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The Memoirs of General Baron de Marbot

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Title: The Memoirs of General Baron de Marbot

Author: baron de Jean-Baptiste-Antoine-Marcelin Marbot

Translator: Oliver C. Colt


        
Release date: November 1, 2000 [eBook #2401]
                Most recently updated: April 4, 2015

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2401


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MEMOIRS OF GENERAL BARON DE MARBOT ***
Ver.04.29.93*END*





The Memoirs of General the Baron de Marbot
Translated by Oliver C. Colt

THE MEMOIRS OF GENERAL THE BARON DE MARBOT.

Translated by Oliver C. Colt


Volume 1.

Table of contents

Chap. 1. Origins of my family. My father joins the bodyguard. The
de Certain family. Life at Lariviere. Episode in infancy.

Chap. 2. Outbreak of revolution. My father's attitude. He rejoins
the army. I go to Mlle. Mongalvi. My life as a boarder.

Chap. 3. My father is posted to Toulouse. He takes me with him.
The convoy of aristocrats. Life at Toulouse. I am taken to
Soreze.

Chap. 4. Life at Soreze. Early hardships. Visit of representative
of the people.

Chap. 5. I join my family in Paris. My father is given command of
the 17th division in Paris. He refuses to join with Sieyes and
hands the command to Lefebvre.

Chap. 6. My father is posted to Italy. How my career is begun. I
become a Hussar.

Chap. 7. My father leaves. Meeting with Bonaparte at Lyon. An
adventure on the Rhone. The cost of a Republican banquet. I am
presented to my commanding officer.

Chap. 8. Arrival at Nice. My mentor Pertelay. I become a true
Hussar. I join the "clique". My first duel. We rustle some
cattle. The "Clique".

Chap. 9. How I get immediate promotion. The capture of 17 enemy
Hussars.

Chap. 10. Campaign in Piedmont. General Macard. Capture of enemy
cannons. I am promoted to Sous-lieutenant. I become aide de camp
to my father.

Chap. 11. Retreat of the right wing of the army to Genoa. My
father wounded. The siege. My friend Trepano. Death of my father.
Famine and fighting.

Chap. 12. Episodes in the siege. Fate of Austrian captives.

Chap. 13. Napoleon crosses the St. Bernard. Massena yields.
Marengo.  I return to my family. My extreme prostration.

Chap. 14. I am temporary aide de camp to Bernadotte. We go to
Tours.

Chap. 15. At Brest and Rennes. I am posted to the 23rd Chasseurs,
in Portugal. Journey from Nantes to Salamanca. We form the right
wing of the Spanish army. Return to France.

Chap. 16. On the road from Bayonne to Toulouse. The inspection.

Chap. 17. The events at Rennes. My brother Adolphe is involved
and is sent to prison. Death of my brother Theodore.

Chap. 18. The school at Versailles. My mother's brothers.

Chap. 19. Preparations for invasion of Britain. I become aide de
camp to Augereau.

Chap. 20. Augereau.

Chap. 21. From Bayonne to Brest. 1804. Pichegru. Death of Duc
d'Enghien. Bonaparte becomes emperor.

Chap. 22. 1805. Institution of Legion of Honour. Camp at
Boulogne.  I am made lieutenant. Death of my brother Felix.
Russia and Austria declare war.

Chap. 23. The army heads for the Rhine. Mission to Massena.
Jellachich surrenders. The Hungarian Colonel.

Chap. 24. The march to Vienna. The battle at Dirnstein. Lannes
and Murat bluff their way across the Danube.

Chap. 25. Hollabrunn. I bring the flags captured at Breganz to
the Emperor. The danger of a white lie.

Chap. 26. The Prussian Ambassador. Austerlitz. I save a Russian
sergeant.

Chap. 27. Meeting of the Emperors. Return to my unit. Darmstadt
and Frankfurt.

Chap. 28. Mission to Prussia. Situation in Prussia.

Chap. 29. State of Prussian army. Wurtzberg. Saalefeld and death
of Prince Louis. Augereau and his former companions.

Chap. 30. Jena. The Cure. Auerstadt. The behaviour of Bernadotte.

The entry into Berlin.

Chap. 31. Demoralisation of Prussians. Origin of the house of
Rothschild. With Duroc to the King of Prussia. Graudentz. The
army at the Vistula.

Chap. 32. Crossing of the Ukra. Various encounters. Cantonments
on the banks of the Vistula.

Chap. 33. 1807. Made Captain. Eylau. Destruction of Augereau's
corps.

Chap. 34. My part in the battle of Eylau. My mare Lisette. I
escape death by a miracle. Return to Warsaw and Paris.

Chap. 35. Missions for the Emperor. I join Marshal Lannes.
Hostilities resumed June 11th.

Chap. 36. Battle of Friedland. I escape from dangers. Treaty of
Tilsitt.

Chap. 37. Mission to Dresden. An unwitting smuggler. An incident
at Mainz. Paris and La Houssaye.



Introduction. General, later the Baron, Marbot, came from a
family which might be described as landed gentry. His father
served in the bodyguard of Louis XV and later in the Republican
army. Marbot himself was a soldier from the age of 17 and fought
in the wars of the Republic and the campaigns of Napoleon. His
memoirs were written for his family and his intimate circle,
without thought of publication, and it was not until after his
death in 1854 that his family were persuaded to offer the
manuscript to publishers.

This is not a meticulously researched historical document, but
the reminiscences of an old soldier, writing of events which took
place many years earlier and I suspect that like most of us when
we try to recall things that happened forty years ago his memory
was a trifle indistinct.

By far the greater part of his narrative has the ring of truth,
but in my opinion there are places where his imagination has
embroidered the facts. This is particularly so when it comes to
some of his personal adventures. He also,in my view, describes as
real, events in which he did not take part and which may be no
more than popular rumour.

It has to be remembered that there were no inquisitive war
correspondents attached to the "Grande Armee" and news was what
was written in Napoleon's bulletins.

As an example of the kind of thing which raises a question in my
mind, in his opening chapter he says that he was a very sturdy
infant and that the only illness he ever suffered from was
small-pox. This does not seem probable; an outbreak of small-pox
in the family would be a disastrous occurrence, it is a disease
with a high mortality and could not be dismissed as a childish
complaint. He also goes on to describe how his head got stuck in
the cat-hole, but in the original he claims that his face turned
blue and that he was being strangled when his father removed the
door from its hinges to extricate him. Anyone who has attempted
to remove a door from its hinges knows that you cannot do so
without opening the door and using at least a screwdriver. It is
also an operation which is difficult to perform single-handed and
with a small child stuck in it even more so. He says that he was
about three or four at the time, and the long-term memory does
not start developing in a child until around the age of four. I
think it more than likely that that good Baron has a false
recollection derived from being told of these goings on by his
mother and truly believes that he remembers them. A misdiagnosis
of small-pox would not be surprising given the inadequate state
of medical knowledge and practice of the time.

I do not doubt that he ran great danger and was seriously injured
at Eylau, but there are elements in his recital which although
they enhance the drama and would pass muster with the lay reader,
are open to criticism by anyone with a medical training. He says
that while he was attempting to release the "Eagle" from its
standard, a bullet passed through his hat without touching his
head. As a result of this he claims that he found himself
paralysed and unable to use his legs to urge his horse forward,
although he remained mentally perfectly clear. He says that the
passage of the bullet close to his head caused bleeding from his
nose and ears and even from his eyes, signs which a clinician
would regard as probably indicating a serious fracture of the
base of the skull.

I am not a neurologist, but I can think of no neurological injury
which would produce the type of paralysis which he describes
except a high lesion of the spinal cord. What is more, within a
few moments he is in the saddle of a galloping horse and I cannot
imagine that anyone suffering from a form of paralysis could
remain there for very long.

The thoughtful reader may also wonder how the soldier who robbed
him as he lay unconscious could suppose that he was dead, an
unconscious person is quite plainly breathing.

Could it be that having been rendered unconscious as a result of
the fall from his horse, he has some degree of retrograde amnesia
and has invented details to fill the gaps in his memory, or could
it be that writing, as he was, for his family and friends, he was
indulging in a little pardonable exaggeration.

In spite of these reservations the story he tells is full of life
and interest, and gives a vivid impression of war as it was
fought then, including all its horrors and disasters.

In this translation I have not deviated from the gist of events,
but I have taken the liberty of making a variety of omissions and
emendations, with the aim of adding credibility to some of the
events, such as those noted above. I have also prefaced some of
his anecdotes, which he retails as fact, with the words "It is
believed that..." or something to that effect.

The campaigns can be followed by the use of a good atlas, but
unfortunately the many upheavals which Europe has undergone since
those days has resulted in many of the names of places being
changed. The curious reader may well find maps dealing with the
Napoleonic wars in any well stocked public library.

All translation requires some degree of paraphrase. What sounds
well in one language may sound ridiculous if translated literally
into another. I have endeavoured to produce a version of these
memoirs acceptable to the English-speaking reader, whether I have
succeeded or not only the reader can say.

Oliver C. Colt


THE MEMOIRS OF GENERAL THE BARON DE MARBOT.

Translated by Oliver C. Colt

Chap. 1.

I was born on the 18th August 1782 at my father's Chateau of
Lariviere, in the beautiful valley of Beaulieu, on the borders of
Limousin and Quercy--now the department of Correze--where my
father owned a considerable property.

The family of Marbot was of noble origin, although for a long
time they had not preceded their name by any title. To use a then
current expression, they lived nobly, that is to say on the
income from their estates, without engaging in any form of
employment. They were allied to and joined in the society of
several of the important families of the district.

I mention this because, at a time when the nobility were so
haughty and powerful, it shows that the family had a social
position of considerable standing.

My father was born in 1753. He had a rather fiery temperament,
but he was so good-hearted that, after a first outburst, he
always sought to make one forget any hasty words which he might
have uttered. He was a fine figure of a man, very tall and well
built, with handsome, manly features.

My grandfather had become a widower when my father was still at
school. His house was run by one of his elderly cousins, the
oldest of the demoiselles Oudinet of Beaulieu. She gave
unstinting care to my grandfather, who, having become almost
blind as a result of a flash of lightning, which had struck near
him, no longer went out of his manor. Thus my father, when he
reached manhood, faced by an infirm old man and an aunt devoted
to his least wishes, could have played fast and loose with the
family fortune. He did not, however, abuse his position, but as
he had a great fancy for a military career, he accepted a
proposal which was made to him by colonel the Marquis d'Estresse,
a neighbour and close friend of the family, which was to have him
enrolled in the bodyguard of the king, Louis XV.

Being under the auspices of the Marquis d'Estresse, he was
received in a number of houses; notably that of
lieutenant-general the Comte de Schomberg, the inspector-general
of cavalry, who, recognising my father's worth, had him posted to
his regiment of dragoons as captain, and took him as his
aide-de-camp.

On the death of my grandfather my father was still unmarried, and
his fortune, as well as his place in the Royal Bodyguard, put him
in a position to choose a wife, without the likelihood of being
refused.

There lived at that time, in the Chateau de Laval de Cere, about
a league from Lariviere, a family of noble rank but without much
money, named de Certain. The head of this house was stricken by
gout and so his affairs were managed by Madame de Certain, an
admirable woman, who came from the noble family of de Verdal, who
claim to have Saint Roch amongst the kinsfolk of their ancestors
on the distaff side, a Verdal, so they say, having married a
sister of the Saint at Montpellier. I do not know how much truth
there is in this claim, but before the Revolution of 1789, there
was, at the gateway of the old chateau of Gruniac, owned by the
de Verdals, a stone bench, which was greatly venerated by the
inhabitants of the nearby mountains, because, according to
tradition, St. Roch, when he came to visit his sister, used to
sit on this bench, from where one can view the countryside, which
one cannot do from the chateau, which is a sort of fortress of
the gloomiest kind.

The de Certains had three sons and a daughter, and as was the
custom at that time they added to their family name that of some
estate. Thus the eldest son was given the name Canrobert: this
eldest son was, at the time of which I write, Chevalier de St.
Louis and a captain in the infantry regiment of Penthievre; the
second son who was called de L'Isle was a lieutenant in the same
regiment; the third son, who had the surname La Coste served,
like my father, in the Royal Bodyguard; the daughter was called
Mlle. Du Puy,and she was my mother.

My father became a close friend of M. Certain de La Coste, and it
would have been difficult to do otherwise, for quite apart from
the three months which they spent in quarters at Versailles
during their period of duty, the journeys which they made
together, twice a year, were bound to make a bond between them.

At that time public coaches were very few in number, dirty,
uncomfortable, and travelled by very short stages; also it was
considered not at all fashionable to ride in them. So, gentry who
were old or in poor health travelled by carriage, while the young
and officers in the armed forces went on horseback. There was an
established custom among the Bodyguard, which today would seem
most peculiar. As these gentlemen did only three months on duty,
and as in consequence the corps was split into four almost equal
sections, those of them who lived in Brittany, the Auvergne,
Limousin and other parts of the country where there were good
small horses had bought a number of these at a price not
exceeding 100 francs, which included the saddle and bridle. On a
fixed day all the Bodyguards from the same province, who were
called to go and take up their duties, would meet, on horseback,
at an agreed spot and the cheerful caravanserai would take the
road for Versailles.

They made twelve to fifteen leagues each day, sure of finding
every evening, at an agreed and reasonable price, a good lodging
and a good supper at the inns previously arranged as stopping
places. They went happily on their way, talking, singing, putting
up with bad weather or heat as they did with accidents and
laughing at the stories which all, in turn, had to tell as they
rode along.

The group grew in size by the arrival of Bodyguards from the
provinces through which they passed until, at last, the various
parties arrived from all parts of France to enter Versailles on
the day on which their leave expired, and, in consequence, at the
moment of departure of those guards whom they had come to
relieve. Then each of these latter bought one of the ponies
brought by the new arrivals, for which they paid 100 francs, and
forming fresh groups they took to the road for their paternal
chateaux, where they turned the horses out to grass for nine
months, until they were taken back to Versailles and handed over
to other comrades-in-arms.

My father, then, was a close friend of M. Certain de La Coste,
who shared the same quarters and belonged, like him, to the
company de Noailles. On their return to the country they saw much
of each other, and he made the acquaintance of Mlle. Du Puy.
Mlle. Du Puy was pretty and high spirited, and although she would
have little in the way of dowry, and although several rich
matches were offered to my father, he preferred Mlle. Du Puy, and
he married her in 1776.

We were four brothers: the eldest Adolphe, myself the second,
Theodore the third and Felix the last. There was a gap of about
two years between our ages.

I was very sturdy and suffered only some minor illnesses, but
when I was about three, I had an accident which I can still
remember.

Because I had a rather turned-up nose and a round face, my father
called me "pussy-cat". It needed no more than this to give a
small child the desire to imitate a cat; so it was my greatest
pleasure to go about on all fours, mewing. I was also in the
habit of going up to the second floor of the chateau to join my
father in a library, where he spent the hottest hours of the day.
When he heard the "miaow" of his little cat, he came and opened
the door and gave me a picture-book to look at while he continued
his reading. These little sessions gave me infinite pleasure. One
day, however, my visit was not so well received as usual. My
father, perhaps absorbed in his book, did not open the door for
his little cat. In vain, I redoubled my "miaows" in the most
appealing tone which I could produce. The door remained closed.
Then I saw, at floor level, an opening called a cat-hole, which
is present in all the chateaux of the Midi, at the bottom of the
doors, to allow cats free access. This route seemed, naturally,
to be for me: I put my head through, but that was as far as I
could go. I then tried to withdraw my head, but my head was stuck
and I could go neither forward nor back, but I was so much
identified with my role as a cat that instead of speaking, to let
my father know my predicament, I "miaowed" at the top of my
voice, like a cat that is angry, and it appears that I did so in
such a natural tone that my father thought that I was playing,
but suddenly the "miaows" became weaker, and turned into crying
and you may imagine my father's concern when he realised what had
happened. It was only with great difficulty that I was freed and
carried, half unconscious, to my mother, who thinking I was
injured was much distressed.

A surgeon was sent for, who proceeded to bleed me, and the sight
of my own blood and the crowd of all the inhabitants of the
chateau, gathered about my mother and me, made such a vivid
impression on my young imagination that the event has remained
for ever fixed in my memory.

Chap. 2.

While my childhood was rolling by peacefully, the storm of
revolution which had been growling in the distance, drew ever
nearer, and it was not long before it broke. We were in 1789.

The assembly of the States General stirred up all manner of
passions, destroyed the tranquillity enjoyed by the province in
which we lived and introduced divisions into all families,
particularly into ours; for my father, who for a long time had
railed against the abuses to which France was subjected,
accepted, in principle, the improvements which were mooted,
without foreseeing the atrocities to which these changes were
going to lead; while his three brothers-in-law and all his
friends rejected any innovation. This gave rise to animated
discussions, of which I understood nothing, but which distressed
me because I saw my mother in tears as she tried to keep the
peace between her brothers and her husband. For my part, although
I did not understand what was going on, I naturally took sides
with my father.

The Constituent Assembly had revoked all feudal rents. My father
possessed some of these which his father had purchased. He was
the first to conform to the law. The peasantry who had been
waiting to make up their minds until my father gave them a lead,
refused to continue paying these rents once they knew what he had
done.

Shortly after this, France having been divided into departments,
my father was named administrator for the Correze and then a
member of the Legislative Assembly.

My mother's three brothers, and nearly all the nobility of the
county had hurriedly emigrated. War seemed to be imminent, so, to
persuade all citizens to take up arms, and also, perhaps, to find
out up to what point they could count on the populace, the
government arranged for the rumour to be spread throughout all
the communes of France, that the "Brigands" led by the emigres,
were coming to destroy all the new institutions. The tocsin was
rung by all the churches; everyone armed themselves with whatever
they could lay hands upon; a National Guard was organised; the
country turned into an armed camp while it waited for these
imaginary "Brigands" who, in every commune, were said to be in
the one next door. Nothing ever appeared, but the effect
remained: France found herself in arms and had shown that she was
prepared to defend herself.

We children were then alone in the country with our mother. This
alert, which was called "The day of fear" surprised me and would
probably have alarmed me, had I not seen my mother remain so
calm. I have always thought that my father had discreetly warned
her of what was about to happen.

All went well at first, without any excess on the part of the
peasants, who, in our part of the country, retained much respect
for the ancient families; but soon, stirred up by demagogues from
the towns, the country-dwellers invaded the houses of the nobles,
under the pretext of looking for hidden emigres, but in fact to
exact money and to seize the title deeds of feudal rents, which
they burned in a big bonfire. From the height of our terrace, we
saw these ruffians, torches in their hands, running towards the
Chateau d'Estresse, from which all the men had emigrated and
which was occupied only by women. These were my mother's best
friends, and so she was greatly upset by this spectacle. Her
anxiety was redoubled by the arrival of her own aged mother, who
had been driven out of her chateau, which was declared national
property because of the emigration of her three sons...!

Up until then, my father's property had been respected; largely
because his patriotism was known, and because, to give further
proof of it, he had taken service in the army of the Pyrenees as
captain in the Chasseurs des Montagnes, at the end of his term in
the legislative assembly. But the revolutionary torrent swept
over everyone; the house at St. Cere, which my father had bought
ten years before, was confiscated and declared national property
because the deed of sale had been signed privately and the seller
had emigrated before ratifying the deal before a notary. My
mother was given a few days to remove her linen, then the house
was put up for auction and was bought by the president of the
district who had himself arranged for its confiscation!

At last, the peasants, stirred up by some agitators from
Beaulieu, came in a body to my father's chateau and insisted,
though with some politeness, that they had to burn the deeds of
feudal rents which we still had, and make sure that emigres were
not concealed in the chateau.

My mother received them with fortitude, handed over the deeds and
pointed out to them that, knowing her brothers to be sensible
people, they should not suppose that they would emigrate only
then to come back to France and hide in her chateau.

They accepted the correctness of this line of reasoning, ate and
drank and having burned the deeds in the centre of the courtyard,
they left without doing any further damage, shouting "Long live
France and citizen Marbot!" And charging my mother to write to
him to say that they liked him very much and that his family was
quite safe among them.

In spite of this assurance, my mother felt that her position as
the sister of emigres might expose her to a great deal of
unpleasantness from which even her position as the wife of a
defender of the country would not protect her. She decided to go
away for the time being. She told me later that she took this
step because she was convinced that the revolutionary storm would
last only for some months. There were many people who thought
this!

My grandmother had had seven brothers, all of whom, as was usual
in the Verdal family had been soldiers and knights of St. Louis.
One of them, a former battalion commander in the infantry
regiment of Penthievre, had married, on retirement, the rich
widow of counsellor of the parliament of Rennes. My mother
decided to go and stay with her and was counting on taking me
with her, when I was smitten by a number of large and very
painful boils. It was impossible to travel with a child of eight
in such a state, and my mother was in great perplexity. She was
extricated by a worthy lady, Mlle. Mongalvi, who was much devoted
to her and whose memory will always be dear to me.  Mlle.
Mongalvi lived at Turenne and ran boarding establishment for
young ladies of which my mother had been one of the first
occupants. She offered to take me into her house for the few
months of my mother's absence. My father's agreement having been
obtained, I left and was installed there. "What!" you may say, "A
boy amongst young ladies?" Well yes, but do not forget that I was
a quiet, peaceable, obedient child, and I was only eight years
old.

The boarders who stayed with Mlle. Mongalvi, where my mother had
once been one of them, were young persons of some sixteen to
twenty years of age; the youngest being at least fourteen, and
were sensible enough to let me mingle with them.

On my arrival, all this little feminine flock gathered about me
and received me with such cries of pleasure and warm caresses
that, from the first instant, I thought myself lucky to have made
this trip. I figured that it would not last long and I believe
that, secretly, I even regretted that I would have only a short
time to spend with these nice young ladies, who did everything to
please me and argued as to who was to hold my hand.

However, my mother left and went to stay with my uncle. Events
moved forward rapidly. The terror bathed France in blood. Civil
war broke, out in the Vendee and in Brittany. Travel there became
absolutely impossible, so that my mother, who had thought to
spend two or three months at Rennes, found herself stuck there
for several years.

My father continued on active service in the Pyrenees and in
Spain, where his ability and courage had raised him to the rank
of divisional general; while I, having gone as a boarder for a
few months, stayed for some four years, which were for me years
of much happiness, clouded only, from time to time, by the memory
of my parents; but the good Mlles. Mongalvi and their boarders
would then redouble their kindness, to dispel those thoughts
which now and then saddened me. I was spoiled beyond belief by
the mistresses and the boarders; I had only to wish for something
to obtain it. There was nothing too good or too fine for me. My
health recovered completely.  I was clean and fresh, so they vied
with one another to cuddle me. During recreation, which took
place in a vast enclosure, where there was a fine garden, with
paddocks, vines and arbours, the young ladies would crown me and
garland me with flowers, then placing me on a little litter
covered with roses, they would take it in turns to carry me while
they sang. At other times I would play prisoners base with them,
having the privilege of always catching but never being caught.
They would read stories to me and sing songs. They competed to do
something for me.

I recall, that on hearing of the horrible execution of Louis XVI,
Mlle. Mongalvi had all the boarders on their knees, to recite
prayers for the repose of the soul of the unfortunate king. The
indiscretion of any one of us could have brought down disaster on
her head, but all the pupils were of an age to understand, and I
felt that it was something I should not talk about; so no one
knew anything about it. I stayed in this pleasant retreat until
November 1793.

Chap. 3.

When I was eleven and a half years old, my father was given
command of a camp which was set up at Toulouse. He took advantage
of a few days leave to come and see me and to arrange his
affairs, which he had not been able to do for several years. He
came to Turenne, to the house of one of his friends, and hurried
to my lodging. He was in the uniform of a general officer, with a
big sabre, his hair cut short and unpowdered and sporting an
enormous moustache, which was in remarkable contrast to the
costume in which I was used to seeing him when we lived
peacefully at Lariviere.

I have said that my father, in spite of his stern masculine
looks, was a kind man, and particularly toward children, whom he
adored. I saw him again with the keenest transports of delight,
and he overwhelmed me with caresses. He stayed for several days
at Turenne; he warmly thanked the good mesdames Mongalvi for the
truly maternal care they had taken of me; but when he asked me a
few questions, it was easy for him to see that though I had a
good knowledge of prayers and litanies and lots of hymns, my
remaining education was limited to some notions of history,
geography, and spelling. He considered also, that, being now in
my twelfth year, it was not possible to leave me in a boarding
establishment for young ladies, and that it was time to give me
an education which was more masculine and more extensive. He had
resolved therefore, to take me with him to Toulouse, to where he
had also brought Adolphe, and to place us both in the military
college of Soreze, the sole great establishment of this kind
which the revolutionary turmoil had left standing.

I left, after bidding a tender farewell to my young friends. We
headed for Cressensac, where we were joined by Captain Gault, my
father's aide-de-camp. While the coach was being got ready,
Spire, my father's old servant, who knew that his master intended
to travel day and night, made up packages of food.

At this moment a new spectacle was presented to me: a mobile
column, composed of gendarmes, national guards and volunteers,
entered the town of Cressensac with a band playing at its head. I
had never seen anything like it, and it seemed to me quite
superb, but I was unable to understand why, in the midst of all
these soldiers, there was a dozen coaches filled with old men,
women and children, all of whom looked extremely sad. This sight
infuriated my father. He drew back from the window and, striding
about with his aide-de-camp, whom he could trust, I heard him
burst out, "These miserable members of the convention have ruined
the revolution which could have done so much good. There you see
yet more innocent people who are being thrown into gaol because
they are landowners or are related to emigres; it is disgusting!"

Why, you may ask, did my father continue to serve a government
which he despised? It was because he thought that to confront the
enemies of France was honourable, but did not mean that the
military condoned the atrocities which the convention committed
in the interior of the country.

What my father had said, had interested me in the people in the
coaches. I gathered that they had been, that morning, seized from
their chateaux and were being led away to the prisons of
Souilhac. They were old men, women and children, and I was
wondering to myself how these frail people could present any
danger to the country, when I heard several of the children
asking for food. One lady begged a national guard to let her get
out to go and buy something to eat. He refused her, rudely, and
when the lady produced an "assignat" and pleaded with him to go
and buy some bread, he replied, "Do you take me for one of your
former lackeys?" This brutality angered me. I had noticed that
Spire had placed in the pockets of the coach, a number of
bread-rolls in the centre of which was a sausage; I took two of
these rolls, and drawing near to the coach holding the child
prisoners, I threw them in, when the guards were not looking. The
mothers and the children made signs to me of such gratitude that
I resolved to give food to all the other prisoners, and piece by
piece, I gave them all the provisions which Spire had made for
the two days journey to Toulouse, which we were about to make. We
left, at last, without Spire having any suspicion of the
distribution which I had just made. The little prisoners blew me
kisses and their parents waved to me; but no sooner were we some
hundred paces from the post-house than my father, who had been in
haste to get away from a spectacle which distressed him, and had
not wished to eat at the inn, felt hungry, and asked for the
provisions.  Spire pointed to the pockets in which he had placed
them. My father and M. Gault rummaged through all the interior of
the coach, but found nothing. My father grew angry with Spire,
who from the height of his seat, swore by all the saints that he
had stuffed the coach with food for two days. I was somewhat
embarrassed; however, I did not want poor Spire to be blamed any
longer, so I admitted what I had done. I expected to be scolded
for acting without authority, but my father put his arm round me
in the most affectionate manner, and many years after he still
spoke with pleasure of my conduct on this occasion.

From Cressensac to Toulouse the road was full of volunteers,
going to join the army of the Pyrenees, and making the air ring
with patriotic songs. I was charmed by this bustling spectacle
and would have been happy had it not been for my physical
suffering. I had never made a long journey by coach before, and I
was sea-sick throughout the trip, which decided my father to stop
every night to allow me some repose. I arrived at Toulouse
feeling very tired, but the sight of my brother, from whom I had
been parted for four or five years, gave me so much joy that I
very soon recovered.

My father, with the rank of divisional general, commanding the
camp situated at Miral, close to Toulouse, was entitled to a
billet, and the municipality had assigned to him the fine town
house of Resseguier, whose owner had emigrated. Madame de
Resseguier and her son had retreated to the most distant rooms,
and my father gave orders that the strictest regard was to be
given to their unhappy position.

My father's house was much frequented. Every day there were
visitors, and he had a great deal of expense, for although at
that time a divisional general received eighteen rations of all
kinds, and his aides-de-camp a similar amount, it was not enough.
He had to buy a host of things and as the state gave to a general
officer what it gave to a sous-lieutenant, that is eight francs a
month in cash, the rest being made up in assignats, the value of
which diminished daily, and as my father was very generous,
entertained many of the officers from the camp, had numerous
domestic servants (at that time called servitors), had eighteen
horses, a coach, a box at the theatre etc...He spent the savings
which he had accumulated at Lariviere, and it was from the time
of his re-entry into military service that the decline of his
fortune began.

Although the "Terror" was now at its height and class distinction
was greatly weakened in France, from whence all good manners
seemed to have removed themselves forever, my father knew so well
how to impose them on the many officers who came to his quarters,
that the most perfect politeness ruled in his salon and at his
table.

Among the officers employed at the camp, my father had taken a
great liking to two, who were invited more often than the others.

One was named Augereau and was the adjutant-general, that is to
say colonel of the general staff, the other was Lannes, a
lieutenant of Grenadiers, in a battalion of volunteers from the
department of Gers.

They became Marshals of the Empire and I have been aide-de-camp
to both of them.

At this period Augereau, after escaping from the prison of the
Inquisition at Lisbon, had come to fight in the Vendee, where he
was noticed for his courage and his quality of leadership. He was
an excellent tactician, a skill which he had learned in Prussia,
where he had served for a considerable time in the Foot-guards of
Frederick the Great; hence his nick-name of "The Big Prussian."
He had an irreproachable military turn-out, spick and span,
curled and powdered, with a long pig-tail, big, highly polished
riding boots and withal, a very martial bearing. This smart
appearance was the more remarkable because, at this time it was
not something on which the French army could pride itself, being
almost entirely made up of volunteers not used to wearing uniform
and very careless of their grooming. However nobody made fun of
Augereau about this, for he was known to be a brave and
accomplished duelist, who had given even the celebrated
Saint-George, the finest swordsman in France, a run for his
money.

I have said that Augereau was a good tactician; because of this,
my father had appointed him to direct the training of the
battalions of new levees, of which the division was largely
composed. These men came from Limousin, Auvergne, the Basque
country, Quercy, Gers and Languedoc. Augereau trained them well,
and in so doing he was unaware that he was laying the foundations
of his own future fame, for these troops, which my father then
commanded, formed later the famous Augereau division which did
such fine things in the Pyrenees and in Italy.

Augereau came almost daily to my father's house, and seeing that
he was appreciated, he devoted to him a friendship which never
wavered and of which I felt the benefit after the death of my
mother.

As for Lieutenant Lannes, he was a very lively young Gascon,
intelligent and cheerful, without education or training but
anxious to learn at a time when no one else was. He became a very
good instructor, and since he was very vain, he accepted with the
greatest delight the praises which my father lavished on him, and
which he deserved. By way of recompense, he spoiled, as much as
he could, his general's children.

One fine morning, my father received the order to strike his camp
at Miral and to lead his division to join the army corps of
General Dugommier, which was laying siege to Toulon, which the
English had captured in a surprise attack. My father then said to
me that it was not in a school for young ladies that I would
learn what I needed to know; that I needed more serious studies
and in consequence he was taking me, the next day, to the
military college of Soreze, where he had already arranged a place
for me and my brother. I was thunderstruck! Never to go back to
my friends with the Mesdames Mongalvi? That seemed impossible!

The road was covered with troops and guns, which my father passed
in review at Castelnaudary. This spectacle, which a few days
earlier would have delighted me, now failed to lessen the anxiety
which I felt about the teachers in whose presence I was about to
find myself.

We stayed overnight at Castelnaudary, where my father learned of
the evacuation of Toulon by the English (18th Dec 1793), and was
ordered to go with his division, to the eastern Pyrenees.
Whereupon he decided to deposit us, the very next day, at Soreze,
to stay there for a few hours only, and to set off immediately
for Perpignon.

On leaving Castelnaudary, my father ordered the coach to stop at
a famous tree under which the Constable Montmorency had been
taken prisoner by the troops of Louis XIII, following the defeat
of the supporters of Gaston d'Orleans, who had rebelled against
his brother. He chatted about this event with his aides-de-camp,
and my brother-- who was already well informed--took part in the
conversation. As for me, I had only the vaguest notions of the
general history of France and knew nothing of the details. It was
the first time I had heard of the battle of Castelnaudary, of
Gaston, of his revolt and of the capture and execution of the
Constable de Montmorency. I realised that my father did not ask
me any question on the subject because he was quite certain that
I would be unable to reply. This made me feel ashamed, and I
concluded that my father was right in taking me to the college to
be educated. My regrets then changed into a resolution to learn
all that I needed to know.

Nevertheless, my heart sank at the sight of the high sombre walls
of the cloister in which I was to be enclosed. I was eleven years
and four months old when I entered this establishment.

Chap. 4.

I shall now give you a brief history of the college of Soreze, as
I had it from Dom Abal, a former vice principal, whom I saw often
in Paris during the Empire.

When, under Louis XV, it was resolved to clear the Jesuits out of
France, their defenders claimed that they alone knew how to
educate children. The Benedictines, sworn enemies of the Jesuits,
wished to prove that this was not so; but as it did not suit
them, although they were studious and learned, to turn themselves
into schoolmasters, they selected four of their houses to be
turned into colleges, among which was Soreze. There they placed
those members of the order who had the most aptitude for
teaching, and who could, after working for several years, retire
to other monasteries of the order. The new colleges prospered,
Soreze in particular stood out, and the crowd of pupils, who
hurried there from all parts, made a larger number of teachers
necessary. The Benedictines attracted there many learned laymen,
who established themselves, with their families, in the little
town in which the monastery was situated. The children of these
lay teachers, who attended the college free as day pupils,
formed, later, a nursery of masters of all the arts and sciences.
Eventually the ability to give lessons at a very reasonable cost
led to the setting up of several boarding houses for young
ladies, and the little town became remarkable in that its
citizens, even the simple merchants, had an extended education
and practised all the fine arts. A crowd of foreigners,
principally English, Spanish and American, came to stay there, in
order to be near their sons and daughters during their education.

The Benedictine order was, in general, made up of very easy-going
men; they mixed with the world and entertained often, so they
were well liked; something that was very useful to those at
Soreze when the revolution broke out.

The Principal at that time was Dom Despaulx, a man of the highest
integrity, but who, being unwilling to subscribe to the "civic
oath" then exacted from the clergy, retired and spent several
years in retreat, from where he was later called by the Emperor
to fill one of the highest positions in the university.

All the other Benedictines at Soreze took the oath: Dom Ferlus
became Principal and Dom Abal Vice-Principal, and the college, in
spite of the revolutionary upheavals, continued to operate,
following the excellent start which it had been given by Dom
Despaulx.

Later, however, a law having been passed requiring the
secularising of the monks and the sale of their property, the
days of the college seemed numbered; but many of the most
important men in the country had been educated there, and they
wanted it to be there for their children; the inhabitants of the
town, even the labourers and peasants, respected the good fathers
and realised that the destruction of the college would result in
the ruin of the area. So an arrangement was made whereby Dom
Ferlus would become the owner of the college and the immense
property which belonged to it. Nobody attended the auction, and
the Principal became, at a very modest price, the owner of the
huge monastery and the land which it owned.  The administrators
of the department gave him plenty of time to pay. Everyone lent
him assignats which he repaid with some loads of wood; the vast
farms of the estate furnished food for the college and, lacking
money, Dom Ferlus paid the external teachers in provisions, which
suited them very well at a time when famine was rife in France.

On the death of Dom Ferlus, the college passed into the hands of
his brother Raymond Ferlus, a former Oration, now married, a
third-rate poet and man of little capacity. The college went into
decline when the restoration of 1814 allowed back the Jesuits,
who were determined to wreak revenge on the Benedictines by
destroying the edifice which the latter had erected on the ruins
of their order.

The university took sides with the Jesuits. M. Raymond Ferlus
handed over the college to his son-in-law, M. Bernard, a former
artillery officer who had been one of my contempories. He knew
nothing about running such an establishment, and, besides that, a
host of other good colleges sprang up as rivals, and Soreze,
losing its importance from day to day, became one of the most
mediocre institutions of learning.

I return now to the time when I was at Soreze. I have told you
how Dom Ferlus saved the college from ruin, and how, upheld by
the care of this enlightened man, it was the only great
establishment of its kind left standing by the revolution. The
monks adopted lay clothing and the appellation "Citizen" replaced
that of "Dom." Apart from that, nothing essential was changed in
the college and it continued to exist peacefully in a corner of
France, while the country was most cruelly being torn to pieces.
I say that nothing essential had changed because the studies
followed their usual course, and there was no breakdown of order,
but it was impossible that the feverish agitation which reigned
outside should not be felt in the college. I will say also that
Dom Ferlus, with diplomatic skill, presented the appearance of
approving of what he could not prevent. The walls therefore were
covered with Republican slogans. It was forbidden to use the word
"Monsieur". The pupils went to the dining hall or on walks,
singing the Marseillaise or other Republican hymns; and as they
heard continually of the achievements of our armies, in which
some of the older pupils were even enrolled as volunteers, and as
they were brought up in a military atmosphere, (since, even
before the revolution, Soreze was a military college, where one
learned drill, horse-riding, fortification, and so on), all this
youth had, for some time, adopted a warrior-like stance and
spirit which had led to a slackening of good manners. Added to
which the uniform contributed greatly to give them a very strange
aspect. The scholars wore big shoes, which were cleaned only
every ten days, stockings of grey thread, plain brown trousers
and jacket, no waistcoat, shirts undone, and covered with stains
of ink and red pencil, no tie, nothing on the head, the hair in a
pig-tail, often undone, and the hands....! Like those of a
coal-heaver.

Imagine me, clean, polished, dressed in clothes of fine cloth,
neat and tidy, thrown into the midst of seven hundred urchins,
got up as imps, and who, on hearing a shout of "Here are some new
ones!" left their games and came, in a mob to gather round us,
staring as if we were strange animals.

My father embraced us and left...! I was in a state of utter
despair! Here I was, alone, alone for the first time in my life,
my brother being in the upper school while I was in the lower. We
were in the middle of winter. It was very cold, but according to
school rules, the pupils were never allowed a fire!

Nevertheless, the pupils at Soreze were well fed, especially for
that time; for in spite of the famine which was sweeping France,
the good administration of Dom Ferlus provided an abundance of
food. The everyday fare was certainly all that could be desired
for school-children. However the supper seemed to me to be most
niggardly, and the sight of the dishes put before me disgusted
me: but had I been offered ortolans, I would not have been
tempted, my heart was so full. The meal finished as it had begun,
with a patriotic song. We knelt down at the couplet of the
Marseillaise which begins "Amour sacre de la patrie"...Then we
filed out, as we had come in, to the sound of a drum, and we went
to the dormitories.

The pupils of the upper school had each his own room, in which he
was shut in for the night; those of the lower school slept four
to a room, of which each angle contained a bed. I was put with
Guiraud, Romestan and Lagarde, who were my companions at table,
and almost as new as I was. I was quite happy with this. They had
seemed to me to be nice children, which, in fact, they were. But
I was taken aback when I saw the smallness of my bed, the
thinness of the mattress, and what displeased me most, the iron
bed-stead. I had never seen anything like it. However everything
was very clean, and in spite of my dismay I slept soundly, worn
out by the shocks to my system which I had suffered on this
fateful day.

The next morning, the drum beat reveille, making a horrible noise
in the dormitories, which I thought was quite atrocious; but how
do you think I felt when I saw that, while I was asleep, someone
had removed my beautiful clothes, my fine stockings and my pretty
shoes, and had replaced them by the coarse garments and heavy
footwear of the school? I wept with rage.

Having told you of the first impressions which I experienced on
my entry into the college, I shall spare you the recital of all
the torments to which I was exposed during the next six months. I
had been too pampered by the mesdames Mongalvi not to suffer
mentally and physically in my new position. I became very
depressed, and had my constitution been less robust, I should
have become ill. This period was one of the most unhappy in my
life. In the long run, however, work and familiarity enabled me
to cope with the situation. I was very fond of the lessons in
French literature, in geography, and above all, in history, and I
made progress in these subjects. I became passable at Latin and
mathematics and at horsemanship and fencing. I was an expert at
fire-arms drill and took much pleasure in the manoeuvres of the
school battalion which was commanded by a retired captain.

At the time when I entered the college, the convention was
imposing its blood-stained sceptre over France. Representatives
of the people, on various missions, infested the provinces, and
almost all of these who were of any importance in the Midi came
to visit Soreze, whose title of "Military Academy" sounded
pleasing to their ears.

Citizen Ferlus had a particular talent for persuading them that
they must maintain an establishment devoted to educating a
numerous youth, "The hope of the country". So he obtained all
that he wanted.  Often they would send us great bundles of
brushwood, destined to supply the army, our Principal having
persuaded them that we were a part of it, and were, in effect,
its nursery.

These Representatives were received and fˆted like Sovereigns. On
their arrival, all the pupils were dressed in their military
uniforms; the battalion was paraded before them; a guard was
mounted at every gate as if in a military barracks. Little
tableaux were enacted which exuded the purest patriotism; one
sang national hymns, and when they visited the classes,
particularly those of history, an occasion was always found to
produce some tirade on the excellence of Republican government
and the patriotic virtues which derived from it. I can remember,
in this regard, an occasion when Representative Chabot, a former
Capuchin, questioned me on Roman history. He asked me what I
thought of Coriolanus, who finding himself wronged by his fellow
citizens, forgetful of his former services, withdrew to the
country of the Volscians, sworn enemies of the Romans. Dom Ferlus
and the teachers feared greatly that I might approve of the
Roman's conduct, but I blamed him, saying that a good citizen
must never bear arms against his country, nor dream of any
vengeance against her, no matter how justified his discontent.
The representative was so pleased with my answer that he patted
me on the back, and complemented the head of the college and the
teachers on the sound principles which they inculcated in their
pupils!

This little success did not diminish the dislike I had for these
representatives. The actions of the convention filled me with
horror. Young as I was, I had, already, enough sense to realise
that it was not necessary to wallow in French blood in order to
save the country, and that the guillotinades and massacres were
appalling crimes.

I shall not discuss here the system of oppression which ruled,
then, in our unhappy country; this is a matter of history; but I
may say that however strong the colours used to paint the horrors
of which these terrorists were capable, the picture will be less
lurid than the reality. Perhaps the most surprising thing is the
stupidity of the masses, who allowed themselves to be dominated
by men, the greater part of whom lacked any ability: for whatever
may have been said, almost all the members of the convention were
of more than ordinary mediocrity and their boasted unanimity
arose from the fear they had of one another, since in their
anxiety to avoid being guillotined themselves, they agreed with
anything which the ringleaders proposed.

I saw, during my exile in 1815, many members of the convention
who like me were forced to leave France. They were completely
lacking in back-bone, and assured me that they voted for the
death of Louis XVI and a host of odious decrees solely to save
their own skins. The memory of these times has convinced me that
the worst form of government is that by the masses.

Chap. 5.

I reached the age of sixteen in August 1798. Six months later,
towards the end of February, I left the college of Soreze.

My father had a friend named M. Dorignac, who offered to take me
with him to the capital. It took us eight days to reach Paris,
where we arrived in March 1799, on the day when the Odeon theatre
was burned down for the first time. The flames were visible far
off on the Orleans road, and I thought, in my simplicity, that
the light came from furnaces operating in the city. My father, at
that time, occupied a fine mansion in the Faubourg-St-Honore
road, number 87, on the corner with the little Rue Vert. I
arrived there at dinner time: all the family were gathered there.
It would be impossible for me to describe the joy which I felt at
seeing them all together! This was one of the happiest days of my
life!

We were now in the spring of 1799. The Republic still existed,
and the government was now composed of the Directorate of five
members, and two chambers, one of which was called the Council of
Elders, and the other the Council of Five Hundred

My father entertained many members of society. There I made the
acquaintance of his intimate friend, General Bernadotte, and some
of the outstanding men of the period, such as Joseph and Lucien
Bonaparte, and also Napper-Tandy, the Irish leader, who had taken
refuge in France. At my mother's house I frequently saw Madame
Bonaparte and sometimes Madame De Sta‰l, already celebrated for
her literary works.

I had been in Paris for only about a month, when the term of the
legislature expired. It was necessary to hold new elections. My
father, fed up with the constant wrangling of political life, and
regretting that he was not taking any part in the army's
achievements, declared that he would no longer accept nomination
as a deputy, and that he wished to return to active service.
Events turned out in his favour. On the assembly of the new
Chambers there was a change of minister. General Bernadotte
became minister for war. He had promised my father that he would
send him to the army of the Rhine, and my father was about to set
off for Mainz, when the directory, learning of the defeat
suffered by the army of Italy, commanded by Scherer, appointed as
his successor, General Joubert, who commanded the 17th division,
(now the 1st,) in Paris.

This post having now become vacant, the directory, realising that
its great political importance required that it should be filled
by someone of capacity and determination, instructed the minister
for war to offer it to my father. My father who had resigned from
the legislature only to resume active service, turned the offer
down; but on Bernadotte showing him the letter of appointment,
already signed, and saying that as a friend, he begged him to
accept, and as a minister, he ordered him, my father gave in, and
the next day he went to install himself in the headquarters of
the Paris division, situated, at that time in the Quai Voltaire,
at the corner of the Rue de Saint-Peres, and which has since been
demolished. My father took as his chief of staff his old friend
Col. Menard. I was delighted by all the military suite with which
my father was surrounded. His headquarters were never empty of
officers of all ranks. A squadron of cavalry, a battalion of
infantry and six field-guns were stationed before his portals,
and one saw a crowd of orderlies coming and going. This seemed to
me much more entertaining than the exercises and translations of
Soreze.

France, and in particular Paris, were, at this time, in a state
of much agitation. We were on the brink of catastrophe. The
Russians, commanded by the celebrated Souwaroff, had just entered
Italy, where our army had suffered a major defeat at Novi, where
General Joubert had been killed. The victor, Souwaroff, was
heading for our army of Switzerland, commanded by Massena.

We had few troops on the Rhine. The peace conference begun at
Rastadt had broken down and our ambassadors had been
assassinated; now all Germany was arming once more against us,
and the Directory, fallen into disfavour, had neither troops nor
the money to raise them. In order to procure funds it decreed a
forced loan, which had the effect of turning everyone against it.
All hopes were pinned on Massena's ability to stop the Russians
and prevent them from entering France. The directory, impatient,
sent him courier after courier, ordering him to join battle; but
this latter-day Fabius, unwilling to risk the safety of his
country, was waiting for some false move, on the part of his
impetuous adversary, to give him the opportunity for victory.

At this point, I shall relate an anecdote which demonstrates on
how fine a thread sometimes hangs the destiny of states and the
reputation of generals. The directory, exasperated to see that
Massena did not obey the repeated commands to engage in battle,
resolved to relieve him of his post; but, as it was feared that
this general would take no notice of the order and simply stuff
it in his pocket, if it was sent by an ordinary courier, the
minister for war was ordered to send a staff-officer, charged to
deliver, publicly, to Massena his demotion, and to give to his
chief of staff, Cherin, the official letter which would confirm
him as commander-in-chief of the army.

When the minister told my father, in confidence, about these
plans, my father disapproved, saying that it would be dangerous,
on the eve of a decisive action, to deprive the army of
Switzerland of a general in whom it had confidence, and give the
command to a general who was more used to administration than the
direction of troops in the field. In addition, the position of
the armies might change; and he thought it essential that the
mission was given to a man with enough wisdom to assess the state
of affairs, and who would not hand Massena his dismissal on the
eve of, or in the middle of a battle.

My father, eventually persuaded the minister to give the task to
M. Gault, his aide-de-camp, who, under the ostensible pretext of
going to see if the suppliers had delivered the number of horses
stipulated in their contract, would proceed to Switzerland with
the authority to retain or to hand out the order for the
dismissal of Massena, and the installing of general Cherin,
according to the circumstances which might lead him to judge
whether this would be useful or dangerous. This was an enormous
responsibility to confide to the prudence of a simple captain,
but M. Gault fully justified the faith my father had in him.

Arriving at the headquarters of the army of Switzerland five days
before the battle of Zurich, he found the troops so full of
confidence in Massena, and Massena himself so calm and
determined, that he had no doubts of success, and, maintaining
the deepest silence about his secret powers, he took part in the
battle of Zurich and then returned to Paris, without Massena
suspecting that this modest captain had in his hands the
authority which could have deprived him of the glory of one of
the finest victories of the century.

Had Massena been rashly dismissed, this would probably have led
to the defeat of General Cherin and the invasion of France by the
Russians, followed by the Germans, and perhaps finally to the
overrunning of Europe. General Cherin was killed at Zurich,
without being aware of the intentions of the government towards
him.

The victory of Zurich, although, it prevented the advance of the
enemy into the country, gave the Directory only a momentary
respite. The government was everywhere crumbling; no one had
confidence in it. The treasury was bankrupt; the Vendee and
Brittany were in open revolt; the interior stripped of troops;
the Midi in turmoil; the chamber of deputies squabbling among
themselves, and with the executive. In short, the state was on
the verge of disaster.

Everyone in politics recognised that a major change was necessary
and inevitable; but although all agreed on this point, opinions
differed as to the remedy to be employed. The old Republicans,
who upheld the constitution of year III, then still in force,
believed that it would be sufficient to change several members of
the Directory. Two of them were removed and replaced by MM.
Gohier and Moulins; but this was the feeblest of palliatives for
the calamities which afflicted the country, and it continued to
be shaken by anarchy.

It was then that several members of the Directory, amongst whom
was the well-known Sieyes, thought, as did many of the deputies
and the great majority of the public, that to save France it was
necessary to put the reins of government in the hands of someone
resolute and already distinguished by services given to the
state. It was realised, also, that this would have to be a
soldier who had great influence in the army, and who was able, by
re-arousing national enthusiasm, to lead our banners to victory
and chase away the foreigners who were preparing to cross our
frontiers.

To speak like this was to point to General Bonaparte, but at this
moment he was in Egypt, and the need was pressing. Joubert had
been killed in Italy. Messena, though famous for several
victories, was an excellent general at the head of an army in the
field, but in no way a politician. Bernadotte did not seem to
have the capacity or the wisdom to repair the country's fortunes.
The eyes of the reformers then turned to General Moreau; although
the weakness of his character and his indecisive conduct on the
18th Fructidor raised some fears about his ability to govern. It
is certain, however, that lacking an alternative, he was asked to
head the party which intended to overthrow the Directory, and was
offered the title of President or Consul. Moreau, a good fighting
soldier, lacked political courage, and perhaps doubted his own
ability to cope with affairs in such a mess as were those of
France. Also he was self-centered and indolent and worried little
about the future of the country, preferring the repose of private
life to the agitation of politics. He refused the offer and
retired to his estate of Grosbois, to devote himself to hunting,
of which he was passionately fond.

Abandoned by the man of their choice, Sieyes and those with him,
who wished to change the form of the government, not feeling
themselves to be sufficiently strong or popular to achieve their
aim without the support of a general whose name would rally the
army to their side, were forced to turn their thoughts to General
Bonaparte.  The leader of this enterprise, Sieyes, flattered
himself that, having been placed in power, Bonaparte would busy
himself with the management and re-organising of the army, and
leave to him the conduct of the government, of which he would be
the master and Bonaparte but the nominal head. Events showed how
badly he was mistaken.

Imbued with this notion, Sieyes, through the intermission of the
Corsican deputy, Salicetti, sent a reliable secret agent to
Egypt, to inform General Bonaparte of the troubled state of
France, and propose to him that he should come back and place
himself at the head of the government. Having no doubt that
Bonaparte would accept readily and return promptly to Europe,
Sieyes put everything in motion to assure the execution of the
coup d'etat which he was planning.

It was easy for him to convince his fellow director,
Roger-Duclos, that their power was slipping away daily, and that
the country being on the brink of complete disorganisation, the
public welfare, and their personal interests, demanded that they
should take part in the establishment of a strong government, in
which they would contrive to place themselves in a less
precarious and more advantageous position.

Roger-Duclos promised his agreement to the proposed changes; but
the other three directors, Barras, Gohier and Moulins were
unwilling to give up their positions, so Sieyes and the leaders
of his party resolved to go over their heads, and to sacrifice
them after the event.

However, it would be difficult, not to say dangerous, even with
the presence of General Bonaparte, to overthrow the Directorate,
change the constitution and establish a new government, without
the support of the army, and, above all, that of the division
which occupied Paris. To be able to rely on this, it was
necessary to be sure of the co-operation of the minister for war
and of the general commanding the 17th division.

President Sieyes then sought to win over Bernadotte and my
father, by having them sounded out by several deputies who were
their friends and also supporters of Sieyes's plans. I have
learned since that my father replied to the vague overtures which
were put to him on behalf of the crafty Sieyes by saying that he
agreed that the country's misfortunes demanded a drastic remedy,
but that, having sworn to maintain the constitution of year III,
he would not use the authority he had over his troops to lead
them to its overthrow. He then went to Sieyes and handed in his
resignation as commander of the Paris division, and requested a
posting to a division on active service. Sieyes hastened to fall
in with his wishes, being only too glad to get rid of a man whose
devotion to what he saw as his duty, might abort the projected
coup. The minister, Bernadotte followed my father's example, and
was replaced by Dubois-Crance.

President Sieyes was, for some days, at a loss to find a
successor to my father. In the end, he gave the command to
general Lefebvre, who, having recently been wounded in the army
of the Rhine, was at that moment in the capital. Lefebvre was a
former sergeant in the Guards, a brave soldier, a good,
workmanlike general, provided that he was closely supervised, but
credulous in the extreme, with no understanding of the political
situation in France. So, by careful use of the words "Glory,"
"Motherland," and " Victory, " One could be sure of making him do
whatever one wished. This was just the sort of commander that
Sieyes was looking for. He did not even take the trouble to win
him over, or to warn him of what was about to happen, so sure was
he that on the day Lefebvre would not resist the influence of
General Bonaparte, and the cajoleries of the president of the
directorate.

He had made an accurate assessment of Lefebvre, for on the 18th
Brumaire, he placed himself and all his troops under the command
of General Bonaparte, to march against the Directorate and the
Councillors, to throw down the established government and create
the Consulate. This action made him, later, one of the Emperor's
greatest favourites. He was made a marshal, Duke of Danzig and
senator and was showered with riches.

I have rapidly outlined these events, because they explain some
of the reasons which led my father to Italy: a move which had
such a profound effect on his destiny and mine.

Chap. 6.

After handing over his command to General Lefebvre, my father
returned to his house in the Faubourg St. Honore and busied
himself with preparations for his departure to Italy.

A man's destiny is often influenced by the smallest of events. My
father and mother were very friendly with M. Barairon, the
director of registration, and one day, when they were going to
dine with him, they took me along. The talk was of my father's
coming departure, and the progress of my two younger brothers. At
last, M. Barairon asked, "And Marcellin, what are you going to
make of him?" "A sailor," replied my father, "Captain Sibille has
agreed to take him with him to Toulon." Then the good Mme.
Barairon, towards whom I have always felt the warmest gratitude,
observed to my father that the French navy was in complete
disarray, that the poor state of the country's finances would not
allow its rapid refurbishment, and, furthermore, its inferiority
vis-…-vis the English navy was such that it would spend most of
its time in harbour. She said that she could not think why he, a
divisional general, would put his son into the navy, instead of
placing him in a regiment, where the name and services of his
father would make him welcome. She ended by saying, "Take him to
Italy, sooner than send him to die of boredom, in a vessel shut
up in Toulon harbour."

My father, who had been briefly enticed by Capt. Sibille's
proposition, was too intelligent not to appreciate Mme.
Barairon's reasoning. "Well then," he asked me, "Do you want to
come to Italy with me and serve in the army?" I put my arms round
him and accepted, with a joy which my mother shared, for she had
not been in favour of my father's first idea.

As, at that time, there was no military academy, and one could
join the army only as a private soldier, my father took me right
away to the municipality of the first arrondissment, in the Place
Beauvau, and had me enlisted in the 1st Hussars, (formerly the
Bercheny), who were part of the division which he was going to
command in Italy. It was September the 3rd, 1799.

My father took me to a tailor, who had the job of making official
army uniforms, and ordered for me a complete outfit for a Hussar
of the 1st. As well as all the arms and equipment.

There I was!....A soldier!.....And was I not happy? But my
happiness was somewhat lessened when I reflected that this was
going to upset my brother Adolphe, two years older than me, and
still stuck in college. I then had the idea that I would not tell
Adolphe about my enlistment without telling him, at the same
time, that I wanted to spend with him the period which would have
to pass before my departure. I then asked my father if he would
allow me to be installed close to Adolphe, at Sainte-Barbe, until
the day when we would take the road for Italy. My father
understood the reason for my asking, and thought well of me for
it. He took me, the next day to stay with a M. Lanneau.

Can you imagine my arrival at college?...It was a recreation
period. All games stopped. All the pupils, big and small,
surrounded me. They vied with each other to touch part of my
equipment....In short, the Hussar was a complete success!

The day of the departure arrived....I said farewell to my mother
and my three brothers with the greatest sadness, in spite of the
pleasure I felt on starting a military career.

Chap. 7.

After my father had accepted a command in Italy, a division
became vacant in the army of the Rhine, which he would have
preferred; but an inescapable fate drew him towards the country
where he would find his grave.

One of his compatriots, and a personal friend, M. Lacheze, whom I
might call his evil genius, had for a long time been French
consul at Leghorn and Genoa, where he had business interests.
This wretched man, in order to lure my father to Italy, was
forever painting the most exaggerated picture of the country's
beauties, and pointing out the credit which might be gained by
dealing successfully with the difficult situation in the army
there, whereas there would be little opportunity to acquire
distinction in the army of the Rhine, where all was well. My
father was swayed by this specious reasoning, and believing that
there was more merit in going to the more dangerous post, he
persisted in his intention of going to Italy, in spite of the
objections of my mother, who had a secret presentiment which made
her wish for my father to go to the Rhine. This presentiment was
not false. She never saw her husband again!

To his present aide-de-camp, Captain Gault, my father now added
another officer, M. R*** who had come to him from his friend
General Augereau. M. R*** had the rank of major. He was a member
of a Maintenon family and had some ability and some education,
which he very rarely employed; for in a stupid manner, which was
then quite common, he swaggered about, forever cursing and
swearing, and talking of running people through with his sabre.
This bully-boy had only one virtue, very rare at this time: he
was always turned out with the greatest elegance. My father, who
had taken on M. R*** without knowing anything about him, now much
regretted it; but he could not send him back without upsetting
his old friend, Augereau. Although my father disliked him, he
thought, perhaps rightly, that a general should make use of the
military qualities of an officer, without worrying too much about
his personal manners; but, as he did not care to have the company
of M. R*** on a long journey, he had given him the job of taking
his coaches and horses from Paris to Nice, having under his
orders the old stud-groom, Spire, a highly responsible man, used
to the management of stables. The stable was large: my father had
fifteen horses, which with those of his aide-de-camp and of his
chief-of-staff and his assistants, together with those for the
wagons and so on, made up a fairly large group of which R*** was
the leader.

They left a month before we did.

My father took in his coach the fatal M. Lacheze, Captain Gault
and me. Colonel Menard, the chief-of- staff, followed, with one
of his assistants, in a post-chaise. A big rascal, my father's
valet, went ahead as a courier. We travelled in uniform. I had a
fine forage cap which pleased me so much that I wore it all the
time, but, as I put my head out of the coach window frequently,
because the coach made me travel-sick, it so happened that during
the night, when my companions were asleep, the cap fell into the
road. The coach, drawn by six vigourous horses, was going at top
speed. I did not dare have it stopped and so I lost my cap. A bad
omen! But I was to suffer far worse things in the terrible
campaign which we were about to undertake. This incident upset me
a good deal, but I said nothing about it for fear of being
chaffed about the way the new soldier was looking after his kit.

My father stopped at Macon, at the house of an old friend. We
spent twenty-four hours there and then continued our journey to
Lyons. We were not more than a few leagues from there, and were
changing horses at the post-house of Limonest, when we noticed
that all the postilions had decorated their hats with tricolour
ribbons, and that there were flags of the same colours hanging
from all the windows. We asked the reason for this demonstration,
and were told that General Bonaparte had just arrived in
Lyons...!

My father, who was certain that Bonaparte was still in the depths
of Egypt, treated this news as absurd, but he was taken aback
when, having sent for the post master, who had just returned from
Lyons, he was told, "I saw General Bonaparte, whom I know very
well, because I served under his command in Italy. He is staying
in some hotel in Lyon, and has with him his brother Louis,
Generals Berthier, Lannes and Murat, as well as a great, number
of officers, and a Mameluke."

This could hardly have been more positive; however the revolution
had given rise to so many falsehoods, and factions had been so
cunning in inventing stories which would serve their ends, that
my father was still in doubt when we entered the suburbs of Lyon.
All the houses were draped with flags. Fireworks were going off.
The crowd filled the streets to the point of preventing our coach
from moving. There was dancing in the public squares and the air
rang with cries of "Vive Bonaparte. Saviour of the country!" It
was evident that Bonaparte was indeed in Lyon. My father said, "I
was well aware that he was to be sent for, but I did not think it
would be so soon. The coup has been well organised, and there are
great events to come. I feel sure that I was right to leave
Paris. At least, in the army I can serve the country without
taking part in a coup, which, however necessary, I find
repugnant." Having said this, he fell into a deep reverie, which
lasted for the long time it took us to work our way through the
crowds to the hotel where our rooms had been prepared.

The nearer we got to the hotel, the thicker the crowd became, and
when we reached the door we saw that it was hung about with
Chinese lanterns and guarded by Grenadiers. It was here that
General Bonaparte was staying, in rooms that had been booked a
week before for my father.

Although quick-tempered, my father did not say a word when the
hotelier, who had been compelled to obey the orders of the
municipality, came with some embarrassment to make his excuses.
The inn-keeper having added that he had arranged for our
accommodation at another hotel....very good, though of second
grade....and run by one of his relatives, my father simply asked
Capt. Gault to tell the postilion to take us there.

When we arrived, we were met by our courier, a lively fellow,
who, heated by the long journey he had just made and the numerous
drinks he had downed at each post-house had complained most
loudly when he found that the rooms booked for his master had
been given to General Bonaparte. The latter's aides-de-camp
hearing this uproar and learning the cause, went to warn their
master that General Marbot had been displaced to make room for
him, and, at the same time, General Bonaparte saw through his
open window my father's two coaches pull up at the door.

He had not been aware, until then, of the shabby way in which my
father had been treated; and as General Marbot, recently
commandant of Paris, and now a divisional commander in Italy was
too important a man to be treated unceremoniously, and also as
General Bonaparte had good reason to make himself popular with
everybody, he ordered one of his officers to go down straight
away and ask General Marbot to come, as a fellow soldier, and
share his accommodation. Then, seeing the coaches leave before
his aide-de-camp could speak to my father, Bonaparte went
immediately, on foot, to offer his regrets in person.

The crowd which followed him set up a great noise of cheering,
which, as it drew near our hotel, should have warned us, but we
had heard so much since coming to the town that it did not occur
to one of us to look out of the window. We were all in the
drawing-room where my father was striding up and down, deep in
thought, when the valet-de-chambre, opening the double doors,
announced, "The General Bonaparte."

On entering, he hurried to embrace my father, who received him
very politely, but coolly. They had known each other for a long
time.

The explanations about the lodgings could be disposed of in a few
words between two such people, and so they were. They had much
else to talk about; so they went alone into the bedroom, where
they remained in conference for more than an hour.

During this time, the officers who had come with General
Bonaparte chatted with us in the drawing-room. I never tired of
examining their martial appearance, their sun-bronzed faces,
their strange uniforms and their Turkish sabres, hung from cords.
I listened with interest to their stories of the campaign in
Egypt, and the battles which were fought there. I took pleasure
in hearing them talk of such celebrated places as the Pyramids,
the Nile, Cairo, Alexandria, Acre, the desert and so on. What
delighted me most, however, was the sight of the young Mameluke,
Rustum. He had stayed in the ante-chamber, where I went several
times to admire his costume, which he showed me willingly. He
already spoke reasonable French, and I never wearied of asking
him questions.

General Lannes recalled having let me fire his pistols, when, in
1793, he was serving under my father in the camp at Miral. He was
very friendly toward me, and neither of us then foresaw that one
day I should be his aide-de-camp, and that he would die in my
arms at Essling. General Murat came from the same region as we
did, and as he had been a shop-assistant to a silk merchant at
Saint-Cere during the period when my family spent the winter
there, he had often come to the house, bringing purchases to my
mother. My father, also, had rendered him a number of services,
for which he was always grateful.  He gave me a hug, and reminded
me that he had often held me in his arms, when I was an infant.

General Bonaparte and my father having come back into the room,
they presented to one another the members of their suites.
Generals Lannes and Murat were old acquaintances of my father,
who welcomed them with great affability. He was a little distant
with General Berthier, whom, however he had seen before, when he
was in the bodyguard and Berthier was an engineer.

General Bonaparte, who knew my mother, asked me, very politely,
for news of her. He complimented me most warmly on having, while
yet so young, taken up a military career, and taking me gently by
the ear, which was always the most flattering caress which he
bestowed on those with whom he was pleased, he said to my father,
"One day this will be a second General Marbot." This prediction
came true, although at that time I had no expectation of it.
However I was very proud of these words. It takes so very little
to make a child feel pleased with himself.

When the visit was over, my father disclosed nothing of what had
been said between him and General Bonaparte; but I learned later
that Bonaparte, without stating his objectives clearly, had
sought, by the most adroit cajolements, to win my father over to
his side, and that, my father had always dodged the issue.

Disgusted at seeing the people of Lyon running in front of
Bonaparte, as if he was already the sovereign of France, my
father declared that he wanted to leave at dawn the next day; but
as his coaches needed some repairs, he was forced to spend an
entire day at Lyon. I profited from this to have a new forage cap
made, and, enchanted with this purchase, I took no notice of the
political conversations, about which, to tell the truth, I
understood little.

My father went to return the visit he had received from General
Bonaparte. They walked alone for a very long time in the hotel's
little garden, while their suites remained respectfully at a
distance. We saw them sometimes gesture with warmth, and at other
times speak more calmly; then Bonaparte, with a wheedling look,
went up to my father and put his arm through his in a friendly
fashion, probably so that the officials who were in the courtyard
and the many spectators who hung out of neighbouring windows
might conclude that General Marbot agreed with the plans of
General Bonaparte; for this crafty man neglected nothing to
achieve his aims.

My father came away from this second conversation even more
pensive than he had been after the first, and on coming back to
the hotel, he ordered our departure for the next day.
Unfortunately, the next day, General Bonaparte was to make an
excursion round the town  to inspect the heights suitable for
fortification, and all the post-horses were reserved for him. I
thought that at this blow my father would become angry, but he
contented himself by saying, "There is the beginning of
omnipotence." And told his staff to see if they could hire any
horses, so keen was he to get away from the town and from the
sights which offended him. No spare horses could be found. Then
Col. Menard, who was born in the Midi, and knew the district
perfectly, observed that the road from Lyon to Avignon was in
such a poor state of repair that the coaches might be badly
damaged if they attempted it, and it would be better to embark
them on the Rhone, the descent of which would offer us an
enchanting spectacle. My father, who was no great lover of the
picturesque, would, at any other time, have rejected this advice,
but as it gave him the opportunity to leave the town a day
earlier, he agreed to take to the Rhone.

Col. Menard then hired a large boat, the coaches were put on
board, and the next day, early in the morning, we all embarked: a
decision which was very nearly the end of us.

It was autumn. The water was very low. All the time the boat
touched and scraped along the bottom. One feared that it might be
torn open. We slept the first night at Saint-Peray, next at Tain,
and took two days to get as far down as the junction with the
Drome. There we had much more water, and went along rapidly; but
a dangerous high wind called the Mistral hit us when we were
about a quarter league above the bridge known as Pont
Saint-Esprit. The boatmen were unable to reach the bank. They
lost their heads, and set themselves to praying instead of
working, while a furious wind and a strong current were driving
the boat towards the bridge! We were about to crash against the
pier of the bridge and be sunk, when my father and all of us,
taking up boat-hooks, hurried forward to fend off from the pier
which we were about to strike.

The shock was so severe that it knocked us into the thwarts, but
the push had changed the direction of the boat, which, by a
miraculous piece of good fortune, shot through under the arch.
The boatmen then recovered a little from their terror and resumed
some sort of control of their boat; but the Mistral continued,
and the two coaches offering a resistance to the wind made any
manoeuvre almost impossible. At last, six leagues above Avignon,
we went aground on a very large island, where the bow of the boat
dug into the sand in such a way that it would not be possible to
get it out without a gang of labourers, and we were listing over
so far that we feared being swamped at any moment. We put some
planks between the boat and the shore and, with the help of some
rope, we all got ashore without accident, though with some
difficulty.

There could be no thought of re-embarking in the very high
wind,(although without rain), and so we pushed on into the
interior of the island, which we thought at first was
uninhabited; but eventually we came across a sort of farm, where
we found some good folk who made us very welcome. We were dying
of hunger, but it was impossible to go back to the boat for food,
and all we had was a little bread.

We were told that the island was full of poultry, which was
allowed to run wild, and which the peasants shot, when they
wanted some. My father was very fond of shooting, and he needed
some relaxation from his problems, so we borrowed guns from the
peasants, some pitch-forks and sticks, and we set off on a hen
shoot. We shot several, though it was not easy to hit them as
they flew like pheasants. We also picked up many of their eggs in
the woods. When we returned to the farm, we lit a big fire in the
middle of a field, around which we set up a bivouac, while the
valet, helped by the farmer, prepared the eggs and the chickens
in a variety of ways.  We supped well and then bedded down on
some hay, no one daring to accept the beds which the good
peasants offered us, as they seemed to us to be far from clean.

By day-break the wind had dropped, so all the peasants and the
boatmen took spades and picks, and after several hours of hard
work they got the boat afloat, enabling us to continue our
journey towards Avignon, which we reached without any further
accidents. Those that had befallen us were so embroidered in the
telling, that the rumour reached Paris that my father and all his
staff had been drowned.

The approach to Avignon, particularly when one comes down the
Rhone, is very picturesque. The old Papal Chateau; the ramparts
by which the city is surrounded; its numerous steeples and the
Chateau de Villeneuve rising opposite, combine to make a fine
prospect. At Avignon we met Mme. Menard and one of her nieces,
and we spent three days in the town, visiting the charming
outskirts, including the fountain of Vaucluse. My father was in
no hurry to leave, because M. R*** h d written to say that the
very hot weather,still persisting in the Midi,had forced him to
slow the pace of his march and my father did not wish to arrive
before his horses.

From Avignon we headed for Aix, but when we reached Bompart, on
the banks of the Durance, which, at that time, was crossed by a
ferry, we found the river so swollen by flood, that it would not
be possible to cross for at least five or six hours. We were
debating whether to return to Avignon, when the operator of the
ferry, a gentlemanly sort of person, who owned a charming little
castle on the height some five hundred paces from the river bank,
came and begged my father to rest there until the coaches could
be embarked. He accepted, hoping that it would be for a few hours
only; but it appeared that there had been heavy storms in the
Alps, where the Durance has its source, for the river continued
to rise all day, and we were compelled to accept lodging for the
night, which was offered most cordially by the owner of the
castle. The weather being fine we spent the day walking. It was a
break in our travels which I enjoyed.

The next day, seeing that the flood-water was running even more
rapidly than the evening before, our host, who was a devout
Republican, and who knew the river well enough to judge that we
would not be able to cross for twenty-four hours, hurried off,
unknown to us, to the little town of Cavaillon, which is about
two leagues from Bompart, on the same bank of the river. He had
gone to inform all the "Patriots" of the locality that he had in
his house divisional General Marbot. He then returned to the
castle, where, an hour or so later, we saw the arrival of a
cavalcade composed of the keenest "Patriots" of Cavaillon, who
had come to beg my father to accept an invitation to a banquet,
which they offered him in the name of all the notables of the
town, "Always so staunchly Republican."

My father, who found these sort of occasions far from agreeable,
at first refused; but these "Citoyens" were so insistent, saying
that everything had been organised and that the guests had
gathered, that my father gave in and went off to Cavaillon.

The best hotel had been decked with garlands, and was graced by
the presence of the local dignitaries from the town and its
outskirts. After an interminable number of compliments, we took
our places at a table laden with the most exclusive dishes. Above
all, there were ortolans, birds which thrive well in this part of
the country.

A great many toasts were drunk. Virulent speeches were made,
denouncing the "Enemies of liberty" and the dinner did not end
until ten o'clock in the evening. It was a little late to return
to Bompart, and anyway, my father could not with politeness leave
his hosts the moment the meal was over. He decided then to spend
the night at Cavaillon, and the rest of the evening was passed in
rather noisy talk. Eventually, one by one, the guests went home
and we were left alone.

The next morning, M. Gault asked the inn-keeper how much my
father owed for his part in the immense feast of the night
before, which he assumed was a communal meal in which each paid
for his own share.  The inn-keeper presented him with a bill of
more than 1500 francs.  The good "Patriots" not having paid a
single sou!...We were told that though some had expressed a wish
to pay, the great majority had replied that this would be "An
insult to General Marbot"....!

Capt. Gault was furious at this procedure, but my father, who at
first could not get over his astonishment, burst into laughter,
and told the inn-keeper to go and collect the money at Bompart,
to where we returned straight away, without saying a word of this
to the chatelaine; whose servants we tipped handsomely, and then,
taking advantage of the fall in the water level, we at last
crossed the Durance and made our way to Aix.

Although I might not yet be of an age to discuss politics with my
father, what I had heard him say led me to believe that his
Republican ideas had been much modified over the preceding two
years, and what he had experienced as a supposed guest of honour
at Cavaillon had severely shaken them, but he did not display any
ill-feeling on the subject of this banquet, and was even amused
at the anger of M. Gault, who said repeatedly, "I am not
surprised that, in spite of their cost, these scoundrels produced
so many ortolans, and ordered so many bottles of good wine! "

After spending a night at Aix, we left for Nice. This was the
last stage of our journey. While we were travelling through the
mountain and the beautiful forest of Esterel, we encountered the
Colonel of the 1st Hussars, who, escorted by an officer and
several troopers, was taking some lame horses, returned by the
army, back to the depot at Puy-en-Velay. This colonel was named
M. Picart and had been given his command because of his
administrative ability. He was sent frequently to the depot to
arrange for the equipment of men and horses, which he then
forwarded to the fighting units, where he appeared but rarely and
did not stay for long.

When he saw Col. Picart, my father had the coach stopped and got
out, and after presenting me to my colonel, he took him on one
side, and asked him to name an intelligent and well educated
non-commissioned officer who might be made my mentor. The Colonel
named Sergeant Pertelay. My father made a note of the name, and
we continued on our way to Nice; where we found M.R*** settled in
an excellent hotel, with our coaches and horses in first-class
order.

Chap. 8.

The town of Nice was full of troops, among which was a squadron
of the 1st Hussars, to which regiment I belonged. In the absence
of its colonel, the regiment was commanded by a Major Muller. On
learning that the divisional general had arrived, Muller came to
see my father, and it was agreed between them that, after a few
days rest, I should begin my service in the seventh company,
commanded by Capt. Mathis.

Although my father was very good to me, I was so much in awe of
him that I was very shy in his presence, a shyness which he
thought was greater than was really the case; he said I should
have been a girl, and often called me madamoiselle Marcellin,
which annoyed me very much, especially now that I was a Hussar.
It was to overcome this shyness, that my father wished me to
serve in the ranks, and in any case, as I have already said, one
could not join the army except as a private soldier. My father,
it is true, could have attached me to his personal staff, since
my regiment was part of his division, but, quite apart from the
notion which I have described above, he wanted me to learn how to
saddle and bridle my own horse and to look after my arms and
equipment; also, he did not want his son to enjoy the least
privilege, as this would have had a bad effect on the rest of the
troops. It was already enough that I was to be allowed to join a
squadron without undergoing a long and wearisome period of
training at the depot. I passed several days with my father and
his staff, travelling about the district round Nice, which was
very beautiful, but the moment for my entry into the squadron
having arrived, my father asked Major Muller to send him Sergeant
Pertelay.

Now, there were two brothers of this name in the regiment, both
of them sergeants, but having nothing else, physically or
mentally in common, the elder being something of a scamp, while
the younger was thoroughly respectable. It was this latter whom
the colonel had intended to appoint as my mentor, but in the
short time which he and my father had spent together, Col. Picart
had forgotten, when naming Pertelay, to add the younger:
furthermore, this Pertelay was not in the part of the squadron
which was stationed in Nice, while the elder was in the very
company, the seventh, which I was about to join.

Major Muller believed that the colonel had named the elder to my
father and that this wild character had been chosen to open the
eyes of an innocent and shy young man, which I then was. So he
sent us the elder Pertelay.

This example of the old type of Hussar was a rowdy, quarrelsome,
swashbuckling, tippler, but also brave to the point of
foolhardiness; for the rest, he was completely ignorant of
anything that was not connected with his horse, his arms and his
duties in the face of the enemy. Pertelay the younger, on the
other hand, was quiet, polite, and well-educated. He was a
handsome man and just as brave as his brother, and would surely
have gone far had he not, while still very young, been killed in
action.

Now to return to the elder. He arrived at my father's quarters,
and what did we see? A fine fellow, very well turned out it is
true, but with his shako tipped over one ear, his sabre trailing
on the ground, his red face slashed by an immense scar,
moustaches six inches long, which, stiffened by wax, curled up
into his ears, two big plaits of hair, braided from his temples,
which, escaping from his shako, hung down to his chest, and with
all this an air...! An air of rakishness which was increased by
his speech, which was rattled out in a sort of Franco-Alsatian
patois. This last did not surprise my father, as he knew that the
1st Hussars were the former regiment of Bercheny, which in
earlier days recruited only Germans, and where, until 1793, all
the orders were given in German, which was the language generally
used by the officers and men, almost all of whom came from the
provinces bordering the Rhine. My father was however exceedingly
surprised by the style and manner of my proposed mentor.

I learned later that he had hesitated to put me in the hands of
this bravo, but M. Gault having reminded him that Colonel Picart
had described him as the best N.C.O.in the squadron, he decided
to try it. So off I went with Pertelay, who, taking me by the arm
without ceremony, came to my room, showed me how to pack my kit
into my valise, and conducted me to a small barracks, situated in
a former monastery, and now occupied by a squadron of the 1st
Hussars.

My mentor made me saddle and unsaddle the pretty little horse
which my father had bought me; then he showed me how to put on my
cloak and my arms, giving me a complete demonstration, and having
decided that he had explained to me all that was necessary, he
thought it time to go for dinner. My father, who wished me to eat
with my mentor, had given us extra money to meet the expense.

Pertelay took me to a small inn, which was crammed with Hussars,
Grenadiers and soldiers of every sort. We were served with a
meal, and on the table was placed an enormous bottle of red wine
of the most violent nature. Pertelay poured me a glassful. We
clinked glasses. My man emptied his and I raised mine without
putting it to my lips, for I had never drunk undiluted wine and I
found the smell of this liquid disagreeable. I admitted this to
my mentor, who shouted, in a stentorian voice, "Waiter! Bring
some lemonade for this boy who never drinks wine." A gale of
laughter swept through the room. I was mortified, but I could not
bring myself to taste this wine, and as I did not dare to ask for
water, I dined without a drink.

A soldier's apprenticeship has always been hard going. It was
particularly so at the time of which I write. I had, therefore,
some unhappy experiences to suffer. A thing I found unbearable
was the requirement to share my bed with another Hussar. The
regulations allotted only one bed for two soldiers. N.C.O.s alone
were allowed to have a bed each. On the first night which I spent
in the barracks, I had already gone to my bed when a tall,
ungainly Hussar, who arrived an hour after the others, approached
it, and seeing that it was occupied, he unhooked a lantern and
stuck it under my nose to examine me more closely. Then he got
undressed. As I watched him, I had no idea that he intended to
get in beside me; but I was soon disillusioned, when he said to
me roughly, "Shove over, conscript!" And got into the bed, taking
up three-quarters of it, and began to snore loudly. I was unable
to sleep a wink, largely because of the revolting odour arising
from a large package which my comrade had placed under the
bolster, to raise his head. I could not think what this could be,
so to find out, I slid my hand gently toward this object and
found it to be a leather apron impregnated with cobbler's wax,
which shoemakers use to treat their thread. My amiable bed
companion was one of the men employed by the regimental
bootmaker. I was so disgusted that I got up, got dressed, and
went to the stables where I bedded down on a heap of straw. The
next day I told Pertelay of my misadventure, and he reported it
to the sub-lieutenant commanding the platoon. He was a
well-educated man named Leisteinschneider (in German, a
stone-worker) who was later killed in action. He understood how
painful it must be for me to have to sleep with a bootmaker, and
he took it on himself to arrange for me to have a bed in the
N.C.O's room, something which pleased me greatly.

Although the revolution had produced a great relaxation in the
general turn-out of troops, the 1st Hussars had kept theirs
exactly as it was when they were Bercheny's Hussars; so except
for the physical differences imposed by nature, all troopers had
to resemble one another in their appearance, and as the regiments
of Hussars of that period had not only pig-tails, but long
plaited tresses which hung from their temples and turned-up
moustaches, it was the rule that everyone belonging to the
regiment must have moustache, pig-tail and tresses. Now, as I had
none of these things, my mentor took me to the regimental
wig-maker where I bought a false pig-tail and tresses, which were
attached to my own hair, already fairly long, as I had let it
grow since my enlistment. These embellishments embarrassed me at
first but I got used to them in a few days, and it pleased me to
imagine that they gave me the appearance of a seasoned trooper.
It was a different matter when it came to the moustache I had no
more of a moustache than a girl, and as a hairless face would
have spoiled the ranks of the squadron, Pertelay, as was the
custom of Bercheny, took a pot of black wax, and with his thumb
he gave me an enormous curling moustache, which covered my upper
lip and reached almost to, my eyes. The shakos of the time did
not have a vizor, so that, when I was on guard duty, or during an
inspection, when one has to remain perfectly still, the Italian
sun, shining hotly onto my face, sucked the moisture out of the
wax of which my moustache was made, and, as it dried it pulled at
my skin in a most disagreeable manner. However, I did not blink.
I was a Hussar! A word that had for me an almost magical
significance; besides which, having engaged in a military career,
I understood very well that my first duty was to obey the
regulations.

My father and part of his division were still in Nice, when we
heard of the events of the 18th Brumaire, the overthrow of the
Directorate and the establishment of the Consulate. My father had
too much contempt for the Directorate to regret its downfall, but
he feared that, intoxicated by power, General Bonaparte, after
re-establishing order in France, would not restrict himself to
the modest title of consul, and he predicted to us that in a
short time he would aim to become king. My father was mistaken
only in the title, four years later Napoleon made himself
emperor.

Whatever his misgivings about the future, my father congratulated
himself on not having been in Paris on the 18th Brumaire, and I
believe that had he been there he might well have opposed the
actions of General Bonaparte, but in the army, at the head of a
division facing the enemy, he was content to adopt the passive
obedience of the soldier. He even rejected proposals, which were
made to him by a number of generals and colonels, to march on
Paris at the head of their troops. "Who," he said to them, "will
defend our frontiers if we abandon them? And what will become of
France if, to the war against foreigners, we add the calamity of
civil strife?" By these wise observations he calmed down the
hot-heads; but he was, nonetheless, very disturbed by the coup
which had just taken place: he adored his country and would have
greatly preferred that it could have been saved without being
submitted to the yoke of a dictator.

I have said that my father's principle reason for making me
enlist as a lowly Hussar had been to rid me of the simple notions
of a schoolboy, which had not been changed by my short
acquaintance with the world of Paris. The result exceeded his
expectations, for living amongst swaggering Hussars, and having
as a mentor a sort of brigand who laughed at my innocence, I
began to howl with the wolves, and for fear that I might be
mocked for my timidity, I became a real devil. This, however, was
not enough for me to be accepted into a sort of brotherhood,
which under the name of the clique, had members in all the
squadrons the 1st Hussars.

The clique was made up of all the biggest rogues, but, at the
same time, some of the bravest men in the regiment. The members
of the clique supported one another against all opposition,
particularly in the face of the enemy. They called themselves the
Jokers, and recognised one another by a notch cut into the metal
of the first button on the right hand row of the pelisse and
dolman. The officers were aware of the existence of the clique,
but as its worst crimes were limited to the adroit theft of
chickens or sheep, or some trick played on the local inhabitants,
and as the Jokers were always at the forefront in any action,
they turned a blind eye. I was young and feckless, and I longed
desperately to belong to this raffish society, which I thought
would raise my standing amongst my comrades; but it was in vain
that I frequented the salle-d'armes to practice swordsmanship and
the use of the pistol and carbine, and that I dug my elbows into
anyone who got in my way: allowed my sabre to trail on the ground
and tipped my shako over one ear, the members of the clique
regarded me as a child and refused to admit me to their society.
However, an unforeseen event led to my being accepted
unanimously.

The army of Italy was at this time in Liguria and spread out on a
front of more than sixty miles in length, the right of which was
in the Gulf of Spezzia, beyond Genoa, and the left at Nice and
Var, that is to say on the frontier of France. We had, therefore,
the sea at our backs, and we faced Piedmont, which was occupied
by the Austrian army, from which we were separated by that branch
of the Apennines which runs from Var to Gavi: a bad position, in
which the army ran the risk of being cut in two, which, in fact,
happened some months later.

My father, having been ordered to concentrate his division at
Savona, a small town, by the sea, ten leagues towards France from
Genoa, set up his headquarters in the bishop's palace. The
infantry was spread out among the market towns and villages of
the neighbourhood to keep watch on the valleys from which emerged
the roads which led to Piedmont. The 1st Hussars, who had come
from Nice to Savona, were encamped on a plain known as the
Madona. The outposts of the enemy were at Dego, four or five
leagues from us, on the forward slopes of the Apennines, whose
summits were covered in snow, whereas Savona and its surroundings
enjoyed the mildest of climates.

Our encampment would have been delightful if the rations had been
more plentiful; but there was at that time no main road from Nice
to Genoa; the sea was covered by English warships, so the army
had to live on what could be brought by detachments of mules
along the Corniche, or by small boat-loads, which could slip
unnoticed along the coast. These precarious supplies were
scarcely enough to provide, from day to day, sufficient food to
support the troops; but, happily, the country produced plenty of
wine, which enabled them to bear their privations with more
resignation.

One fine day I was walking along the beach with my mentor when we
came on a "taverna," where there was a charming garden planted
with orange and lemon trees, under which were tables at which sat
soldiers of all kinds. He suggested that we went there, and
although I had never overcome my distaste for wine, I agreed,
simply to please him.

In those days the cavalryman's belt did not have a hook, so that
when we went on foot, it was necessary to hold up the scabbard of
the sabre with one's left hand, and one could allow the end to
trail on the ground. This made a noise on the pavement, and
looked rather dashing, so of course I had to adopt this way of
doing things. Thus it happened that as we went into this garden,
the end of my scabbard came in contact with the foot of an
enormous horse-gunner, who was sprawled on his chair with his
legs sticking out. The horse artillery had been formed at the
beginning of the revolutionary wars from men taken from the
companies of Grenadiers, who took advantage of the occasion to
get rid of their most troublesome characters. The men of the
flying artillery, as it was then called, were known for their
dash, but also for their love of quarreling.

The one whose foot the end of my scabbard had touched, shouted to
me in a very rude tone of voice, "Hussar, your sabre drags too
much!" I was going to walk on without saying any thing, when
master Pertelay, nudging me with his elbow, whispered, "Tell him
to come and lift it up." So I said to the gunner "Come and lift
it up then!" "That will be easy!" he replied. Then, at another
whisper from Pertelay, "I'd like to see you do it!" I said. On
these words, the gunner, or this Goliath, for he was at least six
feet tall, sat up straight with a threatening air... But my
mentor pushed himself between him and me. All the gunners who
were in the garden came to support their comrade, but a crowd of
Hussars gathered beside Pertelay and me. There was a lot of angry
shouting with everyone talking at once; I thought there was going
to be a general melee. However as the Hussars were in a majority
of at least two to one, they took the matter the more calmly,
while the gunners realised that if they started something they
would get the worst of it, so in the end the giant was made to
understand that in brushing his foot with my scabbard, I had in
no way insulted him, and that should be the end of the matter.

During the tumult, however, a trumpeter from the artillery, of
about twenty years of age, had offered me some insults, and in my
indignation I had pushed him so roughly that he had fallen into a
muddy ditch. It was agreed that this lad and I should fight a
duel with our sabres.

We left the garden, followed by all the assistants, and found
ourselves by the edge of the sea, on fine solid sand, ready for
battle. Pertelay knew that I was quite a good swordsman; however
he gave me some words of advice on how I should attack my
adversary, and fastened the hilt of my sabre to my hand with a
large handkerchief, which he rolled round my arm.

My father hated duelling. Not only because of his own conclusions
about this barbarous custom, but also, I believe, because in his
youth, when he was a member of the bodyguard, he had acted as
second for a comrade of whom he was very fond, and who was killed
in a duel over the most trivial matter. However that may be, when
my father took command, he ordered the police to arrest anyone
caught engaging in swordplay and bring them before him.

Although the trumpeter and I both knew of this order, we had,
nevertheless, taken off our dolmans and taken up our sabres. I
had my back to the town of Savona, my adversary was facing it,
and we were about to begin our combat when I saw the trumpeter
duck to one side, pick up his dolman and make off at top speed.

"Coward!....Runaway!" I shouted, and was about to, pursue him
when two iron hands grasped me by the collar. I turned my head
and found myself facing some eight to ten police! I understood
then why my antagonist had cleared off, followed by all the
assistants, including master Pertelay, whom I saw disappearing
into the distance, as fast as their legs could carry them, for
fear of being arrested and brought before the General.

There I was! Disarmed and a prisoner! I picked up my dolman, and
looking very sheepish, followed my captors, to whom I had not
given my name, as they led me to the Bishop's palace where my
father was installed. He was at that moment with General Suchet,
who had come to Savona to confer with him on service matters.
They were walking in a gallery which overlooked the courtyard.
The police put me up before General Marbot, without any idea that
I was his son. The sergeant explained why I had been arrested.
Then my father, looking very severe, gave me a lively dressing
down, after which admonition, he said to the sergeant, "Take this
Hussar to the citadel." I left without saying a word, and without
General Suchet, who did not know me, suspecting that the scene he
had just witnessed had taken place between a father and his son.
It was not until the next day that he learned the truth, and he
has often spoken to me since, with laughter, about the episode.

On my arrival at the citadel, an ancient Genoese building
situated near the harbour, I was locked into a big room lit by a
high window, which faced toward the sea. I recovered slowly from
my fright. The reprimand which I had received seemed to me to be
deserved; however I was less concerned at having disobeyed the
General than I was at having upset my father. I passed the rest
of the day sadly enough.

In the evening, an old ex-soldier of the Genoan force brought me
a jug of water, a piece of ration bread, and a bale of straw, on
which I lay down, without being able to eat. I could not go to
sleep; at first because I was too upset, and later because of the
arrival of some large rats, which ran about me and soon made off
with my piece of bread. I was lying in the dark, a prey to my sad
reflections, when, at about ten o'clock, I heard the bolts of my
prison being drawn and I saw Spire, my father's old and faithful
servant. He told me that after my despatch to the citadel, Capt.
Gault, Col. Menard, and all my father's officers had asked him to
pardon me. The General had agreed, and had sent him, Spire, to
find me and take the order for my release to the governor of the
fort. I was taken before the governor, General Buget, an
excellent man, who had lost an arm in battle. He knew me and was
very fond of my father. He felt it his duty, after giving me back
my sabre, to give me a long lecture, to which I listened
patiently, but which made me reflect that I would get a much
worse telling-off from my father. I did not have the courage to
face this and decided to evade it, if that were possible.  At
last we were let out of the gates of the citadel. The night was
dark, and Spire went in front with a lantern. As we walked
through the narrow twisting streets, the good fellow, delighted
to be bringing me back, recounted all the comforts which would
await me at headquarters. "But," he said, "you must expect a
severe ticking-off from your father." This last remark put an end
to my doubts, and in order to let my father's anger cool off, I
decided it would be better not to appear before him for a few
days and that I would return to my bivouac at Madona. I could
easily have slipped away without playing any trick on poor Spire;
but fearing that he might be able to pursue me by the light of
his lantern, I gave it a kick which sent it flying ten paces from
him, and ran off while the good man, groping for his lantern,
shouted, "Ah...! You little blighter! I shall tell your father!"

After wandering for some time in the deserted streets, I found at
last the road to Madona, and made my way to the regimental camp.
All the Hussars thought I was in prison. As soon as one of them
recognised me by the light of the fires, I was surrounded and
questioned. There was much laughter when I described how I had
got away from Spire. The members of the clique were so satisfied
with my behaviour that they decided unanimously to admit me into
their society, which was preparing an expedition to go, that very
night, to the gates of Dego and steal a herd of cattle which
belonged to the Austrian army. The French Generals and even the
corps commanders were obliged to ignore these raids, which, in
the absence of regular rations, the soldiers carried out beyond
the advance posts in order to obtain food. In each regiment the
boldest soldiers had formed marauding bands who were marvellously
skilled at finding out where supplies were being assembled for
the enemy, and using ruse and audacity to lay hands on them.

A rascally horse-dealer had told the clique that a herd of cattle
which he had sold to the Austrians was in a meadow a quarter of a
league from Dego, and now sixty Hussars, armed only with their
carbines, were on their way to capture it. Avoiding the main
road, we went several leagues into the mountain by winding and
atrociously rough tracks. We surprised five Croats, who had been
left to guard the herd, asleep in a shed. To prevent them from
going to waken the garrison at Dego, we tied them up and left
them there. We drove away the herd without a shot being fired and
returned to the camp, tired out, but delighted to have played
such a successful trick on the enemy, and at the same time
acquired some food.

This event illustrates the already wretched condition of the army
of Italy, and demonstrates to what a state of disorganisation
such neglect will bring troops; whose officers are obliged not
only to tolerate these sort of expeditions, but to take advantage
of the supplies they procure without seeming to know whence they
come.

Chap. 9.

Happy in my military career, I had not even reached the rank of
corporal when I was raised immediately to that of sergeant. This
is how it came about.

On the left of my father's division was that commanded by General
Seras, whose headquarters were at Finale. This division, which
occupied the part of Liguria where the mountains are steepest,
was composed solely of infantry, the cavalry being unable to
operate, except in small detachments, on the few open spaces
which at this point separate the shore of the Mediterranean from
the mountains of Piedmont. General Seras, having been ordered to
push forward with the greater part of his division to reconnoitre
the area of Mount Santa-Giacomo, beyond which there were several
valleys, wrote to my father requesting the loan of a detachment
of fifty Hussars for this expedition; a request which could not
be turned down. So my father agreed and named Lt.
Leisteinschneider as commander of this detachment, of which my
platoon was a part.

We left Madona to make our way to Finale. There was, at that
time, only a very bad road along the sea coast, known as the
Corniche. The lieutenant badly injured his foot as a result of a
fall from his horse, and so the command passed to the next in
seniority who was a sergeant named Canon, a handsome young man,
capable and well-trained, and full of self-assurance.

General Seras, at the head of his division, advanced next day
onto the snow-clad slopes of Mount Santa-Giacomo, where we
encamped.  He had intended to go forward the next day, with he
almost certain expectation of making contact with the enemy; but
in how great a number? On this subject the General had absolutely
no information, and as his orders from the commander-in-chief
were to reconnoitre the Austrian positions at this point of the
line, but not to engage in combat if he found the enemy in
strength, General Seras reflected that if he advanced his
infantry division into the middle of the mountains, where often
one could not see enemy troops until one found oneself face to
face with them at a bend in a gorge, he might be led, in spite of
his wishes, into a major battle against superior forces, and
obliged to carry out a dangerous retreat.

He decided therefore to proceed with caution, and to push out,
three or four leagues in front of him, an advance party which
could probe the country and, most importantly, take some
prisoners, from whom he hoped to get some information; for the
peasantry either knew nothing or would not talk. As a small body
of infantry would be endangered if he advanced them too far, and
as, also, men on foot would take too long to return with the
information which he so urgently needed, it was to the fifty
Hussars that he gave the task of going ahead and exploring the
terrain. Then, as the country was very broken, he gave a map to
our sergeant, briefed him, in front of the detachment and sent us
off, two hours before daylight, repeating that it was essential
that we went ahead until we made contact with the enemy outposts,
from which he would very much like us to capture a few prisoners.

Sergeant Canon managed his detachment according to the book. He
sent out a small advance-guard, put scouts on the flanks and took
all the precautions usual in partisan warfare. When we had gone
some two leagues from the camp, we came on a large inn. Our
sergeant questioned the inn-keeper and was told that, a good
hour's march away, was a body of Austrian troops, the size of
which he did not know, though he knew that the leading regiment
contained some very unpleasant Hussars, who had maltreated a
number of the local inhabitants.

Having gathered this information, we set off once more, but
hardly had we gone a hundred paces, when Sergeant Canon, writhing
on his horse, declared that he had the most dreadful pain and
could not go any further. He handed the command to Sergeant
Pertelay, who was next in seniority. Pertelay, however pointed
out that he was an Alsatian and was unable to read French, and
could not, in consequence, understand the map or the written
instructions given by the general. He did not wish to accept the
command. All the other sergeants, old Bercheny Hussars, refused
for the same reason, as did the corporals.  In vain, as a matter
of duty, I offered to read the general's instructions and explain
our route on the map for any of the sergeants who would take
over; they all refused anew; then, to my great surprise, these
old sweats turned to me and said "Take command yourself. We'll
follow you and obey all your orders."

The rest of the party expressed the same wish, and it was clear
that if I refused, we would go no further and the honour of the
regiment would be blemished; for it was essential that the
general's orders were carried out, above all when it was perhaps
a matter of avoiding a disaster for his division. So I accepted
the command, but not without asking Sergeant Canon if he felt
able to continue. At which point he began to complain once more,
left us and returned to the inn. I promise you I thought he was
really ill, but the men of the detachment, who knew him better,
made some very disparaging remarks about him.

I think I can say, without boasting, that nature has endowed me
with a good stock of courage. I might even add that there was a
time when I enjoyed facing danger. My military record and the
thirteen wounds I have received in the wars are, I believe,
sufficient proof. So, on taking command of fifty men, placed
under my orders in such extraordinary circumstances,--me, a
simple Hussar, seventeen years of age--I resolved to prove to my
comrades that if I had neither experience nor military talent, I
was at least brave; and placing myself resolutely at their head I
set off in the direction where I knew we would encounter the
enemy.

We had been marching for a long time when our scouts spotted a
peasant who was trying to hide. They hastened to capture him and
bring him back. I questioned him. He came, it seemed, from four
or five leagues away, and claimed that he had not seen any
Austrian troops. I was sure he was lying, either from fear or
from cunning, because we were very close to the enemy
cantonments. I remembered then that I had read in a book about
partisan warfare, which my father had given me to study, that to
persuade the inhabitants of a country in which one is fighting to
talk, it is sometimes necessary to frighten them. So I roughened
my voice, and, trying to give my boyish face a ferocious look, I
shouted, "What! You rascal! You have been wandering about in a
country occupied by a great body of Austrian troops, and you
claim you have seen nothing? You are a spy! Come on lads, let's
shoot him right away."

I ordered four Hussars to dismount, indicating to them not to
harm the fellow, who, finding himself held by the troopers whose
carbines had just been loaded in front of him, was overcome by
such terror that he swore that he would tell me all he knew. He
was a servant in a monastery, who had been given a letter to take
to relatives of the Prior, and he had been told that if he ran
into the French, he was not to tell them where the Austrians
were; but now that he was forced to speak, he told us that a
league from us there were several regiments of the enemy billeted
in the villages, and that about a hundred of Barco's Hussars were
in a hamlet which was only a short distance away. Questioned
about the defensive precautions taken by these Hussars, he said
that before one reached the houses, they had posted a
picket-guard which was in a garden surrounded by hedges, and that
when he went through the hamlet, the remainder were preparing to
water their horses at a little pond on the far side of the
buildings.

Having received this information, I had now to make a plan of
action. I wished to avoid passing the picket-guard who, being
entrenched behind hedges, could not be attacked by cavalry, while
the fire from their carbines would perhaps kill several of my men
and give warning of our approach. To do this required that we go
round the hamlet, so as to reach the pond, and fall,
unexpectedly, on our enemies. But how were we to pass without
being seen? I then ordered the peasant to lead us on a detour,
and promised to set him free as soon as we reached the other side
of the hamlet, which we could see: when he refused to do so, I
had him taken by the scruff of the neck by one Hussar while
another held a pistol to his ear, which made him change his mind.
He guided us very well; some large hedges hid our movements, and
we got completely round the village to see, at the edge of a
small pond, the Austrian squadron peacefully watering their
horses. All the riders were carrying their arms, which is the
usual practice for outposts, but those in command had neglected a
precaution which is essential in war, that is, to allow only one
troop at a time to unbridle their horses and enter the water,
while the remainder stay on the bank ready to repel any attack.
Confident that there were no French about and relying on the
watchfulness of the guard posted at the entry to the village, the
enemy commander had thought this precaution unnecessary. This was
to be his downfall.

When I was some five hundred paces from the pond, I ordered the
peasant to be released, who ran off as fast as his legs could
carry him; then, sabre in hand, and having forbidden my comrades
to utter any war-cry, I advanced at full gallop on the enemy
Hussars, who did not see us until a moment before we arrived at
the pond. The pond's banks were too high for the horses to climb
out, and there was only one practicable way in, which was the one
that served as the village drinking place. It is true that this
was a wide area, but there were more than a hundred horsemen
crowded together there, all with their bridles in their hands and
their carbines slung, so unconcerned that some of them were
singing. You may imagine their surprise!

I attacked them immediately with carbine fire, which killed
several, wounded many and knocked out a lot of their horses. The
confusion was total! Nevertheless, their captain, rallying some
men who were nearest to the outlet, tried to force a passage to
get out of the water, and opened fire on us, which although not
sustained, wounded two of my men; they then engaged us, but
Pertelay having killed the captain with a blow from his sabre,
the rest crowded back into the pond. To escape from the carbine
fire, many tried to reach the other bank; several lost their
footing and a good number of men and horses were floundering in
the water. Those who reached the other side found that their
horses could not clamber up the steep edge and so they abandoned
them, and pulling themselves up by the aid of trees growing along
the bank, they fled in disorder into the countryside.

The twelve men of the picket-guard came running at the sound of
firing. We attacked them with the sabre and they also took to
flight. However there remained about thirty men still in the
pond, afraid to try to escape because we occupied the only way
out. They shouted to us that they were surrendering; I accepted
this and as they came to the bank, made them throw down their
arms. Most of these men and horses were wounded, but as I wished
to have some trophy from our victory, I chose seventeen horses
and riders who were fit, and placing them in the middle of the
detachment,I abandoned the rest and went off at the gallop, going
round the village, as before.

It was just as well that I made a rapid retreat, for as I had
foreseen, the fugitives had run to warn the nearby troops who had
already been alerted by the sound of gunfire, and within half an
hour there were five hundred horsemen on the banks of the little
pond and some thousands of infantrymen close behind them. We,
however, were two leagues away, our wounded having been able to
sustain a full gallop. We stopped for a short time on top of a
hill to bandage their wounds, and we laughed to see in the
distance several enemy columns following our trail, since we knew
that they had no hope of catching us, because in their fear of
falling into an ambush they were feeling their way forward very
slowly. Being now out of danger, I gave Pertelay two of the
best-mounted troopers and sent him off post-haste to inform
general Seras of the success of our mission; then marshalling the
detachment into good order, with our prisoners in the centre and
well guarded, I set off at a slow trot down the road to the inn.

It would be impossible for me to describe the joy of my
companions and the praises which they heaped on me during this
journey. It could be summed up in these words, which in their
minds was the highest commendation, "You are truly worthy to
serve in Bercheny's Hussars, the finest regiment in the world."

Meanwhile, what had been happening at Santo-Giacomo during my
absence? After several hours of waiting, General Seras, impatient
for news, saw some smoke on the horizon; his aide-de-camp put his
ear to a drum placed on the ground, a common expedient in
wartime, and heard the distant sound of gunfire. General Seras
was uneasy, and having no doubt that the cavalry detachment was
at grips with the enemy, he took a regiment of infantry with him
as far as the inn. When he arrived there, he saw, under the
cart-shelter, a Hussar's horse tied up to the rail; it was
Sergeant Canon's. The inn-keeper appeared and was questioned. He
replied that the sergeant of Hussars had gone no further than the
inn, and had been, for several hours, in the dining room. The
General went in, and what did he find but Sergeant Canon asleep
by the fireside with, in front of him, an enormous ham, two empty
bottles and a coffee cup! The wretched sergeant was woken up; he
attempted once more to make the excuse of a sudden indisposition,
but the accusing remains of the formidable meal which he had just
eaten, gave the lie to his claims of illness, so General Seras
was very short with him. The General's anger was increasing at
the thought that a detachment of fifty cavalrymen handed over to
the command of a young soldier had probably been wiped out by the
enemy, when Pertelay and the two troopers who were with him
arrived at the gallop to announce our victory and the approaching
arrival of seventeen prisoners. As General Seras, in spite of
this happy outcome, continued to berate Sergeant Canon, Pertelay
said to him, in his bluff outspoken way, "Don't scold him, mon
General, he's such a coward that if he'd been in charge we
wouldn't have succeeded!" A remark which did nothing to improve
the awkward position of Sgt. Canon, who was now placed under
arrest.

I arrived in the midst of these goings-on. General Seras broke
poor Sgt. Canon, and made him take off his chevrons in front of a
regiment of infantry and fifty Hussars. Then, coming to me, whose
name he did not know, he said, "You have carried out successfully
a mission which would normally be given only to an officer. I am
sorry that the powers of a divisional commander do not allow me
to promote you to sous-lieutenant, only the commander-in-chief
can do that, and I shall ask him to, do so, but in the meantime I
promote you to sergeant." He thereupon ordered his aide-de-camp
to announce this in front of the detachment. In order to carry
out this formality, the aide-de-camp had to ask my name, and it
was only then that General Seras learned that I was the son of
his comrade, General Marbot. I was very pleased about this,
because it demonstrated to my father that favouritism had nothing
to do with my promotion.

Chap. 10.

The information which General Seras obtained from the prisoners
having decided him to push forward, he ordered his division to
come down from the heights of Mont Santa-Giacomo, and to encamp
that evening near to the inn. The prisoners were sent to Finale,
and as for the horses they belonged by rights to the Hussars.
They were all of good quality, but, according to the custom of
the time, which was aimed at favouring poorly mounted officers,
captured horses were always sold for five louis. This was a fixed
price and was paid in cash. As soon as the camp was established
the sale began. General Seras, the officers of his staff, the
colonels and battalion commanders of the regiments in his
division soon took up our seventeen horses, which produced the
sum of 85 louis. This was handed over to my detachment, who, not
having had any pay for six months, were delighted with this
windfall, for which they gave me the credit.

I had some money, so I did not pocket my share from the sale of
the horses, but to celebrate my promotion, I bought from the
inn-keeper two sheep, an enormous cheese and a load of wine, with
which my detachment had a feast. This was one of the happiest
days of my life.

General Seras, in his report to General Championet included a
most flattering reference to my conduct, and said the same sort
of thing to my father; so when, several days later, I brought the
detachment back to Savona, my father welcomed me with the
greatest show of affection. I was highly delighted; I rejoined
the camp where all the regiment was united; my detachment had
arrived there before me and had told of what we had done, giving
me always the leading part in our success, so I was heartily
welcomed by the officers and soldiers and also by my new
comrades, the non-commissioned officers, who handed me my
sergeant's stripes.

It was on this day that I met the younger Pertelay for the first
time, he had come back from Genoa, where he had been stationed
for some months. I became friendly with this excellent man, and
regretted not having had him as my mentor at the beginning of my
career, for he gave me much good advice, which steadied me up and
made me break away from the wild men of the clique.

The commander-in-chief, Championet, intended to carry out some
operations in the interior of Piedmont, but having very little in
the way of cavalry, he ordered my father to send him the 1st
Hussars, who could no longer stay at Madon, in any case, because
of the shortage of fodder. I parted from my father with much
regret and left with the regiment.

We went along the Corniche as far as Albenga. We crossed the
Apennines, in spite of the snow, and entered the fertile plains
of Piedmont. The commander-in-chief fought a number of actions in
the area round Fossano, Novi and Mondovi, some of which were
successful and others not.

In one of these actions I had the opportunity of seeing
Brigadier-general Macard, a soldier of fortune whom the
revolutionary upheavals had carried almost straight from the rank
of trumpet-major to that of general! He was a good example of a
type of officer created by luck and their personal courage who,
although displaying much bravery before the enemy, were
nevertheless incapable of occupying effectively a senior position
because of their lack of education.

This extraordinary character, a veritable colossus, was well
known for one peculiarity. When about to lead his troops in a
charge against the enemy, it was his custom to shout "Let's go!
I'll put on my animal dress." Then he took off his uniform, his
jacket and shirt and retained only his plumed hat, his leather
breeches and his big boots! Thus, naked to the waist, he
displayed a torso almost as hairy as that of a bear, which gave
him a very strange appearance indeed.  Once in his animal dress,
as he called it, General Macard, sabre in hand, hurled himself at
the enemy horsemen, swearing like a pagan; but it so happened
that he rarely reached any of them, for at the unexpected and
terrible sight of this kind of giant, half naked and covered in
hair rushing toward them uttering the most fearsome yells the
enemy often fled in all directions, not knowing if they had to
deal with a man or some extraordinary wild beast.

General Macord was entirely ignorant, which sometimes amused the
more educated officers under his command. One day one of them
came to ask permission to go into a neighbouring town to order a
pair of boots. "Parbleu!" said the general, "This has come at
just the right time; since you are going to the bootmaker, sit
down and take the measurements of my boots and order a new pair
for me." The officer, much surprised, said that he could not take
the measurements as he had no idea how to do this, having never
been a boot-maker. "What!" exclaimed the general loudly, "I see
you sometimes spend whole days sketching and drawing lines
opposite the mountains and when I ask what you are doing, you say
you are measuring the mountains. How is it that you can measure
objects which are more than a league away, and yet you cannot
measure a pair of boots which are under your nose? Come on, take
the measurements quickly and no more nonsense." The officer
assured him that this was impossible. The general insisted;
swore; got angry; and it was only with great difficulty that
other officers, attracted by the noise, were able to put an end
to this ridiculous scene. The general could never understand how
a man who could measure mountains could not measure a pair of
men's boots.

You should not think, as a result of this anecdote, that all the
general officers in the army of Italy were like the good general
Macord. Far from that, they contained in their number many men
distinguished by their education and manners; but at this time
there were still some senior officers who were completely out of
place in the higher ranks of the army. They were being weeded out
little by little.

The 1st Hussars took part in all the battles fought at this time
in Piedmont, and suffered many losses in encounters with the
Austrian heavy cavalry. After some marching and countermarching,
and a series of almost daily minor engagements, General
Championet, having concentrated the centre and left of his army
between Coni and Mondovi, attacked, at the end of December,
several divisions of the enemy army.

The encounter took place on a plain dotted with small hills and
clumps of trees. The 1st Hussars, attached to General Beaumont's
brigade, were positioned on the extreme right of the French army.
As the number of officers and men who make up a squadron is laid
down in the regulations, our regiment, having suffered casualties
in the previous affairs, instead of putting four squadrons into
the line could put only three; but having done this, there were
some thirty men left over, of which five were sergeants. I was
one of this number, as were both the Pertelays. We were formed
into two sections and Pertelay the younger was put in command.
General Beaumont merely instructed him to scout on the right
flank of the army, and act as the situation seemed to require. We
then left the regiment and went to explore the countryside.

In the meanwhile, a fierce battle commenced between the two
armies, and an hour later, when we were returning to our own
lines without having spotted anything on the flank, young
Pertelay saw, opposite us, and consequently on the extreme left
of the enemy line, a battery of eight guns whose fire was raking
the French ranks.  Very unwisely, this Austrian battery, in order
to have a better field of fire, had advanced onto a small hillock
some seven or eight hundred paces in front of the infantry
division to which it belonged. The commander of this artillery
believed that he was quite safe because the position he occupied
dominated the whole French line, and he thought that if any
troops set out to attack him, he would see them and would have
time to regain the safety of the Austrian lines.  He had not
considered that a little clump of trees, close to where he was,
could conceal a party of French troops, and had thought no more
about it. But young Pertelay resolved to lead his men there, and
from there to fall upon the Austrian battery.

Pertelay, knowing that on the battlefield no one takes much
notice of a single horseman, explained his plan to us, which was
for us to go individually, making a detour by a sunken road, to
arrive one by one behind the wood on the left of the enemy
battery, and from there to make a sudden assault on it, without
the fear of cannon-balls, because we would be approaching from
the side. We would capture the guns and take them to the French
lines. The first part of this plan was executed without the
Austrian gunners noticing; we reached the back of the little
wood, where we re-formed the sections. Pertelay put himself at
our head. We went through the wood, and sabre in hand, threw
ourselves on the enemy battery at the moment when it was
directing a murderous fire on our troops. We sabred some of the
gunners, but the rest hid under their ammunition wagons, where
our sabres could not reach them. As instructed by Pertelay, we
did not kill or wound the men on the limbers, but forced them at
sword point to make their horses pull the guns toward the French
lines. This order was obeyed in respect of six guns whose riders
had remained on horseback, but the riders for the two other guns
had dismounted, and although some of the Hussars took the horses
by the bridle, they refused to move.

The enemy infantry were running to the aid of their battery;
minutes seemed like hours to us; so young Pertelay, satisfied to
have captured six guns, ordered us to leave the others and to
head, with our booty, at the gallop, for the French lines.

This was a prudent measure, but it proved fatal to our leader,
for hardly had we begun our retreat, when the gunners and their
officers emerged from their hiding places under the wagons,
loaded the two guns which we had not taken with grape-shot and
discharged a hail of bullets into our backs.

You can well imagine that thirty horsemen and six artillery
pieces, each drawn by six horses and ridden by three transport
riders, all proceeding in a state of disorder, presented a target
which the grape-shot could hardly miss. We had two sergeants and
several Hussars killed or wounded, as well as two of the
transport riders. Some of the horses were also put out of action,
so that most of the teams were so disorganised that they could
not move.  Pertelay, keeping perfectly cool, ordered the traces
of the dead or injured horses to be cut and Hussars to take the
place of the dead transport riders, and we continued quickly on
our way. However, the commander of the Austrian battery made use
of the few minutes we had taken to do this to direct a second
volley of grape-shot at us, which caused further casualties, but
we were so resolved not to abandon the six guns which we had
captured that we repaired the damage as well as we could, and
kept on the move. We were already in touch with the French lines
and out of the range of grape-shot, when the enemy artillery
officer changed projectiles and fired two cannon-balls at us, one
of which shattered the back of poor young Pertelay.

However, our attack on the Austrian battery and its outcome had
been seen by the French generals who moved the line forward. The
enemy drew back, which allowed the remnants of the 1st Hussars to
revisit the area where our unfortunate comrades had fallen.
Almost a third of the detachment were killed or wounded. There
were five sergeants at the beginning of the action; three had
perished; there remained only Pertelay the elder and myself. The
poor fellow was wounded but suffered almost more mentally, for he
adored his brother, whom we all bitterly regretted. While we were
paying him our last respects and picking up the wounded, General
Championet arrived with General Suchet, his chief-of-staff. The
commander-in-chief had witnessed the actions of the platoon. He
gathered us round the six guns which we had just captured, and
after praising the courage with which we had rid the French army
of a battery which was causing them the most grievous losses, he
added that to reward us for having saved the lives of so many of
our comrades, and contributed to the day's success, he intended
to use the power which a recent decree of the First Consul had
given him to award "Armes d'honneur" and that he would award
three sabres of honour and one promotion to sous-lieutenant to
the detachment, who should decide amongst themselves who the
recipients should be. We then regretted even more keenly the loss
of young Pertelay, who would have made such a fine officer.

The elder Pertelay, a corporal and a Hussar were awarded the
sabres of honour, which, three years later gave the right to the
Cross of the Legion of Honour. It remained to be decided which of
us would be sous-lieutenant. All my comrades put my name forward,
and the commander-in-chief, recalling that General Seras had
written to him about my conduct at Santa-Giacomo, designated me
sous-lieutenant...! I had been a sergeant for only a month! I
have to admit, however, that during the capture of the guns, I
had done no more than the rest of my companions; but as I have
already said, these good Alsatians did not feel that they had the
qualities to take command and become officers. They were
unanimous in choosing me, and General Championet, as well as
noting the favourable comments of General Seras, was perhaps also
glad to be able to please my father.

My father, however, was less than pleased with what he considered
to be my over-rapid promotion, and he wrote to me instructing me
to refuse it. I would have obeyed; but my father had written in
the same strain to General Suchet, the chief-of-staff, and this
latter had replied that the commander-in-chief would be very put
out to find that one of his divisional generals had taken it upon
himself to disapprove of a promotion which he had made. My father
then authorised me to accept, and I was gazetted sous-Lieutenant
in December 1799.

I was one of the last officers promoted by General Championet,
who, not being able to remain in Piedmont in the face of superior
forces, was compelled to re-cross the Apennines and lead his army
back to Liguria. He was greatly distressed to see his force
breaking down, because he was not given enough supplies to
support it, and he died two weeks after he had made me an
officer. My father, who was now the most senior divisional
general, was made provisional commander-in-chief of the army of
Italy, whose headquarters were at Nice. He therefore went there
and immediately sent back to Provence the few remaining cavalry,
as there was no longer any fodder in Liguria. So the 1st Hussars
went back to France, but my father kept me behind to become his
aide-de-camp.

While we were at Nice, my father received an order from the war
ministry to go and take command of the advance guard of the army
of the Rhine, where his chief-of-staff Col. Menard would join
him. We were very pleased at this, since want of supplies had
reduced the army of Italy to such a state of disorder that it
seemed impossible that it could be kept in Liguria. My father was
not sorry to be leaving an army which was disintegrating, and was
likely to be pushed back across the Var and into France. He
prepared to move as soon as General Massena, who had been
nominated to replace him, had arrived. He sent M. Gault, his
aide-de-camp, to Paris to buy maps and make various preparations
for our operations on the Rhine. But fate had decreed otherwise,
and my unfortunate father's grave was destined to be in Italy.

When Massena arrived he found no more than the shadow of an army:
the soldiers, without pay and almost without clothing and
footwear, existing on a quarter of the normal ration, were dying
of malnutrition as well as an epidemic of disease, the result of
the intolerable privations which they were suffering. The
hospitals were full but had no medicines. Some groups of
soldiers, and even whole regiments, were daily abandoning their
posts and heading for the bridge across the Var, where they
forced a passage to get into France and spread themselves over
Provence, although saying that they were willing to return if
they were given food! The generals were unable to remedy this
appalling state of affairs. They became, daily more discouraged,
and all were requesting leave or retiring on the grounds of
ill-health. Massena had expected that he would be joined in Italy
by several of the generals who had helped him to defeat the
Russians in Switzerland, among them, Soult, Oudinot and Gazan,
but none of them had yet arrived, and it was essential to do
something about the serious situation.

Massena, who was born in La Turbie, a village in the little
principality of Monaco, was one of the most crafty Italians that
ever existed. He did not know my father, but he decided on their
first meeting that he was a big-hearted man who loved his
country, and, to persuade him to stay, he played on these
sensitive areas, his generosity and his patriotism, suggesting to
him how much nobler it would be for him to continue to serve in
the unhappy army of Italy rather than go to the Rhine. He said
that he would take the responsibility for the failure to carry
out the orders given to my father by the government if he would
agree to stay. My father, beguiled by these speeches and not
wishing to leave the new commander in a mess, consented to remain
with him. He did not doubt that his chief-of-staff, Col. Menard,
his friend, would also give up the idea of going to the Rhine;
but this was not to be. Menard stuck to the order he had been
given, although he was assured that it would be cancelled if he
wished. My father felt very badly about this desertion. Menard
hurried off to Paris, where he took the job of chief-of-staff to
general Lefebvre.

My father went to Genoa, where he took command of the three
divisions which composed the right wing of the army. Despite all
the shortages, the winter carnival was quite gay in the town, the
Italians being so pleasure-loving! We were lodged in the
Centurione Palace, where we spent the end of the winter
1799-1800. My father had left Spire at Nice with the greater part
of his baggage. He now took on Col. Sacleux as his
chief-of-staff, an admirable man, a good soldier, with a very
pleasant personality, if somewhat solemn and serious-minded. He
had as his secretary a young man by the name of Colindo, the son
of a banker, Signor Trepano of Parma, whom he had picked up after
a series of adventures too long to relate here, who became my
very good friend.

Early in the spring of 1800, my father was told that General
Massena intended to give the command of the right wing to General
Soult, who had just arrived, and was much my father's junior, and
he was ordered to go back to Savona and head his old division,
the third. My father obeyed, though his pride was hurt by this
new posting.

Chap. 11.

A serious situation was developing in Italy. Massena had received
some reinforcements; he had established a little order in his
army, and the campaign of 1800, which led to the memorable siege
of Genoa and the battle of Marengo, was about to begin.

The snows which covered the mountains separating the two armies
having melted, the Austrians attacked us, and their first efforts
were directed upon my father's division, the third, stationed at
the right of the French line, which they wished to separate from
the centre and the left by driving them back from Savona to
Genoa.

As soon as hostilities commenced, my father and Col. Sacleux sent
all the non-combatants to Genoa; Colindo was among them. As for
me, I was thoroughly enjoying myself, exhilarated as I was by the
sight of marching troops, the noisy movements of artillery and
the excitement of a young soldier at the prospect of action. I
was far from suspecting that this war would become so terrible
and would cost me so dear.

My father's division, fiercely attacked by greatly superior
forces, defended for two days positions at Cadibone and
Montenotte, but eventually, seeing themselves on the point of
being outflanked, they had to retire to Voltri, and from there to
Genoa, where they shut themselves in, together with the two other
divisions of the right wing.

I had heard all the well-informed generals deploring the
circumstances which forced our separation from the centre and the
left, but I had at that time so little understanding of the
principles of warfare that I took no notice. I understood well
enough that we had been defeated, but as I personally had
overcome, before Montenotte, an officer of Burco's Hussars, and
taking the plume from his shako, had fastened it proudly to the
head-band of my bridle, it seemed to me that I was like a knight
of the middle-ages returning laden with the spoils of the
infidel.

My childish vanity was soon crushed by a dreadful event. During
the retreat, and at a moment when my father was giving me an
order to take, he was hit by a bullet in the left leg, which had
been wounded once before, in the army of the Pyrenees. The injury
was serious, and my father would have fallen from his horse if he
had not leaned on me. I took him out of the battle area. His
wound was dressed. I shed tears as I saw his blood flow, but he
tried to calm me, saying that a soldier should have more courage.
My father was carried to the Centurione Palace in Genoa, where he
had lived during the preceding winter. Our three divisions having
entered Genoa, the Austrians blockaded it by land, and the
English by sea.

I can hardly bring myself to describe the sufferings of the
garrison and the population of Genoa during the two months for
which this siege lasted. Famine, fighting and an epidemic of
typhus did immense damage. The garrison lost ten thousand men out
of sixteen thousand, and there were collected from the streets,
every day, seven or eight hundred of the bodies of the
inhabitants, of every age, sex, and condition, which were taken
behind the church of Carignan to an immense pit filled with
quick-lime. The number of victims rose to more than thirty
thousand.

For you to understand just how badly the lack of food was felt by
the inhabitants, I should explain that the ancient rulers of
Genoa, in order to control the populace, had from time immemorial
exercised a monopoly over grain, flour and bread, which was
operated by a vast establishment protected by cannons and guarded
by soldiers, so that when the Doge or the Senate wished to
prevent or put down a revolt, they closed the state ovens and
reduced the people to starvation.  Although by this time the
constitution of Genoa had been greatly modified and the
aristocracy now had very little influence, there was not, however
a single private bakery, and the old system of making bread in
the public ovens was still in operation. Now, these public
bakeries, which normally provided for a population of a hundred
and twenty thousand souls, were closed for forty-five days out of
the sixty for which the siege lasted. Neither rich nor poor could
buy bread. The little in the way of dried vegetables and rice
which was in the shops had been bought up at the beginning of the
siege at greatly inflated prices. The troops alone were given a
small ration of a quarter of a pound of horse flesh and a quarter
of a pound of what was called bread. This was a horrible mixture
of various flours, bran, starch, chalk, linseed, oatmeal, rancid
nuts and other evil substances. General Thibauld in his diary of
the siege described as "Turf mixed with oil."

For forty five days neither bread nor meat was on sale to the
public. The richest were able (at the start the siege only,) to
buy some dried cod, figs and some other dried goods such as
sugar. There was never any shortage of wine, oil and salt, but
what use are they without solid food? All the dogs and cats in
the town were eaten. A rat could fetch a high price! In the end
the starvation became so appalling that when the French troops
made a sortie, the inhabitants would follow them in a crowd out
of the gates, and rich and poor, women, children and the old
would start collecting grass, nettles, and leaves, which they
would then cook with some salt. The Genoese government mowed the
grass which grew on the ramparts, which was then cooked in the
public squares and distributed to the wretched invalids, who had
not the strength to go and find for themselves and prepare this
crude dish. Even the soldiers cooked nettles and all sorts of
herbage with their horse flesh. The richest and most
distinguished families in the town envied them this meat,
disgusting as it was, for the shortage of fodder had made nearly
all the horses sick and even the flesh of those dying of disease
was distributed.

During the latter part of the siege, the desperation of the
people was something to fear. There were cries that, as in 1756
their fathers had massacred an Austrian army, they should now try
to get rid of the French army in the same way; and that it was
better to die fighting than to starve to death, after watching
their wives and children perish. These threats of revolt were
made more serious by the fact that if they were carried out, the
English by sea and the Austrians by land would have rushed to
join their efforts to those of the insurgents, and would have
overwhelmed us.

Amid such dangers and calamities of all sorts, Massena remained
immovable and calm, and to prevent any attempt at an uprising, he
issued a proclamation that French troops had orders to open fire
on any gathering of more than four people. Regiments camped in
the squares and the principal streets. The avenues were occupied
by cannon loaded with grape-shot. It being impossible for them to
come together, the Genoese were unable to revolt.

It may seem surprising that Massena was so determined to hold on
to a place where he could not feed the inhabitants and could
scarcely maintain his own troops; but Genoa was, at that time, of
great importance. Our army had been cut in two. The centre and
the left wing had retired behind the Var. As long as Massena
occupied Genoa, he kept part of the Austrian army occupied in
besieging him and prevented them from employing all their forces
against Provence.

Massena knew also that the First Consul was assembling at Dijon,
Lyon, and Geneva, an army of reserve, with which he proposed to
cross the Alps by the St. Bernard pass, to enter Italy and to
surprise the Austrians by falling on their rear while they were
directing their efforts at taking Genoa. We therefore had the
greatest interest in holding the town for as long as possible.
These were the orders of the First Consul, and were subsequently
justified by events.

To return to the siege. When he heard that my father had been
brought to Genoa, Colindo Trepano hurried to his bedside, and it
was there that we met once more. He helped me most tenderly to
care for my father, for which I am even more beholden to him
because, in the midst of these calamities my father had no one
about him. All his staff officers had been ordered to go and
attend the commander-in-chief; soon rations were refused to our
servants, who were forced to go and take up a musket and line up
with the combatants to have a right to the miserable ration which
was distributed to the soldiers. No exception was made, apart
from a young valet, named Oudin, and a young stable-lad, who
looked after the horses; but Oudin deserted us as soon as he knew
that my father had typhus.

My father fell ill with this dreadful disease, and at a time when
he was in the greatest need of care, there was no one with him
except me, Colindo and the stable lad Bastide. We did our best to
follow the doctor's instructions, we hardly slept, being
endlessly busy massaging my father with camphorated oil and
changing his bedclothes and linen.

My father could take no nourishment except soup and I had nothing
with which to make it but rotten horse-meat. My heart was
breaking.

Providence sent us some help. The huge buildings of the public
ovens were next to the walls of the palace where we were living.
The terraces were almost touching. It was on the immense terraces
of the public ovens that the crushing and mixing took place of
all sorts of chicken food which was added to the rotten flour to
make the garrison's bread. The stable lad Bastide had noticed
that when the workmen of the bakery left the terraces, they were
invaded by horde of pigeons who had their nests in the various
church towers of the town, and were in the habit of coming to
pick up the small amounts of grain which had spilled onto the
flagstones. Bastide, who was a very clever lad, crossed the
narrow space which separated the terraces, and on that of the
public ovens he set up snares and other devices with which he
captured pigeons which we used to make soup for my father, who
found it excellent, compared to that made from horse.

To the horrors of famine and typhus were added those of a
merciless and unceasing war, for the French troops fought all day
on land against the Austrians, and when nightfall put an end to
the Austrian assaults, the English, Turkish, and Neapolitan
fleets, which were protected by darkness from the port's cannons
and the batteries on the coast, drew close to the town, into
which they hurled a great number of bombs which did fearful
damage.

The noise of the guns and the cries of the wounded and dying
reached my father and greatly disturbed him. He lamented his
inability to place himself at the head of the men of his
division.  This state of mind worsened his condition. He became
more gravely ill from day to day, and progressively weaker.
Colindo and I did not leave him for a moment. Eventually, one
night when I was on my knees by his bedside, sponging his wound,
he spoke to me, perfectly lucidly, and placed his hand
caressingly on my head, saying, "Poor child, what will happen to
him, alone and without support in the horrors of this terrible
siege?" Then he mumbled some words, among which I could
distinguish the name of my mother, dropped his arms and closed
his eyes...

Although very young and without much length of service, I had
seen many dead on various battlefields, and above all on the
streets of Genoa; but they had fallen in the open, still in their
clothes, which gave them a very different appearance to someone
who had died in bed. I had never witnessed this last sad
spectacle and I believed that my father had fallen asleep.
Colindo knew the truth but had not the heart to tell me, so I was
not aware of my error until some time later, when M. Lacheze
arrived and I saw him pull the sheet over my father's face,
saying, "This is a dreadful loss for his family and friends".
Only then did I understand that my father was dead.

My grief was so heartbroken that it touched even General Massena,
a man not easily moved, particularly in the present situation
when he had need of such resolution. The critical position in
which he found himself drove him to behave toward me in a way
which I thought atrocious, although now I would do the same in
the same circumstances.

To avoid anything that could lower the morale of the troops,
Massena had forbidden any funeral ceremonies, and as he knew that
I had been unwilling to desert the mortal remains of my
much-loved father, and thought it was my intention to go with him
to his graveside, he feared that his troops might be adversely
affected by the sight of a young officer, scarcely more than a
boy, following, in tears, his father's bier. So he came the next
day before dawn to the room where my father lay, and taking me by
the hand, he led me  under some pretext or other to a distant
room, while, on his orders, twelve Grenadiers, accompanied only
by one officer and Col. Sacleux, took the body in silence, and
placed it in a provisional grave on the rampart facing the sea.
It was only after this mournful ceremony was over that General
Massena told me of it and explained his motives for this
decision. I was overcome by misery. It seemed to me that I had
lost my poor father for a second time; that he had been deprived
of my last services. My protests were in vain and there was
nothing I could do but go and pray by my father's grave. I did
not know where it was, but Colindo had followed the burial party,
and he led me there. This good young man gave me the most
touching evidences of sympathy, and this at a time when everyone
thought only of themselves.

Nearly all the officers of my father's staff had been killed or
carried off by typhus. Out of the eleven which we were at the
start of the campaign, there remained only two; the commandant
R*** and me! But R*** was interested only in himself, and instead
of offering support to his general's son, he lived alone in the
town. M. Lacheze abandoned me also. Only the good Col. Sacleux
showed any interest in me, but having been given the command of a
brigade, he was constantly outside the walls combatting the
enemy. I stayed alone in the huge Centurione Palace with Colindo,
Bastide, and the ancient concierge.

A week had scarcely passed since my father's death when General
Massena, who needed a large number of officers in attendance
because some were killed or wounded almost every day, ordered me
to come and serve as aide-de-camp, as did R*** and all the
officers on the staff of those generals who were dead or unable
to mount a horse. I obeyed. I followed the general all day in
battle, and when I was not detained at headquarters, I went back
to the Palace, and at nightfall, Colindo and I, passing among the
dying and the dead bodies of men, women, and children which
littered the streets, went to pray at my father's tomb.

The famine in the town continued to worsen. An order went out
forbidding any officer from having more than one horse, the rest
were to be butchered. There were several of my father's left and
I was most unhappy at the thought of these poor beasts being
killed. I managed to save their lives by proposing that I should
give them to officers of the general staff in exchange for their
worn out mounts, which I then sent to the butchery. These horses
were later paid for by the state, on production of an order for
their delivery. I have kept one of these orders as a curiosity;
it bears the signature of General Oudinot, Massena's
chief-of-staff.

The cruel loss which I had just suffered, the position in which I
found myself, and the sight of the truly horrible scenes in which
I was involved every day, taught me more in a short time than I
would have learned in a number of happier years. I realised that
the starvation and disaster of the siege had made egoists of all
those who a few months before had been smothering my father with
attention.

I had to find within myself the courage and resource not only for
my own needs but to look after Colindo and Bastide. The most
pressing requirement was to find something for them to eat, since
they were given no food from the army stores. I had, it is true,
as an officer, two rations of horse meat and two rations of
bread, but all this added together did not amount to more than a
pounds weight of very bad food, and we were three! We very rarely
caught pigeons now, for their numbers had infinitely diminished.

In my position as aide-de-camp to the commander-in- chief, I was
entitled to a place at his table, where once a day was served
some bread, some roast horse and some chick peas; but I was so
embittered at General Massena having deprived me of the sad
consolation of attending my father's burial, that I could not
bring myself to sit down at his table, although all my comrades
were there and a place was reserved for me. But at last the wish
to help my two unfortunate companions decided me to go and eat
with the commander-in-chief. From then on Colindo and Bastide had
each a quarter of a pound of horse meat and the same amount of
bread. As for me, I did not have enough to eat, for the portions
served at the general's table were exceedingly small, and I was
worked hard. Often I had to lie on the ground to stop myself from
fainting.

Providence came once more to our aid. Bastide had been born in
the region of Cantal, and he had met, the previous winter,
another Auvergnian whom he knew, and who was living in Genoa
where he had a small business. Bastide went to visit this friend,
and was surprised, on entering the house, to smell the odour
which floats around a grocer's shop. Bastide remarked on this and
asked his friend if he had some food. His friend admitted that he
had, and begged Bastide to keep this a secret, since all food
found in private hands was confiscated and taken to the army
stores. The shrewd Bastide then offered to arrange the purchase
of any surplus provisions by someone who would pay cash and would
keep the secret inviolate. He came to tell me of his discovery.
My father had left me some thousands of francs, so I bought, and
brought back to our dwelling at night, a quantity of dried cod,
cheese, figs, sugar, chocolate etc. All of which was extremely
expensive, and the Auvergnian had most of my money. However I was
happy to pay whatever he asked, for I heard daily at general
headquarters suggestions that the siege would continue and the
famine get worse. Sadly, this in fact happened. My joy at having
procured some food was increased by the thought that I had
thereby saved the life of my friend Colindo, who, without it,
would have assuredly died of starvation, for he knew no one in
the army except me and Col. Sacleux, who was shortly to be struck
down by a dreadful misfortune.

Massena, attacked on all sides, seeing his troops worn down by
continual battle and famine, forced to hold down a large
population, driven to despair by hunger, found himself in a most
critical position, and believed that to maintain good order in
the army he needed to impose iron discipline. So any officer who
did not execute his orders immediately was dismissed, under the
power which the law gave at that time to the commander-in-chief.

Several examples of this kind had already been made when, during
a sortie which we had pushed forward some six leagues from the
town, the brigade commanded by Col. Sacleux was not in position
at the time ordered in a valley where it was meant to block the
passage of the Austrians, who thus escaped.

The commander-in-chief, furious at seeing his plans come to
nothing, dismissed poor Col. Sacleux by publishing his dismissal
in an order of the day. Sacleux may well not have understood what
was expected of him, but he was a very brave man. Assuredly he
would have blown his brains out, had he not been determined to
restore his honour. He took up a musket and joined the ranks as a
private soldier! He came to see us one day, Colindo and I were
sore at heart to see this excellent man dressed as a simple
infantryman. We said our good-byes to Sacleux who, after the
surrender of the town, was restored to his rank of colonel at the
request of Massena himself, who had been impressed by Sacleux's
courage. But the following year, when peace had been made in
Europe, Sacleux, perhaps wishing to rid himself completely of the
stigma with which he had been so unjustly branded, asked to be
posted to the war in Santa-Dominica, where he was killed at the
moment when he was about to be promoted to brigadier-general!
There are men who, in spite of their merits, have a cruel
destiny; of which he was an example.

Chap. 12.

I shall discuss only briefly the conduct of the siege or blockade
which we sustained. The fortifications of Genoa consisted at that
time of a plain wall, flanked by towers; but what made the place
well suited for defence was the fact that it is surrounded at a
short distance by mountains, the summits and flanks of which are
dotted with forts and strong-points. The Austrians continually
attacked these positions. When they took one, we went to retake
it, and the next day they came to take it again. If they managed
to do so, we went to chase them out once more. There was an
endless shuttling back and forth, with varying results, but in
the end, we remained in control of the terrain. These encounters
were often very fierce. In one of them, General Soult, who was
General Massena's right hand man, was climbing up Monte Corona at
the head of his men to retake a fort of that name, which we had
lost the day before, when his knee was struck by a bullet at a
moment when the enemy, who greatly outnumbered his party, were
running down from the top of the mountain. It was impossible with
the few troops we had at this point to resist the avalanche, and
a retreat was called for. The soldiers carried General Soult for
some way, on their muskets, but the intolerable pain which he
suffered decided them that he should be left at the foot of a
tree, where his brother and one of his aides-de-camp stayed with
him to protect him from being attacked by the first enemy troops
to arrive. Luckily there were among these some officers who had
much respect for their illustrious prisoner.

The capture of General Soult having encouraged the Austrians,
they pushed us back to the city wall, which they were preparing
to attack  when a heavy storm darkened the blue sky, which we had
had since the beginning of the siege. The rain fell in torrents.
The Austrians halted and most of them sought shelter in the
blockhouses or under the trees. Then General Massena, one of
whose principal gifts was the ability to turn to advantage the
unforeseen incidents of warfare, addressed his men, rekindled
their spirit, and having reinforced them with some troops from
the town, he ordered them to fix bayonets and led them, at the
height of the storm, against the erstwhile victorious Austrians
who, taken by surprise, retired in disorder. Massena pursued them
with such effect that he cut off some three thousand Grenadiers,
who laid down their arms.

This was not the first time that we had taken numerous prisoners,
for the total of those we had captured since the beginning of the
siege amounted to more than eight thousand; but having no food
for them, Massena had always sent them back, on the condition
that they would not be used against us for a period of six
months.  Although the officers held religiously to their promise,
the wretched soldiers, who went back to the Austrian camp
ignorant of the undertaking that their leaders had made on their
behalf, were transferred to other regiments and forced to fight
against us once more. If they fell again into our hands,
something that often happened, they were once more sent back and
transferred anew; so that there were very many of these men who,
on their own admission, had been captured four or five times.
Massena, angered at the lack of good faith on the part of the
Austrian generals, decided that this time he would retain both
officers and men of the three thousand Grenadiers whom he had
captured; and so that the duty of guarding them would not fall on
his troops, he had the unfortunate prisoners loaded into floating
hulks moored in the middle of the harbour with the guns of the
harbour mole aimed at them. He then sent an envoy to General Ott,
who commanded the Austrian troops before Genoa, to reproach him
for his failure to keep his word, and to warn him that he did not
consider himself bound to give the prisoners more than half the
ration of the French soldier; but that he would agree to an
arrangement which the Austrians might make with the British,
whereby vessels might bring, every day, food for the prisoners,
and not leave until they had seen it eaten, so that it could not
be thought that Massena was using this pretext to bring in food
for his own men. The Austrian general who may have hoped that a
refusal would compel Massena to send back the three thousand
soldiers, whom he probably intended to use again, turned down
this philanthropic proposal, and Massena then carried out his
threat.

The French ration was composed of a quarter of a pound of
disgusting bread and an equal amount of horse flesh; the
prisoners were given only half this amount! This was fifteen days
before the end of the siege. For fifteen days, these poor devils
remained on this regime!. Every two or three days Messena renewed
his offer to the enemy general; he never accepted, perhaps out of
obstinacy, or perhaps because the English admiral, Lord Kieth,
was unwilling to employ his long-boats for fear, it is said, that
they would bring typhus back to the fleet. However that may be,
the wretched Austrians were left howling with rage and hunger in
their floating prison. It was truly appalling! In the end, having
eaten their boots and packs, and perhaps some dead bodies, they
nearly all died of starvation! There were hardly more than seven
or eight hundred left when the place was surrendered to our
enemies. The Austrian soldiers, when they entered the town,
hurried to the harbour and gave food to their compatriots with so
little caution that many of them died as a result.

I have described this horrible episode, firstly as an example of
the sort of ghastly event which war brings in its train, but
principally to brand with shame the conduct and lack of good
faith of the Austrian general, who forced soldiers who had been
captured and released on parole, to take up arms against us once
more, although he had promised to send them back to Germany.

In the course of the fighting which took place during the siege,
I ran into a number of dangers but I shall limit myself to
mentioning two of the more serious.

I have already said that the Austrians and the English took it in
turns to keep us constantly in action. The first attacked us at
dawn, on the landward side, and we fought them all day; at night,
Lord Kieth's fleet would begin its bombardment, and try, under
cover of darkness, to seize the harbour; which forced the
garrison to keep a keen look-out on the seaward side, and
prevented it from having any rest or relaxation. Now, one night,
when the bombardment was more violent than usual, the
commander-in-chief was warned that the light of Bengal flares
burning on the beach had disclosed numerous boat loads of English
soldiers heading for the harbour breakwater.  Massena, his staff,
and the squadron of guides which went everywhere with him,
immediately mounted their horses. We were about a hundred and
fifty to two hundred horsemen when, passing through a little
square called Campetto, the general stopped to speak to an
officer who was returning from the harbour. Someone shouted "Look
out for bombs!" And at that moment, one fell onto the crowded
square.

I and several others had pushed our horses under a balcony which
overhung the door of an hotel, and it was on this balcony that
the bomb fell. It reduced the balcony to rubble, and bounced onto
the road, where it exploded with a fearful bang in the middle of
the square, which was lit for an instant by its malevolent light,
after which there was complete darkness. One expected many
casualties.  There was the most profound silence, which was
broken by the voice of General Massena, asking if anyone was
hurt. There was no reply, for by some miracle, not one of the
horses or men had been hit by the flying fragments. As for those
who, like me, had been under the balcony, we were covered with
dust and bits of building material, but nobody was injured.

I have said that the English bombarded us only at night. However,
one day, when they were celebrating some occasion or other, their
ships, dressed overall, approached the town in broad daylight,
and amused themselves by hurling at us a large number of
projectiles.  Those of our batteries which were in the best
position to reply to this fire, were located near the breakwater
on a big bastion in the form of a tower, known as the Lanterne.
The general ordered me to take a message to the officer in charge
of this battery, instructing him to direct all his efforts on an
English brig, which had insolently anchored a short distance from
the Lanterne. Our gunners fired with such accuracy that one of
our large bombs fell on the English brig, piercing it from deck
to keel so that it sank almost immediately. This so infuriated
the English admiral that he had all his guns trained on the
Lanterne, on which they now opened a violent fire. My mission
being completed, I should have returned to Massena; but it is
rightly said that young soldiers, not recognising danger,
confront it more coolly than those with more experience. The
spectacle of which I was a witness, I found very interesting. The
platform of the Lanterne was floored with flagstones and was the
size of a small courtyard. It was equipped with twelve cannons on
enormous wooden mountings. Although it may be very difficult for
ship at sea to aim its fire with sufficient accuracy to hit such
a small target as was the platform of the Lanterne, the English
managed to land several bombs there. As these bombs descended,
the gunners took shelter behind or underneath the massive timbers
of the gun mountings. I did the same; but this shelter was not
entirely safe, because the flagstones presented a great
resistance to the bombs, which, being unable to bury themselves,
rolled unpredictably about the platform in all directions, and
the fragments from their explosion could pass under or behind the
mountings. It was, therefore, absurd to stay there when, like me,
one was not obliged to do so. But I experienced a fearful
pleasure, if one can describe it thus, in running here and there
with the gunners whenever a bomb fell, and emerging with them as
soon as the fragments from its explosion had settled. It was a
game which could have cost me dear. One gunner had his legs
broken, others were wounded by bomb fragments, lumps of metal
which did terrible damage to anything they hit. One of them
sliced through the thick timber baulk of a mounting behind which
I was sheltering. However, I remained on the platform until Col.
Mouton, who later became Marshal the Comte de Lobeau, and who,
having served under my father, took an interest in me, while
passing, caught sight of me. He came over to the Lanterne and
ordered me sharply to come down and return to my post beside
General Massena. He added, "You are still very young, but you
should realise that, in war, it is stupid to expose yourself to
needless danger. Would you be any better off if you had a leg
smashed for no good reason?"

I never forgot this lesson, and I have often thought of the
difference it would have made to my life, if I had lost a leg at
the age of seventeen.

Chap. 13.

The courage and tenacity with which Massena had defended Genoa
would have very important results. Major Franceschi, sent by
Massena to contact the First Consul, had managed to slip through
the enemy fleet at night, both in going and coming. On arriving
back in Genoa he said that he had left Bonaparte descending the
St. Bernard at the head of the army of reserve. Field-marshal
Melas was so convinced of the impossibility of bringing an army
across the Alps, that while part of his force, under General Ott
was blockading us, he had gone with the remainder fifty leagues
away, to attack General Suchet on the Var. This gave the First
Consul the opportunity to enter Italy without resistance, so that
the army of reserve had reached Milan before the Austrians had
ceased to regard its existence as imaginary. The First Consul,
once in Italy, would have liked to go straight away to the aid of
the town's brave garrison, but to do that it was necessary for
him to unite all the elements of his force, such as the artillery
and military supplies, whose passage across the Alps had proved
extremely difficult. This delay gave Marshal Melas the time to
hurry with his main force from Nice in order to oppose Bonaparte,
who was then unable to continue his march towards Genoa without
defeating the Austrian army.

While Bonaparte and Melas were engaged in marches and
countermarches in preparation for a battle which would decide the
destiny of France and Italy, the garrison of Genoa found itself
reduced to its last extremity. The typhus epidemic was raging.
The hospitals had become ghastly charnel houses; starvation was
at its worst. Nearly all the horses had been eaten, and though
for a long time the soldiers had had no more than half a pound of
rotten food daily, the distribution for the following day was not
assured. There was absolutely nothing left when, on the 15th
Prairial Massena gathered all his generals and colonels together
and announced that he had decided to attempt a breakout with
those remaining men who were fit for duty, to try to reach
Livorno; but his officers declared unanimously that the troops
were no longer in a state to engage in combat, or even a simple
march, unless they were given sufficient food to restore their
strength, and the stores were completely empty! General Massena
then considered that, having carried out the orders of the First
Consul and facilitated his entry into Italy, that it was his duty
to save the remains of a garrison which had fought so valiantly,
and which it was in the country's interest to preserve. He
therefore resolved to treat for the evacuation of the place, for
he would not allow the word capitulation to be uttered. The
English admiral and General Ott had, for more than a month, been
making proposals for a parley, which Massena had always turned
down; but now, compelled by circumstance, he told them that he
would accept. The conference took place in the little chapel
which is situated in the middle of the bridge of Conegliano, and
which is, as a result, between the sea and the French and
Austrian lines. The French, English, and Austrian staffs occupied
each end of the bridge.  I was present at this most interesting
event.

The foreign generals treated Massena with much respect and
consideration, and although he demanded favourable conditions,
Admiral Kieth said more than once that the defense had been so
heroic that they did not wish to refuse them. It was then agreed
that the garrison would not be made prisoners, that they could
retain their weapons and could go to Nice, and that having
reached there they would be free to engage in further
hostilities.

Massena, who realised how important it was that the First Consul
should not be led into making any false move because of his
anxiety to go to the aid of Genoa, asked that the negotiations
should permit the safe passage of two officers through the
Austrian lines, whom he proposed to send to Bonaparte to inform
him of the evacuation of the town by the French. General Ott
opposed this because he intended to leave with some twenty-five
thousand men of the blockading force to go and join Field-marshal
Melas, and he did not want these French officers to warn General
Bonaparte of his movements. But Admiral Kieth overruled this
objection. The treaty was about to be signed when, from far away,
in the midst of the mountains, came the distant sound of gunfire.
Massena held up his pen, saying, "That is the First Consul, who
has arrived with his army." The foreign commanders were much
taken aback, but after a long pause it was realised that the
sound was that of thunder, and Massena appended his signature.

It is to be regretted that the garrison and its commander were
deprived of the fame which would have been theirs if they had
been able to hold Genoa until the arrival of Bonaparte; and
furthermore, Massena would have liked to hold out for a few more
days, to delay the departure of General Ott's men to join in the
battle, which was inevitable, between the First Consul and
Field-marshal Melas. In the event, General Ott was unable to join
the main Austrian army until the day after the battle of Marengo,
the result of which might have been very different if the
Austrians, whom we had great difficulty in overcoming, had had
twenty-five thousand more men with which to oppose us. The
Austrians took possession of Genoa on the 16th Prairial(May)
after a siege which had lasted two whole months.

Massena, as has been said, considered it so important that the
First Consul was informed immediately about the situation that he
had demanded a safe conduct for two aides-de-camp, so that if any
thing untoward befell one of them, the other could carry his
despatch. As it would be useful if an officer going on such a
mission spoke Italian, Massena chose a Major Graziani, an Italian
who was in the French service, but being a most suspicious man,
Massena feared that a foreigner might be corrupted by the
Austrians and delay his journey, so he sent me to make sure that
he made all possible haste.  This precaution was unnecessary as
Major Graziani was a man of probity who knew the urgency of his
mission.

On the 16th Prairial we departed from Genoa where I left Colindo,
whom I expected to collect in a few days time, as we knew that
the First Consul's army was not very far away. Major Graziani and
I reached it the next day at Milan.

General Bonaparte spoke to me with sympathy about the loss which
I had suffered, and promised that he would be a father to me if I
behaved myself well, a promise which he kept. He asked us endless
questions about the events which had occurred in Genoa, and about
the strength and movements of the Austrian forces we had come
through to reach Milan; he kept us by him, and had horses
provided for us from his stable, since we had travelled on post
mules.

We followed the First Consul to Montebello and then to the
battlefield of Marengo, where we were employed to carry his
orders.  I shall not go into any details about this battle, where
I ran into no danger; one knows that we were on the brink of
defeat, and might have fallen if General Ott's men had arrived in
time to take part in the action. The First Consul, who feared
that he might see them appear at any moment, was very anxious,
and did not relax until our cavalry and the infantry of General
Desaix, of whose death he was still unaware, had ensured victory
by overwhelming the Grenadiers of General Zach. Seeing that the
horse which I was riding was slightly wounded on a leg, he took
me by the ear, and said, laughing, "I lend you my horses, and
look what happens to them!" Major Graziani having died in 1812, I
am the only French officer who was present at the siege of Genoa
and the battle of Marengo.

After this memorable affair, I went back to Genoa, which the
Austrians had left as a result of our victory at Marengo. There I
rejoined Colindo and Major R***. I visited my father's grave,
then we embarked on a French brig, which in twenty-four hours
carried us to Nice. Some days later, a ship from Leghorn brought
Colindo's mother, who had come in search of her son. This fine
young man and I had come through some very rough times together,
which had strengthened the friendship between us, but our paths
were divergent and we had to part, albeit with much regret.

I have said earlier, that about the middle of the siege,
Franceschi, carrying despatches from General Massena to the First
Consul, had reached France by passing through the enemy fleet at
night. He took with him the news of my father's death. My mother
had thereupon nominated a council of guardians, who sent to the
aged Spire, who was at Nice with the coach and my father's
baggage, an order to sell everything and return to Paris, which
he then did.  There was now nothing to detain me on the banks of
the Var, and I was in a hurry to rejoin my dear mother; but this
was not so easy; public coaches were, at the time, very scarce;
the one that ran from Nice to Lyon went only every second day and
was booked up for several weeks by sick or wounded officers,
coming, like me, from Genoa.

To overcome this difficulty, Major R***, two colonels, a dozen
officers and I decided to form a group to go to Grenoble on foot,
crossing the foothills of the Alps by way of Grasse, Sisteron,
Digne and Gap. Mules would carry our small amount of baggage,
which would allow us to cover eight to ten leagues every day.
Bastide was with me and was a great help to me, for I was not
accustomed to making such long journeys on foot, and it was very
hot. After eight days of very difficult walking, we reached
Grenoble, from where we were able to take coaches to Lyon. It was
with sorrow that I saw once more the town and the hotel where I
had stayed with my father in happier times. I longed for and yet
dreaded the reunion with my mother and my brothers. I fancied
that they would ask me to account for what I had done with her
husband and their father! I was returning alone, and had left him
in his grave in a foreign land! I was very unhappy and had need
of a friend who would understand and share my grief, while Major
R***, happy, after so much privation, to enjoy once more,
abundance and good living, was madly jolly, which I found most
wounding; so I decided to leave for Paris without him; but he
claimed, now that I had no need of him, that it was his duty to
deliver me to the arms of my mother, and I was forced to put up
with his company as far as Paris, to where we went by mail coach.

There are scenes which are perhaps better left to the
imagination, so I shall not attempt to describe my first
heartbreaking meeting with my widowed mother and my brothers. You
can picture it for yourselves.

My mother had a rather pretty country house at Carriere, near the
forest of Saint-Germain. I spent two months there with her, my
uncle Canrobert, who had returned from emigration, and an old
knight of Malta, M. d'Estresse, a friend of my late father.
Adolphe was not in Paris, he was in Rennes with Bernadotte, the
commander-in-chief of the army of the west, but my younger
brothers and M. Gault came to see us from time to time. In spite
of the kindness and shows of affection which were lavished on me,
I fell into a state of sombre melancholy, and my health
deteriorated. I had suffered so much, physically and mentally! I
became incapable of doing any work. Reading which I had always
loved became insupportable. I spent the greater part of the day
alone in the forest, where I lay in the shade absorbed in my
sorrowful reflections. In the evenings, I accompanied my mother,
my uncle, and the old knight on their usual walk along the bank
of the Seine; but I took very little part in the conversation,
and hid from them my sad thoughts, which revolved always about my
poor father, dying for want of proper care. Although my condition
alarmed my mother, Canrobert, and M. d'Estresse, they had the
good sense not to make matters worse by any remarks which would
have only irritated a sick mind, but they sought gradually to
chase away the unhappy memories which were so affecting me by
bringing forward the holidays of my two younger brothers, who
came to live with us in the country. The presence of these two
children, whom I dearly loved, eased my mind of its sorrows, by
the care I took to make their stay at Carriere a happy one. I
took them to Versailles, to Maisons and to Marly, and their
childish happiness slowly brought back to life my spirits which
had been so cruelly crushed by misfortune. Who could have thought
that these two children, so lovely and full of life would soon be
no more?

Chap. 14.

The end of the autumn of 1800 was approaching; my mother went
back to Paris, my young brothers went back to school, and I was
ordered to join Bernadotte at Rennes.

Bernadotte had been my father's best friend, and my father had
helped him in various ways on many occasions. In recognition of
the debt owed to my family, he had written to me saying that he
had reserved a place for me as his aide-de-camp. I received this
letter at Nice when I returned from Genoa, and on the strength of
it, I refused an offer from General Massena to take me on as a
permanent aide-de-camp, and to allow me to spend several months
with my mother before joining him and the army of Italy.

My father had arranged that my brother Adolphe should continue
his studies in order to enter the polytechnic; so he was not a
soldier when my father died; but on hearing this sad news, he
rebelled at the thought that his younger brother was already an
officer, and had been in action, while he was still on a school
bench. He gave up the studies required for the technical arms,
and opted to join the infantry instead, which allowed him to
leave school.

He was presented with a good opportunity. The government had
ordered a new regiment to be raised in the department of the
Seine.  The officers for this regiment were to be selected by
General Lefebvre, who, as you know, had replaced my father in
command of the Paris division. General Lefebvre was only too
pleased to do something for the son of one of his old companions
who had died in the servic

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