The Army had come off badly by its change of masters. The Bourbons had done all in their power to alienate its regard; as much through malice in not a few cases, as through downright stupidity.
“Of all the institutions of France the most thoroughly national and the most thoroughly democratic was the Army; it was accordingly against the Army that the noblesse directed its first efforts. Financial difficulties made a large reduction in the forces necessary. Fourteen thousand officers and sergeants were accordingly dismissed on half-pay; but no sooner had this measure of economy been effected than a multitude of emigrants who had served against the Republic in the army of the Prince of Condé or in La Vendée were rewarded with all degrees of military rank.... The tricolor, under which every battle of France had been fought from Jemmapes to Montmartre, was superseded by the white flag of the House of Bourbon, under which no living soldier had marched to victory.... The Imperial Guard was removed from service at the Palace, and the so-called Military Household of the old Bourbon monarchy revived, with the privileges and the insignia belonging to the period before 1775.”
The abolition of the Eagles was the preliminary step of all. A justifiable measure, no doubt, from a political point of view, it touched to the quick the military instinct of the nation. And on that followed the abolition of the national tricolor in favour of the old Bourbon white flag.
EVERY ONE TO BE DESTROYED
Within three weeks of the Farewell of Fontainebleau the Eagles of the Army, with the tricolor standards, were officially proscribed; the order went forth to send them to Paris forthwith for destruction in the furnaces of the artillery dépôt at Vincennes. On May 12 it was notified that the white Bourbon flag was again to be the standard of the Army, with a brass fleur-de-lis at the head of the colour-staff in place of the Eagle.
Every regiment was required to send its Eagle to the Ministry of War in Paris on receipt of the order. No allowances or exceptions were made; although in several instances officers urgently petitioned to be allowed to retain their Eagles with the corps, if only as mementoes of feats of arms achieved by the regiments in battle. Every request was rejected, whatever the circumstances. There were reasons of State policy no doubt, as has been said, against the general retention as regimental standards of military insignia so intimately associated with Napoleon; but in certain instances, at least, indulgence might reasonably have been extended to the applications. There were personal and romantic associations connected with some of the Eagles, specially endearing them to the soldiers, for which privilege might well have been accorded. One very hard case may be cited as typical of others: that of the Eagle of the 25th of the Line.
The Eagle of the 25th had been carried under fire in some twenty battles and all through the Moscow campaign; and had notable battle-scars to show for its distinguished services. One leg and one wing of the Eagle had been shot away in action, and there were five bullet-holes in its metal body. Its maimed appearance, indeed, had attracted Napoleon’s attention at a review, and he had stopped while riding past the regiment and taken the Eagle into his hands, examining it with extreme interest and putting his fingers into the bullet-holes, finally returning it to the Porte-Aigle with a deep bow of respect. The regiment almost worshipped their Eagle on its own account, for what it had gone through; but it had further undergone yet more surprising adventures. The 25th had been in the garrison of Dresden in 1813 when Marshal St. Cyr had to capitulate to the Austrians. On the night before the surrender the Eagle-staff was broken up and burned, and the few strips of ragged silk that remained of the shot-torn regimental tricolor flag were tied under an officer’s uniform for secret conveyance out of the city. The shattered Eagle broke in two while being removed from its staff, and its two fragments were concealed under the petticoats of two vivandières who were to convey it in that manner to the regimental dépôt in France. Under the capitulation the garrison was granted the honours of war and a safe-conduct back to France. The terms, however, were annulled by the Allied Sovereigns then advancing, after Leipsic, to invade France, and in the outcome all the regiments, after they had started for France, were made prisoners and marched away to be interned in Hungary. The major of the 25th got back the two fragments of the Eagle, stowed them away under his uniform, and kept them about him by day and night for five months; until finally, on his release after Napoleon’s abdication, he brought the Eagle back across the Rhine, “wrapped up like contraband.”
“SEND IT TO PARIS FORTHWITH!”
On the 25th receiving the order to send in its Eagle for destruction, he wrote personally to the Minister of War—General Dupont, of Bailen notoriety, as has been said—who had never forgiven Napoleon’s harsh usage of him, and now took every opportunity of paying back old scores on the heads of his former comrades in arms. The major wrote setting forth in detail the story of the regimental Eagle, relating its exceptionally interesting career and its battle damages, also how he had preserved it after Dresden, and implored the War Minister, in the name of the regiment, that they might retain the two fragments to be kept in the regimental “Salle d’Honneur” as an honoured relic. The reply was a peremptorily worded command to send the Eagle to Paris forthwith for destruction with the other Eagles of the Army. The major, in the circumstances, considered himself compelled to comply. He summoned the officers to his quarters, where they “paid their last adieux to the object of veneration, and then, in their presence, the Eagle fragments were packed in a box, and despatched to the Ministry of War.”
The story, with others to the same effect, went the round of every barrack-room in France, and wherever it was told, there were angry murmurings and increased discontent.