resolve and aiming, like a true Gascon, to have a catspaw to pull
his chestnuts from the fire, persuaded General Simon and the
other principal conspirators that it was essential that he should
be in Paris when the army of Brittany proclaimed the deposition
of the consul, so that he would be in a position to seize
immediately the reins of government, in association with General
Moreau, with whom he was going to confer about the matter. In
reality, Bernadotte wished not to be compromised if the attempt
failed, while maintaining himself in a position to take advantage
of any success, and General Simon and the other conspirators were
blind enough not to see through this ruse. The day of the armed
uprising was then agreed, but the man who should have led it,
because he had organised it, had cunningly absented himself.
Before Bernadotte left for Paris, a proclamation had been drawn
up, addressed to the people of France as well as to the army.
Several thousand copies of this were to be stuck up on the day of
the event. A bookseller in Rennes, introduced by General Simon
and by Foucart into the conspiracy, had undertaken to print this
proclamation himself. This ensured that the proclamation would be
ready for use in Brittany, but Bernadotte wanted to have a large
number of these posters in Paris, for it was important to spread
them throughout the capital and to send them to all the provinces
as soon as the army of the west had made its move against the
government, and as there was a risk of discovery if an approach
was made to a Paris printer, Bernadotte devised a method of
acquiring a large number of posters without compromising himself.
He told my brother Adolphe, who was his aide-de-camp, that he was
authorised to accompany him to Paris, and that he was to bring
his horse and his carriage in anticipation of a long stay. My
brother was delighted, and having packed his personal effects
into the lockers of the carriage, he instructed his servant to
bring the carriage, unhurriedly, to Paris while he went there by
stage-coach.
As soon as my brother had left, General Simon and Commandant
Foucart, delaying, under some pretext or other, the departure of
my brother's servant, opened the carriage lockers and took out
the personal possessions, which they replaced by packets of the
proclamation. Then, having closed everything up, they sent poor
Joseph on his way, without any suspicion of what he was carrying.
However, the First Consul's police had got wind of something
brewing in the army of Brittany, but without knowing exactly what
was going on or who was involved. The minister of police thought
it was his duty to inform the prefect of Rennes who was a M.
Mounier, and by the most extraordinary chance the prefect
received this despatch on the very day when the revolt was due to
break out, during a parade at Rennes, at mid-day. It was now
eleven-thirty!
The prefect, to whom the minister had given no positive
information, thought that in order to obtain some, he could do no
better,in the absence of the commanding general, than to consult
his chief of staff. He therefore asked General Simon to come to
his office, and showed him the ministerial despatch. General
Simon, believing that all had been discovered, then foolishly
lost his head.
He told the prefect that there was indeed a vast conspiracy in
the army, in which he had, unfortunately, played a part, of which
he now repented; and thereupon he disclosed all the plans of the
conspirators, and named the leaders; adding that in a few minutes
the troops gathered on the parade ground, at a signal from
General Pinoteau, were going to proclaim the overthrow of the
consular government!
You may imagine M. Mounier's astonishment, and the concern he
felt at being in the presence of a culpable general who, though
at first thrown into confusion, might recover himself and
recollect that he had eighty thousand men under his command, of
whom eight to ten thousand were at this moment gathered not far
from the prefecture. The position in which M. Mounier found
himself was critical, but he extricated himself adroitly.
The general commanding the gendarmerie, Virion, had been ordered
by the government to put together at Rennes a body of unmounted
gendarmes, for the formation of which every regiment had supplied
some Grenadiers. These soldiers, having no unifying bonds,
escaped, in consequence, from the influence of the colonels of
the regiments, and recognised only the orders of their new
leaders, those of the gendarmerie who, in accordance with the
regulations, obeyed the instructions of the prefect. M. Mounier
now sent for General Virion, telling him to bring all the
gendarmes. Meanwhile, fearing that General Simon might change his
mind and leave him to go and place himself at the head of his
troops, he soothed him with honeyed words, assuring him that his
repentance and his confession would mitigate his offence in the
eyes of the First Consul, and persuaded him to hand over his
sword and go to the Tour Labat with the gendarmes who had at that
moment arrived in the courtyard. So now the prime mover in the
revolt was in prison.
While this was going on at the prefecture, the troops assembled
at the Place D'armes were awaiting the hour of the parade which
would also be that of the beginning of the revolt. All the
colonels were in the secret, and had promised their support
except the commander of the 79th, M. Goddard, who it was hoped
would follow the rest.
From what a slender thread hangs the destiny of empires!
Pinoteau, a strong and determined man, was due to give the signal
which his regiment, the 82nd, already drawn up in battle
formation on the square, was impatiently awaiting; but Pinoteau,
with Foucart, had been busy all morning arranging for the
despatch of proclamations, and in their preoccupation he had
forgotten to shave. Mid-day arrived. Colonel Pinoteau realising
that he was unshaven, hurried to put this right; but while he was
engaged in this operation, General Virion, escorted by a large
number of gendarmes, burst into the room, seized his sword and
declared him a prisoner. He was taken to the tower to join
General Simon. A few minutes later and Colonel Pinoteau would
have been at the head of ten thousand men, and would undoubtedly
have succeeded in starting the revolt. But taken thus by surprise
he could do nothing but surrender to force.
Having made this second arrest, Virion and the prefect sent an
aide-de-camp to the parade ground to tell Colonel Goddard of the
79th that they had a communication for him from the First Consul.
As soon as he arrived, they told him of the discovery of the
conspiracy and the arrest of General Simon and Colonel Pinoteau,
and persuaded him to unite with them in putting down the
rebellion. Having agreed to this, Colonel Goddard returned to the
parade ground without telling anyone what he had learned, and
taking his battalion to the Tour Labat, he joined the battalion
of gendarmes who were guarding it. Also there were the prefect
and General Virion, who arranged for ammunition to be distributed
to the loyal troops. They then awaited events.
Meanwhile, the officers of the regiments which were assembled on
the parade ground, surprised at the sudden departure of the 79th,
and not understanding why General Pinoteau was late, sent to his
home, where they were told that he had been arrested and sent to
the tower. They were told at the same time of the arrest of
General Simon.
This put the cat among the pigeons. The officers of the various
units got together; Commandant Foucart proposed that they should
march immediately to free the two prisoners and carry on with the
movement. This suggestion was received with acclamation,
particularly from the 82nd, who worshipped Colonel Pinoteau. They
hurried to the Tour Labat, but found it surrounded by four
thousand gendarmes and the battalion of the 79th. The assailants
were undoubtedly the more numerous, but they had no ammunition
and if they had had any, many of them would have been reluctant
to fire on their comrades, simply to make a change in the members
of the government. General Virion and the Prefect addressed them
and urged them to return to their duty. The soldiers hesitated,
and seeing this, none of the officers dared to order a bayonet
attack, which was the only action which remained possible.
Gradually the regiments stood down, and returned one by one to
their barracks. Commandant Foucart, left alone, was taken to the
tower, along with the unfortunate printer.
On learning that the insurrection at Rennes had failed, all the
officers of the other regiments of the army of Brittany disavowed
it; but the First Consul was not taken in by their protestations,
he brought forward the date of their embarkation for Dominica and
the other islands of the Antilles, where nearly all of them died,
either in the fighting or of yellow fever.
As soon as he had heard the first confessions of General Simon
and before the situation was fully under control, M. Mounier had
sent a despatch rider to the government, and the First Consul now
considered whether he should have Bernadotte and Moreau arrested.
However, he suspended this measure for lack of any evidence, and
to get hold of some, he ordered the examination of any travellers
coming from Brittany.
While all this was going on, the good Joseph arrived at
Versailles in my brother's carriage, and much to his surprise,
found himself seized by the gendarmerie, and, in spite of his
protests, brought before the minister of police. On learning that
the carriage which this man was driving belonged to one of
Bernadotte's aides-de-camp, the minister, Fouche, had all the
lockers searched and found them full of proclamations, in which
Bernadotte and Moreau, after denouncing the First Consul in
violent terms announced his fall and their accession to power.
Bonaparte, furious with these two officers, demanded their
presence. Moreau told him that as he, Moreau,had no authority
over the army of the west, he would accept no responsibility for
the conduct of the regiments of which it was composed; and one
has to admit that this was a valid objection. It however worsened
the position of Bernadotte, who, as commander-in-chief of the
troops assembled in Brittany, was responsible for maintaining
good order and discipline amongst them; but not only had his army
engaged in conspiracy, but his chief-of-staff was a leader in the
enterprise. The rebel proclamations bore Bernadotte's signature,
and more than one thousand copies of this document had just been
found in a carriage belonging to his aide-de-camp. The First
Consul thought that such evident proofs would flatten and
confound Bernadotte; but he was dealing with a true Gascon, as
devious as they come!
Bernadotte expressed surprise...indignation! He knew
nothing...absolutely nothing! General Simon was a villain and so
was Pinoteau! He defied anyone to produce the original
proclamation bearing his signature! Was it his fault if some
lunatic had arranged for his name to be printed at the foot of a
proclamation which he utterly and completely rejected. As for the
wicked originators of all these plots, he would be the first to
demand their punishment.
Bernadotte had indeed contrived to get everything directed by
General Simon, without giving him a single word in writing which
might compromise himself, and had left himself in a position in
which he could deny everything if, in the event of the plot
failing, General Simon should accuse him of being a participant.
The First Consul, though convinced of Bernadotte's guilt, had no
solid evidence to go on, and his council of ministers concluded
that it would not be feasible to bring charges against a general
who was so popular in the country and the army. Sadly, these sort
of considerations did not apply to my brother Adolphe. One fine
night they came to my mother's house to arrest him, and this at a
time when the poor woman was already overburdened with grief.
M. de Canrobert, her eldest brother, whom she had managed to have
taken off the list of emigres, was living peaceably with her when
he was picked out by a policeman as having been present at some
gathering whose aim was the restoration of the previous
government. He was taken to the Temple Prison, where he was
detained for eleven months. My mother was taking every possible
step to prove his innocence and obtain his liberty when she was
struck by another terrible disaster.
My two younger brothers were pupils at the French Military
School. This establishment had a huge park and a fine country
house in the village of Vanves, not far from the banks of the
Seine; and in the summer the pupils went there to pass some of
their holidays, when those who had behaved well were allowed to
bathe in the river. Now it so happened that, because of some
student peccadillo, the headmaster had deprived the whole school
of the pleasure of swimming; however my brother Theodore loved
swimming, so he and some of his friends decided to go swimming
without the knowledge of their masters. While the pupils were
spread about the park playing, they went to an isolated spot
where they climbed over the wall and, on a very hot day, they ran
to the Seine, into which they jumped, bathed in perspiration.
They were scarcely in the water, however, when they heard the
college drum beating for dinner. Fearing that their escapade
would be discovered by their absence from the refectory, they
dressed hurriedly and rushed back by the way they had come, to
arrive, breathless, at the start of the meal. In such
circumstances, they should have eaten little or nothing, but
schoolboys are heedless, and they ate as much as usual, with the
result that they nearly all became ill. Theodore was particularly
affected, and was taken to my mother's house desperately ill with
pneumonia.
It was while she was going from the bedside of her mortally
afflicted son to her brother's prison, that they came to arrest
her first-born. An appalling situation for any mother. To make
matters worse, poor Theodore died. He was eighteen years old,
charming and handsome. I was desolated to hear of his death, for
I was very fond of him. These dreadful misfortunes which, one
after another, assailed my mother, impelled those who were my
father's true friends to exert themselves on her behalf. A
leading figure among them was M. Defermon, who worked almost
daily with the First Consul, and who rarely failed to intercede
for Adolphe and his widowed mother. Eventually, General Bonaparte
said to him one day, that although he had a low opinion of
Bernadotte's common sense, he did not believe that he was so
lacking in judgement that in conspiring against the government,
he would take into his confidence a twenty-one year old
lieutenant; and besides that, General Simon had stated that it
was he and Commandant Foucart who had put the proclamations in
young Marbot's carriage, so that, if he was to blame at all, it
was only to a very small extent. However, he, the First Consul,
was not willing to release the aide-de-camp until Bernadotte came
in person to ask him to do so.
When she heard of this decision taken by the First Consul, my
mother hastened to Bernadotte's house and begged him to take the
necessary step. He promised solemnly to do but the days and weeks
rolled past without him doing anything. Eventually, he said to my
mother, "What you are asKing of me will be extremely painful, but
no matter, I owe this to the memory of your husband, as well as
to the interest I have in your children. I shall go this very
evening to see the First Consul and I shall call at your house
after leaving the Tuileries. I am certain I shall be able to
announce the release of your son."
One can imagine with what impatience my mother waited during this
long day! Every coach she heard made her heart beat. But at last
it struck eleven o'clock and Bernadotte had not appeared. My
mother then went round to his house, and what do you suppose she
was told?....That General Bernadotte and his wife had left, to
take the waters at Plombieres, and would not be back for two
months! In spite of his promises, Bernadotte had left Paris
without seeing the First Consul. Devastated, my mother wrote to
General Bonaparte. M. Defermon, who undertook to deliver the
letter, was so indignant at the conduct of General Bernadotte
that he could not resist telling the First Consul how he had
behaved toward us. "That," said the First Consul, "is the sort of
thing I would expect!"
M. Defermon, Generals Mortier, Lefebvre and Murat then urged that
my brother should be freed; observing that if he had been unaware
of the conspiracy, it was unjust to keep him in prison, and even
if he had known something about it, he could not be expected to
carry tales about Bernadotte, whose aide-de-camp he was. This
reasoning impressed the First Consul, who set my brother at
liberty and sent him to Cherbourg, to join the 49th Line
regiment, as he did not wish him to continue as aide-de-camp to
Bernadotte.
Bonaparte, who had a very long memory, probably had engraved,
somewhere in his head, the words, "Marbot. Aide-de-camp of
Bernadotte. Conspiracy of Rennes." So my brother was never again
looked on with favour, and some time later he was sent to
Pondichery.
Adolphe had spent a month in prison; Commandant Foucart was there
for a year. He was cashiered and ordered to leave France. He took
refuge in Holland, where he lived miserably for thirty years on
earnings from French lessons, which he was reduced to giving, as
he had no personal fortune.
At last, in 1832, he thought to return to his native country, and
during the siege of Anvers I saw, one day, come into my room, a
sort of elderly schoolmaster, very threadbare; it was Foucart, I
recognised him. He told me that he did not have a brass farthing!
While I offered him some assistance, I could not help reflecting
on the bizarre workings of fate. Here was a man who in 1802 was
already a battalion commander, and whose courage and ability
would have certainly carried him to the rank of general, if
Colonel Pinoteau had not decided to shave at the moment when the
conspiracy of Rennes was due to come to a head. I took Foucart to
Marshal Gerard, who also remembered him, and together we
presented him to the Duc d'Orleans, who gave him a job in his
library, at a salary of 2400 francs. He lived there for fifteen
years.
As for General Simon and Colonel Pinoteau, they were imprisoned
in the Isle de Re for five or six years. Eventually, Bonaparte,
having become Emperor, set them free. Pinoteau had been
vegetating for some time in Rufec, his birthplace, when, in 1808,
the Emperor, who was on his way to Spain, having stopped there to
change horses, Pinoteau presented himself boldly before him and
requested to be re-engaged in military service. The Emperor, who
knew that he was an excellent officer, then placed him in command
of a regiment, which he led faultlessly throughout the wars in
Spain, so that after several campaigns, he was promoted to the
rank of brigadier-general.
General Simon also returned to military service. He was in
command of an infantry brigade in Massena's army when we invaded
Portugal. At the battle of Busaco, where Massena made the mistake
of mounting a frontal attack on the Duke of Wellington's army,
which was in position on the heights of a mountain with a very
difficult approach, Poor Simon, wishing, no doubt, to redeem
himself and to make up for the time he had lost towards
promotion, charged bravely at the head of his brigade, overcame
every obstacle, clambered up the rocks under a hail of bullets,
broke through the English line and was first into the enemy
entrenchments. But, there, a bullet fired at close range
shattered his jaw at the moment when the English second line
drove back our troops, who were thrown down into the valley with
considerable losses. The enemy found the unfortunate general
lying in the redout among the dead and dying. His face was hardly
recognisable as human. Wellington treated him with much respect,
and as soon as he could be moved, he sent him to England as a
prisoner of war. He was later permitted to return to France. But
his terrible injury barred him from any further service. The
Emperor gave him a pension, and one heard no more of him.
Chap. 18.
After the unhappy events which had just befallen her, my mother
longed to re-unite her three remaining sons around her. My
brother, having been ordered to join the expeditionary force
which was being sent to India under the command of General
Decaen, was given permission to spend two months with my mother;
Felix was at the Military School, and a piece of good fortune
brought me also to Paris.
The School of Cavalry was then at Versailles; every regiment sent
there an officer and a non-commissioned officer, who, after
completing their studies, returned to their unit to act as
instructors. Now it so happened that at the moment when I was
about to ask for permission to go to Paris, the lieutenant who
had been at the School had completed the course, and the colonel
proposed to send me to replace him. I accepted this with
pleasure, for not only would it allow me to see my mother again,
but it would ensure that for eighteen months I would be living
only a short distance from her.
My preparations were soon made. I sold my horse and taking the
stage-coach, I left the 25th Chasseurs, to which I was never to
return; although not being aware of this at the time, my
farewells to my comrades were lighthearted.
On my arrival in Paris, I found my mother greatly upset, not only
on account of the cruel loss which we had just suffered, but also
over the imminent departure of Adolphe for India, and the
detention of my uncle Canrobert, which continued indefinitely.
We spent a month together as a family, at the end of which my
elder brother had to report to Brest, where he was soon embarked
for Pondichery in the "Marengo." As for me, I went to settle in
at the School of Cavalry, whose barracks were in the great
stables of Versailles.
I was lodged on the first floor, in apartments which had once
been occupied by the Prince de Lambesc, the master of horse. I
had a very big bedroom and an immense "salon" which looked out
over the Avenue de Paris and the parade-ground. I was at first
astonished that the most recently arrived pupil should be so well
housed, but I soon learned that no one wanted this apartment
because its huge size made it glacially cold, and few of the
officer pupils could afford to keep a fire going. Happily I was
not entirely without means. I had a good stove put in, and with a
big screen, I made in this vast apartment a little room, which I
furnished modestly, since all we were issued with was a table, a
bed, and two chairs, which were quite out of place in the
enormous space of my quarters. So I made myself reasonably
comfortable until the return of spring, when the place seemed
quite charming.
Although we were called pupils, you should not suppose that we
were treated as students. We were allowed every freedom, too much
freedom in fact. We were commanded by an old colonel, M. Maurice,
whom we hardly ever saw, and who did not take part in anything.
On three days in the week we had civilian horsemanship, under the
celebrated equestrians Jardin and Coupe, and we went there when
it suited us. In the afternoon, an excellent veterinarian, M.
Valois, ran a course on the care of horses; but no one compelled
us to study with any diligence. The other three days were devoted
to military matters. In the morning, military horsemanship,
taught by the only two captains in the school, and in the
afternoon, drill, also taught by them. Once this parade was
finished, the captains disappeared and each student went his own
way.
You will appreciate that it took a keen desire to learn, to get
anywhere in a school so badly run; however most of the students
made progress because, being destined to become instructors in
their respective regiments, their self-respect made them fear not
being up to the task. So they worked reasonably hard, but not as
hard as one would as a schoolboy. As for behaviour, the staff
took no interest in it. As long as the students caused no trouble
in the establishment itself, they were allowed to do as they
pleased. They came and went at all hours. They were subject to no
role call. They ate in hotels, if it suited them, slept out, and
even went to Paris without asking permission. The
non-commissioned pupils had a little less liberty. Two
moderately strict sergeants were in charge of them, who insisted
that they were back by ten o'clock at night.