may more than counterbalance an inferiority of discipline. But are we from thence rashly to infer, that troops. imperfectly disciplined, are a match for a veteran force, or that discipline has not a most important influence on the decision of battles? It might be argued, with equal propriety, that, in military operations, superiority of numbers is not a material advantage, because it has been frequently more than counterbalanced by the talents of a skilful general. The object of a great commander, who is well acquainted with his troops, and who has gained their confidence, is generally to bring his enemy to battle on fair and equal terms; and, if that object cannot be attained, to attack even at a disadvantager His decision must be guided entirely by the circumstances of the case; and, in forming a correct es timate of the comparative advantages of the enemy's position, and of the superior discipline of his troops, the event of the battle, and his own character for prudence and judgment, must wholly depend.

Hannibal had brought his troops to a most astonishing state of discipline, and he had chosen a mode of warfare admirably adapted to display their warlike virtues: he always endeavoured to bring his enemy to battle on equal terms; and the event was constantly in his favour. The excellence of Fabius was chiefly manifested in his tactics; he had formed a correct estimate of the character, both of his own troops and that of the enemy; and he had chosen his defensive positions with such judgment, that Hannibal, with all the advantages of a highly disciplined force, did not think proper to hazard an attack. The successful execution of those manuœuvres, by which he contrived to elude the effects of superior discipline, class him among the greatest generals. His troops, however, having been manœuvred for some time in the face of an enemy, must have very nearly approached to the standard of discipline generally to be found in armies; yet, in the battle of Cannæ,

it was seen how much inferior they were, in those qualities which constitute the perfection of soldiers, të Hannibal's veterans.

Turenne, it is said, was chiefly remarkable for his tactical skill; the great qualities of Condé were displayed, in battle, in inspiring his soldiers with heroic ardour and enthusiasm.

In the civil wars of Charles the first, there is no appearance of tactical skill; the battles were chiefly decided by discipline; and no man excelled Cromwell in the forming of troops. That singular character, by ingrafting military enthusiasm on religious fanaticism, brought the military character to unrivalled perfection, and decided the fortune of the war.

The talents of king William were principally displayed in awakening the enthusiasm of his soldiers. He committed great errors of conduct, but he possessed a heroical courage, which inflamed all about him. The obstacles which he surmounted in the defence of his country, would have staggered the resolution of common minds; and if the French generals had pushed their advantages with sufficient vigour, his resistance would have been ineffectual; but they allowed the war to assume a languid and indecisive character; and, meantime, the Dutch troops acquired, under the presiding genius of the prince of Orange, all the habits of soldiers, and were soon enabled to cope with their enemies in the field.

Marlborough seems to have united in his character all the qualities of a great general; to have combined skilful tactics with the most admirable discipline; not only to have excelled in perfecting his instrument, but to have been equally dex. terous in using it with the best possible effect. His troops appear to have possessed, in the greatest perfection, all those qualities which, in the hour of peril, render the heart impregnable to panic or dismay; and they were led on to contend for victory and fame, by commanders

of tried courage and capacity, who exalted, by their own example, the ardour of their troops, to the highest possible elevation of heroic zeal. It was remarked in the battle of Ramillies, how conspicuously every officer of rank distinguished himself; and even the Dutch general Auverquerque, forgetting his years and infirmities, was seen every where in the hottest of the fire, encouraging and animating his men to prodigies of valour. Marlborough did not waste the energies of such troops in feeble and indecisive hostility; his mode of warfare was entirely adapted to the nature and character of the force which he commanded, and was calculated to display the effects of superior discipline; he hazarded every thing, and depended in battle on the tried fidelity and courage of his soldiers, and on the sure resources of his own genius, for a glorious result. He was fettered, when beginning his career, by the timid caution of the Dutch generals; but with such a force, and such a commander, it was prudence to attempt the boldest and most adventurous designs.

The superiority of Marlborough's troops, in steady and desperate valour, was recognized by his enemies, who felt themselves unable to withstand them in the field, and frequently deserted their strongest positions at his approach. The whole history, indeed, of his campaigns illustrates strikingly, so far at least as respects the relative discipline of the troops engaged, the theory of offensive and defensive war, and shows plainly how difficult it is to defend the strongest positions against an army very highly disciplined, and led on by a bold and enterprizing commander.

The victories of Suwarrow are principally to be ascribed to the discipline of his troops; they had attained the highest perfection in all military qualities, and he accordingly employed them, almost entirely, in the boldest and most sanguinary operations of offensive hostility. The assault of Ismail and of War

saw, and the attack of the French position at Novi, are almost unrivalled in the annals of military enterprize.

As, therefore, the success of mili. tary operations so materially depends on the discipline of the troops employed, nothing can be more impolitic than to rely on a force of inferior quality, and thus voluntarily to relinquish one of the requisite conditions either for acting offensively with effect, or for ensuring the speedy discomfiture of an invading enemy. The independence of such a state, when attacked by a regular army, though not exposed to certain destruction, must yet rest on a very insecure foundation. Its defence may no doubt be rendered possible, by a strong barrier of fortified towns, by the nature of a country abounding with strong positions, and by the unskilful management of the invading army.

If a commander, with a force trained and disciplined, after beating his enemy in the field, does not push his advantages with rapidity and vigour; if he allow them to recover from their consternation of his first victories; to recruit and reanimate their broken and disheartened troops; to secure their strong holds; and to consolidate the physical strength of the country against him, his ultimate ruin is certain. He ought never to allow his men to rest in pursuit of a routed foe; neither ought he to stand wavering and deliberating before pas. ses and strong positions, but to ap pal his enemy by the rapidity of his movements, and the boldness of his designs; always considering, that the most sanguinary and desperate hostility is his surest policy, and that the blindest temerity does not lead more surely to destruction in the end, than a system of protracted and indecisive warfare.

As, therefore, a regular army, skilfully commanded, has always effected the ruin of a country defended by a less effective species of force, a nation ought to rest its security solely on a regular army; and if it

be thought expedient to arm the population of the country, it should form a force wholly and decisively irregular; not gathered into battalions, nor appointed to shock with the enemy in the regular conflict of the field. In a country especially which possesses few positions, either strong by nature or fortified by art, and arrived at such a state of improvement as to afford every facility for internal communication, the main reliance should be placed on a disciplined and disposable army, and it would be a rash and hazardous experiment to collect the unwarlike population into gross and solid masses, and expose it in the front of the battle to the charge of a practised assailant.

Though such, in general, are the best means of defence, they may not be, in all respects, applicable to the present situation of Great Britain; nor is there, in this case, so essential a difference between the volunteer and regular force, as to make us wish to see the former superseded in a great measure by the latter. The volunteers are not merely an armed multitude; they have been embodied for a number of years, and have attained, in many instances, to a very respectable state of discipline and knowledge. The money bestowed on them might perhaps have provided a more efficient and serviceable army; but this was a voluntary expenditure; and half the sum raised by compulsion would have been felt as a serious oppression. The volunteers, then, are too good to be parted with; and are certainly more fit for service than any other form of an armed population can possibly be.

The British volunteers, as they now are, are not only better than an armed multitude, but the regular army is something worse than the regular army of France, and does not seem to possess all those requisites which entitle it to be contrasted with forces of another kind. It is not being enlisted in a regular corps that can make a man a soldier, it is not receiving daily pay, nor appear

ing twice a day on parade, nor being expert at the manual exercise, and familiar with the eighteen manœuvres. It is the experience of danger, it is a practical knowledge of the business of war, it is real service in the face of an enemy. There is but a small proportion of the regular army which can boast of this qualification. There are 16.000, perhaps, who were in Egypt*, and about as many more who were in Holland, and in the West Indies; but the great body of the army has no military experience; and will be as new to actual service as the militia and volunteers. All they can boast of at present, then, is the exactness of parade discipline, and superior expertness in those exercises, in which it is not disputed that volunteers may be made to rival them. When the necessity of fighting comes, we have no doubt that they will rapidly acquire all the other requisites of the military character; but the volunteers, if they are called into action, will acquire them also; and if they start with the same advantages, as to mere bodily discipline and activity, they will probably acquire them as rapidly. A volunteer completely drilled is fit for any thing that a regular soldier is fit for, who has never seen service; and, if they are sent into the field together, will ripen into a veteran as soon as his comrade. It will not impair his martial ardour in any considerable degree, that, after he has learned all that he can learn out of actual service, he should work at a peaceable trade, instead of going about idle, till the occasion for service arrives; or, that he will fight the worse upon that occasion, for ha ving a home and a family to fight for.

It must be owned, however, that the constitution of many of the volunteer corps is such, as to render

* Yet before they went to Egypt, where they vanquished the flower of the French veterans, they were raw troops. E.

it extremely doubtful whether it would be prudent to bring them into actual service. They contain many, whose physical qualifications, and inveterate habits, unfit them for actual warfare; and many, who would do more valuable service to the country in other occupations. Those who are pointed out by nature as the fighting men of the country, are by no means to be all found in the ranks of the volunteers; and there are many there, who cannot be classed under that denomination. Some reduction, therefore, of the volunteer establishment would probably be advantageous; and still greater benefit would result from the practice of training a larger proportion of them to the exercises of irregular warfare. They should be carefully exercised in firing at marks, and in suddenly dispersing and assembling in small bodies, as well as in accomplishing considerable journies, and providing for their shelter and subsistence, in cases of emergency acting in this manner, in subserviency to the regular forces, they might be the means of the most dispiriting annoyance and fatal obstruction to the enemy, and secure a decisive victory, without ever encountering the hazard of a ruinous defeat.

One most important though hitherto neglected consideration, is the education and training of the officers, by whom the army, whether regular or irregular, is to be com manded. The two cardinal virtues of a military force are discipline and tactics. The former relates chiefly to the men; the latter, to the officers. Actual warfare is, undoubtedly, the best school for both; and the same circumstances which have prevented the regulars from acquiring all the habits of veteran soldiers, have no doubt thrown formidable obstacles in the way of the professional accomplishment of their commanders. Something, however, may certainly be done to promote these accomplishments; and something more than has yet been undertaken, or apparently meditated,

by government. Perhaps the reform should begin by prohibiting the sale of commissions; and establishing, through the country, a variety of military academies, where the youth might be regularly trained to a scientific knowledge of the principles of their profession. A general taste for such acquisitions might also be promoted, by the example of a few persons in eminent situations; and by the endowment of professorships, for the different branches of milita ry science, in most of the universi ties. Encouragement should also be given to young men who would go abroad as volunteers into foreign services; and honours and promotion made the reward of those who brought back certificates of their gallantry and proficiency.

For the Literary Magazine.

THE NEAPOLITAN POST-OFFICE.

By Kotzebue.

As

AS we go from the place Largo del Castello to the mole, we must pass a corner where the lists of the letters arrived are hung out. the throng of people is there at all times very considerable, it gives rise to some singularities which are confined to Naples. The letters are numbered, and the names of those to whom they are addressed are marked alphabetically, but these are the christian and not the surnames. This does not, however, apply to all without exception; for whoever has the good fortune to be a prince will have a place apart, marked by the letter P.

Many who cannot read come also to inquire if there are letters addressed to them. A shrewd fellow has converted the ignorance of these into a source of emolument. He stands there with a packet of blank papers in his hand: the person who wants his assistance approaches nim, and, giving him a farthing or two, mentions his own name. The other

casts a glance immediately over the list, and, when he finds the name there, he does no more than write on a piece of paper the number under which it stands: this he gives to the inquirer, who hastens with it to the post-office, and receives his letter without ceremony: whether the receiver be right or not, is no matter of concern, if he will but pay the postage.

The letters of foreigners are not put on the list, but are thrown in a heap in the post-office. When a person of that description inquires for a letter, they direct him to the heap, which he turns over till he finds it, or is satisfied there is none for him. But, if he chuses, he may take one not addressed to him, pro'vided he pays the postage, which is the only evidence required of its being his property. It may easily be imagined that disorders must necessarily arise from such a want of all arrangement. Every foreigner will do well to have his letters addressed

to a banker.

But to return to the corner I before mentioned. The man who marks down the numbers is not the only one who has found a source of profit there, though indeed he collects his receipts with the most ease and convenience. There are half a dozen small tables in the street; and as many men sitting before them, with physiognomies as worn out as their coats. They hold pens in their hands, and a folded letter-case lies before them. They need only dip their pens in the ink-stands near them, and they are ready to write letters of any conceivable purport to every quarter of the habitable globe. A second chair opposite to theirs, invites the needy letter-sender to sit down, and communicate his thoughts to one who will give them the polish of good diction. Here we see an old woman; there an honest sailor; in a third place a warlike hero; and in the fourth a brisk lass: they have sons, and mothers, and all sorts of concerns of the heart, far and near, in the old and new world. The old mother, for example, takes

a seat (a scene that I have myself witnessed) opposite to the first writer, who had lost his nose (which is no uncommon thing here). He immediately puts his pen to paper: the date he had already written beforehand on the edge of the sheet, in order now to lose no time. He was right, for the good old dame is a little prolix. Her only son was roving about the world; and she wished him much to return, for she felt her latter end approaching. She affords proofs of her sickly condition by frequent coughing, which interrupts the torrent of words; and the shower of tears that frequently gushes down betrays the emotions of her mind. What I have comprehended in a short space, costs the poor old woman a multitude of words; which all imply the same thing, for she was in want of nothing less than expressions, her tongue appearing to be the healthiest part about her. The man listened patiently to her, digested her copious flow of thoughts with the greatest rapidity, and committed them with no less expedition to paper. The old woman put on a pair of spectacles, and followed every stroke of the writer's pen with strict attention. She often spoke in the mean time; recalling what she had forgotten, and making such amplifications as she found requisite. The gentleman of the quill paid no regard to her; but, having fathomed the spirit of the intended letter, wound it up with expedition, not letting his pen drop till he had brought himself through the labyrinth of conceptions to the close of the epistle. He then read it over to the old woman, who nodded approbation, and let a smile steal through her wrinkles. The dexterous penman presented her with the instrument for subscription; which, however, she declined at this time, for various reasons. He then desired her to spell her name, which he wrote; and, closing the letter with a wafer, put upon it the name and address of her son, and delivered it to the tottering old dame. She laid hold of the paper that expressed her