I was kind of surprised some here were reading early 19th Century lit. Here's an unusual one I just finished:
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Reminiscences of Captain Gronow (selected)
You've probably never heard of Gronow who, after Waterloo, did nothing much with his life except enjoy himself among the swells, dandies and aristos of Paris and London. Despite his obscurity, he wrote a collection of brief random histories, bios and gossip of the early 19th century characters he knew. And a gem it is.
He starts with himself, a young officer on duty in London when Wellington is assembling his army on the continent to face the resurgent Napoleon in 1815. He comes across a friend, aide to a general, just about to embark for Brussels and wishes he could come along. “Well, you should!” cried the general. “You can be on my staff if you can just get leave.”
The general departs and Gronow simply goes AWOL, taking the next ship over, planning to claim a misunderstanding if arrested. Once at Waterloo, being junior man on staff, he's given the job no one else wanted; guarding French prisoners – but it allowed him to watch a wide swath of the battle. In retrospect, he felt Bonaparte could have won had he'd been the same audacious scrapper he was at Austerlitz or Borodino. But now he was older and cautious – even timid, and that was his undoing.
When Napoleon ordered his cavalry forward, he should have also followed instantly with all his infantry coming right in behind them. Together, Gronow says, the French could have crushed the allied lines early and then they could have wheeled to face Blucher's exhausted Prussian reinforcements arriving late onto the field.
But cavalry alone could only disrupt the British squares. They couldn't break them – which a fast-following infantry could have done. Napoleon then turned to his artillery. But Wellington drew his lines further back, just behind a soft rise, making many of them invisible to the cannoneers, so only then did N order his Old Guard forward. When they came over the top, Wellington's waiting lines destroyed them, just as the Prussian blue uniforms were fast becoming visible on the horizon.
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That is just the first chapter. The rest are stories of London and Paris society – the wild gamblers, the fops, the duelists, the drinkers, the grand dames, royal follies, the club scene, the glib and the witty, the fine dining, men's fashion changes, horse racing, the exclusive afternoon salons, robbing your tailors, aristos in debt to their eyeballs and French wives cheating while their husbands, seducing housemaids, pretend not to notice. Candidates bribe voters – and the voters complain to Parliament they weren't bribed enough. Parisian wives eager to lose whatever respectability they have left.
One story: how a slim young chap showed up at his little mistress's house when her brute of a husband was out. But he returned early and our lover had to hide in the case of their big grandfather clock.
Another: how he was upbraided by the Prince of Wales for showing up on guard duty with insufficient white powder on his wig.
Another: after the Restoration, how Louis VXIII seized control in a counter coup and rebuilt Paris with its new wide boulevards and Empire architectural style we know today.
Back then it was possible for a young man with a good wardrobe to know everyone of any importance, The orbits of statesmen, artists, royals, spendthrifts, professors, authors, officers, rich dowagers, con artists and dandies all elbowed each other.
There are dozens of brief tales here, most less than a ten-minute read, so it's a good book to keep bedside. GRONOW is little-known, but it deserves better fame. I enjoyed it more than I expected.
