contact with his vassal. He placed arms in his hand, and relied upon his using them with effect. As early as the battle of the Standard we find the long Norman bow in the hands of the Saxon peasantry; and the yeomen of England contributed in no small degree to the victories of Crecy, Poictiers, and Agincourt. The modern system of war, although considerably altered since the introduction of the bayonet, may be regarded as having actually manifested itself during the German campaigns of the sixteenth century, and its rudiments may be traced back to a much earlier period. The invention of gunpowder no doubt promoted the change, but it is chiefly due to the conversion of the old temporary levies into a standing army. After that change, every gentleman was no longer necessarily a soldier. The hand of the vassal ceased to be equally conversant with the sword as with the plough; fighting became a distinct profession, the art of making war a regular science. Under the new discipline the shield was laid aside, the pike was substituted for the sword; the men were ranged closely together, the individual soldier was drilled to a manual exercise, and large bodies of men were taught by continual practice to act together, and at the word of command to move as one man. The soldiers became aware that their personal safety and the success of their common movement depended not so much upon the strength or courage of each as upon the degree in which he acted with and supported his comrade. The operations of war assumed a more extended and more complicated character. Generals no longer fought in the van of their troops and vindicated their title to lead by incurring a greater share of danger. Hereditary constables and admirals were set aside, because, though valour appeared to be an inheritance, wisdom and sage counsel assuredly were not. The results of a battle or of a campaign came to depend more upon the head of the leader as less upon the head of each soldier. Bodies of men were moved to and fro like pieces upon a chess-board. The effects of particular combinations were studied, fortresses were silently evacuated when it became clear that under certain circumstances they could not advantageously be defended. Effects were produced by the mere exhibition of strength in a particular quarter, and hostile armies were in this way marched and counter-marched in each other's front and flank, and whole campaigns sometimes passed away without a decisive engagement. For single combats or personal achievements the men were allowed very inadequate weapons and comparatively few opportunities, though under the occasional circumstances of a storm or some struggle of more than ordinary severity, it became fearfully evident that the same force and manhood that in old time had drawn a cloth-yard arrow to the head, or wielded a two-handed blade, could employ a modern weapon with an effect no less deadly. The trained soldiers of the Peninsula and Waterloo differed only in the trappings and accidents of war from the ill-disciplined yeomen of Edward and the Black Prince. Henry the Fifth appears to have been, in our English battle at least, the father of the modern system. His changes in the mode of levying, supporting, and training an army were considerable. Personal services began to be paid with reluctance, and had fallen into much disuse, the composition termed "scutage money" being generally substituted in their stead. Henry employed this and his other resources in raising and retaining regular troops. He entered into contracts with his chief nobles and tenants for their services, paying each according to his rank. They in their turn made similar contracts with such of their own dependents as were willing to serve abroad. These levies were regularly drilled and taught to move in unison, after the manner of disciplined troops. The advantage of this discipline appears through Henry's campaigns, and shone out especially at Agincourt. At the time however of which we are now writing, these indications of the later system had not yet appeared. Generals still looked to numbers rather than to skill. Days and places for pitched battles were still occasionally appointed. The manufacture of gunpowder, or, as it was called; "pulvis ad faciendum le crak," was in a rude state, and the use of that subtle grain but little understood. Cannon, styled by Barbour "bombards" and "crakys of war," used in defence of Guesnoy in 1340, and probably by the English at Crecy six years later, were at best unwieldy machines. Edward the Fourth is said to have been the first English sovereign who actually "sparkeled his enemies with his ordinance," that is, who derived any real benefit from them. He indeed so used them, that "Fort Hercules, Cesar grand debelleur, Estoient vivant, auroient crainte et frayeur But we must, however unwillingly, confine ourselves within reasonable limits, and these we fear our readers may be of opinion we have already overstepped. We have attempted to exhibit the condition of the English nation under the sway of their most warlike monarch, and to show the mighty machine which his policy perfected and brought to bear upon his one grand object, conquest. The actual wars of the reign, and the spirit-stirring events connected with them, demand a separate notice, which, it may be, at some future period we may have an opportunity of bestowing upon them. : ART II.-Diary and Letters of Madame D'Arblay. Vol. V. Colburn. THAT the interest of this series does not become exhausted, and is not even diminished, must be owing to some rare qualities in the diarist and letter-writer; especially when the collection is so protracted and voluminous. These rare and charming features may, we think, be thus classified and characterized :— First, a great number and diversity of persons pass under her observation, while most of them are such as one desires to hear of, and perhaps not the less that they are often sketched as seen in their most careless moments; -secondly, the painter is a keen and pains-taking observer, although we do not always feel confident that reliance is to be placed in her views; for her depth is not great, at the same time that her judg ments are too much fashioned according to one uniform and artificial standard; and lastly, the artist gains upon us, because her candour and natural sensibility become more apparent the longer she mingles in society, not even being spoiled by court; but on the other hand, having her heart schooled, without impairing its native truthfulness or withering its beautiful affections. If the reader wishes to test our diarist's principles and sentiments, let a comparison be made between the early volumes of this series and the present,-between the period of her girlhood and that when the fifth volume closes, viz., of her marriage at the age of forty-one, and there will be found no diminution; but, on the contrary, more unmistakeable evidences of reality, of sympathy, and elevation of mind. There is as much animation as ever; and there is less of affectation and of vanity's renouncements. This fifth volume comprises four years of Miss Burney's life,— viz., from 1789 to 1793. In the course of the former two, the King recovers his reason, and Fanny recovers her freedom. The latter two are passed with her father at Chelsea College, in Mrs. Crewe's brilliant coterie, with Mrs Phillips at Mickleham, or among the Locks of Norbury Park; and the French revolution sends a delightful colony to England, which afforded a most pleasing variety in the diarist's experience, even to the most important change that could occur in her life. No reader can be sorry that Miss Burney was at length to be liberated from the confinement, and sometimes the torture of court life. "Sweet" as the Queen is uniformly in these volumes declared to be, yet the tire-woman has left many testimonies to the effect that, pleasant nature and true human happiness are not to be sought for in the train of royalty. "Her Majesty, the day before we left Windsor, gave me to understand my attendance would be yet one more fortnight requisite, though no longer. I heard this with a fearful presentiment. I should never go through another fortnight;" and this is one of her testimonies. The first of what follows in our pages bears upon the exigencies of court formality. "It is terrible to see how formality annihilates the best faculties," is a remark of Miss Burney; which her Diary forcibly impresses, when relating the particulars of the reading tasks which took place in the Queen's closet. The diarist had to perform as part of her ministring duties the toilsome business of sometimes going through an entire play, and this too without pause, hindrance, or comment of any sort, even when the piece, as in the case of the "Rivals," might not have been written exclusively or exactly for her Majesty'sear. The reader, besides, it is to be borne in mind, was beginning to feel that her health continued to yield under the requisitions of etiquette, court occupation, and continual restraint. Still, she was put to exhausting trials;-ladies of the bed-chamber, and even princesses of the blood, the while spinning to pleasure the Queen, who might also happen to be knotting. We quote a scene of the sort: 66 The moment coffee was over the Princess Elizabeth came for me. I found her Majesty knotting, the Princess Royal drawing, Princess Augusta spinning, and Lady Courtown I believe in the same entployment, but I saw none of them perfectly well. Come, Miss Burney," cried the Queen, "how are your spirits ?-How is your voice ?" "She says, ma'am," cried the kind Princess Elizabeth, "she shall do her best!" This had been said in attending her Royal Highness back. I could only confirm it, and that cheerfully, to hide fearfully. I had not the advantage of choosing my play, nor do I know what would have been my decision had it fallen to my lot. Her Majesty had just begun Colman's works, and "Polly Honeycomb" was to open my campaign. "I think," cried the Queen most graciously, "Miss Burney will read the better for drawing a chair and sitting down." "O yes, mamma! I dare say so !" cried Princess Augusta and Princess Elizabeth, both in a moment. The Queen then told me to draw my chair close to her side. I made no scruples. Heaven knows I needed not the addition of standing! but most glad I felt at being placed thus near, as it saved a constant painful effort of loud reading. 'Lady Courtown," cried the Queen, you had better draw nearer, for Miss Burney has the misfortune of reading rather low at first." Nothing could be more amiable than this opening. Accordingly, I did, as I had promised, my best; and, indifferent as that was, it would rather have surprised you, all things considered, that it was not yet worse. But I exerted all the courage I pos 66 66 sess, and, having often read to the Queen, I felt how much it behoved me not to let her surmise I had any greater awe to surmount. It is but a vulgar performance; and I was obliged to omit, as well as I could at sight, several circumstances very unpleasant for reading, and ill enough fitted for such hearers. It went off pretty flat. Nobody is to comment, nobody is to interrupt; and even between one act and another not a moment's pause is expected to be made. I had been already informed of this etiquette by Mr. Turbulent and Miss Planta; nevertheless, it is not only oppressive to . the reader, but loses to the hearers so much spirit and satisfaction, that I determined to endeavour, should I again be called upon, to introduce a little break into this tiresome and unnatural profundity of respectful solemnity. My own embarrassment, however, made it agree with me for the present uncommonly well. Lady Courtown never uttered one single word the whole time; yet is she one of the most loquacious of our establishment. But such is the settled etiquette. The Queen has a taste for conversation, and the Princesses a good-humoured love for it, that doubles the regret of such an annihilation of all nature and all pleasantry. But what will not prejudice and education inculcate? They have been brought up to annex silence to respect and decorum: to talk, therefore, unbid, or to differ from any given opinion even when called upon, are regarded as high improprieties, if not presumptions. And yet there were reliefs to these cold solemnities and this utter annihilation of nature and frolicsome humour, even within the precincts of the court; and the late king, William the Fourth, appears, from his own statement and showing, to have been one especially of the mad-caps. Still, he was long a stranger to the palace; and when, on his father's recovery, he returned to England, it was without leave, -having "probably all the excuse of believing his Royal Father incapable of further governance." However, the Duke of Clarence did arrive; and here are some glimpses of him and his rattling and familiar manner: I In the evening, while Mrs. Schwellenberg, Mrs. Zachary, and myself were sitting in the eating parlour, the door was suddenly opened by Mr. Alberts, the Queen's page, and "Prince William" was announced. He came to see Mrs. Schwellenberg. He is handsome, as are all the royal family, though he is not of a height to be called a good figure. He looked very hard at the two strangers, but made us all sit, very civilly, and drew a chair for himself, and began to discourse, with the most unbounded openness and careless ease, of everything that occurred to him. Mrs. Schwellenberg said that she had pitied him for the grief he must have felt at the news of the King's illness: 66 Yes," cried he, "I was very sorry for his Majesty, very sorry indeed, no man loves the King better; of that be assured. But all sailors love their King. And I felt for the Queen, too,-I did, faith. was horridly agitated when saw the King first. I could hardly stand." Then Mrs. Schwellenberg suddenly said, "Miss Berner, now you might see his Royal Highness; you wanted it so much, and now you might do it. Your Royal Highness, that is Miss Berner." He rose very civilly, and bowed, to this strange freak of an introduction; and, of course, I rose and courtsied low, and waited his commands to sit again; which were given instantly, with great courtesy. "Ma'am," cried he, you have a brother in the service," "Yes, sir," I answered, much pleased with his professional attention. He had not, he civilly said, the pleasure to know him, but he had heard of him. Then, turning suddenly to Mrs. Schwellenberg, "Pray," cried he, "what has become of Mrs.-Mrs.-Mrs. Hogentot?" "O, your Royal Highness!" cried she, stifling much offence, "do you mean the poor 66 |