But though the State ceased to reduce the number of battalions, everything was put on a peace footing as soon as possible. “Upon the return of the army, the reduction of its establishments was effected in the usual reckless fashion. We soon reverted to our customary condition of military inefficiency.” Yet we had learned, or should have learned, much by the war. Waste and mismanagement had characterised the administration and the staff, the paucity of regular reserves had so made itself felt, that even in the assault of the Redan there were men who had barely fired a rifle before. Recruits, scarcely even drilled, and only partly uniformed, were fighting in the forefront of battle but a few weeks after they had enlisted. Our Mediterranean garrisons were largely composed of militia, which force also formed, at that time, our only reliable recruiting-ground, and in our home forts were foreign legionary soldiers. The only things that were left, after a while, of the experience we had gained in the Crimea were the establishment of the School of Gunnery at Shoeburyness, the foundation of the great hospital at Netley, the framework of the present commissariat and transport corps, and the building of the Staff College.

Still, though reduction and economy (or what was thought economy) naturally followed the conclusion of peace, a new era, as far as the army went, dawned. The camp at Chobham, before the war, had emphasised the value of such field training, and hence, largely through the advice and energy of the late Prince Consort, a considerable area of waste land was purchased at Aldershot, and the “Camp” was permanently formed, Crimean huts being utilised for barracks. Bounties had always been largely used, in the just finished war, as before it, to induce recruits to join; but out of it the numerous small personal requirements of the soldier were purchased. Now this was changed, and a “free kit” of “necessaries” were given to the recruit, as well as his uniform and equipment. Still he paid for his rations out of his daily pay. The supply of clothing, too, which had hitherto been a regimental matter, in the hands of the commanding officer, subject to inspection by a board of general officers, now passed into the hands of the War Office, a course which not only insured uniformity, but closed a door open to possible wrong-doing.

The Victoria Cross for Valour was inaugurated, and many of the Crimean heroes received the coveted decoration, which meant to the men not only an honour, but carried with it a pension of £10 a year. Since its introduction, some 412 officers and men have received the coveted reward, and of these, apparently, 166 are still living. It has reached all classes. There are still serving with the colours (in 1896) 1 field-marshal, 6 generals, 2 major-generals, 6 colonels, 4 lieutenant-colonels, 4 majors, 5 captains, 1 lieutenant, 1 quartermaster, 1 surgeon-lieutenant-colonel, 2 surgeon-majors, 2 surgeon-captains, 1 sergeant-major, 1 colour-sergeant, 1 corporal, and 2 privates who wear the bronze cross. Medals were issued to all the rank and file, with clasps for the actions in which they had shared; and to these were added a certain proportion of Turkish, Sardinian, and French medals for special distribution.

Many other small regulations were made for the benefit of both officers and men, and people of all classes vied in welcoming the soldiers home. At last the long-expiring dread of an army was nearly dead. At Sheffield, Mr. Roebuck, at a dinner given to the 4th Dragoon Guards, said in his speech that our soldiers are “the protectors of England, they are the protectors of our glory, they are the protectors of our freedom. And here now is one striking instance that your institution affords of the thorough confidence we have in you, and in the institution to which you belong. We are not afraid of soldiers. We love you as brethren, and we know that you will protect us as such.” These are welcome words to those who have seen how strong had been the antipathy to a standing army in the past. By sheer patience, sheer bravery, and continuous good behaviour, the standing army had won its place in the national heart.

All the infantry were now armed with a new rifle, the Enfield. The Minié, introduced in 1853, was very heavy, indeed far too heavy, and carried an ounce ball. Its calibre had been that of the Brown Bess, the heavy flintlock musket that preceded the percussion weapon of 1840, and which had won for us much of our Empire; as this in its turn had followed the wheel-lock and matchlock arms. The survival of the first infantry missile weapon since the days of bow and crossbow is shown in the term “firelock,” applied to the musket of the rank and file, even long after the campaign of Waterloo. It was now replaced by a lighter weapon, so that sixty rounds of ball ammunition could be carried on the person.

So with the bayonet. At first it was merely a dagger which was thrust, not screwed, into the muzzle of the smooth-bore gun. Then it became socketed and lengthened. When the length of the gun barrel was diminished, it was also lengthened, as either the “sword bayonet,” or the very long bayonet that was, for a while, introduced with the Martini-Henry rifle. Finally, it has reverted more or less to its original form and length, and the Lee-Mitford has ceased to be a serious pike.