Chambers's Journal, December 4, 1886 1 – Various · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
Chambers's Journal, December 4, 1886 1Literature, Science, and Art
18
Literature · Romance
Chambers's Journal, December 4, 1886 1
Literature, Science, and Art
VariousEnglish
Fifth Series
ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832
CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)
NO. 153.—VOL. III. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1886. PRICE 1½d.]
‘ON GUARD’ AT WINDSOR CASTLE.
Though the honour implied in the protection of the principal residence of the sovereign is considerable, military duty at Windsor is not by any means held in high estimation by soldiers, that is to say by those whose lot it is to perform the ordinary functions of ‘sentry-go’ around the castle. In a word, the duty is ‘hard.’ This term, applied to peace-time soldiering, means that the men have few ‘nights in bed’—the criterion by which such service is invariably judged. At some stations the rank and file have as many as twenty of these coveted consecutive nights in barracks; but at Windsor the present writer has at times enjoyed the honour of passing every third night on the exposed terraces of the castle; and as the ‘Queen’s Regulations’ lay particular stress on each soldier having at least one ‘night in bed’ before going on guard, it will be granted that the Windsor duty is not unjustly considered somewhat trying. Perhaps a glimpse at the inner life of the Castle-guard may interest some readers.
The armed party, which consists of some fifty soldiers, is under the command of an officer, assisted by two sergeants, together with as many corporals, and it enters upon its twenty-four hours’ tour of duty in the forenoon. A drummer-boy also ‘mounts:’ his chief employment being to go messages and to carry the lantern used in making the nocturnal ‘rounds.’ When the guard marches into the lower ward of the castle, after having in its progress considerably enlivened the quiet streets of Windsor, the ‘old’ guard is formally relieved, and the men not immediately required as sentinels take possession of the guardroom—a large, comparatively modern building, in the vicinity of the antique Curfew Tower. With a view, probably, to the preservation of discipline, the two sergeants are provided with a ‘bunk,’ a small portion of the area of the apartment partitioned off, and fitted with a miniature guardbed. Here they often employ their time in the making up of pay-lists, duty-rosters, and the like. On entering the guardroom, the privates quickly divest themselves of their valises and folded greatcoats; for it is now admitted by the authorities that a sentry may march about quite ‘steadily’ without being constantly burdened with his kit. The valises are suspended from rows of pegs furnished for this purpose; and—what might in fine weather seem surprising—the greatcoats set free from their tightly buckled straps. Ostensibly, the ‘loose’ coats are necessary to spread out on the guardbed, so as to slightly soften that uneasy couch, as well as to prevent dust, which may there have lodged, from adhering to the tunics of recumbent guardsmen. But the real reason for shaking out these garments frequently is to allow them to dry, because in many cases they have been liberally sprinkled with water before being buckled up, to insure a more compact ‘fold.’
A stranger to things military, on surreptitiously glancing in at the guardroom door early in the day, and while the sentry’s back was turned, would notice a large number of white basins drawn up on the tables and ‘dressed’ with extraordinary precision. These vessels are placed in position for the reception of the soup, which is served shortly before mid-day, and they bring us to the important subject of the culinary department. There are four cooks connected with the castle guard. One is ‘corporal of the cooks;’ another is ‘standing’ (or permanent) cook; and the remaining two are merely sent daily on ‘fatigue’ from the barracks. The provisions are conveyed to the castle in a barrow of peculiar construction, and deposited in the cookhouse—a place not at all resembling a conventional kitchen, but both in situation and appearance very like the dungeons one is occasionally introduced to when visiting ancient strongholds. In this dismal region are capacious ‘coppers,’ in any one of which soup, beef, vegetables, or tea can be prepared.
To return, however, to the proceedings of the members of the guard. When they have satisfactorily arranged their equipments and, above all, thoroughly repolished their boots, a corporal calls for silence. This obtained, he begins to make out the duty-roll, or ‘detail’ as it is usually termed, of the sentries; and when the detail is completed, he affixes to the wall in a primitive fashion—with pieces of damped ration bread—a short abstract, in which the men are represented by figures. To the uninitiated observer, the purport of this might be rather puzzling. After a particular numeral, for example, is inscribed the word ‘Cocoa.’ The soldier to whom it refers has assigned to him the task of preparing the beverage named, which is issued to the guard at midnight—the ‘standing’ cook having the privilege of every night in bed. The abstract is attentively perused by the men, who sometimes take private memoranda of the parts of its contents that apply to them individually. Not unfrequently this is done with a pencil on their pipeclayed gun-slings, in such a position as not to be apparent to the inspecting officer.
As soon as every one has mastered the corporal’s hieroglyphics, a sergeant issues from the bunk already alluded to, bearing the ‘order-board,’ which is of rather portentous dimensions. As the great majority of the men know the regulations off by heart, they are read in a slightly hasty and perfunctory manner; though, with true military exactness, not a word is omitted. There is little in the list of orders that calls for special remark; but one paragraph is, we imagine, almost if not quite unknown elsewhere; it relates to the conduct of the corporals when marching round the ‘reliefs.’ If, when so marching along with his men, Her Majesty the Queen should meet or pass the party, the non-commissioned officer is directed to halt his subordinates, draw them up in ‘open order,’ and see that the appropriate salute is rendered. The curious order which prohibits soldiers from ‘working at their trade while on guard’ is of course represented on the board; but as a matter of fact, some men pass a good deal of their spare time in the not very martial occupation of making beadwork pincushions. These articles, however, command somewhat tempting prices, especially in the metropolis.
While the men of the guard have thus been engaged, the commandant has taken over his quarters, adjacent to the guardroom, and reached by a pretty long stone stair, well worn by the iron-shod heels of many generations of corporals and drummer-boys. Soon after mounting duty, the officer is joined by his servant, who brings with him a portmanteau containing various comforts. A cooking department is also required in the case of the officer, whose meals, however, are conveyed to him by the messmen from barracks. Before long, the steps of a corporal ascending the stair warn the captain of the guard that the hour approaches for him to march off the ‘second relief.’
The ‘posts’ are numerous. One sentinel paces about in front of the guardroom, much of his attention being devoted to saluting the Knights Pensioners of Windsor, who reside in the lower ward of the castle. Another soldier has ample leisure to examine the architectural features of the celebrated Round Tower, at the base of which he is stationed. A third takes post on the North Terrace, where a splendid prospect enlivens the monotony of his vigil, and whence, if of a philological turn, he can contemplate the windings of the river which are said to have given the place the name Wind-shore, or Windsor. Or, if historically inclined, he may recollect that the North Terrace was once the favourite promenade, for an hour before dinner, of Queen Elizabeth, to whom it is alleged the English soldier was originally indebted for his daily ration of beef. Then there are two sentries on the eastern façade of the castle. These men are in close proximity to the royal apartments. By night, they do not challenge in the ordinary manner, but by two stamps with the right foot; and they are charged to pronounce the words ‘All’s well’ in an undertone. The grand entrance to the upper ward of the castle is in the keeping of a ‘double’ sentry, as is also a gate near at hand; and there are several other sentry-posts which it would be tedious to visit in detail. In each sentry-box hangs a heavy watchcoat, which the soldier may put on when he thinks fit, and of the large buttons on this cloak he is expected to take sedulous care.
By night, the sentinels around Windsor Castle are slightly augmented in number; but it will only be necessary here to notice one nightpost, the cloisters of St George’s Chapel. This is a somewhat eerie quarter in the small-hours. There is a military tradition to the effect that the cloisters are occasionally visited by shadowy and unearthly forms, to the perturbation of young soldiers. The writer has had no experience of these supernatural visitants; but he has noticed, when marching round the relief, an unusual alacrity on the part of some men to quit the cloisters.
While the men on guard are engaged in their usual routine, the officer is not altogether idle; he inspects and marches off the relieving detachments at intervals of two hours; and in the afternoon visits the sentries, taking pains to ascertain that they are familiar with their instructions. At eleven o’clock at night he makes his ‘rounds,’ preceded by the drummer-boy with his lantern, as well as by a corporal bearing a bunch of keys, wherewith to open a number of iron gates in and near the castle; and when the rounds return to the lower ward, the captain of the guard is at liberty to retire for the night.
In the morning, such members of the guard as may be slumbering are roused by the arrival of the cooking-party; and soon afterwards the officer’s man, with his portmanteau, appears on the scene. Before long, a sergeant comes forth from the ‘bunk,’ uttering the mandate: ‘Get these coats folded.’ During the period when the equipments are being operated upon, the senior sergeant is engaged on the ‘guard report.’ One important part of this is already in print upon the form, and it commences by saying that ‘Nothing extraordinary has occurred during my tour of duty.’ When the sergeant has carefully finished the report, he takes it to the officer for signature, and on his return calls out: ‘Fall-in the guard.’ The men, who are already fully accoutred, promptly form-up outside the guardroom; and the commandant is seen descending the stair from his quarters. Then the ‘new’ guard arrives. In the course of half an hour, the first stroke bestowed by the big-drummer on his instrument announces to the ‘old’ guard that their tour of duty is at an end.
FOOTNOTES:
Roster, in military language, is the list of persons liable to a certain duty.
