XXXII
HUMANE INSTITUTIONS: THE HOSPITAL OF INVALIDES
The French Revolution wrought as much harm to the cause of humanity as to letters, science, and art. I have, it is true, described certain brilliant institutions which the present Government has created, but they form the least substantial part of social order, and are in a sense but the holiday suit of the Republic.
It would be as wrong to judge the French nation by this splendid exterior as of a private family by the same rule. To form a correct judgment of the character of a man we should enter his dwelling, see him as a parent, husband or friend, and examine his domestic economy. To contemplate him driving in a chariot, and surrounded by glittering attendants, would give us no idea of his real situation.
Much as we may admire establishments which ornament and serve a nation, if haggard poverty and distress meet the eye at every turn we cannot but infer that the nation in which such things prevail has mistaken the true road to grandeur and public felicity.
I speak with regret, and without prejudice or passion, when I affirm that this is the case with the French Republic. They overthrew all their ancient national charitable establishments, and by so doing exposed a great portion of the community to misery and want. They destroyed wholesome institutions without making any provision for supplying their absence. They suppressed convents and monasteries under many pleas, the most specious of which was that they would put an end to mendicity by striking at indiscriminate charity, which was, they maintained, the root of indolence. The principle was good, but it was applied in an entirely unjustifiable manner. Those who formerly aided the poor and wretched were themselves driven to mendicity, and the poor, the ailing, the afflicted were left even without the hope of a resource.
Sensible of the alarming effect of these evils, which in a land where the sources of industry have been suspended for ten years, are absolutely terrific, the French Government and some worthy and humane private individuals have, during the last few months, seriously devoted their attention to the means of eradicating them.
So far the state of public finance has not admitted of the permanent establishment of any asylums for the deserving poor. A few which had been anciently endowed are still poorly maintained at the public expense, but the mass of the nation is without any provision whatever for the miserable.
There is, however, one happy exception. The Hospital of the Invalides retains its ancient excellence and lustre.
This institution, the illustrious monument of the gratitude of a Prince towards a people devotedly attached to him, is appropriated to such superannuated or wounded soldiers no longer fit for service. It will contain 5000 individuals, supported, clothed and fed at the expense of the nation. There are four large halls where they assemble to dinner; it was the wish of Louis XIV. that the aged or wounded warrior should live well during the remainder of his days. Therefore their daily allowance, besides an excellent dinner, at which there was always a bouillie (or good meat soup), was a pound and a half of bread and a quart of wine. This allowance is still continued.
The edifice consists of fine courts, and a magnificent saloon called the Temple of Mars, in which are suspended as trophies all the standards taken during the late war. The dome that surmounts the centre of this Temple, 300 feet in elevation from the level of the ground and 50 feet in diameter, is a masterpiece of architecture; the cupola is decorated with paintings by Charles de la Fosse.
Four beautiful paintings represent the four quarters of the globe, and there is also a huge canvas upon which David has portrayed the triumph of man over religion and royalty. The Devil himself could not have executed a more infernal picture than is this work of the national painter (Member of the Institute). Man, displayed as a gigantic figure (stark naked), tramples on kings, priests, crowns, sceptres, crosses and rosaries; in one hand he holds a flaming torch, in the other a sword. The Goddess of Reason, tutelary genius of the Republic, majestically arrayed, smiles over her votary’s triumph. A multitude of other similar characters fill up the hellish group, and complete a picture of horror and iniquity.
By what fatal perversion of human nature, a temple, consecrated to valour, patriotism and merit, should have been selected as the depository of such a vicious production, I know not. But I declare I felt petrified with horror when I gazed upon it. It is strange that the rulers of France should have not already banished from the public gaze such a sign of their past apostasy and hatred for that religion they have lately found it convenient to once more profess.
To an Englishman who views the trophies which adorn this hall there is a reason for feelings of patriotic exultation. The banners of almost every European nation weep over the disasters of the valorous defenders. But only one solitary standard of Great Britain confesses to the chances of war.
All the plans of Vauban,[1] in relievo, of the different docks, harbours and fortifications of France were preserved here. They have now been removed to the Bureau of the Minister of War. It was from a cabinet in the Hôtel des Invalides, containing an excellent collection of military books and also plans for subjugating Egypt, conceived under the reign of Louis XIV., and which had lain there for whole generations untouched but not forgotten, that the Council of War procured the information which enabled Bonaparte to invade Egypt—an invasion he accomplished with the most marvellous secrecy and celerity.
This invasion, I know from the highest authority and those who are most intimately acquainted with him, he will again attempt whenever circumstances prove favourable to his enterprise.
The monument formerly erected at St. Denis to Marshal Turenne, which was saved from the Revolutionary vandals by Monsieur Lenoir, almost at the risk of his life, has been removed from the Museum, where it was at first placed, to the Temple of Mars in this Hospital, where it is now to be seen.
By a decree of the First Consul on the 1st of Vendemaire year 9, the body of Turenne,[1] which had been preserved by Lenoir in a secret tomb, was transported with great funeral pomp to the Invalides, where it was once more deposited in its ancient receptacle.
The car on which the body was laid was drawn by four general officers of the Republic; on arriving at the Invalides it was received by a salvo of artillery, after which Carnot, the Minister of War, pronounced the following funeral oration:
“Citizens! behold the body of Turenne the Great—a warrior dear to every Frenchman, a man whose name excites emotion in every virtuous bosom, and who should be to after ages a model of heroes!
“To-morrow we celebrate the foundation of the Republic. Let us initiate that festival by the apotheosis of all that is praiseworthy and illustrious in the past. This temple is allotted to all those who, in every age past and present, have displayed virtues worthy of the nation. Henceforward, O Turenne! thy manes shall dwell within these walls—they shall become naturalised among the founders of the Republic!
“It is a sublime idea to place the mortal remains of a hero in the midst of warriors who trod in his steps. To the brave belong the ashes of the brave. After the death of a warrior, his remains have a right to be preserved under the safeguard of the warriors who survive him—to partake with them the asylum consecrated to glory.
“Praise be to the Government which strives to pay the debt of gratitude to former benefactors!
“Praise be to the chiefs of a warlike nation who are not ashamed to invoke the shade of Turenne!
“Turenne lived in an age wherein prejudice placed imaginary distinctions of rank above signal services. But in him noble rank disappeared before that conferred by his victories. France, Italy, Germany re-echoed with his triumphs, and the sublime eulogy pronounced after his death by Monticuculi was the true description of his virtues: A man is dead who was an honour to human nature!
“Ah! what more glorious title can I add to that of ‘Father,’ conferred on Turenne by his soldiers during his whole life?
“On the plains of Salzbach Turenne commanded the French army. Confident of victory, secure of position, he fell slain by a musket ball. Confidence and hope disappeared, and France was left to mourn.
“The Germans for many years left the spot untilled upon which he was killed, and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood considered it hallowed ground.
“The remains of Turenne were at first preserved in the Cemetery of Kings. The Republicans have taken it from this vainglorious oblivion, and have this day transferred his body to the Temple of Mars, where veteran warriors can daily repeat the history of his victories.
“Marble and brass decay in time, but this asylum of French warriors whom old age or wounds has deprived of the power of fighting, will exist from age to age. On the tomb of Turenne the veteran will shed tears of admiration and the youth of France perform his vows to the profession of arms. After embracing this monument and invoking the shade of Turenne, he will feel himself inspired by a holy enthusiasm.
“Had Turenne lived in our time, he would have been a Republican. The love of country was his actuating principle. His glory therefore must be identified with that of the heroes of the Republic; and it is in the name of the Republic my hands depose these laurels on his tomb.
“May the shade of the illustrious Turenne be sensible of this act of national government, dictated by a government which is only guided by principles of virtue.
“Citizens! let me not diminish the emotions which you feel at this tremendous and awful funeral solemnity. Language cannot describe what is now displayed before your senses. What shall I say of Turenne? Behold him! there he lies! Behold the sword grasped by his victorious hand! Behold also the fatal ball which snatched him from France and from the whole human race!”
Such was the discourse delivered by Carnot; not quite equal to the funeral oration of Pericles, but la la for a philosopher of the National Institute!
Had Turenne lived in our time he might possibly have proved as great a rascal as any in the late Directorate.
Maréchal Turenne possessed military genius in a transcendent degree, but he must also by every dispassionate inquirer be condemned as a bad man, a worse citizen, a rebel and an incendiary. He began his career as a Maréchal de France with an act of base ingratitude, perfidy and treason towards his Sovereign and the laws of his country.
No sooner had he been raised to the rank of Maréchal than he suffered himself to be prevailed upon by an intriguing woman, the Duchess of Longueville (of whom, although she made a jest of his passion, he was desperately enamoured), to persuade the army which he commanded to revolt against the infant King and his mother, the Regent.
Being unsuccessful in this attempt, he quitted the army a fugitive and a Bonaparte, and from General to the King of France he became General of Don Estevan de Gomora, this enemy of his King and country, by whom he was defeated at Revel by French troops.
With respect to his policy it was merciless.
His glorious German campaign was achieved by inflicting unheard-of calamities upon the defenceless inhabitants. After the battle of Sintzheim he laid waste with fire and sword the Palatinate, a level and fertile country, full of rich cities and prosperous villages.
From his castle at Mannheim, the Elector Palatine beheld two cities and twenty-five villages burnt before his eyes. In the first emotion of resentment this unhappy Prince wrote a letter to Turenne, filled with bitter reproaches and defying him to single combat.
Turenne made a cool and ambiguous answer, conveying an empty compliment.
In the same cold blood he destroyed all the ovens and cornfields of Alsace, and afterwards permitted his cavalry to ravage Lorraine. Turenne acted throughout this campaign contrary to the orders of his Government, who desired him to treat the conquered provinces with lenity.
But to return to the Philosophical Tribune of France. The most curious part of the ceremony consisted in the tears of Carnot! He actually!! Carnot shed tears!!!
I cannot help thinking this as a most ludicrous instance of the ceremonial.
Instead of sounding the praises of the present despotism of France, Carnot might have recited the following lines intended to have been inscribed on the pedestal of the tomb of Turenne in St. Denis:
When we reflect upon the melancholy catastrophe which has befallen the monuments of the most distinguished Frenchmen, it is to be considered a fortunate circumstance that the mausoleum of Turenne was rescued from the general devastation. As the Abbey of St. Denis is totally destroyed and there is no longer a place for the illustrious dead, except the Pantheon, in which their bodies would be commingled with those of the ruffians of the Republic, the Temple of Mars is undoubtedly the most honourable asylum for the body of one who, notwithstanding his faults, was perhaps the greatest General of France.
The Hospital of the Invalides maintains its pre-eminence over every other charitable institution of France.
The funds for the disbursement of its expenses are paid with great exactitude, and its internal organisation is conducted with exactitude and decorum.
Had other institutions of France, not less useful, been maintained with equal scrupulousness, my pen would not have found an opportunity of portraying the wickedness and folly of a people whose history during the last ten years is nothing but a disgusting record of rapine, murder and impiety.