It is certainly true that the “thinking bayonet” is by no means to be decried.  A man can no more be a good soldier without intelligence and aptitude for his profession than he can be a successful poacher or a skilful jockey.  But it is possible, in considering the value of an armed force, to rate too highly the natural qualities of the individual in the ranks.  In certain circumstances, especially in irregular warfare, where each man fights for his own hand, they doubtless play a conspicuous part.  A thousand skilled riflemen, familiar with the “moving accidents by flood and field,” even if they have no regular training and are incapable of precise manoeuvres, may prove more than a match for the same number of professional soldiers.  But when large numbers are in question, when the concentration of superior force at a single point, and the close co-operation of the three arms, infantry, artillery, and cavalry, decide the issue, then the force that can manoeuvre, that moves like a machine at the mandate of a single will, has a marked advantage; and the power of manoeuvring and of combination is conferred by discipline alone.  “Two Mamelukes,” said Napoleon, “can defeat three French horsemen, because they are better armed, better mounted, and more skilful.  A hundred French horse have nothing to fear from a hundred Mamelukes, three hundred would defeat a similar number, and a thousand French would defeat fifteen hundred Mamelukes.  So great is the influence of tactics, order, and the power of manoeuvring.”

It may be said, moreover, that whatever may have been the case in past times, the training of the regular soldier to-day neither aims at producing mere machines nor has it that effect.  As much attention is given to the development of self-reliance in the rank and file as to making them subordinate.  It has long been recognised that there are many occasions in war when even the private must use his wits; on outpost, or patrol, as a scout, an orderly, or when his immediate superiors have fallen, momentous issues may hang on his judgment and initiative; and in a good army these qualities are sedulously fostered by constant instruction in field duties.  Nor is the fear justified that the strict enforcement of exact obedience, whenever a superior is present, impairs, under this system of training, the capacity for independent action when such action becomes necessary.  In the old days, to drill and discipline the soldier into a machine was undoubtedly the end of all his training.  To-day his officers have the more difficult task of stimulating his intelligence, while, at the same time, they instil the habits of subordination; and that such task may be successfully accomplished we have practical proof.  The regiments of the Light Brigade, trained by Sir John Moore nearly a century ago on the system of to-day, proved their superiority in the field over all others.  As skirmishers, on the outpost, and in independent fighting, they were exceedingly efficient; and yet, when they marched shoulder to shoulder, no troops in Wellington’s army showed a more solid front, manoeuvred with greater precision, or were more completely under the control of their officers.