"Il y a quelques regimens des Ecossais sans culottes," said he, "dans l'armée de Wellington, qui se battent joliment." He then described the conduct of one regiment in particular, (probably the 42d or 79th), who attacked a redoubt defended with cannon, and marched up to it in perfect order; never taking the muskets from their shoulders, till they were on the parapet: "Si tranquillement,—sacre Dieu! c'etoit superbe."
Of the military talents of the Duke of Wellington they spoke also with much respect, though generally with strong indications of jealousy. They were often very ingenious in devising means of explaining his victories, without compromising, as they called it, the honour of the French arms. At Salamanca, they said, that in consequence of the wounds of Marmont and other generals, their army was two hours without a commander. At Vittoria again, it was commanded by Jourdan, and any body could beat Jourdan. At Talavera, he committed "les plus grandes sottises du monde; il a fait une contre-marche digne d'un bete." Some of the Duke of Wellington's victories over Soult they stoutly denied, and others they ascribed to great superiority of numbers, and to the large drafts of Soult's best troops for the purpose of forming skeleton battalions, to receive the conscripts of 1813.
The French pride themselves greatly on the honour of their soldiers, and in this quality they uniformly maintain that they are unrivalled, at least on the continent of Europe. To this it is easy to reply, that, according to the common notions of honour, it has been violated more frequently and more completely by the French army than by any other. But this is in fact eluding the observation rather than refuting it. The truth appears to be, that the French soldiers have a stronger sense of honour than those of almost any other service; but that the officers, having risen from the ranks, have brought with them to the most exalted stations, no more refined or liberal sentiments than those by which the private soldiers are very frequently actuated; and have, on the contrary, acquired habits of duplicity and intrigue, from which their brethren in inferior situations are exempt.
When we say of the French soldiers that they have a strong sense of honour, we mean merely to express, that they will encounter dangers, and hardships, and privations, and calamities of every kind, with wonderful fortitude, and even cheerfulness, from no other motive than an esprit du corps—a regard for the character of the French arms. Without provocation from their enemies, without the prospect of plunder, without the hope of victory, without the conviction of the interest of their country in their deeds, without even the consolation of expecting care or attention in case of wounds or sickness,—they will not hesitate to lavish their blood, and sacrifice their lives, for the glory of France. Other troops go through similar scenes of suffering and danger with equal fortitude, when under the influence of strong passions, when fired by revenge, or animated by the hope of plunder, or cheered by the acclamations of victory; but with the single exception of the British army, we doubt whether there are any to whom the mere spirit of military honour is of itself so strong a stimulus.
We have already noticed the state of the French sick and wounded, left in the hospitals at Wilna during the retreat from Russia; a state so deplorable, as to have excited the strongest commiseration among their indignant enemies. This, however, was but a single instance of the system almost uniformly acted on, we have understood, by the French medical staff in Russia, Germany, and Spain, of deserting their hospitals on the approach of the enemy, so as to leave to him, if he did not chuse to see the whole of the patients perish before his eyes, the burden of maintaining them. The miseries which this system must have occasioned, in the campaign of 1813 in particular, require no illustration.
Another regulation of the French army, during the campaign of that year, will shew the utter carelessness of its leaders, in regard to the lives or comforts of the soldiers. When the men who were incapacitated for service by wounds or disease, were sent back to France, they were directed, in the first instance, to Mentz, where their uniforms, and any money they might have about them, were regularly taken from them, and given to the young conscripts who were passing through to join the armies; they were then dressed in miserable old rags, which were collected in the adjacent provinces by Jews employed for that purpose, and in this state they were sent to beg their way to their homes. Such, as we were assured by some of our countrymen, who saw many of these men passing through Verdun, was the reward of thousands of the "grande nation" who had lost their limbs or their health in vainly endeavouring to maintain the glory and influence of their country in foreign states. In the campaign of 1814, which was carried on during the continuance of a frost of almost unprecedented intensity, and in so rapid and variable a manner, and with so large bodies of troops, as to prevent the establishment of regular hospitals or of any thing like a regular Commissariat, the French troops, particularly the young conscripts and national guards, suffered dreadfully; and numbers of them who escaped the swords of their enemies, perished miserably or were disabled for life, in consequence of hardships, and fatigues, and privations.
All these examples were known to the French soldiers—they took place daily before their eyes, and, in the last instance, the allies took pains to let them know, that the only obstacle to honourable peace was the obstinacy of their commander; yet their ardour continued unabated; the young soldiers displayed a degree of valour in every action of both campaigns, which drew forth the warm applause even of their enemies; and it is not to be doubted, that the troops whom Napoleon collected at Fontainbleau, at the end of the campaign in France, were enthusiastically bent on carrying into effect the frantic resolution of attacking Paris, then occupied by a triple force of the allies, from which his officers with difficulty dissuaded him.
In like manner, there is probably no general but Napoleon, who would not have attempted to terminate the miseries of the army during the retreat from Moscow, by entering into negotiation with the Russians; nor is there any army but the French which would have tamely consented to be entirely sacrificed to the obstinacy of an individual. But to have concluded a convention with the Russians would have been compromising the honour of the French arms; and this little form of words seemed to strike more terror to the hearts of the French soldiers, than either the swords of the Russians, or the dreary wastes and wintry storms of Russia, which might have been apostrophised in the words of the poet,
"Alas! even your unhallowed breath
May spare the victim fallen low,
But man will ask no truce to death,
No bounds to human woe."
"He saw, without emotion, (says Labaume), the miserable remains of an army, lately so powerful, defile before him; yet his presence never excited a murmur; on the contrary, it animated even the most timid, who were always tranquil when in presence of the emperor." At the present moment, from all the accounts that we have received, as well as from our own observations of those French soldiers whom we have ourselves seen after their return from Moscow, the sentiments of the survivors of that expedition with regard to Napoleon remained unchanged; and no person who has read any of the narratives of the campaign can ascribe their constancy to any other cause, than that feeling of attachment to the glory of their country, to which the French, however improperly, give the name of military honour.