a good deal of money at the first mounting of a regiment, but they would last for a long time by merely renewing their feet, and they would be both serviceable and comfortable to the men. Let all other regiments adhere as at present to their trousers – they can hardly do better; though, if any smart hussar corps wanted to show off their well-turned limbs to the ladies on a review day, they might sport tight pantaloons and Hessian boots as of old, pace nostrâ.

One important subject, as connected with military dress, is that of national distinctions of costume; for whatever tends to remind men of their common country, whatever tends to mark them out as a band of brothers in arms, coming from the same homes, and bound to stand by each other in their noble calling – this is worthy of the attention of the skilful leader. In our own country, we have admirable opportunities of turning the strong love of local distinction and ancient glory to good account; for while we consider the brilliant scarlet of our uniforms to be distinctive of English arms, we have the glorious old plaids of Scotland, any one of which is enough to stir up the heart of the hardiest mountaineer, when he meets his brethren in the field. We are of opinion, then, that as a point of military discipline, as well as of æsthetical correctness, all English regiments – properly so called – should adhere to their red uniforms, varied with subsidiary ornaments, or other distinctions, to mark separate regiments and corps. Those from Scotland should all wear the plaids, so as to let them predominate in their habiliments – of course, we would send those stupid plumed caps to the right-about, and adopt the Scotch bonnet; but the plaid of each clan should find its place in the British army; and those noble distinctions of old feudal manners should never be done away with. The Irish regiments ought also to have their distinguishing colours; and as green seems to be the poetical tint of the Emerald Isle, there is no sound objection to the adoption of that hue for the base of the Irish uniform. Irish soldiers will fight like devils in any uniform, or in no uniform at all, as has been seen on many a gory field; but if the use of green can awaken one thought of national glory – one kindly recollection of "dear Erin" in their hearts – then let the gallant spirits from the western isle lead their headlong charges in the tint that haunts their imagination. Do we want them to have some red about their coats? – they are always willing to dye them with their best blood. And even the Taffies – the quiet, sedate Taffies – for "she is good soldier, Got tam, when her blood is up" – why should not they have some national uniform, to remind them of the blue tints of their native mountains and deep vales? Children of the mist and the wild heath, the natural rock, and the lonely lake – the glare of our Saxon red is too brilliant for them; let them wrap their sinewy limbs and fiery hearts in pale blue, and grey, and white – and so let them enter the bloody lists, where they will hold their ground by the side of the three other nations, and bear away their share of military glory.

A few words on the navy, and we have done – and only a few words; for we have nothing to say, but to give unqualified praise. In the habiliments of our jolly tras – God bless 'em! – utility is every thing, ornament nothing. They are clad just as they should be; and yet, on gala days, they know how to make themselves as coquettish as any girl on Portsmouth Downs. There is no greater dandy in the world, in his peculiar way, than your regular man-of-war's man. The short jacket, and the loose trousers, and the neat pumps, and the trim little hat, and the checked shirt, and the black riband round his neck – he is quite irresistible among the fairer portion of the creation. Or in a stormy night, with his pilot coat on, at the lonely helm, and his northwester pulled close over his ears, and his steady, unflinching eye, and his warm, lion-like heart within – the true sailor is one of the noblest specimens of man. He that is fierce as a bull, and yet tender-hearted like a young child – the greatest blasphemer on earth, and yet the most religious, or even the most superstitious, of men – he is not to be tied down by the rules of æsthetics, like a land-crab. His home is on the sea, as somebody has said or sung; he has nobody there to see him but himself, (if we may be excused the bull.) What does he care for dress? Only look at him standing by his gun, when broadside after broadside is pouring into the timbers of some sanguinary Yankee or blustering Frenchman. What is his uniform then? Let them declare who have seen that most awful of human sights, a great battle at sea; but let them not whisper it in ears feminine or polite.

To the officers, we will only add a word – let them eschew all hats and short coats, and keep to their caps and frocks. This is their proper dress. Let them keep themselves warm, comfortable, and ever ready for service. Never let them face their coats with red again. The old blue and white against all the world, say we! And let the soldiers take a leaf out of the sailors' books, and remember that utility, though accompanied by plainness, is far more consonant to the laws of æsthetics than unmeaning ornament or erroneous form.

GOETHE TO HIS ROMAN LOVE

Attempted in the Original Metre

Lass dich, Geliebte, nicht reu'n dass du mich so schnell dich ergeben!
Glaub'es, ich denke nicht frech, denke nicht niedrig von dir.
Vielfach wirkten die Pfeile des Amor; einige ritzen,
Und vom schleichenden Gift kranket auf Jahre des Herz,
Aber machtig befiedert, mit frisch geschliffener Scharfe,
Dringen die andern ins Mark, zunden behende das Blut.
In der Heroischen Zeit, da Gotten und Gottinnen liebten,
Folgte Begierde dem Blick, folgte Genuss der Begier.
Glau'bst du er habe sich lange die Gottiun der Liebe besonnen,
Als in Idäischen Hain einst ihr Anchises befiel?
Hatte Luna gesäumt den schonen Schläfer zu küssen, —
O, so hatt' ihm geschwind, neidend, Aurora geweckt!
Hero erblickte Leander am lauten Fest, und behende
Stürzte der Liebende sich heiss in die nàchtliche Fluth.
Rhea Sylvia wandelt, die fürstliche Jungfrau, der Tiber
Wasser zu schopfen, hinab – und sie ergreifet der Gott.
So erzengte die Sohne sich Mars! Die zwillinge tranket
Eine Wólfin, und Rom nennt sich die Fürstin der Welt.

Rue it not, dear, that so swiftly thy tenderness yielded thee to me —
Dream not again that I think lightly or lowly of thee.
Divers the arrows of Love: from some that but graze on the surface,
Softly the poison is shed, slowly to sicken the heart;
Others, triumphantly feather'd, and pointed with exquisite mischief,
Rush to the mark, and the glow quivers at once in the blood.
In the heroical time when to Love the Deities yielded,
Follow'd desire on a glance, follow'd enjoyment desire.
Deem'st thou the parley was long when Anchises had pleased Aphroditë,
Catching her eye as she roved deep in the woodlands of Ide?
Or that if Luna had paused about wooing her beautiful Sleeper,
Jealous Aurora's approach would not have startled the boy?
Hero had glanced on Leander but once at the Festival – instant
Plunges the passionate youth into the night-mantled wave.
Rhea in maidenly glee caroll'd down with her urn to the Tiber —
But in a moment she sank mute on the breast of the God:
Hence the illustrious Twins that were nursed in the den of the She-wolf;
Worthy of Mars were the boys: – Rome was the Queen of the World.

    P.M.

EPIGRAMS

Anacreon's Grave

Wo die Rose hier blüht, wo Reben um Lorbeer sich schlingen
Wo das Turtelchen lockt, wo sich das Grillchen ergezt,
Welch ein grab est hier, das alle Götter mit Leben
Schön bepflanzt und geziert? Es ist Anacreons Ruh.
Frühling, Sommer und Herbst genoss der glückliche Dichter,
Vor dem Winter hat ihn endlich der hügel geschützt.

Here where the Rose is in bloom, the Vine and the Laurel entwining —
Here where the Turtle invites – here where the Grasshopper springs,
Whose is this grave in the midst, which the Gods with life and with beauty
Thus have circled and decked? – This is Anacreon's Tomb.
Spring, and Summer, and Autumn, the joyous spirit had tasted,
And from the Winter he hides under this hillock of green.

The Warning

Wecke den Amor nicht auf! Noch schäft der liebliche Knabe
Geh! vollbring dein Geshäft, wie es der Tag dir gebeut!
So der Zeit bedienet sich klug die sorgliche Mutter,
Wenn ihr Knäbchen entschläft, denn es erwacht nur zu bald.

Waken not Love from his sleep! The boy lies buried in slumber;
Go, and, while leisure is left, finish the task of to-day;
Even as a diligent mother, who, seizing the hour as it passes,
Works while her child is asleep – knowing he'll waken too soon.

The Swiss Alp

War doch gestern dein haupt noch so braun wie die Locke der Lieben,
Deren holdes Gebild still aus der Ferne mir winkt;
Silbergrau bezeichzet dir fruh der Schnee nun die Gipfel,
Der sich im sturmender nacht, dir um den Scheitel ergoss.
Jugend, ach, ist dem Alter so nah, durch's Leben verbunden
Wie ein beweglicher Traum Gestern und Heute verband.