A man becomes the slave of his idea, gives himself up to it; consequently, he has experienced the intense satisfaction of considering himself a noble being, of superior essence, foremost among the first, and of seeing himself regarded in that light and proclaimed and glorified as such .-- This keen, profound and intense pleasure was first enjoyed by the French on listening to the Declaration of the Rights of Man; from then, and in good faith, they felt themselves citizens, philosophers, the destroyers of prejudices and wrongs, zealots in behalf of truth, liberty and equality, and then, when the war of 1792 came, the defenders of the country, missionaries and propagators of every grand principle.[3356]--Towards 1796, principles began to recede in the background;[3357] in the ideal portrait which man makes of himself the liberator and benefactor of mankind gradually gives way to the admirable and admired hero capable of great achievements.

This inner portrait of himself suffices for his happiness for some years to come: vanity[3358] properly so called and a calculating ambition are not the incentives of action; if he obtains promotion it is without asking for it; his aspiration is simply to display himself, to be lavish of himself and live or die courageously and gaily[3359] along with his comrade; to be considered, outside the service, the equal, friend and brother of his subordinates and of his chiefs.[3360] Pillage, nevertheless, has begun; for, a long continuance of war depraves the conqueror; brutality, indifference to property and to life grows on him; if callous, or he wishes to become so, he eats, drinks and enjoys the passing hour; if provident and wary, he scrapes together what he can or levies contributions and hoards money .-- Under the Empire, and especially towards 1808 and 1809, the ideal figure degenerates still more; from now on, it is the successful or the coming officer, with his rank and its accouterments, his gold-embroidered uniform and badges, exercising authority over so many hundreds and thousands of men and enjoying a certain notable sum of regular salaries, besides other gratifications bestowed on him by the master, along with the profits he can make out of the vanquished.[3361] All that he now cares for is rapid promotion, and in any way, noble or ignoble, at first, of course, on the main road, that is in straining himself and risking his life, but likewise on a new road, in an affectation of zeal, in practicing and professing blind obedience, in abandoning all political ideas, in devoting himself no longer to France, but to the sovereign: sympathy for his comrades gives way to harsh rivalry; soldierly friendships, under the anticipation of advancement, die out.

A vacancy due to death is for the benefit of survivors and they know it.

"At Talavera," says Stendhal, "two officers stood together at their battery, while a ball comes and the captain falls.

'Good,' says the lieutenant, 'now Francois is dead and I shall be captain.' 'Not yet,' says Francois, who was only stunned and who gets up on his feet.