MILITARY SCHOOLS.—PLAN OF EDUCATION PRESCRIBED BY THE EMPEROR.—HIS INTENTIONS IN BEHALF OF VETERANS.—CHANGES INTRODUCED IN THE MANNERS OF THE CAPITAL.
Wednesday, 5th.—The Emperor went out at about four o’clock; he had been three hours in his bath, and did not feel well. Yet the weather was delightful; it was like a fine afternoon in Europe. We walked until we came up to the calash, and then took our usual drive. Our conversation turned upon the military school of Paris before the Revolution, and we contrasted the footing of luxury upon which we were placed at that school with the severe discipline introduced by the Emperor in these establishments during his reign.
At the military school of Paris we were treated in every respect like officers of fortune, boarded and waited upon in a style of great magnificence, greater indeed than the circumstances of most of our families warranted, and greater than most of us could hope to be able to keep up in after-life. The Emperor had been anxious, he said, to avoid falling into this error; he had wished, above all, that his young officers, who were one day to command soldiers, should begin by being soldiers themselves, and learn by experience all the technical details of the service: a system of education, he added, which must ever prove an immense advantage to an officer in the course of his future career, by enabling him to follow them and to enforce the observance of those details in others who are placed under his orders. It was on this principle that, at St. Germain, the young students were obliged to groom their own horses, taught to shoe them, &c. The same spirit presided over the regulations at St. Cyr: there several pupils were lodged together in one large apartment, a common mess was provided for all indiscriminately, &c.: yet the attention paid to these particulars was not suffered to interfere with the care bestowed upon the instruction necessary to qualify them for their future career: in short, they did not leave St. Cyr before they had really earned the rank of officers, and were found capable of leading and commanding soldiers. “And it must be admitted,” the Emperor observed, “that if the young men who passed from that institution, at its origin, into different corps of the army, were at first viewed with jealousy, ample justice was soon rendered to their discipline and to their abilities.”
The establishments of Ecouen, St. Denis and others, which the benevolent solicitude of Napoleon had created for the daughters of members of the legion of honour, were conducted upon principles of a similar nature. Some of the rules, made by the Emperor himself, ordered that every article for the use of the institution should be made in the house and by the hands of the pupils themselves, and forbade every species of luxury, extravagance in dress, and plays; the object being, he said, to form good housewives and respectable women.
Public opinion had given to Napoleon, at the time of his elevation, the reputation of a man of a harsh disposition and void of sensibility; yet it is certain that no sovereign ever acted more from the impulse of genuine feelings than he did; but, from a peculiar turn of mind, he concealed all emotions of the heart with as much care as others take to display them.
He had adopted all the children of the soldiers and officers killed at Austerlitz, and with him such an act was not one of mere form; he had provided for them all.
I heard the following anecdote from a young man who has related it to me since my return to Europe, with tears of gratitude. Having been fortunate enough, when yet very young, to attract the Emperor’s notice by some signal proof of his attachment; Napoleon asked him what profession he would wish to embrace; and, without waiting for his answer, pointed out one himself. The young man observed that his father’s fortune was not sufficient to allow him to follow it. “What signifies that?” replied the Emperor hastily: “Am I not also your father?” Those persons who have known Napoleon in his private life, who have lived near his person, can relate a thousand traits of the same kind.
He had done much for the army and the veterans, and proposed to do much more: every day some new thought tending to that object occupied his mind. The plan of a decree was one day laid before us in the Council of State, proposing that in future all vacant situations in the customs, the collection of the revenue, and the excise, should be given to wounded soldiers, or to veterans capable of filling them, from the private up to the highest ranks in the army. This plan being coldly received, the Emperor addressed one of those who opposed it in his usual manner, urging him to discuss the question freely, and state his opinion without reserve. “Sire,” answered M. Malouet, “my objection is that I fear the other classes of the nation will feel themselves aggrieved in seeing the army preferred to them.” “Sir,” replied the Emperor warmly, “you make a distinction which does not exist; the army no longer forms a separate class of the nation. In the situation in which we are now placed no member of the state is exempt from being a soldier; to follow a military career is no longer a matter of choice, it is one of necessity. The greatest number of those who are engaged in that career have been compelled to abandon their own profession against their will, it is therefore but justice that they should receive some kind of compensation for it.”—"But," again observes the member who opposed the plan, “will it not be inferred that your majesty intends that in future almost all vacant situations shall be given to soldiers?”—
“And such is indeed my intention,” said the Emperor. “Sir, the only question is, whether I have the right to do so, and whether I thereby commit an act of injustice? Now the constitution gives me the nomination to all places, and I think it a principle of strict equity that those who have suffered most have the greatest claims to be indemnified.” Then, raising his voice, he added, “Gentlemen, war is not a profession of ease and comfort: quietly seated on your benches here you know it only by reading our bulletins, or by hearing of our triumphs. You know nothing of our nightly watches, our forced marches, the sufferings and privations of every kind to which we are exposed: but I do know them, because I witness them, and sometimes share in them.”
This plan, however, like many others, was at last abandoned, after having been several times under discussion and variously modified; and the beneficent intentions of the Emperor were, I believe, not even known to the public, though he had appeared to take a lively interest in the passing of this decree, and had defended it in its most minute details.
Amongst the objections started against this plan, at the commencement of the discussion, and the arguments to which they gave rise, were the following:—"Would your majesty, for instance, give such situations to a soldier who could not read?"—"Why not?"—"But how would he be able to discharge his duties? how could he keep his accounts?"—"Sir, he would apply to his neighbour, he would send for his relations, and the benefit intended for one would be felt by many. Besides, I do not hold your objection to be valid; we have only to stipulate that the man appointed shall be qualified to fill the situation," &c.
Towards evening, the Emperor sent for me to his own room. I found him alone, near a small fire, but almost in the dark, the lights being placed in the next apartment. This obscurity, he said, was in harmony with his melancholy. He was silent and dejected.
After dinner the Emperor took up the Memoirs of the Chevalier de Grammont, but found himself unable to continue to read them.
A discussion then arose upon the manner in which time was spent in Paris. The habits of society in former times and the present were reviewed. The Emperor said he had thought much and often upon the means of introducing variety into the pleasures of society. He had had assemblies at Court, plays, excursions to Fontainbleau, but they had only produced the effect, he said, of inconveniencing the people at Court without influencing the circles of the metropolis. There was not yet a sufficient degree of cohesion in those heterogeneous parts for them to re-act upon each other with due effect: but this, he affirmed, would have been brought about in the course of time. It was observed to him that he had much contributed to shorten the evenings at Paris, as all persons employed by government, having a great deal to do, and being obliged to rise very early, were under the necessity of retiring early. “It caused, however, great surprise in Paris,” said the Emperor, “produced quite a revolution in manners, and almost stirred up a sedition in the circles of the metropolis, when the First Consul required that boots should be relinquished for shoes, and that some little attention should be bestowed upon dress to appear in company.”
The Emperor dwelt with great pleasure upon the causes of the good-breeding and amiable manners which distinguished society in our younger days. He defined particularly those points which contributed to render intimacy agreeable, such as a slight tinge of flattery on both sides, or, at least, an opposition seasoned with delicacy and politeness, &c.
REPUGNANCE TO PHYSIC.—GIL BLAS.—GENERAL BIZANET.—HEROIC DEEDS OF FRENCH VALOUR.—REFLECTIONS, &C.
Thursday, 6th.—I did not see the Emperor before six o’clock; being indisposed, he had remained in his room, and had not eaten any thing the whole day. He said that he found himself unwell, and was amusing himself by looking over some prints of London which the Doctor had lent him. The Doctor had had the honour of seeing the Emperor in the course of the day, and had made him laugh. “Hearing that I was not well,” said Napoleon, “he claimed me as his prey, by immediately advising me to take some medicine; medicine to me, who, to the best of my recollection, never took any in the whole course of my life!”
It was now past seven: the Emperor said that a man who felt hungry was not very ill. He called for something to eat, and a chicken was brought to him, which he highly relished. This revived his spirits a little, he became more talkative, and made remarks on several French novels. He had been employed the greater part of the day in reading Gil Blas, which he thought full of wit; but the hero and all his companions, he said, had deserved to be sent to the galleys. He then turned over a chronological register, and stopped at the brilliant affair of Bergenopzoom, commanded by General Bizanet.
“How many gallant actions,” said the Emperor, “have been either forgotten in the confusion of our disasters, or overlooked in the number of our exploits. The affair of Bergenopzoom is one of these. A competent garrison for that town would have been probably from eight to ten thousand men, but it did not then contain more than two thousand seven hundred. An English General, favoured by the darkness of the night, and by the intelligence which he kept up with the inhabitants, had succeeded in penetrating into it, at the head of four thousand eight hundred chosen men. They are in the town, the inhabitants are on their side, but nothing can triumph over French valour! A desperate engagement takes place in the streets, and nearly the whole of the English troops are killed or remain prisoners. That is undoubtedly, exclaimed the Emperor, a gallant action! General Bizanet is a gallant officer!”
It is certain, as Napoleon had observed, that, in the last moments of the Empire, numberless heroic deeds and historical traits have been overlooked in the confusion of our disasters, or have disappeared in the abyss of our misfortunes. Such are the extraordinary and singular defence of Huningen, by the intrepid Barbanegre; and the gallant resistance of General Teste at Namur, where, in an open town, with a handful of brave fellows, he stopped short the rapid advance of the Prussians, and facilitated the re-entry of Grouchy, without suffering any loss. Such was the brilliant expedition of the brave Excelmans in Versailles, which might have produced most important results, if it had been supported as it had been decided that it should be; and several others.
At any rate, these noble deeds at that critical period, have shed lustre on the ranks of the army rather than on its principal leaders. It would have been well, if, at the moment of that terrible catastrophe, during that fatal crisis, some of our first generals had again exhibited some of those noble acts of courage, those signal efforts, which marked our first triumphs, and which, under Napoleon’s reign, had become almost a national habit; whatever the result might have been, the attempt would have been a source of consolation to our glory, and France would have contemplated with satisfaction the heroic convulsions of her agony. We ought not to have terminated our career by common actions.
At that calamitous period, we had more troops abroad than at home: Dresden contained an army: a second army was shut up in Hamburg; a third in Dantzick; and a fourth might have been easily collected by bringing together the immense number of our soldiers, which formed several other intermediate garrisons. All the efforts of our enemies tended only to keep these brave troops separated from France, and to cut off their return. Oh! that some one of their leaders had been inspired with the thought to take advantage of those circumstances to liberate the sacred soil, by attacking boldly that of the enemy, and obliging him thus to retrace his steps! Would it have been impossible to unite those different corps?
Would not the union of the garrisons of Dresden, Torgau, Magdeburg, Hamburg, have produced a formidable army in the rear of the enemy, capable of breaking through his line, or of placing him in a most critical situation? Might not such an army have taken possession of Berlin, liberated the garrisons on the Oder, gone to the assistance of Dantzick, raised an insurrection in Poland, so well prepared for it, or, in short, done something bold, striking, unexpected, in a word, worthy of us?
What then was required to give a favourable turn to our destinies? the most trifling event, before the Allies entered France, would have sufficed to enable us to conclude a peace on reasonable terms at Francfort; and, at a later period, when the enemy was already in our own territory, the slightest cause of uneasiness in his rear at the time of the heroic actions of Champaubert, Montmirail, Vauchamp, Craon, Monterau, would probably have determined the hasty retreat of the Allies, and insured our triumph, and perhaps their destruction. And, if the general who had thus dared to devote himself had failed in the attempt, it would not have been the worse for us, since we have ultimately fallen; and he, in the spirit of our national character, would have gained the reputation of a hero and rendered his name immortal.
Instead of this, about one hundred thousand men were lost to France, by tamely adhering to the letter of their instructions; a system which we had long since abandoned. But perhaps I speak inconsiderately and without due knowledge of the subject; perhaps local circumstances and objections of which I am totally ignorant might be adduced as conclusive answers against me; such as the health of the troops, the state of destitution in which they were; the non-reception of orders from the Emperor, who did endeavour to give some orders of that kind; the fear of deranging the main plan; the dread of incurring too great a responsibility, &c. But is it not rather that the source of these high conceptions, and the cause of their heroic execution, were to be found in Napoleon alone, and that where he was not, as it may have been often observed, affairs were suffered to sink to the level of their ordinary course? Be that as it may, something of the kind was however suggested to the General commanding the army in Dantzick, at the time of the capitulation of that town. The idea came from an officer of inferior rank, it is true, but from one whose courage and intrepidity, and the success with which they had been crowned, entitled him perhaps to give such an opinion: it was Captain de Chambure, the leader of that renowned company of partisans which covered itself with glory during the siege. This company had been formed for that particular service, of one hundred picked men chosen out of the most notoriously intrepid, throughout all the corps of the army; it fulfilled, and even exceeded, all the expectations which it had raised; and the besiegers, struck with terror at its exploits, honoured it with the epithet of infernal. It would sometimes land at night in the rear of the Russian army, slaughter their sentinels, spike their guns, burn their magazines, destroy their parks, threaten the lives even of the generals, and return to the town through the enemies’ camp over the bodies of all who opposed its passage. These facts and several others are recorded in the general orders of that army.
It cannot be denied that, in ordinary times, in the days that preceded ours, every one of these actions would have been sufficient to immortalize every individual who had a share in them, and that even amidst the wonders of our age they are deserving of particular notice. On his return from Elba, Napoleon was desirous of seeing the brave Chambure, who was covered with wounds: he was accordingly introduced to the Emperor by the Minister of War, and was immediately appointed to the command of a partisan corps on the eastern frontiers of France, where he again shewed himself worthy of his fame. Two English officers fell into his hands in the very heart of France, and at the moment of the violent exasperation produced by the recent disasters which had again befallen us. De Chambure protected these officers from the fury of his own soldiers, and preserved their equipages and even their baggage. Will it be believed? Some time afterwards, this officer, whose courage, loyalty, and above all, whose noble conduct were deserving of the highest recompense, was by a French tribunal condemned to the galleys for life, and to be branded and exposed in the pillory, for having, it was said, stopped and robbed two officers of the enemy’s army on the highway! Such is the justice of party-spirit! Such the monstrous aberrations to which the judgment and the consciences of men can be reconciled by the effervescence of civil commotions!
Under these circumstances, no alternative was left to Colonel de Chambure but a speedy retreat from his own country: it was in vain that from his exile he endeavoured to make the truth known; it was in vain that the two English officers gave the most extensive publicity to the testimonials of their gratitude: a considerable time elapsed before Colonel de Chambure could seize the opportunity of a moment of political calm, to deliver up his person to the tribunals, and call for a revision of his trial.—That revision took place, and this time the result was a declaration that there were not even any grounds of accusation against him! This is indeed one of the peculiar signs of the times!