A comparison of British and French Military Identity and Organization during the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars Timothy Paul Candlish Phd university of York History March 2012



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A Comparison of British and French Military Identity and Organization during the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars

Timothy Paul Candlish

PhD

University of York

History

March 2012

Abstract


The British and French armies that existed in the period between the fall of the Bastille and the Battle of Waterloo have been subject to any number of popular caricatures, myths, and misunderstandings. One such common stereotype is that the British army in the period was little more than an Old Regime army that somehow managed to win battles in the face of a French army that after centuries of aristocratic sclerosis and decades of revolutionary turmoil had mutated into an all-conquering juggernaut led by one of the universally recognized military geniuses of all human history; Napoleon Bonaparte. The image of the British soldier is of the downtrodden redcoat, whose life was one long story of alcoholism, hard fighting, and brutal corporal punishment at the hands of uncaring and brutal officers. The French soldier, in sharp contrast, is a bright-eyed young conscript, eager for victory and glory in the service of his country, of the ideals of the revolution, and of his seemingly-unbeatable Emperor. This thesis intends to examine the issues of military identity, that is to say how the soldiers truly saw themselves, and of military organization, specifically why armies organized and conducted themselves in the ways that they did. In so doing this thesis aims to challenge popular misconceptions, and to show that despite differences in ideology and ethos, the French and British armies actually came to adhere to a broadly similar ideal of military professionalism.





Contents




Abstract 2

Contents 3

Acknowledgements 3

Declaration 4

Introduction 6

Chapter 1: Professional Identities in the British Army 29

Recruitment of Enlisted Men 32

40


Officer Recruitment 40

Motives of Enlisted Men 43

Officers’ Motivations 54

Training of Enlisted Men 57

Officer Training 62

Discipline 65

The Role of Battle 75

Unit Identities 81

Relationships 89

Chapter 2: Professional Identities in the French Army 94

Officers Recruitment 105

Motives of Enlisted Men 109

Officer’s Motivations 113

Training of Enlisted Men 117

Officer Training 122

Discipline 127

The Role of Battle 132

Unit Identities 135

Relationships 142

Conclusion to Chapters One and Two 145

Chapter 3: Political and Social Identities in the British Army 155

Political Scene in Britain 156

Monarchy 164

The Duke of York 167

Social Identity of Enlisted Men 171

Social Identities of Officers 175

Gender Relations 184

Politics of Soldiers 190

Chapter 4: Political and Social Identities in the French Army 195

Political Scene 198

Republicanism 203

Social Identity of Enlisted Men 206

Social Identity of Officers 211

Gender Relations 220

Politics of Soldiers 224

Conclusion to Chapters Three and Four 241

Chapter 5: National Identities: The Highlanders 250

Martial Race 251

Recruitment 256

Experiences 265

Identities 269

Attitudes 275

Symbolism and Identification 284

Chapter 6: National Identities: the Irish 289

Martial Race 293

Recruitment 299

Experiences 312

Identities 317

Attitudes 321

Symbolism and Identification 329

Conclusion to Chapters Five and Six 333

Conclusion 347

Bibliography 358

Primary Sources 358

Secondary Sources 362

Theses 362

Books 363

Online Articles 372

Journal Articles 372











Acknowledgements


I owe a debt of gratitude to Professor Alan Forrest, whose assistance and forbearance have made this thesis possible. I also thank my thesis advisory panel, Catriona Kennedy and Geoffrey Cubitt, as well as my external examiner Kevin Linch, for their kind assistance.

I similarly extend my thanks to my family for their support and patience in the many years of this endeavour.











Declaration

I declare the following thesis to be entirely my own work. It has not been submitted at any other institution, or for any other award.







Introduction



In war, morale counts for three quarters, the balance of material force only makes up the remaining quarter.

Napoleon Bonaparte
Studies of warfare can be divided into two broad categories. Authors like Hew Strachan and Gunther Rothenburg have tended to focus on technical matters, what might crudely be called ‘hard’ military history, such as tactics, organisation, technology, and the personalities of commanders. More recently a cultural and social history of warfare has developed, exemplified by authors such as Kevin Linch, Marianne Elliott, and Alan Forrest. These studies seek to put soldiers, armies, and warfare in general in a wider context. In studying the character of the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars narrow studies of military technology are of little help. It is a generally acknowledged fact that both sides used much the same equipment, and that the equipment changed little if at all throughout the period. While equipment can in some cases offer insights into the identity and mind-set of the soldiers who use it, this is comparatively rare, and in any case not really applicable to the Napoleonic period. Soldiers were equipped on the basis of what was considered the best possible balance between logistical and combat efficiency, and in any case this was a period in which soldiers had little choice in how they were trained or used. Gone were the days when armoured knights sought out honourable hand-to-hand combat against social equals in the hope of renown and lucrative ransoms, ruining battle plans in the process. Yet at the same time it remained quite possible for individual achievement to be acknowledged and rewarded, as Napoleon did on an unprecedented scale. The majority of Napoleonic soldiers may not have considered themselves knights, or had much interest in chivalric ideals, but that did not prevent them from holding themselves, and others, to certain standards of behaviour.
This is not to say that the technical approach is of no value in a more cultural study, for it can provide useful information for illustrating arguments and establishing historical contexts. The number of men in a given army, for example, can offer insights into the military priorities and thinking of the government in question, and the status and perceived ability of the army’s commander. The extent to which that army is properly equipped can similarly reveal something of the state of war production, logistics, and political and military thinking. The alternative approach to military history is more concerned with the political and social context of the war. For those following this approach, the living conditions, social backgrounds, and religious or political attitudes of soldiers tend to be of greater interest than the weapons they carried or the battle tactics by which they were employed, this ground having been covered extensively already. They seek to know the soldiers for who they were rather than what they did.
Both approaches are necessary if we are to gain a full understanding of the nature of warfare and the mentalities it engenders, but neither is sufficient on its own. The ultimate purpose of this thesis is to understand how British and French soldiers in the Napoleonic period saw and understood themselves as soldiers. To examine in proper depth the precise range of social backgrounds from which they derived, and the religious and political opinions they may or may not have held, would be an undertaking far beyond the scope of this thesis. On the face of it, to gain an understanding of how contemporary soldiers saw themselves should be relatively simple, a matter of little more than examining and collating letters, memoirs, and other accounts from the period. However, while this is essential, there are nevertheless two particular problems in extracting usable information from these sources. One of these, and the most familiar to anyone attempting to study history, is the extent to which the evidence can be considered reliable. Basil Liddell-Hart, in his foreword to The Letters of Private Wheeler, draws the reader’s attention to what he describes as ‘conventional moralizing’ in accounts published after the wars.1 Popular sensibilities, at least among the reading public, must be taken into account when analysing any published source. Yuval Noah Harari and Neil Ramsey describe the development of literary preferences in the period, in particular the role of the so-called ‘cult of sensibility.’2 In a broad sense this manifested as a tendency to sanitize accounts, and to present soldiers in as sympathetic a light as possible. Private Wheeler’s Letters stand out from this tendency in that they were not published until 1951. Thus, as was Liddell-Hart’s stated intent, they can be considered a more clear-cut description of contemporary military life.
The other major problem is that soldiers say so little in their writings about the world around them. This is not to say that soldiers did not have opinions on the issues of the day, but without direct written evidence there is little to go on beyond the logical application of context, which in the absence of direct evidence is to make assumptions based on their environment and background. This lack of expressed opinion may simply mean that the soldiers were either unable or unwilling to express their opinions. The first can be explained by the fact that they lacked the educational wherewithal to express their feelings, most contemporary soldiers possessing only the rudiments of literacy, while the latter alludes to a parochial tendency in military identity, the soldiers having no desire to share their feelings with civilians who will not understand. The fact that some written sources do express opinions suggests that the former approach is the more accurate.
All wars are multifaceted in their contexts and particulars, but the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars are particularly complex, taking place as they did in the context of massive social and political upheaval. The French Revolution did not merely see a change in the structure of French government, but in the ethos and ideals underlying the whole of French society. Entire cultures and social identities were uprooted, altered, and combined in an attempt to create a new and cohesive national culture, and the armed forces were no exception. The deliberate change to French military identity during the Revolution was driven by two related but often competing impulses, which can be understood in terms of honour and virtue, or more appropriately honneur and vertu. The ideals of honour and glory were derived from much older concepts of French warriorhood, which regarded honour not merely as the preserve of the chivalric classes, but as a driving and defining ideal applicable to any French soldier. The ideal of virtue, as French Revolutionaries understood it, focussed on the soldier as a fellow citizen and equal, serving his country temporarily as a duty of citizenship. By endowing him with these values the French sought to raise the standing of the soldier, previously a suspect figure drawn from among the criminal and the desperate, but they did so in different ways. Honour sought to raise the soldier up, focussing on his specifically military qualities, while virtue sought to make him a citizen over all, his military role merely a component of his wider social responsibilities.
This stood in stark contrast to the approach of the British army in the period, which had changed little over the centuries since its founding in the reign of Charles II. In many respect a classic ancien régime army when the Revolution broke out, the British army was a volunteer force in principle and to a certain extent in practice. British soldiers were for the most part volunteers, though the army suffered from the problem that also bedevilled its French counterpart and practically all armies up the present day, namely that it had great difficulty in competing for willing recruits. Not only was the pay uncompetitive, but army life had developed a reputation, to some extent deservedly, for hardship and brutality. Whereas the French army changed significantly over the Revolutionary period, the British army changed relatively little. The two armies therefore provide an effective basis for comparisons of military systems and identities, continuing the long-standing debate over the relative virtues of conscripted versus volunteer militaries. The fact that the two societies derived from the same broad European military and social pan-culture makes for an even more effective comparison.
This thesis will illustrate and prove two particular points. Firstly, while the British and French armies were divided by ideology and practical approaches during the Revolutionary period, they nevertheless re-converged towards a broad common model of military professionalism. While the French made a brief departure in the form of the demi-brigade, the two armies were essentially similar in all respects but recruitment and promotion, two significant factors in military identity. As far as military identity itself is concerned, the thesis aims to examine the processes by which military identity changed, if it changed at all, in the period. Changes will be most apparent on the French side, when in the early years of the Revolution there co-existed a pre-Revolutionary line army largely unchanged but for the increasing emigration of its aristocratic officer corps, and a growing popular army made up of large numbers of volunteers. The amalgamation of these two forces is a prime example of the second point, which is that in most contexts ideology took a back seat to pragmatism in terms of practical matters of military organisation. The common caricature of the period is of the stolid, practical British army winning by sticking to what it knew, and of a French army hopelessly weakened by political generals and insubordinate soldiers more concerned with their rights than with their duties, an army confused and demoralized by demagoguery and ideological interference, waiting for Napoleon to cut the rot out and make it nigh-on unstoppable. The reality, as this study intends to prove, is that the French army was as pragmatic in its organisation and decision-making as its British counterpart. The amalgamation itself illustrates this, offering a practical solution to the competing requirements of political and military reliability. The Revolutionary levée en masse was not a purely ideological gesture, but a response to the French Republic’s pressing need for troops in the face of enemies both internal and external.

A particularly useful example of published material on the British side is Basil Liddell Hart’s The Letters of Private Wheeler 1809-1828. This work is a collection of letters written by a soldier in the Royal Surrey Militia, preceded by the author’s introduction, describing his transfer to the King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry. The letters are generally narrative in form, but contain useful information about militia and regular army life, including some insights into the opinions held by British soldiers. For his own part, Liddell Hart claims that officers’ accounts are the most interesting and valuable, while criticizing the Recollections of Rifleman Harris for having been written some years later and ‘polished’.3 Rifleman Harris was nonetheless drawn upon for this study for two main reasons. For one, as a source written and published with outside assistance, from an officer who found Harris working as a cobbler, it provides a counterpoint to sources like Private Wheeler and Journal of a Soldier of the Seventy-First Glasgow Regiment, or Highland Light Infantry, from 1806-1815, both of which were written by literate soldiers themselves.4 The other reason is that, like these other two examples, Harris is comparatively forthright in his opinions. He describes having to leave his aging shepherd father behind when drafted into the army, and his enthusiasm for later transferring to the 95th Rifles. Like Private Wheeler, he is not shy about describing what he likes and dislikes in an officer. What ultimately sets these two accounts apart is that Harris’ account was that it was altered, perhaps bowdlerized, by the officer who recorded it. Since Wheeler’s account never entered the public domain until much later, it was not subject to the same process, granting a clearer view of the military life both men shared. Sergeant Donaldson’s Recollections of the Eventful Life of a Soldier is useful by the same token, providing descriptions of combat and everyday life.5 In terms of style, it falls into the same mould as Rifleman Harris.


On the French side the primary sources take much the same form as the British sources, though only a comparative minority are translated. An example is The Diary of a Napoleonic Foot Soldier recounting the experiences of Jakob Walter, a Westphalian stonemason conscripted into Napoleon’s Grande Armée. 6 Like Private Wheeler, the Diary includes an introduction and background information, putting Walter’s experiences in context and pointing out those of his statements which contradict historical fact, or for which there is no evidence. This is an example of one of the difficulties inherent in making use these particular sources; to wit, their fallibility as far as historical fact is concerned. Another valuable primary source from the French side is Captain Elzear Blaze’s memoir Recollections of an Officer of Napoleon’s Army, a source as opinionated as it is detailed, made more palatable with a healthy dose of humour.7 Like Rifleman Harris, Captain Blaze offers his own insights into what motivates soldiers, as well as what they tend to think about those who lead and command them. The account of Captain Jean-Roch Coignet provides the perspective of an officer of humble background, conscripted in 1799 and rising through the ranks.8 The Memoirs of Sergeant Bourgogne, a well-regarded source among Napoleonic historians for its insights into conditions during the Russian campaign, is also available online, though like The Diary and indeed most letters it offers little direct insight into what the author is thinking.9 Official opinion is well-provided-for online, with the writings of such worthies as Jacques Guibert and the Baron de Besenval providing insight into the exchange of military ideas going on inside France in the years running up to the Revolution.
Research on the period in question has been extensive, but little focuses directly on the subject of identity. This issue is usually mentioned in passing, or employed to reinforce a wider argument. Useful information can nonetheless be found from these more general studies. Colonel Ramsay Weston Phipps, in his four-volume The Armies of the First French Republic, covers the French side from a distinctly military perspective.10 The first volume describes the former Royal Army in some detail, describing it as an effective and disciplined force, while dismissing the Revolutionary army that followed it, though his criticisms generally focus on military issues, including the difficulties faced by the Regular troops in adapting to the new regime. The rest is mostly descriptions of campaigns and technical information, generally praising Napoleon, though the third volume stands out in its examination of the Vendee Rebellion. Phipps describes the rebellion with some enthusiasm, his descriptions going somewhat out of context, while gleefully recounting the inability of the Revolutionaries to understand it. Samuel F. Scott’s The Response of the French Royal Army to the French Revolution covers the pre-Revolutionary French army in detail, one of very few books to do so, containing information on everything from its origins to the training of the troops.11 Scott essentially agrees with Phipps that the Royal Army was a capable force in its own right, but is more forthright with regard to its weaknesses, particularly with regard to the officer corps. Spenser Wilkinson covers primarily the Revolutionary period in The French Army before Napoleon, and like his contemporary Phipps he focuses on technical aspects, notably the expansion of military recruitment in that period.12 Paddy Griffith provides a focussed examination of French military methodology in The Art of War of Revolutionary France, along with some helpful explanation of terminology.13 Georges Blond’s La Grande Armée describes Napoleon’s difficulties in acquiring conscripts, and the tendency of young recruits to be corrupted by barrack life.14 He also claims that the Imperial Guard was unpopular, for all its legend. Andrew Uffindell likewise acknowledges that the Guard was not universally popular, examining in depth the issues surrounding it, particularly its military usefulness and whether recruiting for it weakened the Line Regiments.15 Rory Muir likewise examines the latter issue.16 John Elting describes Napoleon’s army in depth in Swords around a Throne, putting it in context with an examination of its Royal and Republican predecessors.17 As far as identity itself is concerned, some sources stand out. Michael Broers, in Europe under Napoleon, goes into French historiography, warning in so doing that Napoleon should not be dismissed as a military dictator.18 He describes public order in France region by region, and is notable for challenging widespread opinion, in this case the common myths regarding the role of nationalism and enlightenment concepts. A singularly useful resource for this study was John Lynn’s The Bayonets of the Republic. 19 Lynn analyses military motivations in depth, dividing them into three broad categories; remunerative, coercive, and normative. He also examines how changes in military thinking led to the favouring of certain of these leverages over others. Jean-Paul Bertaud’s The Army of the French Revolution counters certain myths regarding the French volunteers, and examines the wider political context of French military development in the early years of the Revolution.20 Of particular use in understanding the motivations of French soldiers is Alan Forrest’s Napoleon’s Men, which draws upon soldiers’ writings from the period. 21 Napoleon’s Men provided a basis for the conclusion that soldiers’ letters contained little in the way of opinion, but the sheer scope of the study allowed for a minority of opinionated sources to be identified and drawn-upon, making it a singular asset. Forrest is best known for his challenging of the ‘levee en masse’ myths surrounding the French Revolution. In this he challenges the idea that French people rose ‘en masse’ to defend the nation, describing the various means by which recruitment was carried out and numbers maintained.
The British side has been covered in considerable depth by several well-regarded military historians. The late Richard Holmes provides Redcoat, a source that directly examines the lives and conditions of British soldiers while keeping them in their wider social context. Corelli Barnett’s Britain and her Army covers a period of several centuries, but provides useful context for the development of British and French military systems.22 In a manner familiar to any reader of his Decline and Fall trilogy, Barnett is scathing in his criticisms of British elite and popular opinion with regard to military matters. He finds particular fault with the controversy over whether or not Britain should have a standing army, regarding it as a political football that damaged relations between the British Army and the Militia. He also finds fault with the common British tendency to favour naval power, one of his main arguments being that lacking an effective permanent army made it very difficult for the British to intervene effectively in European wars. Detailed information on British recruitment and training methods can be found in John Houlding’s Fit for Service.23 Richard Glover contributes with Peninsular Preparations, covering the development of the British army before and during the campaign in Spain, including some useful information on the training regimen introduced by the Duke of York, as well as his disciplinary reforms.24 In All for the King’s Shilling, Edward Coss argues that the status and image of the British soldier in the period have been obscured by the ‘scum of the Earth’ image. He describes a British army drawn from a wide variety of backgrounds, who entered the service for a multiplicity of reasons, many of them financial.25
David French’s Military Identities and Heather Streets’ Martial Races focus on a later period.26 Both are nevertheless helpful in understanding contemporary thought on the issues of regimental identity and the martial race concept. The role of the Militia and Volunteer movements is covered effectively by Ian Beckett in Britain’s Part-Time Soldiers.27 Kevin Linch has covered the relationship between these organisations and the regular army in several works, including ‘A Citizen and not a soldier’: the British volunteer movement and the War against Napoleon.’28 An in-depth description of the Duke’s career is provided by Alfred Burne in The Noble Duke of York, including extensive information on his military reforms.29 Allan W. Berry’s The West Suffolk Militia 1778-1802 is relatively short and limited in scope, but nonetheless describes militia service and responsibilities.30 John Firebrace and Alan Rawlings describe the appearance and duties of a Fencible regiment in His Majesty’s Fraser Fencible Regiment of Foot, 1794-1802.31 Anthony Bruce’s The Purchase System in the British Army is a useful focussed study on the development of the British army’s promotion system from the seventeenth through to the nineteenth centuries.32 He argues that the first three Hanoverian monarchs, Georges I through III, were actually hostile to the purchase system, and were part of a substantial faction that sought to abolish it in favour of promotion on merit. Bruce also covers the arguments made in favour of purchase, which ran from the political to the pragmatic.
The role of Highland and Irish soldiers is discussed in many general studies of the period, but it is not so often the object of focussed studies. The military aspects of Irish history in this period are dominated by two main studies. The first is John Cornelius O’Callaghan’s History of the Irish Brigade in the service of France, a long and detailed account of the Brigade’s founding and history, including descriptions of its many reorganizations and its numbers at those points.33 O’Callaghan shows himself in his writing to be of Jacobite leanings, but nonetheless displays a degree of objectivity, exemplified by remembering to point at that at the Battle of Culloden; the Irish Piquets were treated as formal prisoners of war whereas their Jacobite allies were treated as rebels. That he would make this distinction implies that he did not intend his History to be a propaganda piece. He even goes so far as to describe the attempts of George II and George III to improve the conditions of Irish Catholics, the failure of which he blames on the intransigence of the Irish government. At the end, covering the breakup of the brigade during the Revolution, he points out that the majority of the ‘Irish’ troops were essentially French, enough so that the French government was willing to declare them so and maintain their newly-numbered regiments. Robert Shepherd nonetheless claims in Ireland’s Fate, the Boyne and after that most of the ‘Irish’ troops remained loyal to the French monarchy.34 The Irish Brigade’s Napoleonic reincarnation, the Irish Legion, is a neglected subject, covered in this case in J. G. Gallaher’s Napoleon’s Irish Legion.35 This work covers the political and social context of the legion’s creation, including the appearance of the United Irishmen movement and the failed uprising of 1798, of which many survivors would form the nucleus of the legion. For the most part, Gallaher’s work is a narrative of the legion’s troubled history, and can in that respect be considered a study in the difficulties of creating ‘political’ units out of ethnic or religious minorities. The works of Marianne Elliott are invaluable in understanding the political situation in Ireland at the time. Of these, Partners in Revolution is particularly helpful in understanding the 1798 uprising.36
As for the Highlanders, John Prebble covers a not so well-known aspect of Highland military service in Mutiny, Highland Regiments in Revolt.37 Though Prebble appears somewhat vulnerable to the pervasive myths surrounding the Highlanders, it is nonetheless a rare insight into the turbulent early years of the famous Highland regiments. Prebble attempts to describe Highland military identity in terms of its cultural context, claiming that the original Black Watch, made up as it was of well-off volunteers from the clan gentry, suffered from a pervasive sense of entitlement that fed into the infamous mutiny by its later incarnation. He ultimately puts the mutinies down to Highland troops being unwilling to serve outside of the Highlands, or the British Isles at a pinch, and to endless affronts to their self-esteem, based on an honour-and-shame culture, by Prussian-influenced military discipline. Prebble nonetheless counters the myth of Highlanders’ willingness to serve by pointing out the large bribes that were sometimes necessary to persuade Highland families to give up their sons. Hugh Trevor-Roper makes it his business to demolish traditional myths in his The Invention of Scotland, focussing in particular on the shift in popular perceptions of the Highlanders, who went from being a feared and despised aboriginal leftover to the symbol of all that was noble in Scottishness.38 This he puts down to the Romantic movement in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which regarded the Highlanders as an example of a virtuous primitive society, while knowing nothing of it. Trevor-Roper covers the development of Highland dress in particular detail, tracing the invention of the kilt to an English iron master by the name of Thomas Rawlinson, who developed it as a convenient garb for his workers. Both Prebble and Trevor-Roper mention Edward Burt, an English military engineer involved in the construction of the Highland road network. His Letters from a Gentleman in the North of Scotland offer a contemporary insight into Highland life.39 A more recent examination of the role of Highland soldiers is Andrew Mackillop’s More fruitful than the soil, Army, Empire, and the Scottish Highlands 1715-1815, which covers the conflict between the Highlanders’ original police role and the more conventional military role they acquired later.40 Mackillop goes on to counter the idea that post-Culloden Highland regiments were essentially pre-Culloden clan levies, arguing that chiefs would take any men rather than their rent-paying tenants and that the ‘clannish’ character of Highland regiments was largely imposed by authorities in London.
The more general military history sources tend to focus on technical information, but this is nonetheless of use for the purposes of understanding the organisational aspects and their relation to identity. Christopher D. Hall, in British Strategy in the Napoleonic War: 1803-15, describes British military numbers and recruiting in some detail.41 Gunther E Rothenberg, in The Art of Warfare in the Age of Napoleon, puts many of the changes in warfare from the eighteenth century through to the Napoleonic wars down to political and social factors.42 He covers the technical aspects in considerable detail, making his book useful in understanding the Light Infantry debate. In a curious contrast to Phipps, Rothenberg describes the French Royal Army as suffering from disciplinary problems, especially within its aristocratic officer corps. Brian Bond’s The Pursuit of Victory, From Napoleon to Saddam Hussein, claims that the casualty to participant ratio was actually higher in eighteenth-century wars than later.43 This may seem counter-intuitive considering the increasing destructive power of weaponry, but can be explained by the increasing size of armies, as well as improvements in medicine and logistics. He places the beginning of the Revolutionary wars at the Battle of Valmy, which is reasonable, and contends that the development of the Divisional system made it more difficult for armies to avoid pitched battles. The prize for the greatest detail in terms of technical information must go to Ugo Pericoli’s 1815: The Armies at Waterloo, which includes comparisons and analyses of weapons and tactics.44
Though there is extensive primary source material on the two armies it contains surprisingly little information on the opinions of soldiers. Issues of organisation provide relatively little difficulty, since necessary information can be acquired from official documents from the period. Issues of opinion and identity, however, require more personal narrative. These would include personal accounts, including letters and diaries, along with contemporary books. These can be found, but we must assess how far they provide an accurate representation of opinion. The majority of the sources were written by officers, since in both cases it was primarily officers who possessed the necessary literacy. Personal accounts of the wars, appearing in book form, have a tendency to be ‘polished’, that is to say, they tend to omit or misrepresent certain details in accordance with the social mores of the time. By nature, the letters and diaries tend to be repetitive, and contain few indications of opinion or feeling. Complaint is universal, and may be considered a soldiers’ prerogative. It also tends to be for much the same reasons on both sides. This can be linked to the issue of a shared military culture, in the sense that soldiers tended to understand one another despite linguistic and national barriers. The purpose of this brief section will be to examine the levels of literacy of both sides, ascertaining the extent to which the troops were capable of expressing opinion. This will serve to establish a proverbial state of play¸ helping to ensure coherence in the rest of the thesis. It will also examine the effects of literacy, or lack thereof, on the lives and attitudes of the soldiers themselves.
At the end of the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth, public education in Britain was at best patchy, at worst practically non-existent. The education which existed was provided on an informal basis, the ‘Dame’ and ‘Free’ schools, run by individuals or groups on their own initiative. The curriculum was fairly basic by modern standards, usually focussing on reading with writing included in some cases. There was an almost universally religious overtone to this, at least among Christian communities.45 The Scottish Highlands were, insofar as information is available, by far the worst with regard to the provision of education. According to the Inverness Report of 1822, out of a population of four hundred and sixteen thousand, of which just over fifty thousand were school-age children, only eight thousand five hundred and fifty were found to be receiving education in schools. In addition, one third of the population lived more than two miles from the nearest school, while half the population remained unable to read, with levels of illiteracy reaching seventy per cent in the Hebrides, Western Inverness and Ross.46 Henry Brougham’s Select Committee Report, made in 1820, was the first attempt in Britain to acquire comprehensive statistics on the availability of education. It found that in 1818, only one in every fourteen to fifteen persons were receiving education, claiming that this had been a considerable improvement since the beginning of the century.47 If the population of the British Isles was around ten million in 1815, then this implies that just over six-hundred-thousand were receiving education, this estimate being somewhat optimistic. This is proof that literacy was not available to the bulk of the population.

Written information on public education during the period in question is somewhat lacking, precisely because it was handled informally, with written information becoming gradually more common as the century progressed, correlating to advances in public education. This state of affairs in itself is indicative of the attitude of the government and political elite at the time. It was widely considered that education was not necessary within the new laissez-faire economic system. Most jobs could be learnt by doing and required no particular technical skills, and it was still possible for illiterate men to rise even to managerial positions.48 Education, such as it was, was not only focussed on Christianity, but also influenced by Malthusianism and Jeremy Bentham’s new philosophy of Utilitarianism.49 This meant that education tended to be focussed on moral improvement for the former part and the acquisition of economically useful skills on the latter part. There could be little room in such a regime for the development of linguistic ability. As such, even though a small minority of enlisted men could both read and write, they were unlikely to have much more than a basic grasp of vocabulary. It is therefore unlikely that they possessed the linguistic wherewithal to accurately portray their personal opinions in writing.

The reason for this lack of supply was not simply laissez-faire neglect; it was also political. It was feared by the ‘establishment’ that too much literacy would lead to too much reading of subversive pamphlets. George Chapman, master of a Grammar school in Dumfries, argued in A Treatise on Education in 1773 that reading, writing, and arithmetic were sufficient for the urban poor. He argued that education was necessary to inculcate certain character traits in the working poor, to make them humble, forgiving, hard-working, and respectful of authority.50 Joseph Butler, Bishop of Bristol, warned in his Sermon of 1745 that the elite should not consider ignorance a suitable means of controlling the lower classes. Reading, he argued, was necessary for moral improvement and the avoidance of radicalism.51 There was undeniably a strong element of social control in public education even as it expanded through the nineteenth century. So much so that it drew the ire of a certain William Cobbett, founder of the Political Register. A known radical and campaigner for parliamentary reform, Cobbett described the new schools as ‘seminaries of slavery’, accusing them of making their pupils:
‘…contented with a Government, under treatment which ought to

urge them on…to lawful resistance.’52


Judging by the tone of this denunciation, the fears of those in power regarding the potential uses of education were not entirely unjustified, even without the paranoia Cobbett was known to suffer from in later life. When taken in conjunction with the widespread fear of sedition during the French Revolution and subsequent wars, this shows the importance of ideological control in education in during this period. It can be concluded from this that, on top of lacking much in the way of linguistic wherewithal, the average British soldier would have been unlikely to hold any subversive opinions, much less meaningfully present them in his writings.
Of particular relevance to this thesis, the issue of literacy or the lack thereof was noted in military thinking of the period. General James Wolfe, remembered primarily for his death at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, wrote in ‘General Wolfe’s instructions to young officers: also his orders for a battalion and an army’ in 1768 that both Corporals and Sergeants should be literate, both in reading and writing. A certain Captain Thomas Simes, writing in A Military Course for the Government and Conduct of a Battalion, argued for the establishment of regimental schools:
‘…it would be highly commendable if he would pay some attention to

the conduct of a regimental school and appoint a non-commissioned



officer to act as master who is capable of teaching reading, writing, and arithmetic, by whom soldiers and their children should be carefully instructed and a place should be fixed upon for that purpose.’53
Regimental schools were not unknown in this period, and there can be little doubt of their necessity. Neuberg himself points out the necessity of reading and writing for the everyday running of a regiment, noting with some justification that this is not generally understood by those unfamiliar with military life.54
Public education in ancien régime France was generally left in the hands of the Catholic clergy, with the Jesuit Order dominating male secondary education until their expulsion in 1762.55 The secular alternative, at least in theory, came largely in the form of Louis XIV’s petites écoles, a system of primary schools intended to provide basic literacy. They became the basis of the post-Revolutionary education system, but were considered insufficient in themselves, not only on the basis of their numbers, but also their curriculum. The Revolution sought not merely to change the uppermost echelons of government, but the whole of French society, along with the concepts and manners that underlay it. This would require an education system that served not just to provide basic literacy, but to create the ideal citizens of the future, ensuring the long-term survival of the Revolution. Louis Michel le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau provided one of the more radical proposals, advising the creation of military boarding schools. The strong Spartan influences on his ideas are not surprising, considering the widespread Hellenophilia in Enlightenment thought and discourse. His proposal was not taken seriously, however, and only presented to the Convention on June 26th 1793 out of respect for his recent martyrdom. Of greater import in this context is the person of Joseph Lakanal, famed for his Projet d’éducation nationale, presented on the aforementioned June 26th. His plan was simple, to create one state-funded primary school per thousand inhabitants and leave secondary education to the private sector. The Bouquier Law of December 17th included the basics of his plan, also stipulating that anyone with a certificat de civisme could found a school.56 Despite these reforms, public education was not universalized until the late nineteenth century. By 1829, only two-thirds of communes possessed a primary school.57
Going on this evidence, it is safe to say that while some soldiers would have been literate, a significant proportion would not. It must be remembered that both sides recruited the bulk of their enlisted personnel from the lowest orders of society. The result was isolation and alienation, with soldiers unable to communicate over any substantial distance, except by the assistance of a literate comrade, the awkwardness of this effectively precluding the expression of any personal feeling. A particular problem was that this rendered soldiers on campaign unable to communicate with their families, let alone support them financially. In a time where soldiers’ families could expect little in the way of social support in either country, the ability of soldiers to communicate with their families was vital to the maintenance of morale. In the British army, which was largely segregated from society, this alienation had been accepted as a fact of life, as it had been in the other European professional armies, including that of Bourbon France. The noticeable difference lies in Revolutionary France, specifically the concept of the citizen-soldier with codified rights. Of all his new-found rights, one of the most significant to the French soldier was the right not to be cut off from his family and community, which would have been his fate in previous times.
In the Revolutionaries’ Cincinnatian ideal of a temporary army fighting short wars of national defence, there would be no problem, since the war would soon end and he would thus be discharged, allowing no time for alienation to set in. If the war turned out to be long, as in practice it did, then the soldier’s desire to protect his country would keep him honest. In practice this was not the case. The Cincinnatian ideal evaporated in the face of military necessity, with the period of enlistment growing longer and longer in the face of less than effective foreign aggression and the Convention’s pursuit of national security through the annexation of smaller neighbours. It would be difficult for any understanding observer to condemn any resentment those young men might have felt. They had been taken far from their homes and families, indeed from their whole world. They were required, by virtue of being young, male, and French – the same principle would later be applied to the territories France invaded or annexed -, to fight and die for a cause they may or may not have believed in. Their counterparts across the lines could at least claim the bitter dignity of having chosen the military life, but for the French conscript stranded far from home in a war that might never end, the ideals of liberty and equality must have rung hollow at times.

It therefore became vital to provide means by which soldiers could communicate. The army under Napoleon made a considerable effort to expand literacy, with the Reserve Companies employing schoolmasters to teach basic literacy.58 This can be compared to the British practice of creating Regimental schools, as mentioned earlier. Both governments also sought to make it easier for soldiers to send letters. The British did so in an Act of Parliament in 1795:


‘And whereas it is expedient that Non-commissioned Navy, Army,

Militia, Fencible Regiments, Artillery, and Marines, should whilst

on service, be permitted to send and receive Single Letters by the Post

on their own Private Concerns, at a Low Rate of Postage; be it

therefore further enacted by the Authority aforesaid, That from and

after the passing of this Act, no Single Letter sent by the Post from

any Non-commissioned Officer, Seaman, or Private, employed in His Majesty’s Navy, Army, Militia, Fencible Regiments, Artillery, or

Marines, shall whilst such Non-commissioned Officer, Seaman or

Private respectively shall be employed on his Majesty’s service, and

no otherwise, be charged or chargeable by Virtue of any Act of

Parliament now in Force with a higher Rate of Postage than the sum

of One Penny; for the conveyance of every such letter; such Rate of

Postage of One Penny for every such letter, to be Paid at the Time of

putting the same into the Post Office of the Town or place from whence such Letter is intended to be sent by the Post.’59

The French army acted similarly, with letters sent from outside France charged for as if from the borders of France, regardless of the distance involved. These measures were highly necessary, considering the unprecedented size of armies and the significant strains on their morale. That they went so far to facilitate communication between soldiers and their homes shows how seriously such issues of morale were taken by both sides.


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