ries every week, to which the generals and the general officers by
sea and by land were admitted.

"You are right--he ought to be," was the answer; "and if a great deal of
conscientious trouble on his part could have put him in possession of
such knowledge, he would have had it by this time. Of course, you have
never been present at such a reception; for all civilians, with the
exception of a few ministers, are rigorously excluded. I repeat, the
intention is a good one, but it is not carried out properly. The very
fact that at the outset it met with the most strenuous opposition from
nearly all the ministers and high dignitaries of the Imperial household
ought to have shown his Majesty the necessity of interviewing these
officers alone, without as much as a chambellan in waiting. As it is, do
you know what happens? I will tell you. The Emperor passes before these
officers as they are standing around the room, stops before nearly every
one to ask a question, inviting him, at the same time, to lodge a
protest if necessary against any standing abuse or to suggest a measure
of reform. But the chambellan is close at his heels; the minister for
war, the marshal commanding the Imperial Guard, the military governor of
Paris, are standing but a few steps away. The officer to whom the
question is addressed feels himself tongue-tied; he knows that all these
can hear every word he says, and, rather than be marked by his superiors
as a tiresome meddler, he prefers to hold his tongue altogether--that
is, if he be comparatively honest. Call it cowardice if you like, but
most men will tell you that such cowardice exists in all administrations
whether civil or military. Consequently, the Emperor, though he may know
a good many officers by name and by sight, in reality knows nothing of
their capacities. I may safely say that, for the last fifteen or sixteen
years, there have not been a dozen important promotions, either in the
army or the navy, justified by the 'record of service' of the officer
promoted. Divisions--nay, whole army corps--have been confided to men
who, in the hour of need, will, no doubt, prove very dashing and very
plucky, but who have no more notion of handling large masses of men than
an ordinary drill-sergeant. To use a more striking metaphor--they have
selected the most desperate punters at baccarat to work out complicated
chess problems. What the result will be with such a champion as Von
Moltke, Heaven only knows.