And while a strict disciplinarian (an absolute necessity with the very rough material he had to command) he allowed no severe court martial punishment to be carried into effect without his knowledge and confirmation. Men were kept sufficiently employed, when in camp and not actively engaged, to prevent liberty degenerating into licence. He was no advocate, apparently, for night marching, thinking that three hours of sound sleep _before_ midnight were all-important. After that, it did not matter how early the reveillé was sounded. And, lastly, it is curious to read of a fighting man of the early part of the eighteenth century, when morals were not at their highest, and of one the private side of whose character is, to say the least, questionable, taking special care of the theological element of governance. His chaplains were intended to do their duty, and did it. He rarely, if ever, went into action without going to prayers first! At least, so it is said. He has much in common with Napoleon. Both as soldiers stand preeminent; both in their private capacities show weaknesses that are little removed from criminal. But in thus judging the great duke, every allowance must be made for the times in which he lived, and the corruption that was so common as to be almost excusable. But whether his hands were clean or not, whether his conscience was pure or otherwise, whether he was really loyal or disloyal to the sovereign he, militarily, served so well, now all these things may be forgotten, and only the fact that he raised the name of the English army to the highest pitch of glory, and laid the foundation of our present respected position both by land and sea, need be remembered by this generation. With the peace of Utrecht the great war for a time came to an end, and the army of 200,000 men was reduced to 8000 in Great Britain and 11,000 in the Plantations and elsewhere. All this, be it remembered, with the remembrance of the victories of Blenheim and Ramilies still ringing in the nation’s ears. But people began slowly, though still with reluctance, to desire that the army should go to war strong, even if, after the sound of battle had ceased, the Government reduced it to a mere cipher of its former battle strength. Yet, though a cipher, it was still one of larger value after each campaign than it was before. When, therefore, a German-speaking king, George I., ascended the throne, the standing army had permanently grown.