1844
I had hardly got back to Paris when I was shot on to the Admiralty
Board. A great honour it was, no doubt, for a junior like myself to be
associated with such veterans in the profession as numbers among its
members were. But this gathering of experienced men was merely a body
of advisers placed at the disposal of the Minister of Marine, to assist
him with its counsel on any questions he chose to submit to them. The
committee possessed no initiative of its own, and I felt myself
misplaced upon it. I had indeed, and always have preserved, the deepest
respect for its eminent qualities. It has contributed not a little, by
its consistent action and permanent character, to the preservation of
our naval organisation--the worth of which has been proved everywhere,
in the Crimea, on the battlefields in 1870, in Tunis, and in
China--from the results of the conceited ignorance of mushroom
politicians. But in the year 1843 we were on the brink of the
inevitable revolution worked in naval matters by the introduction of
steam. The great object for us was to create, and that rapidly, under
pain of being outstripped by others, a new naval force, more
appropriate, perhaps, than our former one, to our national genius and
resources. Passionately interested as I was in the greatness of my
country, having leisure time to dispose of, since nothing called on me
to plunge into the paltry bargain-making of electoral politics in which
that country was wallowing, having no love of red tape nor excess of
experience to hold me back, I was ardently anxious to be employed where
I could actively assist in creating a powerful element in the national
strength. I therefore merely passed through the Admiralty Board.
My only recollection of it is of having been present at some very long
sittings in a room in the Ministry of Marine, the windows of which look
on to the Rue Royale, which apartment one of my colleagues, Admiral de
Bougainville, had turned into a sort of stovehouse by means of hot-air
pipes, sandbags, screens, and foot muffs. We all nearly died of the
heat, and when another colleague of mine, Baron Charles Dupin, made us
long speeches, I had the greatest difficulty in keeping myself awake.
The Minister of Marine decided, at my entreaty, to appoint a special
naval commission on steam, of which I was a member. The chief
commission did nothing, or scarcely anything--but a sub-commission did
good work. There were five of us--a captain in the navy, M. de Verninac
(who was afterwards Minister of Marine under General Cavaignac); a very
clever engineer, formerly Superintendent at Indret, M. Rossin; an
artillery colonel, M. Durbec; M. Touchard, a naval lieutenant; and
myself. I will not give the full story of our work, and of the constant
battle we had to fight with obstinate habit and dread of
responsibility. All those early attempts of ours at transforming our
navy seem almost childish, looked at from the distance of the
half-century which has since elapsed. And indeed, though my
recollection of them is clear enough, I have no means of verifying it,
all my notes and reports, and all my correspondence relating to the
undertakings in question, having passed out of my hands, in the
following manner:--
Some months after the Revolution in 1848, while I was residing in
England, at Claremont, a visitor's name was brought up to me. The name,
de X., was that of a good family, well known in Normandy and in the
political and scientific world. But instead of one of the faces I was
prepared to see, I beheld that of a most unsatisfactory member of the
family, whom I instantly remembered having seen in Algeria, wearing a
Belgian uniform, and acting as reporter for the Constitutionnel
newspaper. He entered the room and said:
"Do you remember me?"
"Perfectly."
"Well, I've just arrived from your part of the world."
"What do you mean?"
"After the Tuileries were captured, on February 24th (you were in
Algiers just then), I took up my quarters in your rooms. They are very
comfortable rooms. I stayed in them for two months. They were rather
upside down, as you may fancy. Everything worth taking had been carried
off, but the floor was littered with books and papers and a whole heap
of things that everybody had trodden upon. I amused myself by settling
them all up, especially your letters and papers, which I sorted. I
arranged them into several classes. Everything referring to your
missions and to political matters I sent to the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs, and everything touching the navy to the Ministry of Marine. In
fact, I disposed of everything. But I put aside a few documents
regarding the Princesse de Joinville's business matters in Brazil and
your own private journals of your sea-voyages, and brought them with me
here."
He smilingly showed me a packet he held in his hand, then went on:
"But my journey has cost me a lot of money." "Then say how much you
want, in plain English."
"A hundred louis."
I went and fetched the money, and then showed him the door without
another word, though I could hardly resist kicking him through it. Thus
it was that I learnt what had become of my papers on naval subjects. I
greatly regretted the loss of my private correspondence, and more
especially that of my letters from M. Dupuy de Lome, a most talented
young engineer, much in advance of his times, with whom I had been in
daily intercourse.
Our commission did its best. It made a modest beginning by altering the
fighting armament of our existing ships, placing their guns fore and
aft, so as to permit of their developing their artillery power to the
utmost possible extent, while at the same time exposing the propelling
machinery to as little danger as possible. We turned out ships of
various types, such as the Descartes, the Cuvier, the Pluton, &c. Then
came the turn of the fabric of the ships themselves, and we had a
series of experiments made on the practising ground at Gavres, near
Lorient, to test the penetration of projectiles on every sort of
substance--wood, coal, gutta-percha, iron plates, and finally on iron
plates superimposed one on the other--in other words armour-plating. It
was ten years before the armour plating was actually brought into use,
so great was the delay caused by political agitation in the country.
At Lorient, too, M. Labrousse, a post-captain in the navy, made
experiments to find out the best form to give to the rams of warships,
while a literary man, M. Jal by name, was hunting all the old books and
archives for everything touching the manoeuvres and tactics of ancient
rowing ships and galleys.
Then from paddle-ships we passed on to those with propellers which were
submerged, and therefore much more easy to protect, and I went to watch
the first trials of the newly-invented improvements at sea--that of our
first screw-ship, the Napoleon, a name which was afterwards exchanged
for that of Corse, under which she served as a despatch-boat for over
forty years--of our first ironclad, a screw-ship, too, the Chaptal,
built at Asnieres by M. Cave--and of the Pomone, the first frigate we
built with auxiliary engines, which was fitted with a screw-propeller
designed by a Swedish engineer, Mr. Erickson. But the most interesting
of all these trials was that of the Napoleon, first, because, as I have
already stated, she was our first screwship, and also because that
particular mode of propulsion is of French invention.
An organ-builder at Amiens, of the name of Dallery, was the first
person to think (in 1803) of building a boat driven by a screw. He
ruined himself over it, and broke up all his machinery in his despair.
The idea was taken up again later by M. Sauvage, a shipbuilder, who
made some progress with it. I had known Sauvage, in 1835, in connection
with another invention called a physionotype, by means of which a
mathematically correct impression could be taken of the features of any
face. But as everybody made an appalling grimace before putting their
face into the instrument, the result, though strictly exact, was
monstrously ugly.
There was more future promise about Sauvage's work on the
screw-propeller than about his physionotype, but he himself did not
reap the benefit accruing from it. It became public property. The
English built a trial ship, the Rattler, and the Americans another, the
Princeton. But the Napoleon was earlier than these, and besides was
more successful than either of them. She was originally ordered as a
mail steam-packet, from a private shipyard, by the Ministry of Finance,
which was much bolder as to introducing innovations than the Ministry
of Marine, and her construction was confided to two eminent men--M.
Normand, of Havre, for her hull, and an Englishman, Mr. Barnes, for her
engines and propeller. Each of these gentlemen was equally successful
in his first attempt.
During the summer of 1843 I was in command of a flotilla, formed for
the purpose of making experiments to compare ships of the old-fashioned
type with this little vessel, which we tested in every imaginable way.
At every change in the condition of the sea, M. Normand, Mr. Barnes,
and I myself, who were all three of us escorting the Napoleon on board
the Pluton, used to rush on deck to watch her behaviour. M. Normand
would give us a lecture on her lines and her displacement wave, or the
degree of her rolling or her pitching. Mr. Barnes, a great big
Englishman, said never a word, but pulled a slide-rule out of his
pocket and mumbled algebraic formulae. The ship was commanded in
first-rate style by a very efficient naval lieutenant, M. de
Montaignac, who since that time has acted as Minister for Marine
Affairs.
As nobody had ever seen a screw steamer before, we aroused general
astonishment wherever we went. In the course of our cruise we entered
the Thames, and ascended the Medway from Sheerness to Chatham. It was
in the morning, there was a slight fog. The authorities were informed
of our approach, and were preparing to receive us, only delaying
assembling for that purpose till they had been warned the ship was
close by, either by her being caught sight of, or by the sound of her
paddle-wheels striking the water. But the Napoleon, running swiftly up
through the fog, making no noise whatever with her screw, took them all
by surprise. When the dockyard authorities hurried up they saw her
stop, and then, thanks to her screw, she turned almost in her own
length, and brought up alongside the jetty--a novel proceeding over
which the commodore, an old salt, was still gasping when I went ashore.
During this visit to the Thames the little flotilla went up to
Woolwich, where we were welcomed by the English authorities with that
frank cordiality with which they have almost always received me. We
were shown both the arsenal and the dockyard. In the dockyard basin a
steam corvette with paddle-wheels was lying, which had a new
arrangement of which I had heard a great deal. The sponsons formed
great rafts which could be lowered into the water by an ingenious
mechanical contrivance, and which, in case of its being necessary to
land troops, would carry a large number at a time, and even save the
crew in a case of disaster. This, indeed, did occur in the Crimea and
elsewhere, after our ships had all been equipped with the invention.
Commodore Sir Frederick Collier was good enough to have these rafts
experimented with at my request. I turned my opportunity of seeing them
to good account. When I was back in Paris, some two or three months
later, the English naval captain (his name escapes me, I fancy it was
Smith), who had invented this raft system, asked me to receive him. He
came, so he told me, to offer his plan to the French navy, and on the
strength of the interest with which I had followed the trial of his
boat at Woolwich, he begged me to recommend it to the minister for that
department of affairs. Further, he offered to bring me a model of it.
"Wait one moment," I replied.
I rang the bell, and sent for an old workman who was in my employment.
He came, with a model of my visitor's boat and lowering apparatus in
his hand, constructed on drawings I had made on my return from England.
The inventor stood as though petrified at the sight. The only word he
said was "Wonderful!" It appears I had caught the likeness at once.
What it is to know how to draw!
Let me add, by the way, that the old workman to whom I have just
referred had been a ship's carpenter with the fleet commanded by
Villaret de Joyeuse in the naval engagement which we call the Battle of
the 13th Prairial, and the English that of the 1st of June. At my house
he often met an academician, as old as himself, of the name of Dupaty,
who had also been a sailor, and present at the same battle. The two old
warriors would interchange recollections, which amused me much, and
often interested me deeply as well.
From them I learnt that before the fleet sailed from Brest to fight the
British it was "purified" (epuree). The captain and two lieutenants of
the flag-ship, the Cote d'Or, were guillotined, and the ship's name
changed into the terrifying one of the Montagne. The captain of another
ship, the Jean Bart, had also been beheaded. Thousands of sailors and
seasoned marines, whose opinions were not trusted, were drafted into
the land-forces, and replaced by others who were pure Republicans, but
who did not know their work. POUR ENCOURAGER LES AUTRES, Jean Bon St.
Andre, commissary of the republic with the fleet, and afterwards
prefect of Mayence under Napoleon (his very name marked him out for the
post!), had caused a guillotine to be erected on board every ship. It
was set up forward at the foot of the foremast. Yet all these
terrorising measures and this revolutionary disorganisation did not
bring us victory. They brought indeed nothing but defeat, attended by
downright carnage. The valour of our crews often amounted to actual
heroism. But they had no skill. They were killed, but they could not
deal death themselves. Every English shot told. Every French one flew
wide. It is most distressing, on consulting the annals of the two
navies, to notice the enormous losses on board the French ships
compared with the insignificant number of men killed or wounded on the
English ones. True it is, that at sea, just as on dry land,
extemporised arrangements are disastrous things, and that, as I have
already asserted, nothing can ever replace professional skill and the
long established habit of obedience to superior orders and general
discipline.
That wonderfully dramatic, if sometimes contested episode, of the
Vengeur going down into the waves with all her crew, sooner than
surrender, is supposed to have taken place at the close of the battle
of the 13th Prairial. I have often heard the story attributed to
Barrere, who, being obliged to give an account of the lost battle to
the Convention, endeavoured thus to gild the pill. I questioned my two
old sailor friends eagerly concerning this incident of the struggle
wherein they had both played their part.
On another occasion I made personal inquiries of one of the last
survivors of the Vengeur, to whom I had been commissioned to convey the
Cross of the Legion of Honour. Putting together what I gathered from
these various individuals, and what I collected elsewhere, I believe
the exact truth concerning the episode in question to be as follows:
Towards the end of the fight, after having grappled for a long time, at
close quarters, with the British warship the Brunswick, the Vengeur,
riddled with shot on every side, and utterly dismasted, was shipping
water through her ports with every roll of the sea. In this condition
she must have sunk before long. The engagement was over--it was six
o'clock at night. The English warships Alfred and Culloden, and the
Rattler, cutter, came to the Vengeur's assistance, and set to work,
with the few of their boats which had not been smashed during the
fight, to save Renaudin, her plucky captain, and his son, first of all,
and then take off the crew. The Alfred took off two hundred and
thirteen men, the Culloden and Rattler almost as many more; but the
work of rescue was still going on when the ship foundered, carrying
with her not only all the most seriously wounded men, but about forty
unwounded sailors, who seeing death was inevitable, bravely greeted its
approach with shouts of "Vive la Nation! Vive la Republique!" The story
is such a splendid one as it is, that it needs no imaginary
embellishments whatever.
Let me return for a moment to my excellent academician friend, M.
Dupaty, whose acquaintance I had made in the most absurd fashion. In
the palmy days of the warlike enthusiasm of the Citizen Guard the
worthy Dupaty was a captain in the 1st battalion of the 2nd Legion,
commanded by Commandant Talabot. One evening, when he was on guard at
the Palais Royal, he had been reciting some verses in my father's
drawing-room, and, somewhat intoxicated perhaps by poetic enthusiasm,
he begged the King to put one of his sons into his company. His Majesty
burst out laughing and said:
"There's Joinville, he knows all his rifle-drill very well; he has had
one of the old Invalides to teach him. He'll do for you."
So I was put into a National Guard's uniform, with a knapsack stuffed
with hay on my back (in the ardour of that moment the chic companies
all wore knapsacks), and was sent to drill with my company on the Rue
de Londres drill ground, where the Quartier de l'Europe now stands. A
more ridiculous proceeding cannot be imagined, but old Dupaty was
perfectly enchanted. He was still more delighted when he succeeded in
getting one of his works, a comic opera called Picaros et Diego given
at the theatre in the Chateau of Compiegne, in honour of the marriage
of my sister Louise and the King of the Belgians. But lo! at the climax
of the piece, the principal performer came forward, before the newly
married couple, the Royalties, and all the great personages forming the
audience, and burst forth with a gag couplet, which nobody expected.
Oui, c'en est fait, je me marie,
Je veux vivre comme un Caton.
Il fut en temps pour la folie
Il en est un pour la raison!
[Footnote: Rough translation:--
Yes! all is o'er, I'm going to wed,
Like Cato I'm resolved to live.
The time for youthful folly's sped,
My life to Reason now I'll give!]
As King Leopold was not reckoned to have led a life quite devoid of
love affairs, the appropriateness of the remark had a wonderful effect.
All the grandees hung their heads in a row, and the rest of the
audience struggled with a violent desire to burst out laughing.
But this long digression has carried me far away. I must get back to
England and my little flotilla's stay there. My brother Aumale, who had
accompanied me on my cruise, went with me to Windsor, where we paid our
respects to Queen Victoria. Although in the course of my various
voyages I had touched at several English ports, this was the first time
I really saw England, hospitable England, and the first impression it
made on me was very deep. Though the gray and smoky tint of both sky
and water and buildings, and everything I passed as I went up the
Thames to London Bridge, looked singularly dreary to my eyes, the
immense commercial stir and general activity I saw exceeded anything I
had ever expected to behold. And the ineffaceable impression of this
greatness and power was quickly succeeded by another, no less profound,
and which my long life has only confirmed, that here was a nation which
had known how to pass through a revolution without permitting it to
encroach on its social discipline, nor allowing democratic jealousies
to destroy its traditions and sow discord between the different classes
of its population.
I thought Windsor quite superb. The old castle, surrounded by its
ancient trees, with its foundations lapped by the waters of the Thames,
the national river, and seeming to stretch out its protecting arm over
Eton and the picturesque college--whither the flower of the nation
comes to receive the healthiest and soundest of educations at the hands
of a purely clerical body--is a true symbol of the calm strength and
steady permanence of the English Monarchy.
I had met Prince Albert several times already, in Paris; but I had
never seen Queen Victoria before. Bright and witty, with an arch and
pleasant smile not always quite devoid of mischief, the young sovereign
was in all the freshness and brilliance of her youth and the radiance
of her happiness. She and her royal husband gave us a welcome of which
I preserve the most grateful recollection, and from that day forward I
conceived a profoundly respectful affection for her Majesty, which has
increased with my advancing years.
Our visit to Windsor was short and devoid of striking incident, beyond
the acquaintance I made there with men of eminence in war or state
craft, such as the Duke of Wellington, Sir Robert Peel, and Lord
Aberdeen. It was at this time that the Queen of Great Britain's journey
to the Chateau d'Eu was decided on. I went with my flotilla as far as
Cherbourg to meet her.
When she got there, she invited me on board her own vessel, the
splendid yacht Osborne, commanded by a son of the late King William
IV., Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, a very good fellow, but a somewhat
rubicund specimen of the old-fashioned British sailor, with an eye he
had some difficulty in keeping open; which failing earned him the
following reply to his chaffing remark, made to a little schoolboy,
already somewhat sensitive about his personal dignity. "Oh, WHAT a bad
hat you have!"
"And you, what a damned bad eye!"
Lord Aberdeen, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, was also on board the
yacht, besides Lord Liverpool, Lord Charles Wellesley, Colonel Wylde,
and the ladies-in-waiting--that charming Lady Canning whom we had known
in Paris as a child, and who died in India, after having shown great
courage during the terrible Sepoy mutiny, and a not less charming Miss
Liddell, who afterwards became Lady Bloomfield.
The Queen's entrance into Treport was favoured by splendid weather; the
little wet dock, crammed with fishing boats, and the old church, were
gilded by the rays of the setting sun, while opposite us, on the rock
overlooking the port, rose the great cross before which the fishermen's
wives go and pray in stormy weather. We went ashore to the firing of
cannon and the rattle of thousands of sabots on the shingle, among a
good-humoured crowd of sailors, short-petticoated fishwives, and
white-capped Normandy peasant women, all making their comments aloud,
while here and there appeared a gendarme's cocked hat, or the
broad-brimmed headgear of some country cure. It was a picturesque
sight, so gay and noisy, and so thoroughly French, and the young
sovereign seemed delighted with its novelty. There was no cavalry
escort nor lining of the road from Treport with troops; but the
splendid squadrons of the 1st Cuirassiers, in their copper
breast-plates, were drawn up in echelon at regular distances apart in
the open fields, and saluted with their trumpets as we went by; while
at the chateau itself the Guard of Honour was furnished by a battalion
of riflemen drawn up in close order, their dark uniform and military
air causing Lord Charles Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington's son, and a
thoroughbred soldier himself, to exclaim, "Oh, what splendid little
fellows!"
My father had put the Queen into a huge open vehicle, with room for
twelve people in it, like a boat in shape, drawn by a team of eight
horses, harnessed in the French style, with an outrider, coachman,
footmen, and grooms all dressed in red. The postilion, who wore great
boots as in a Van der Meulen picture, was the only servant in a blue
livery. This contrast in colour arose out of a tradition which had been
kept up in the royal stables, that the postilion, being supposed to
have taken off his jacket for the sake of being cool, must always be
dressed in the same colours as the other servants' waistcoats. The
Orleans livery being scarlet with a blue waistcoat, the postilions wore
blue. The Conde livery being chamois-colour, with amaranth waistcoats,
the postilions must wear amaranth, and so on.
The royal waggon with its eight horses was anything but easy to manage
on the narrow Norman roads. And one slight accident occurred of which I
was the unlucky cause. I was riding beside the carriage door, and I got
in the way when it was turning a corner, so that it got locked, and
remained so for some minutes. My father stormed, and the Queen went
into a fit of laughter; but the poor old coachman, a veteran belonging
to the old state stables, cast a look at me that must have been like
Vatel's glance before he ran himself through with his sword. I had
brought disgrace on him at the most solemn moment in his life!
The next day a fresh bit of local colour was provided for the royal
guests. The Queen was taken out driving with posters in the forest. The
postilions, with their clubbed and powdered hair and gaily beribboned
hats, started at a fairly steady pace, but once they were clear of the
crowd they went off at full tear, with loose reins and a great cracking
of whips. The pace was so severe that it was as much as I could do,
with my horse at full gallop, to keep my place beside the carriage
door. The fun was flavoured with a touch of uneasiness, which increased
its charm. The whole period of the Queen's visit was thus spent in
drives and excursions, from which we did our best to banish any touch
of official formality and constraint.
In the evenings there would be a concert, with the artists from the
Conservatoire to sing the chorus from Armide, "Jamais en ces beaux
lieux," the orchestra performing the symphony in A, and a solo on the
horn by Vivier; or else Auber would bring the Opera Comique troupe,
Roger, Chollet, and Anna Thillon; or else Arnot played L'Humonste with
Mdme. Doche. There were Cabinet Ministers there as well. Lord Aberdeen
and M. Guizot held conversations, during which they may or may not have
confided political secrets to each other. Marshal Soult, the President
of the Council, spoke but little, and when he did, the words that fell
from his lips were not always of the most good-tempered sort, as one
unlucky general found out to his cost. This worthy man, no longer
young, who was in command in a neighbouring department, held the grade
of brigadier-general, and, feeling the moment of his retirement was
approaching, he was passionately anxious, before it struck, to make
sure of the three stars that mark the rank of lieutenant-general. He
had been watching his opportunity to try and get the marshal to look
favourably on his request, and he fancied he had found it one morning
when he met him after luncheon, at the entrance of the Galerie des
Guise. The marshal was walking along, limping from an old wound, with
one hand behind his back, and plunged in a meditation which was the
reverse of rose-colour, to judge by the pouting under-lip, which he
always wore when this was the case.
The general approached him, and he stopped short, knitting his brows.
"I am very lucky, Monsieur le Marechal, to have this opportunity of
paying you my respects."
"Pooh!" said the marshal, but the poor wretch went on:
"And as I have this lucky chance, Monsieur le Marechal, I take
advantage of it to inform you of the satisfactory state of the public
mind in my department, and the good results of my work there. Do you
know that only the day before yesterday I had sitting at my own dinner
table, with several people who are devoted to the present order of
things, a Legitimist and ... a Republican!"
"Oh, had you indeed? Then let me tell you you asked them to dine to
meet an idiot!"
And off the marshal went, leaving his unlucky interlocutor aghast at
the sudden collapse of his hopes. I have even heard it said he died of
it!
On her return from Eu, the Queen landed at Brighton, whither I had the
honour of accompanying her, and where she was received with that
general enthusiasm which has never failed to greet her. I remained for
a day as her Majesty's guest in that hideous Pavilion at Brighton, in
those days a royal residence, where nobody could move about or open a
window without being exposed to the fire of all the opera glasses in
the houses opposite This masterpiece of bad taste has been turned into
a casino. It is the one thing it was fitted to be. Then I took those of
our ships which had escorted the Queen to Brighton back to Treport to
act as guardships while the King remained at Eu.
Some years previously a comical scene took place on board one of these
guardships. The King had gone, according to his usual custom, to
inspect the ship in question and her crew, accompanied by the then
Minister for Marine Affairs, a gallant officer who shall be nameless,
but who was better fitted for giving words of command than for
extemporising speeches. Once on board the... Pelican (I will use that
name, though it is not the real one), and the inspection of the crew
being over, the King told the minister he desired to commemorate his
visit by the bestowal of at least one Cross of Honour. The idea was
quite unexpected, but after some consideration it was decided to give
the decoration to the surgeon-major, who had behaved with great
devotion during a recent cholera epidemic. The crew was still
assembled, the King took up his position aft, but the minister, being
perfectly ignorant as to the course the ceremony should take, did not
open his lips. So the scene opened thus:
"Come, Admiral!" said the King. "Tell the drummer to ouvrir le ban."
The admiral in stentorian tones: "Drummer! Ouvrez le ban!"
A silence. Then the King in a whisper: "Say something, Admiral! Tell
them I am going to decorate an officer."
The admiral made a sign of acquiescence, stepped forward, and began
again, in the same stentorian tones:
"Officers and men of the Pelican!"--another pause "His
Majesty"--another pause--"The cholera!"--yet another pause. "Your
gallant surgeon," pointing to him, "your gallant surgeon, I say. The
King desires to reward the officers and men of the Pelican for the
cholera!" (He fired off the word cholera like a cannon shot.) "Appoints
you Legionary" ("Knight," whispers the King very low). "Yes, Knight
Legionary" (the King bent his head in despair). "Knight Legionary of
his Majesty's r-r-royal order of the Legion of Honour! Drummer! Fermez
le ban!"
This was done by the only drummer on board; the gallant surgeon-major
came up to receive his cross, which the King, whose gravity never
forsook him, presented to him with a few kindly words, while all the
spectators made superhuman efforts to control their inclination to
laugh. What dozens of scenes of that kind I have witnessed!
I wound up my term of service at Eu. All there were still full of the
Queen of England's visit, the episodes of which Isabey, Eugene Lamy,
Alaux, and Simeon Fort were very busy transferring to canvas. At last
my little naval division was paid off. I went back to Paris and
re-entered the world, not of politics, but of social intercourse. I
even went to Chantilly Races, a meeting which my brothers had just
established, and which has now become a standing institution. These
races were very different when they first began to what they are in the
present day. There was the same beautiful turfy racecourse, opposite
the ancient castle of the Condes; the horses, too, and the trainers and
jockeys were much the same; but the general public was very different.
There were no railways then to bring huge crowds in numberless specials
and return them to Paris the same evening. The company was less
numerous, but it was more select. People migrated to Chantilly for the
race-week, content with what lodging they could find, and ready to put
up with all the inconveniences of a sort of huge picnic, and spend
every hour both of the day and night amusing themselves as best they
could. It was a kind of summer carnival, with country excursions,
dinners, balls, and merry-makings of every description, at which the
great world and the demi-monde, both of them in considerable force,
sometimes mingled in somewhat noisy fun.
I recollect one extra riotous ball, at which the worthy mayor of
Chantilly, M. Jaquin, thought it his duty to interfere, with the
gendarmerie, to restore order. The worthy magistrate entered, and
commanded the noise to be stopped in the name of the law, at the same
time inquiring who was the proprietor of the house. "Brochet is!"
chorused a hundred voices.
Now Brochet was the surname of a certain fascinating cocotte. "Well,"
said the good mayor paternally, "I should like to speak to M. Brochet."
"That's me!" shouted the same hundred individuals at once. Then there
was a shout of "Long live Jaquin!" and the worthy man was carried round
in triumph, while the fair ladies hastened to exert their blandishments
upon the gendarmes. How could anybody be angry? The representatives of
law and order fraternised with those of--the other thing! and it all
ended in smoke!
So much for our evenings. In the daytime there was hunting. Everybody
followed in merry parties, on horseback, in carriages, or on foot, to
the sound of the horns of the red coated piqueurs of the Orleans family
hunt. The whole thing was full of "go," and I remember seeing one very
pretty woman, out of patience with the slowness of her carriage,
entreat a friend to lend her his horse, and start off on it astride,
not in her riding habit, but in ordinary outdoor costume. The fair
lady's name was Lola Montes, and she later on attained some
considerable celebrity in the kingdom of Bavaria.
After this fashion the lovely month of May was spent. But June brought
me more serious occupation. I was appointed to the command of a
squadron ordered to the coasts of the Empire of Morocco, where we were
on the brink of important events, affecting alike the consolidation of
our Algerian conquests and our relations with other Great Powers Driven
to extremity by the blow given to his prestige by the capture of his
smalah, Abd-el-Kadir was playing a last and desperate card. He had once
more kindled all the Mussulman fanaticism and hatred of the foreign
invader against us We had to fight in every direction. While my brother
Aumale had several sharp engagements, in one of which my younger
brother, Montpensier, was wounded, on the Constantine side of the
country, General Bugeaud was carrying on a daily struggle with the
warlike tribes of the Province of Oran. These tribes, whenever they
were repulsed, crossed the River Moulouia, which was the frontier line
of Morocco, at which our troops had to stop short on account of
European susceptibilities, and thus escaped all chastisement.
The enemy concluded, from the cessation of our pursuit, either that we
did not dare to brave the displeasure of the Emperor of Morocco, or
else that the European Powers, and especially the Power whose flag
floated over Gibraltar, protected the soil of that empire from any
violation. It thus became a sort of citadel, whence any attempt on us
might safely be made without fear of reprisals. There were consequently
perpetual irruptions into our territory, not only of the fanatic
Moorish element, but, covertly, of the Emperor of Morocco's own troops,
whom he had massed, on pretence of keeping watch, close to our
frontier, and in the long run these attacks, which had to be
ceaselessly repulsed at the cost of precious lives, had grown
intolerable. This state of things could not go on The French Government
resolved to put an end to it, and its first step was to despatch the
squadron I had the honour to command. I was to call on the Emperor of
Morocco to withdraw the protection he had given Abdel-Kadir up to that
period; not to allow our enemies to organise expeditions against us on
his territory; and, finally, to reduce the considerable collection of
troops he had amassed on the frontier--the number and attitude of which
both amounted to a threat--to a mere police force. Failing his prompt
acquiescence with my demands, I was to use force at sea, in concert
with General Bugeaud on land, to force Muley Abderrahman to submit.
But I had been expressly desired to carry forbearance to its furthest
possible limit, and in case of our being obliged to take action to let
it be known in the most public manner that we had no idea of conquest.
Above all, I was carefully to avoid anything that might possibly wound
international feelings. And herein lay the difficulty of my task, for
these same feelings were excessively tender. I need hardly say that
this was especially so in the case of England. We had driven away her
trade when we conquered Algeria, and she did not want her commercial
relations with Morocco to meet the same fate. Gibraltar, being in a
state of perpetual semi-blockade on the Spanish side, is obliged to
draw all the necessary supplies for its huge garrison and its smuggling
population from Morocco; and this has gone on for such a length of time
that Englishmen have got into the habit of looking on Tangier as being
an indispensable dependency belonging to that proud citadel on the
Rock, which keeps watch and ward over the gates of the Mediterranean.
Add to this a certain national feeling among the English that the sea
is their special domain, and their consequent jealousy whenever naval
action is taken by any other fleet than theirs, and some idea of the
inflammable elements with which I was about to be surrounded will be
gained. The very announcement of the despatch of my squadron to Morocco
brought forth a demonstration of the national sensitiveness in the
British Parliament. A former minister, Lord Minto, was the first to
echo it in the House of Lords, where he went so far as to do me the
honour of complaining that _I_ should have been entrusted with the
command of the squadron It was decided that ships should be sent to
watch us. Admiral Owen, Commander-in-Chief of the British Mediterranean
Squadron, was ordered to hasten to Gibraltar without delay, and the
Press, as may well be imagined, was not slow to take its share in all
this agitation.
[Illustration with caption: POINT EUROPA, GIBRALTAR.]
Meanwhile I was busily organising my little squadron at Toulon. Twelve
hundred troops, or thereabouts, for disembarkation if necessary, had
been sent me, and as fast as I got my ships ready I sent them on to
Oran, where we were to muster. Just as we were starting a slight
accident occurred, which if I had been superstitiously inclined might
have cast a gloom over the first days of my command. We had towed the
ship Triton, with a body of marines on board, outside the port, one
lovely evening. There we met a steamboat coming from Montpellier with a
company of engineers, under Captain Coffinieres, who were also to be
attached to the expedition. By some mistake in steering the ships
collided. The Triton was slightly damaged; but the steamboat lost her
funnel and spars, and had her bulwarks stove in. There was no damage to
life and limb, beyond an unintentional dip I took, by falling into the
sea while getting alongside the two vessels to judge for myself whether
the collision was a serious one or not. I recollect, as a small matter
of detail, that while we were coming back into Toulon at night, on
board the tug from which I had seen the accident, we made experiments
with the electric light, and that when we turned it on an American
corvette lying in the port, her watch bolted in every direction,
blinded by the dazzling light darted on them suddenly, they knew not
whence. More than forty years elapsed before these experiments received
any practical application. Such is the power of routine!
But I must get back to my ships. Having mustered them all at Oran, and
opened communications with General Bugeaud, I went straight to
Gibraltar, to confer with the English authorities before I did anything
else; and resolved to be the first to offer in the clearest and
frankest way any explanation they might desire of my intentions as to
peace or war, and the part we expected neutral powers to play. Let me
say at once, that from the very first day till the end of the campaign,
I never had occasion to speak otherwise than in terms of the highest
satisfaction of all my relations with the officers holding command in
the British naval force, and more especially with Admiral Owen, Captain
Lockyer, and Captain Provo Wallis. Our intercourse was always frank,
cordial, "straightforward," as English people call it, and very
pleasant in consequence. This was not the case when I had to do with
General Sir Robert Wilson, Governor of Gibraltar, a bitter enemy to
France. In the earliest beginning of his career he had been attached to
the staff of the Russian army, had been through the campaign of 1812,
and borne his part in inflicting the disasters which befell us during
the terrible retreat from Moscow, He played a very active part as
British commissioner with the Allied Armies in 1813, behaving with
great personal valour both at Dresden and Leipsic, and doing us
frequent mischief by the advice he gave to the Allies. Often, in his
very interesting Memoirs, he will be found complacently reckoning up
the losses that we should have suffered if his counsels had been acted
upon. Sir Robert afterwards acquired a certain notoriety in Paris by
acting as the principal agent in the escape of M. de Lavalette in 1815.
A man of occasional chivalrous impulses, but passionate and restless,
to the extent of being incapable of keeping quiet, he looked on his
position as Governor of Gibraltar not as a great military command
alone, but as an active political post, and he had directed all this
activity, through Morocco, against our conquered Province of Algeria,
and so against France herself. His goings to and fro betwixt Gibraltar
and the opposite coast were a matter of common knowledge, and his
newspaper, the Gibraltar Chronicle, edited by his Colonial Secretary,
repeated every statement likely to lower French influence, make little
of our arms, or stir up public feeling against us. Arms and war
material were openly exported to Tetuan and other towns in Morocco
under his very eyes. And, in short, it was easy to trace a great part
of the confidence in their impunity which made Muley Abderrahman and
his government so hostile on our frontier-line, and so insolent in its
replies to our diplomatic agents, to his behaviour.
Such then was the principal personage with whom I had to deal from the
very outset of my mission. He was the object of my first overture. As
soon as I arrived, I proceeded to the Convent, as his official
residence is called, in full uniform, with all the captains belonging
to my squadron. He received me with a politeness that bordered on the
obsequious, and at once began to talk of the danger he apprehended from
the presence of my squadron on that coast and before the Moorish towns;
the danger to peace in general, on account of the conflicts likely to
be provoked; the danger of still further exciting the warlike passions
of the Mussulman population; the danger to the safety of the Christian
natives, the European residents, and the consuls in Morocco; and,
finally, the danger to Mr. Hay, the British Consul-General, who had
just started to give personal counsels of moderation to the Emperor
Muley Abderrahman.
"But indeed, General," I replied, "I shall be too glad not to take my
ships to Tangier, nor to any other point on the Morocco coast, during
the negotiations. We are tired of the state of things caused by the
insolence and hostility of the Moors along our frontier. We are going
to present an ultimatum to put an end to it. We will allow them a
certain interval to reply in, and when that is up, we shall go to
Tangier, either to punish or to forgive them. UNTIL THEN we shall be
very glad of any efforts that may be made to calm public feeling and
facilitate the acceptance of our just demands. UNTIL THEN I am quite
prepared not to take my squadron to the coast of Morocco; but on one
condition only--that the British ships do not go there either. We
cannot allow our dispute to be discussed under the guns of a foreign
fleet, nor that there should be any question of protection or
intimidation in the matter. If you, and the naval authorities with you,
will promise that your ships shall not go to Tangier, I will take mine
to Cadiz, without touching there either, and await the reply to our
ultimatum. Of course I have nothing to say about your small vessels
going to Tangier to protect your fellow-countrymen, and mine will do
the same thing."
That ended my lecture, and I was about to take my leave, but Sir Robert
kept up a conversation on various subjects, till all at once he started
and said:
"Why, I was forgetting the time! The gates will be shut. If you want to
get back to the port, gentlemen, you must start at once. Hurry up! you
haven't a moment to lose."
I always thought that little scene was a got up thing: not indeed for
the sake of the absurd sight of the French admiral and his captains
tearing breathlessly along in full uniform like people who are afraid
of missing a train, but to give us an idea of the strictness of the
regulations under that particular governorship. Of which strictness we
had another proof on the following evening.
A boat coming ashore from the "Jemappes" to take off the officers, who
had been dining on shore, at the postern gate known as the Ragged
Staff, which had been left open for their convenience, made a mistake
in the darkness, and came alongside of another landing stage, the guard
of which turned out and fired a volley, which luckily did not hit
anybody.
The proposal I made during my first visit to Sir Robert was carried
out. I was given a promise that no English ship should appear at
Tangier; and I, on my side, took my squadron to Cadiz, while M. de
Nion, our consul-general, presented our ultimatum to Muley Abderrahman.
Then came a long period of uncertainty. Warships arrived at Tangier
direct from England. As soon as I heard of it I set sail to follow
them; but on my arrival, finding the authorities at Gibraltar had
already recalled them, I returned to Cadiz.
When the answer to our ultimatum did come, it was most unsatisfactory.
The Moorish Government refused to disperse the assemblage of troops
massed on General Bugeaud's front; and even went so far as to demand
that he should be punished for having violated their frontier more than
once, in his pursuit of the bands that had attacked him. And there was
not one word concerning the chief subject of our complaints,
Abd-el-Kadir.
We might have taken immediate steps, on the reception of this news, but
it was indispensable that the safety of our consuls, and our
fellow-countrymen resident in Tangier, whom the first cannon-shot would
expose to all the violence of Mussulman fanaticism, should be ensured
first of all. Then there was the presence of the British Consul-General
at the Emperor's court to be considered. If his mission was not
actually official, it was semi-official at all events; and we were
obliged to await his return. To give some colour to our delay, M. de
Nion sent a fresh summons to Sidi Bousselam, pasha of Larrache, a
clear-sighted and intelligent man, whom the Sultan had deputed to
negotiate with us. A fresh extension of time was granted. I took
advantage of it to get our consuls withdrawn, and went myself to
Tangier to see to the sudden removal of our consul-general and his
family. If this had been attempted a few minutes later, the Moors would
have tried to prevent it. All the other French subjects and people
under our protection, who had put off going on board our ships, were
stopped, except one Jew, who rushed up at full speed, threw himself
into the sea, and managed to come up with my boat. I should add, that
owing to the energetic remonstrances of all the other foreign
representatives, and in particular the Neapolitan Consul, M. de
Martino--a clever and courageous young man who has since risen to the
highest positions in Italy, and who had undertaken to look after our
interests after our consuls had been withdrawn--the embargo thus laid
on our fellow-countrymen's movements was of very short duration.
The departure of the French consuls made a considerable impression both
on the Moorish leaders and on the foreign representatives, who took
alarm at once. The roadstead at Tangier was soon covered, in answer to
their appeals, with foreign warships, Spanish, Danish, Swedish, &c. The
English men-of-war returned, and I brought back my own squadron.
But still the time went by, and Mr. Hay did not appear. General
Bugeaud, away on the frontier, was losing patience, and wrote me letter
after letter, complaining of my tergiversation!" To which I replied,
"Well, General, fire off your guns! If you will begin the fighting I'll
follow your example at once." But the general turned a deaf ear to
that. He answered that pacific overtures which he could not well ignore
were being made him on the frontier side, but that things could not go
on as they were, that his troops were suffering from the heat, that
they were fretting under their enforced inaction. The long and the
short of it was that he would not take the responsibility of the
international complications that might arise out of overt hostilities
in Morocco, and yet he was burning with the desire to throw himself
upon the army lying in front of him and inflict a signal defeat on it.
While he neither urged me on nor tried to check me, diplomacy did its
utmost to restrain my ardour. The French charge d'affaires in London
wrote to point out "the capital importance attached in this country
(England) to the business you have in hand. If it were to come to a
blockade, an occupation of ports and of the coast, &c., I feel quite
convinced that the relations between your Royal Highness and the
British cruisers would keep the peace of the world in general in
constant peril." And the tide kept rising and rising, higher and
higher! In other words, time was going by--in inaction. And some people
were inclined to take inaction for impotence.
At last, on the 4th of August, M. de Nion received an answer, and not
an acceptable one, to his last note, still harping on "the punishment
of the general." We had had enough of that sort of thing. On the 5th a
despatch-boat brought me news of the safety of Mr. Hay, the British
Plenipotentiary, on board an English ship, and of the failure of his
mission. On the 6th I attacked the fortifications of Tangier in the
presence of ships of war of every nation, British battleships, and
Spanish frigates. The object of our demonstration was eminently clear.
We were proving to the Moors, whom we chastised, as to the foreigners
who were looking on, that France intended to ensure her Algerian
frontier being respected, and that no foreign protection would save
those who violated it from punishment.
The shelling of Tangier was much more of a political act than of an act
of warfare. Though eighty pieces of artillery replied to our first
shots, their fire was swiftly silenced by the admirable practice made
by our capital gunners. Not a shot went wide of the enemy's embrasures,
nor did a single one fall on the dwelling-houses, nor on the consular
quarter of the town. Our loss was insignificant I have not the figures
by me, but I do not think we had more than fifteen or twenty men
disabled. No damage was done to the fleet. My ship, the Suffren, had
not more than fifty shots in her hull and spars.
General Bugeaud, with whom I at once communicated, wrote to me soon
afterwards as follows:
I told you on the 11th, that the army would lose no time about
honouring the draft the navy had drawn on it. By the enclosed copy of a
telegram to his Excellency the Minister of War you will see it has kept
its word.
The despatch in question contained the report of the battle of Isly,
which had just been fought; and the letter was dated from the
battlefield itself, on August 14th. On that same 14th of August I was
before Mogador with the squadron. Having sent out three very
intelligent officers, Colonel Chauchard, and Captain Coffinieres of the
Engineers, and a post-captain, the heir to a glorious name, Vicomte
Duquesne, to reconnoitre, I had resolved, on their information, to
choose this particular town and its port, as offering the best chance
of a successful attack. Another consideration too had weighed with
me--the customs duties at Mogador supplied the greater part of Muley
Abderrahman's revenue. We had dissipated his illusions at Tangier, and
while the general was lowering his pride on the battlefield of Isly, I
was going to make a hole in his purse.
Bad weather, rough seas, serious damage to chains, and anchors broken
on the inhospitable rocks, gave us a world of trouble. At last, on the
15th of August, the sea was calmer, and with a favourable breeze we
were able to take up our attacking position opposite Mogador. The town,
being strongly fortified, heavily armed, and having besides had time to
prepare for us, made a much tougher defence than Tangier. But we
mastered it at last, and the fire from the citadel having been silenced
by the guns of the Suffren, Jetnmapes, Triton, and the Belle-Poule
frigate, I took the flotilla into the channel, and landed five hundred
men on the island which forms the port. This was done under a very hot
musketry fire, but it was performed in the boldest and smartest manner,
the men who were wounded in the boats being among the first to spring
on shore. The batteries were carried at the double, and the whole
garrison of the island, about four hundred men, were either killed,
drowned, or driven at nightfall into a large mosque, which they
surrendered the next morning.
There never was a more picturesque sight than the close of that fight,
under a sunset like the one I saw Horace Vernet paint in his fine
picture of the battle of Montmirail. The Moors in their brilliant
dresses were retiring, firing as they went, towards the mosque, whose
great towers rose tall against the sky; while our small craft, running
along the shore on a golden summer sea, supported our soldiers on land
by their fire. I recollect finding myself just at that moment beside a
young sub-lieutenant, fresh from St. Cyr, M. Martin des Pallieres, whom
I had permitted, at his own urgent request, to land as a volunteer,
although his company was not detailed for service. He proudly showed me
his arm, smashed by a ball, saying:
"You see, sir, you did well to let me come!"
The whole of the assault of this island was very well led by Colonel
Chauchard and Captain Duquesne, who was wounded in the engagement.
My first care, the next day, was to send some of my prisoners back to
the pasha of Mogador, with an intimation that if he touched a hair on
the heads of the British Consul and his family, and a few other
Europeans whom he had refused to allow to depart before the attack, I
would take reprisals by putting all the rest of my prisoners to death.
I had the satisfaction of receiving the consul and his belongings on
board my ship, and of transferring them to the English frigate
Warspite, which had been present as a spectator during all our
operations. It was none too soon, for the Arabs and Kabyles from the
neighbouring country were already pouring into the town to sack and
plunder it. The pasha, overwhelmed by their numbers and no longer able
to maintain order, was obliged to take to flight himself, and no
Christian could have remained in the town without running the gravest
risk.
We soon landed in the town of Mogador to complete the work of
destruction begun the day before, spike the guns, smash up the
gun-carriages, and destroy all the munitions of war in the shore
batteries--all of which was performed without a shadow of opposition
being offered. Then I put a garrison on the island, providing it with
heavy guns, to awe the town, which we did not care to occupy, and I
declared the port to be in a state of blockade.
When all this was settled, I sent back the bulk of the squadron to
Cadiz to revictual, and get ready to recommence operations, if
necessary. During the whole of this campaign the only staff I had to
help me to direct sailing and fighting operations, and above all to
supply a naval force numbering seventeen sail, not reckoning my
disembarkation craft, with food, coal, and munitions of war, was one
first lieutenant, who acted as chief of the staff, aide-de-camp, &c.,
one second class cadet to go messages and keep the look out, and the
purser of my own ship, the Suffren.
It is true all these were first-rate men. The two officers have both
become admirals--one is Admiral Touchard and the other Admiral Pierre.
The purser's name was Roumo. I merely mention this detail because, with
the present mania for large staffs, things would be less simply managed
nowadays. I should like to add that I found my best assistance in the
goodwill, pluck, intelligence, and devotion to their country's
interests invariably shown by everybody, without distinction of rank.
In short, the behaviour of the naval force I had the honour of
commanding was even better than I could have expected of it. The
service still bears the same good character, and will continue to bear
it so long as no one lays a sacrilegious hand on an organisation the
value of which has been thoroughly tested, and which now rests on long
and splendid traditions.
But one misfortune befell us. The Groenland, a large transport, was
wrecked some way south of Larrache. By some miscalculation or other she
ran aground, going nine knots an hour, at high water, on a spring tide,
at the foot of a cliff as high as those of the English Channel. When
the fog cleared, some Arabs, very few fortunately, on the top of the
rocks, saw her, and poured their fire into her with perfect impunity.
One of our despatch-boats, the Vedette, becoming aware of the
catastrophe, hurried to the trooper's assistance; but she was almost
powerless, her engines not being strong enough to tow off a big ship
stranded in such a deplorable position. The shots fired from below at
the Arabs on the summit of the cliff only attracted more of them to the
spot. But at all events they were useful in so far as they made me
aware of the disaster.
I was passing by, out at sea, on board the Pluton, on my way to Cadiz,
when the sound of the guns, which was very unexpected thereabouts,
attracted my attention, and steering towards the noise I soon caught
sight of the unlucky Greenland lying close ashore, while the
rifle-shots flashed from the top of the cliff. It was just getting dark
when I reached the spot. I boarded the ship at once, no easy matter,
for a heavy surf was breaking on her stern, the only part of her which
was at all accessible. But they threw me a rope and hoisted me on board.
The unlucky officer in command, Captain Besson, had done everything in
his power after the vessel had gone ashore. He had laid out anchors,
lightened the ship, and cut down her masts and spars. Then, in the
pluckiest way, he had tried to go about, under the full fire of the
Arabs. Fourteen of his men had been killed or wounded at the capstan
bars. But the cables gave way, and the only result of lightening the
ship was that the swell carried her closer in shore. I went down to the
engine-room, which was full of water. It was clear to my mind that her
side was stove in. It was out of the question to make any attempt to
float such a large vessel--a difficult enough job on a friendly
coast--under the rifle-fire of the thousands of Arabs who were sure to
gather on the cliff at daybreak.
If the sea rose, the ship would not only go to pieces, but it would be
impossible to rescue her passengers and crew. I therefore settled to
proceed at once to the removal of the wounded, in the first place, and
then of the rest of the soldiers and sailors on board. This was carried
out without any accident. Captain Besson was the last man to leave his
ship, having first, at my request, set her on fire, so as to leave
nothing in the way of a trophy in the enemy's hands.
On my arrival at Cadiz, besides letters from the Minister for Naval
Affairs, Admiral de Mackau, signifying the approval of his Majesty's
Government of what I had done, I found one from General Bugeaud (who
had been created a marshal), in which he said:
I have just received your despatch of lyth August, which has caused me
the greatest joy. In spite of the great distance between them, the
harmony between our military and naval operations has been complete The
Moorish army was defeated on the 14th, and Mogador was shelled and
captured on the 15th.
Between the two victories, the Princesse de Joinville has made you a
happy father. It seems to me that the young Princess ought certainly to
receive the name of Victoria.
I am very happy to assure you that you cannot be more pleased with your
fleet than the army is with both it and you.
I was busy revictualling and refitting, and reorganising my squadron,
when M. de Martino sent word that Muley Abdurrahman was sueing for
peace, and had given Sidi Bousselam full powers for the purpose.
There was a regular congress of diplomats at Cadiz. M. Guizot had
associated young Decazes--known to all the world in later days as
Marshal MacMahon's Foreign Minister--with M. de Nion, our decharge
d'affaires at Tangier. And then, behind the diplomatic curtain, there
was the British Minister in Spain, Mr. Bulwer, who took the deepest
interest in our proceedings, and like his chief, Lord Aberdeen,
sincerely desired to see the Morocco question dead and buried.
Everybody was eager to draw up protocols. But I thought it much better
to let ourselves be pressed a little, and make the Moors feel a little
keener anxiety to get rid of the blockade on Mogador, which practically
cut off all their supplies. I therefore suggested sending the
interpreter of the fleet, Dr. Warnier--a brave and clever man, one of
the Frenchmen who, with General Daumas, Leon Roche, and others, had,
formerly followed the fortunes of Abd-el-Kadir, and quite capable of
detecting all the tricks of Arab diplomacy--to meet Bousselam, with
orders to ask whether he really was invested with full powers from the
Emperor, and to request him, in that case, to produce an official
document in proof of his assertion. In the event of the reply being in
the affirmative, the squadron to return to Tangier, bringing the French
plenipotentiaries, and with them a treaty ready drawn up, containing
the conditions imposed by France, to be signed within twenty-four hours.
So matters were settled.
And what were the stipulations of the treaty?
Not very many. But it gave the deathblow to Abdel-Kadir, whom the
Emperor of Morocco undertook to proclaim an outlaw. The real treaty of
peace had been signed at Tangier, at Isly, and at Mogador. We had no
object, once we had gained those victories, in imposing too severe
conditions, which would have weakened and even destroyed his authority,
on the Moorish Sovereign. It was far better to have a ruler on our
frontier who had experience both of our armed strength and of our
generosity, and to whose interest it consequently was to live on
friendly terms with us, than to have to keep up a struggle with
Mussulman anarchy, which might end in opening the door to international
intervention.
The treaty inspired by these considerations was duly signed, and the
order to evacuate the Island of Mogador and raise the blockade was
forthwith given. The flag was hoisted once more over the French
consulate, and saluted both on shore and by our ships in port. The
Morocco dispute was closed.
In the result, Abd-el-Kadir, hemmed in in Morocco as he had formerly
been in Algeria, was forced, in 1847, after a short period of wandering
and helplessness, to make his submission to my brother Aumale. From the
date of the signing of the treaty of Tangier up to the present day, no
serious misunderstanding has ever arisen between ourselves and the
Empire of Morocco.
The signature of peace was the signal for the dispersal of the squadron
under my orders. I myself returned to Paris by Havre, where I learnt
that a public reception, which I was not sorry to escape, had been
prepared for me at Toulon. Feeling conscious, as I did, of having done
my country good service during my four months of campaigning, praise
and blame alike were equally indifferent to me.
XII
1844-1848
There were great festivities at Naples, towards the end of 1854, in
honour of the marriage of my brother Aumale and his cousin, the
charming daughter of the Prince of Salerno. During the civil marriage,
which took place at the palace, the King never left off tormenting the
syndic of Naples, who figured in a full black Spanish suit in
seventeenth-century style, and a wig with long floating curls. At the
religious ceremony, numbers of lovely women in court dress, and men
bearing great and historic names--such as the Marquis de Pescaire del
Vasto, the Princes Colonna and Campo Reale, the Dukes of Ascoli and San
Cesarea, and many others--gathered round the Royal Family. France was
represented by Admiral de Parseval and the officers of the squadron,
and by General Durosnel, who was aide-de-camp to my father, after
having served Napoleon in the same capacity. He was an old soldier, the
very personification of honour, with a memory stored with most
interesting recollections. The French Embassy, placed beside these
gentlemen, made a fine figure with the Due and Duchesse de Montebello
at its head, accompanied by M. Lutteroth and his wife, the sister of
that Count Batthyani who was executed in Hungary under such
heartrending circumstances in the year 1848. The general public of
France was represented among the spectators by M. Glais-Bizoin, who
made a less fine effect, as those who have known the triumvir of Tours
in 1870 will readily believe. He was one of the ugliest men in creation.
Then there was the whole diplomatic body, and foremost among its
members the Austrian Minister, Prince Felix von Schwarzenberg, whose
acquaintance I was very glad to make. He was an exceedingly pleasant
man, the very type of a distinguished aristocrat, with a splendid head,
clever and proud-looking at once, and a tall slight figure. He looked
magnificent in his white uniform, that of an Austrian general, and
turned all the ladies' heads. His love affairs were endless, and some
of them have become celebrated, such as his elopement with a great lady
in English society, who, when he left her, ended her days under the
tent of an Arab chief, near Palmyra, described by Edmond About in Le
Roi des Montagnes.
When once his passion was roused, he allowed no obstacle to stand in
his way, and I never saw any man beset a woman with his addresses, in
public, whatever her position might be, with such magnificent
indifference to what people said, or to the consequences which might
possibly ensue. And indeed his audacity generally paid. Later on he
carried it into politics, and with equal success. My readers may know
that he came into power in 1848, when the affairs of the House of
Austria were at their lowest ebb, Vienna in revolution, Hungary in
rebellion, and Lombardy invaded.
Full of confidence in the strength of the dynastic principle in the
country, he induced two incapable emperors to abdicate, himself took
young Francis Joseph to be solemnly invested with his sovereignty at
Santa Lucia, among Radetsky's riflemen, just before the battle of
Novara, made the alliance with Russia which forced Hungary into
submission, and having thus snatched his country from the jaws of
revolution and ruin, died on his feet, just after keeping an
assignation. He was the man who made the well-known and characteristic
remark, "You can do everything with bayonets--except sit on them!"
We had a constant succession of merry-makings. There was a state
performance at the San Carlo, with a ballet danced by very pretty
figurantes, whose tights were pink to below their knees only, the rest
was apple-green. This detail was insisted on to spare the modesty of
the management. I am not aware whether the genuine article profited in
any way by the rule. When the San Carlo was over, we had San Carlino or
Pulcinella. This character, peculiar to the local stage (who is
supposed to have originated in Acerra, as Arlequino did in Bergamo),
supported by his inseparable companion Pancrazio, poked fun to his
heart's content, and in the raciest of burlesque, at all the latest
Neapolitan occurrences and fashions, in a piece entitled Pulcinella
alia Strada Ferrata.
There were balls to go to, when the theatres were over, at the palace,
at the academy, and at our embassy. In the daytime there were shooting
parties at Capo di Monte or Caserta. Those Neapolitan shooting parties
are a thing of the past. I have heard my brother-in-law, King Leopold,
tell how once, when he had been invited by the King to a shoot of large
and small game at Mondragone, at which, in the course of a few days,
three thousand woodcock had been killed, besides other game, he stayed
on for a day longer than the other sportsmen, and in one morning he
brought down sixty woodcock put up by his dog, on the very ground that
had just been shot over.