“I can with truth,” answered M. Bergeret, “for this code is nothing more than a mere collection of orders respecting the armies of Louis XIV and Louis XV. Everyone knows what these armies were, a conglomeration of kidnappers and kidnapped, the scourings of the country, divided into lots which were bought by the young nobles, often mere children. In such regiments discipline was maintained by perpetual threats of death. But everything is now changed: the soldiery of the monarchy and the two Empires has given place to a vast and peaceful national guard. There is no longer any fear of mutiny or violence. Nevertheless, death at every turn still threatens these gentle flocks of peasants and artisans clumsily disguised as soldiers. The contrast between their harmless conduct and the savage laws in force against them is almost laughable. And a moment’s reflection would prove that it is as absurd as it is hateful to punish with death crimes which could easily be dealt with by the simple penal code devised for the maintenance of public order.” “But,” said M. de Terremondre, “the soldiers of to-day are armed as were the soldiers of former ages, and it is quite necessary that a small, unarmed body of officers should be able to ensure obedience and respect from a mob of men armed with muskets and cartridges. That’s the gist of the whole matter.” “It is an ancient prejudice,” said M. Bergeret, “to believe in the necessity of punishment and to fancy that the severer the punishment the more efficacious it is. The death penalty for assaulting a superior officer is a survival of the time when the officers were not of the same blood as the soldiers. These penalties were still retained in the republican armies. Brindamour, who became a general in 1792, employed the customs of bygone days in the service of the Revolution and shot volunteers in grand style. At any rate, it may be said that Brindamour waged war and fought strenuously from the time that he became general. It was a matter of keeping the upper hand: it was not a man’s life that was at stake, but the safety of the country.” “It was theft especially,” said M. Mazure, “that the generals of the year II punished with relentless severity. A light-infantry man in the Army of the North, who had merely exchanged his old hat for a new one, was shot. Two drummers, the eldest of whom was only eighteen, were shot in sight of their comrades for having stolen some worthless ornaments from an old peasant. It was the heroic age.” “It was not only thieves,” answered M. Bergeret, “who were shot down from day to day in the republican armies, it was also mutineers. And those soldiers, who have been so much belauded since, were dragooned like convicts, even to the point of semi-starvation. It is true that they were occasionally in an awkward mood. Witness the three hundred gunners of the 33rd demi-brigade who, at Mantua in the year IV, demanded their pay by turning their cannon on the generals.