A series of articles designed to make us think about what exactly we are trying to recreate both in our re-enactments and on a wargames table. In this article, we look at the possibility that non-standard language could cause C3 problems.

Monoglossy and the Napoleonic Soldier

The above title is possibly somewhat misleading. It does not deal with the inability of some Napoleonic enthusiasts to pronounce foreign names. I recently heard of a mysterious French general of Scots ancestry called MacEwan. However, further reflection proved this to be a horrible mispronunciation of the name Maucune. The theme of this study is rather the effect that language had on command.

There are two omissions from what follows: Amerindian languages and the tongues of the Subcontinent. These have been excluded because of the paucity of information on one and the superabundance of information on the other. Besides, this is essentially about European languages, which will be discussed by army or geographical location as seems appropriate. So without further ado, let us begin.

Austria

Austria is here used to delineate the Habsburg Empire. A quotation from Christopher Duffy might be apposite: "No other army of the time could have produced a column of regiments chattering variously in German, Czech, French, Flemish, Raeto- Romance, Italian, Magyar and Serbo-Croatian, and all passing in review under the eyes of a general who was cursing to himself in Gaelic." [1]

While this quotation refers to the Maria Theresa period, much of it is applicable to the Post-Partition period, when we must add Polish and Ruthenian, and the omission of Slovak and Slovene is surprising. While some of these languages were mutually intelligible (such as Czech and Slovak), others (e.g. Czech and Polish) were not. However, the matter of language may only be of partial relevance, since the 'Dienstsprache'(Ianguage in which orders were given) was German. I do not know if there was an unofficial or quasi-official use of Magyar in Hungarian regiments, but it would be a brave man indeed who would rule it out altogether. Obviously a knowledge of the local idiom would be useful to any prospective officer in the K. K. Armee.

France

In his book on the Grande Armee, Georges Blond describes meeting in his youth an elderly peasant who recalled three aged veterans, one of whom had been at Austerlitz, talking about their experiences.

This is not what we are specifically interested in, but rather how they spoke. This is described and it is worth quoting: "Cet homme recontait moitie en patois moitie en frangais, ayant appris le francais seulement une fois militaire." [2]

This presents a somewhat surprising view to those accustomed to hearing the Napoleonic wars described as an age of 'National Armies'. Yet we should rather be surprised at the combatants speaking anything other than patois. In an age before radio and television had destroyed local dialects and broadcasting still referred to the sowing of crops, travel was difficult and expensive, and there was little need to learn anything other than the local idiom.

In the South of France, the Languedoc, there were the various local versions of Provencal. A few examples might be in order: "Eh, Tsann! Coumen bas? Te soub6neS?" [3]

"Anen lous esponti courno de froumatche de Rocamadou!" [4]

And finally and most appropriately: "Que boulh droumi!" [5]

The first two are Cahorsin, the third is in Bearnais. This indicates the nature of the difference between this and 'standard' French.

Having dealt with the Midi, save to note that the patois of Roussillon may have Catalan influences, let us now move on to the North. Here, there is less deviation from the norm (i.e.: what is spoken in the (ile de France). Let us examine the patois of Normandy and Picardy; the most obvious difference is the replacement of ch with c. Thus we have le cat (chat = cat) [6] , and most readers will be familiar with the First World War battle of Le Cateau (chateau = castle), and chien (= dog) becomes kien.

There is also a greater tendency for words to lose their final consonants (e.g. Pointe du Hoc). The reader must remember that whole books could be, and probably have been, written about French dialect, so the above is but a brief initiation into the subject. Marcellin de Marbot provides us with information about the manner of speech of soldiers coming from France's eastern frontier.

The hussar sergeant told to look after Marbot is described thus: "Un air de chenapan, qu'augmentaient encore des paroles saccadees ainsi qu'un baragouin franco-alsacien des plus barbares." [7]

This is subsequently explained: "que le 1er de Housards etait l'ancien regiment de Bercheny, dans lequel on ne recevait jadis que les allemands, et ou les commandements s'etaient faits, jusqu'en 1793, dans le langue allemands, qui etait le plus en usage parmis les officiers et les housards, presque tous nes dans les provinces des bord du Rhin." [8]

Having thus discovered that some soldiers from the eastern periphery of France did not speak French as a native language, it will come as no prise to discover that those from the extreme West and the extreme South did not have French for their native tongue either. It will equally come as no surprise to the reader to learn that the inhabitants of Brittany (or at least some of them) speak Breton. Breton is a P-Celtic language and is related to Welsh, and is (or so I am led to believe) mutually intelligible, and thus recruits would have to learn a foreign language. The inhabitants of Corsica, 'les cousins de l'Empereur', spoke a form of Italian (probably of the Tuscan variety) and thus we again see the problem of a foreign language rearing its ugly head.

To the end of his days Napoleon (ne Napoleone di Buonaparte) had difficulty spelling long French words. As has been alluded to earlier, the commands in Napoleon's army were given in French, but the question confronts us: how much else did the average fantassin understand? And did this have any effect upon the unit's cohesion?

Great Britain

In turning to the army of 'His Britannic Majesty', we would expect to encounter no problems. Well, do not be so sure, for the subject of dialect deserves a mention. It would be wrong to overstate the case but it is important to remember that R.P. (Received Pronunciation) lies somewhere n the future. Even if we take a fairly extreme example: a private from London will understand a sergeant from Glasgow even though the two might have a little difficulty 'getting on net'. Most readers from the South of England would not, for example, have overmuch difficulty with: "I'll gang nae mair til yon toun," [9] though they might have more trouble with, say: 'gowk' [10] or on being greeted by a member of the 92nd (formerly 100th) Foot with a cry of "Fit like?". [11]

This being said, the difficulties experienced would not be great. It should be remembered that cultural differences would be more important than dialectal ones.

It is with some fear and trepidation that we enter the lists of the 'quadruped controversy'. I refer, of course, to the celebrated Wellington quotation about a man being born in a stable did not make him a horse. I am ignorant of the occurrence of this quotation or indeed its provenance, but its usual application as an indication of the Dukes' nationality must be held to be in some question. All that we can deduce from the evidence, I would suggest, is that the Peer was indulging in a witticism, self evident though that might seem.

The comment may well have been uttered in a shocking Dublin accent, especially when one considers that he did not go to England until he was twelve. Not that most of his officers would have noticed, since a substantial number came from Scotland or Ireland, and would probably boast some fairly egregious accents themselves. Perhaps it would be apposite to close the section on English by remarking that people in rural England probably regarded those from the next village as 'foreigners'.

That would seem to finish off 'His Britannic Majesty's' forces. "Cha'n eil mi a' tuigsinn! Cha'n eil Beurla agam!" [12]

That puts it nicely. In some Highland regiments it was necessary to drill the recruits in Gaelic. Indeed there is evidence to suggest that the 91st had a Gaelic drill squad as late as 1839. [13]

So we have the prospect of not merely digests of Dundas, but also of Torrens (1824) and the 1833 Field Exercise in Gaelic. There were also those soldiers who could understand the parade- ground commands but not much else. An example of this is to be found in Grattan, [14] where an encounter between Major-General MacKinnon and a certain Darby Rooney is described.

Attention must also be given to the Militia and Fencibles of Canada. Commands were given in French at Chateauguay, [15] though this may be an isolated example. And there are reports that the adjutant of the 93rd drilled the Glengarry Militia in Gaelic in 1838. [16]

Finally, Isaac Brock suggested that much of the training problems of the Canadian Fencibles might be due to language problems. [17]

The United States

A brief and tentative note on the forces of the new Republic would appear to be in order. While English was the most common language, it should be remembered that a substantial minority spoke some form of German. [18]

This would appear to be only part of the problem, since an eyewitness recorded that a large number of the Indiana militia assembled in 1811 for the Tippecanoe campaign spoke French. [19]

This should come as no surprise since Louisiana at that time did not merely include the State of that name. It should be noted that in the state mentioned above, Spanish was also spoken.

There is only one anecdotal indication of American speech that springs readily to mind, and this should be qualified by the fact that the speaker was of an ethnic type called 'Scotchlrish'(i.e., from Ulster). Andrew Jackson addressed his chief Propagandist (when President) as "Bla-ar". [20]

This can be seen as a written approximation to the Ulsterman's pronunciation of the man's name - Blair. It would be dangerous to generalise from this about those not of Scots-Irish descent, but it is possible that the pronunciation of American English had not deviated that far from that of the home countries. [21]

Spain

First, one is sorely tempted to paraphrase Metternich, and state that Spain is a geographical expression, and add pedantically that it has only been a unitary state since 1716. But the linguistic diversity of the Iberian Peninsula is what concerns us here. Let us begin with what most readers consider to be Spanish. The native speaker will refer to this as Castellano (Castilian), even in South America. This, needless to say, covers a multitude of sins. Castellano proper is what the reader would encounter if he (or she) were to learn Spanish formally and we will use this as the norm and regional 'deviations' will be noted.

The reader should note that before e and i, c and z are pronounced as the English th, ll as ly, and the s is a soft sibilant. In Salamantine and in Leones this sound can sound nearer to the English sh. Indeed in Leonese (from Leon: the locals refer to the local patois as Lleunes [22] ) this is so strong that some writers reproduce it as an x. Navarrese (from Navarra) may still retain the f (replaced by h in standard Castilian), which has been lost from Spanish.

In Extramadura, the Extrameno will pronounce the c and the z (before e and i) as an s, as well as tending to pronounce the 11 as y. In Andalucia, the same general trends occur as in Extramadura, but s tends to be lost at the ends of syllables and words. As if this were not bad enough, Gallego (the dialect of Galicia) is closer to Portuguese.

Having dealt with Castilian and its variants, let us now look at the other languages in the Peninsula. By this we mean Basque and Catalan. Basque is a non-Indo-European language, and thus it is completely unintelligible to all non Basque speakers; besides which, there are probably dialects.

It is probable that Basques would be conversant with Castilian. While Basque is relatively insignificant because of the numbers involved, the speakers of Catalan present a different problem. They are much more numerous, being found not only in Catalonia itself, but also in Valencia and in the Balearic Isles. Again, many would speak Spanish, but this being a Romance language, problems would not be insurmountable.

The astute will have noticed an absence of Portuguese; this is because I have no information on the matter. Once again we see a cheerful linguistic mess which by now seems all too familiar. Yet there seems to be a paucity of anecdotal evidence of this linguistic diversity being a problem.

The Russian Empire

The astute will have noted the title. However, this is only to be expected when one considers that the territory stretched from the Baltic to the Pacific. In Western Russia you have Polish, Lithuanian, Latvian, Estonian, Finnish, Ukrainian and Russian. On the far side of the Urals, you will find Russian and various Turkic languages, to the South in the Caucasus Georgian is spoken. [23]

White Russian, Ukrainian and Russian could make themselves mutually understood. Polish, however, widely spoken in the Uhlan Regiments [24] would present greater difficulties. Lithuanian and Latvian, while Indo- European and fairly close to their Slav neighbours, would be unintelligible to the Slavs. Estonian and Finnish are Finno-Ugric languages, and it would be fair to say, that Estonian is a variant of Finnish. One should not, of course, forget the Baltic Germans. These were either from the Gentry or Merchant orders, Mikhail Bogdanovich Barclay de Tolly despite his multi-ethnic name, was one of these (his father was called Gottlieb which was Russified as Bogdan). The Turkic speaking Bashkirs and other strange orientals were probably communicated with in Russian. Besides, to the best of my knowledge, orders were given in Russian to all units.

One should be wary of unit titles. Not every territorial designation necessarily bears much relation to the provenance of the other ranks. The regional titles might have acquired a traditional aura and some regiments had acquired their regional name because of their colonel (i.e.-the Tsar). I would be delighted to hear that, for instance, the Finlandski Guard Regiment was full to the gunwales with Finns, but I rather suspect that the other ranks were Russian in origin. The Poles mentioned above may have been indigent post- Partition Gentry in gainful employment, but it would be dangerous to generalise from this.

Prussia

First it should be explained that by this we mean Brandenburg- Prussia. This would appear to be a simple case of German. However, it should be remembered that this would largely be of the Plattdeutsch variety, strangely the commands appear to have been given in Hochdeutsch. The linguistic problems do not appear to end there, we find Polabian along the coast, which may be what Christopher Duffy [25] enigmatically calls Wendish, yet this might have been extinct by the Napoleonic era.

As always, we must not forget the ubiquitous Polish speaker, so much a feature of post-Partition Europe. Thus we have the usual linguistic cauldron boiling away. There appears to be little evidence, one way or the other, for linguistic confusion, or conversely its absence.

Poland, the Kingdoms of Italy and the Two Sicilies

Unsurprisingly, Polish was spoken in Poland, and after the Partitions in the various parts of Prussia, Austria and Russia. However, it is largely with the Grand Duchy of Warsaw that we will concern ourselves, though some of these comments will have a broader application. Polish is a West Slavic language which is written in the Roman alphabet. Poles have always had difficulty communicating with the outside world, so they were forced to learn a foreign language. Latin had previously been used as a lingua franca by educated Poles, but this was being superseded by French. [26]

It must be admitted that some Poles would speak German or Russian. Yet, the presence of a Polish unit must have presented the possibility for some splendid linguistic confusion in any army.

"Das Italien ist ein geographischer Begriff.", Metternich is reputed to have said [27] , and at that time he may have had a point. Linguistically we can identify a literary language, but the spoken word presents a more diverse picture. The patois spoken locally might appear completely unintelligible (at least to someone from elsewhere). However it would be dangerous to generalise from this.

Holland and the Confederation of the Rhine

One of the oldest of the French Allies was Holland. Dutch would of course have not presented an insuperable difficulty to the French. Some Dutch would have understood French, and Flemish speakers (from Belgium: which the French Republic had ingested earlier) would have understood Dutch. This presents us with another angle of potential linguistic confusion.

At one time the Batavian Republic employed German- speaking mercenaries. This leads us on to the matter of Plattdeutsch. This is largely spoken in the Northern coastal region of "Germany", whereas Hochdeutsch is largely spoken in the South. This last statement is somewhat generalised, and it would be a brave man (Who said foolhardy?) who would state with any certainty the precise limits of these two variants of German. As a postscript, one should add that around Lutzen and Bautzen they speak a Slavic language that rejoices in the name of Upper and Lower Lusatian. Perhaps one should not read overmuch into this as the number of speakers could not have been large (around 20,000 in the early 1970's).

Conclusions

We have established that the societies which produced the armies were of an extremely polyglot nature. And we can deduce from that, and in some cases prove, that even allowing for the narrow recruitment base, this was extended into the armies as well. Let us return to the question we asked at the beginning: What effect did have on the problems of command? The answer must of necessity be partial and incomplete, due to the paucity of information available. Even if we ignore such bizarre outfits as the Graeco-Albanian units found in the Ionian Isles, the fact of presented a problem which had to be solved.

One therefore turns to the solution which the Indian Army, and before it the H.E.I.C. Army, used, namely that the orders were given in English, and then (when appropriate) explained in the native idiom. This is an attractive analogy, but not necessarily one which any sane person would put money on. Because of the scarce nature of the evidence, this article is somewhat speculative, but it does suggest one or two questions. Was the sluggish manoeuvring recorded among Eastern European armies a product of this polyglossy? And were the rigid (by twentieth century standards) manoeuvres a help or a hindrance?

NOTES