duty? Do they not take every opportunity of
getting out of the uniform which is a badge of
their profession? Not wanting in personal
courage they are ready enough to fight when
occasion offers; but they go into action, as to a
fox-hunt, or a tiger-chase, and do their part
always very valiantly, and often very stupidly;
and this—first, because of that want of interest
in war as a business, which has always
characterised them—and, next because they have
not studied the art of war in the barrack-room,
in order that they may make it available on the
field of battle.

We cannot know—we have not the means of
knowing—all the mischief which comes of this
non-professional element among our officers.
When we read of grave military mistakes which
have been attended with all sorts of ruinous
results—of such blunders as the fatal march
from Mhow, or the Hounslow expedition of
more recent days—we do not know how far
these and the like disasters may be attributable
to this want of practical knowledge of their
business by which so many of the officers who
have our soldiers in charge are distinguished;
we do not know—though we can partly guess
—how these guardians of our guardians may
have been occupied with the odds upon the
Chester Cup, or the pigeon match at Battersea,
or the prospects of the mare which Captain
Jones was to run at the Water Splash steeple
chases, when they might, and ought to, have
been busy making arrangements for the comfort
of the men under their charge, for the well-
being of them during the march, and for their
comfortable reception at the end of it.

Is it any consolation to us when we hear that
such care and provision have been wanting, and
that the most culpable neglect of the simplest
and commonest precautions has led, as might
be expected, to the most disastrous results—is
it any consolation to us to be told that the
men who were responsible for these blunders
were in an eminent degree gentleman-like and
well-bred? Does it console us to learn that
they were men who knew how to behave in a
lady's drawing-room, that they were pleasant
inmates in a country house, that their manners
at table were unexceptionable, that they had
clean hands, and well-kept nails, and nicely
fitting garments for all sorts of occasions, with
knowledge when to put them on, and how?
Excellent qualities all these, no doubt, but not
sufficiently so to render us indifferent as to
whether the individuals possessing them were,
or were not, profoundly and thoroughly imbued
with a knowledge of their profession, and
interested above all things in the duties which
belong to it.

Now let not any reader of these words go
away with a false impression of what they are
intended to convey, and assert that the object
of what is here written is to drag down the
position of the British officer, and to fill the army
with a set of ill-conditioned snobs. No such
thing, the reader may rest assured, is contemplated
as either a desirable, or in the least
degree probable, result of the abolition of
purchase in the army. What we are contending
against is simply the assigning undue importance
to what is, after all, but one element—
and that of secondary importance—in the
character of an officer. One gets tired of this
perpetually heard boast: " Our officers are gentlemen;
the British officer must always be a
gentleman." Granted, granted, one feels
inclined to say in reply, but why all this fuss
about it? Are not men in other professions
gentlemen? Are not barristers gentlemen?
Are not clergymen, doctors, government
employés? Yet these do not attain the different
professional positions which they occupy by
purchase. Yes, these are gentlemen—at least some
of them are, and some of them are not, just as
it is, and always must be, in every large
collection of men, just as it is in this vaunted
profession of arms, even as at present constituted.

The thing which we would plead for is that
the army should, in this respect, be allowed to
take its chance along with the other occupations
in which men engage. Why should even
an attempt be made to set apart this fighting
business, and exercise a sort of protection over
it for the benefit of a special class? Let a good
liberal education, in the first place, and an
elaborate technical education, in the second, be
necessary for the military candidate, as it is
for those who would enter on most other callings
in which the sons of gentlemen engage.
Let this profession be thrown open, as others
are, to everybody who can command the means
of getting such education and making such
preparation. Let its high places be made objects
of competition—as other high places are—to be
contended for by all who possess ability, and
who choose to work. Let merit—the only
legitimate ground for promotion in any
profession—be the ground for promotion in this.
The man who does his work best in civil
occupations is the man who succeeds best; let this
be so in this military occupation as well.

And, after all, this attempt to put our system
of promotion on a different footing would be no
such new and startling proceeding as it at first
sight appears. It would by no means be a
leap in the dark. In our navy—far from
the least distinguished of our English
"institutions"—such a thing as promotion by
purchase is unknown. It is unknown in the artillery
and engineers; two of our finest and best
organised services. In the navy, doubtless,
plenty of complaints are made of the slowness
of promotion and of the exercise of favouritism;
but this last is, after all, only a corruption
which has grown up through neglect and want
of supervision, and is no integral part of our
system; while the first might be amended, in a
great measure, by certain new regulations in
connexion with the superannuation of officers,
which would be equally to the advantage of the
younger branches of the profession, and of the
public.

At all events, here are three important ser-