MY SON’S FALL FROM HIS HORSE.—PILLAGE IN WAR.—CHARACTER OF THE FRENCH SOLDIER.—PARTICULARS RELATING TO WATERLOO, BY THE NEW ADMIRAL.
Monday July 1st to Thursday 4th.—Yesterday, my son’s horse ran away with him, whilst he was taking a ride; and, being fearful that the horse might dash him against the trees, he thought it best to throw himself off his back. He had sprained his ancle sufficiently to condemn him to the sofa for a month.
The Emperor condescended to come into my room, about 11 o’clock, to learn the state of my son, whom he rated well for his awkwardness. I followed him into the garden, where he breakfasted, which he had not done there for some time previously.
The conversation turned on pillage by armies, and the horrors occasioned by it.
Pavia, the Emperor said, was the only place that he had ever given up to pillage; he had promised it to his soldiers for 24 hours; “but after three hours,” said he, “I could bear it no longer, and I put an end to it. I had but 1200 men;” said he, “the cries of the populace which reached my ears prevailed. If there had been 20,000 soldiers, their numbers would have drowned the complaints of the people, and I should have heard nothing of it. Happily, however, policy and morality are equally opposed to the system of pillage. I have meditated much on this subject: and have often been urged to gratify my soldiers in this manner. But nothing is so certain to disorganize and completely ruin an army. A soldier loses all discipline as soon as he gets an opportunity to pillage; and, if by pillage he enriches himself, he immediately becomes a bad soldier, and will not fight. Besides,” continued he, “pillage is incompatible with our French manners; the hearts of our soldiers are not bad; when the first transport of fury is over, they come to themselves again. It would be impossible for French soldiers to pillage for twenty-four hours; many of them would employ the latter part of the time in repairing the mischief they had done in the beginning. They afterwards reproach each other, in their quarters, with the excesses they have committed, and load with reprobation and contempt those whose conduct has been particularly odious.”
About three o’clock, the new Admiral, Sir Pulteney Malcolm, and all his officers, were presented to the Emperor. The Admiral first conversed with the Emperor alone, for nearly two hours. He must have been much impressed with this conversation, for he said, as he came out, that he had been taking a very fine and valuable lesson on the history of France.
The Emperor was understood to have said to him, towards the close of the interview, what I believe I have already introduced elsewhere on this subject. “You have levied a contribution of 700 millions on France; I have imposed one of more than 10,000 millions on your country. You raised yours by your bayonets: I caused mine to be raised by your parliament.” “And that is the true summary of the matter,” replied the Admiral.
The Admiral was bringing from America some old troops consisting of 12,000 men, without the least suspicion of the new state of Europe. At sea, a vessel informed him of the return of the Emperor from the isle of Elba, and the consequent revolution; it seemed to him so magical that he could scarcely believe it. But when he arrived in sight of Plymouth, he received orders to proceed, with all possible expedition, to Ostend; he reached it in time, and 4000 of the men on board his ships were enabled to take part in the battle, and they were unquestionably amongst the best troops in the whole line, as the Admiral declared. Who can determine what degree of influence they may have had? The English thought the battle lost, during the whole day, and they acknowledge that it would have been so, but for Grouchy’s error.