Military dress is almost as difficult and dangerous a thing to deal with as ladies' attire; as various in its hues and forms, as fanciful in its conceits, as changeable in its fashions, and as touchy in the temper of its wearers. To pull a guardsman by his coat-tail would be as unpardonable an offence as to tread on a lady's skirt; and to offer an opinion upon a lancer's cap might be considered as impertinent as to criticise a lady's bonnet. Having, however, been bold enough to commit offences of the latter description, we will now venture to brave the wrath of the whole of Her Majesty's forces, horse, foot, and artillery, while we read those gallant gentlemen a lecture on their costume; and we will even add into the bargain that other most honourable and equally useful branch of the public force "the mariners of England;"—as for "the force," the police, truly we eschew them and their deeds. They are a perverse, stiff-necked race, who wear two abominations, round hats and short coats, and they have a villanous propensity of following you home from your club of an evening, and inveigling you every now and then to Bow Street, thrusting a broken knocker or two into your pocket as you go along, and then pestering your bewildered memory with all sorts of nocturnal misdemeanors; truly they are a race of noxious vermin; pretty well, perhaps, for the protection of the swinish multitude; but for us gentlemen, why, they "come betwixt the wind and our nobility," and their remembrance stinks in our nostrils! One thing only we know in their favour,—they dress all in one colour; their blueness alone makes them sufferable in this nineteenth century of ours, and whenever they depart from this great principle of Æsthetic unity, we will bring in a bill for their suppression.

Now, if there be any thing more self-evident than the ante-Noachian problem that "two and two make four," it is this axiom, the verity of which was demonstrated long before Achilles behaved in so ungentlemanlike a manner to Hector, when he took him that dirty drive round Troy, viz., that utility for purposes of service is the very essence and spirit of military costume. The finest dressed army in the world had better be in plain clothes, if the excellence of their clothing depends only upon its ornament; while, on the contrary, the plainest and most rudely equipped corps will come out of campaign with excellent military effect and appearance, provided only that their clothing has been suited to their service. "My dear fellow," said an old moustache to us one day on the Place du Carrousel, "give me 20,000 men who have served in nothing but blouses and blue caps, and I'll make you ten times as fine a line as all that mob of national guards there in their new uniforms." And he was right; in military matters it is the man that produces the real effect, as to appearance, upon the long run; and the practised eye of the old campaigner would prefer a Waterloo man in a smock-frock to any flunkey you could pick out, even though he were dressed up as fine as Lady L——'s favourite chasseur. We assert, then, that a scrupulous attention to the nature of the service should form the basis and the starting point of all discussions as to military costume; but we will not go so far as to say that ornament is inadmissible or unnecessary for military men. On the contrary, we know that the adornment of the person has been attended to by the bravest men in all ages and in all armies; and we know further, that it does produce a powerful effect on the morale of a corps. We intend to advocate the use of frequent but consistent ornament for our soldiers, but we do not wish to turn then into mere paraders. Use first and before every thing, in this case at least—ornament next and entirely subsidiary to it; keep to this rule, and you shall see an army turned out into the field better than most that pass muster now-a-days.

It is of no use going into that diffuse subject—that vexatissima quÆstio—of how far the military dress of ancient days accorded with the wants and uses of the service; the reader may go and look into that dusty little volume of Vegetius de Re Militari, if he is fond of dabbling in military antiquities; or he may consult our learned old friend, Captain Grose of facetious memory; or still better, let him be off to Goderich Court, and ask the porter to admit him to a sight of the finest collection of armour in the world. We are not going to dive into these matters; we will rather say roundly, that ever since armour came to be disused, we think military men have gone clean daft in equipping themselves. Only look at the uniforms of the campaigns of the Grand Monarque or William of Orange; see what inconvenient coats those glorious fellows that won Blenheim and Ramilies wore; recollect the absurd turn-out of Charles XII., and even of Frederick the Great. Convenience and comfort seem to have been totally out of the question in those days—not that they made the men worse soldiers—they all fought admirably—but we question whether their fatigues would not have been less, and their health sounder, had they been clad and equipped in a sensible manner. Oh, the powder, and the pigtails, and the broad cuffs, and the Ramilies cock, and the sword tucked through the coat-tail! Glories of glorious times, ye are gone for ever! But so, too, are the tactics of your wearers; all is changed; another CÆsar has swept you all off the field; and even the famous uniforms of the French empire, so brilliant,—but at times so absurd,—even they have been altered. They have had their day, and most of them are fit now only for fancy-balls and old-clothes' shops. Nothing is so short-lived as a good uniform; it varies with the taste of a commander-in-chief, or a commander-in-chief's toady; or the fancy of some royal favourite. It's like the wind in the Mediterranean; you never know what is coming upon you till you are in the midst of it; and so it is with your uniform. Get a new one, and the probability is that you will not show it on parade half-a-dozen times before a new regulation is out, and then more work for the tailors. Be it so, then; military costume, like all other kinds, is doomed to change; let us aim only at keeping its vagaries within something like the limits of common sense.

The infantry of our own army—the successors of those noble fellows that walked across Spain—have no better covering for their backs than the scanty and useless coatee; in this they parade, and in this they are supposed to fight. Behind, two little timid-looking skirts descend any thing but gracefully; they are too small to have any grace in them; and a pair of sham cotton epaulettes, or large unmeaning wings, are supposed, by a pleasing fiction of the military tailors, to adorn their shoulders. Now, this garment, we contend, is neither ornamental nor graceful: were it cut down into the common jacket, it would be better; were the excrescences at the shoulders removed, it would be more seemly; it has no warmth in it, and offers little or no protection against the rain. No soldier, who has been reduced to his coatee in a campaign, but must have sighed after his original smock-frock, or any other outer covering that had at least some pretensions to being useful. Since, however, the idea of defending the body of the foot-soldier by steel or leather is given up, the two things requisite in a serviceable coat are warmth and convenience. No coatee nor jacket can be warm enough for the British service, exposed as the men are to all varieties of climate; and infinitely more to cold and wet than to sunshine. In India, and in some of the colonies, a lighter kind of clothing may be indeed necessary; but for the common use of the army, a coat is wanted that shall be a protection against wet and cold, and yet not inconvenient to the wearer—making him comfortable, in fact, while it allows him free use of all his limbs and muscles. For the heavy infantry, therefore, we would propose such a coat as we have before recommended for all civilians; nothing more nor less than a frock-coat, coming down half way along the thighs, and close buttoned above to the chin. Every body knows that this is the most comfortable thing he can put on for all kinds of wear; and the evolutions of a good infantry soldier can be perfectly well gone through by whoever wears it. The shoulders, if they require external ornament, should have something that is really useful at the same time; not merely tinsel or cotton lace; and, therefore, it should be the adaptation of a thick woollen pad, ornamented with metal or coloured lace, calculated to take off the pressure of the musket and of the knapsack-straps from the bones of the neck and arm. Whoever has carried a musket twelve or fourteen hours continuously, and has had his pack on at the same time, well knows how comfortable and how really useful such an addition to his dress would have been. The coat should be furnished with two small pockets in front, just to hold a knife, some money, and things of that kind; and they should be close to the circle of pressure at the waist.

The appearance of a close-buttoned coat of this kind, not caricatured about the shoulders, is manly and dignified; it proclaims its usefulness at the first glance; and, whatever be its colour, will form a handsome uniform. The cross-belts should be done away with—being at once ugly, expensive, and inconvenient—a plain broad strap, white or black, as you please, should gird the waist up well; and the cartouche-box, which could be made to slide upon it, might be worn, while out of battle, behind; but, in actual engagement, in front. The bayonet (which might advantageously be lengthened, and made to approximate rather more to the nature of a sword, or a long knife, than it does now) should always have its sheath fixed to the belt, at the left side.

The soldier would in this way have his habiliments warmer, his equipments tighter and more simple, and his appearance in line or on guard, highly improved. Only think of how you would dress yourself if you were going out deer-stalking, and you will come to something of this kind—barring the pockets of your shooting-coat, which are certainly inadmissible, from motives of military neatness and discipline; and barring, too, the buttoning up to the chin, which, on the mountain's side, you had perhaps rather dispense with; but which the soldier must adhere to, if he would keep up the essential degree of stiffness and smartness of dress. Coats of this kind, and equipments of this nature, are worn by the Prussian and French infantry—two good authorities in military matters; they have been tried on our police force; something of the sort has been used for clothing the pensioners; and we venture to predict, that, in a few years, a dress upon these principles will become universal in the British service.

Should a man have a cloak or a great-coat?—It should be a compound of both—a small cloak with sleeves; and it might be worn either rolled up, as at present, on the top of the kit; or else, as some of the French troops wear it—both conveniently and gracefully—made up into a long thin roll, going over the left shoulder, and with the ends strapped together upon the right hip. The Scotch regiments would wear their plaids most effectively in this fashion; and it is a good guise to adopt, whether you are on the rough lands of Spain, or in the thick woods of America. A warm coat and a blanket are two of the soldier's dearest friends in winter and have kept many a man out of hospital.

The light-infantry man—and there ought to be more distinction made in the uniforms than there is—might wear a long jacket, descending below the hips, instead of a frock-coat: his cloak, too, should be lighter: and, in fact, his whole equipments constructed for quick and active service. So should be the rifleman's clothing and arms; everything should be designed to serve the one end had in view—the real use and intent of that particular arm, whatever it might be; and, if so, then let the officers of the rifles leave off their long trailing sabres—fitter for a light dragoon than for one who is supposed to be hopping about, like a Will o' the Wisp, in swampy brakes; or creeping, like a serpent, through rushes and long grass. Their present swords are good for nothing but to trip them up in their movements, or to give them the pleasure of holding the sheath in one hand, and the blade in the other.

For the leg-clothing of our men, give us the trouser, and let us keep to it; we do not indeed seem likely to change it; yet, who can tell? Just as the civilian seems to have decided upon this happy invention, as the most useful and comfortable thing he ever donned, so will all military men agree in its praises. It is not so good for parade purposes, as the light pantaloon and gaiter, in as much as it conceals defects of limbs; but, on the long run, it is far to be preferred; it lasts better, keeps cleaner, and does more comfortable service to its wearer, than any thing else. One point not sufficiently attended to by our military authorities, and yet which affects the health of the men, is, that their trousers, whether in parade or for service, whether for winter or for summer use, should be made of such a woollen fabric as will allow of frequent washing. It is impossible for the cleanliness of the soldier to be sufficiently kept up without this; and the material now used for plaids of various kinds, or the common blanketing for sailors' clothes, might be easily modified, so as to be suitable for this purpose. Linen trousers are indispensable for foreign service of some kinds; but for summer clothing at home, a light white blanketing, which has the curious faults of being cool in warm weather, and warm in cold, is the proper substitute; our men often get sudden chills in summer evenings, which send then to the fever ward, and the cause is mainly attributable to undue exposure in insufficient clothing. To complete the lower portions of the soldier's dress, let him wear either the shoe and gaiter, or the low boot; either is good, there is hardly a choice—comfort preponderates in favour of the gaiters—ornament in that of the boot.

And now for the head-gear of the British Achilles: a touching and a troublesome subject, which has bothered all heads, from those of the humble wearer up to the field-marshal, who is content under the shadow—not of his laurels—but his plumes—to design any kind of uncomfortable and ugly thing that strikes his imagination, and to clap it on the cranium of steady veteran and raw recruit. Truly we have been most unfortunate, Æsthetically speaking, in our military caps; and, to go no further back than Peninsular recollections,—from the conico-cylindrical cap of Vimiera to the funny little thing with a flap up in front of Vittoria and Waterloo, down through the inverted cone-shaped shako of recent days—until we have come to the very bathos of all chapellerie that now disgraces the heads of too many among our infantry regiments—all has been bad. Never, since the day when men first armed their heads for the fight, has there been seen such a paltry, ugly, useless, bastard kind of a thing as the last cap turned out for the British army. With its poke before and behind, its conical top and low elevation, it is a degraded cross between a Germano-Tyrolese cap and a policeman's hat—a bad mixture of both. May it be sent back to Germany, where the idea came from, and may it be stuffed into a barrel of sour-crout, not to come out till it is thoroughly rotted.

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.