of the whole school presented an interesting sight, as when, on
the first day of every month, we paraded in full dress in order
to draw up the pay roll; then you could see the uniforms of all
the French cavalry regiments.
As all these officers belonged to different units, and were
thrown together only for the duration of the course, there could
not exist between them the close fellowship which is one of the
features of regimental life. We were too numerous (ninety) for
there to be a bond between all. There were coteries but no union.
I did not feel any need to socialise with my new comrades. I left
every Saturday for Paris, where I spent the next day and most of
Monday with my mother. There were at Versailles two old friends
of my mother, from Rennes; the Comtesses de Chateauville, a pair
of very respectable and well educated elderly ladies, who
entertained only a select society. I went two or three times a
week to spend an evening with them. The remaining evenings I
employed in reading, which I have always greatly enjoyed, for if
school sets a man on the road to education, he must get there by
himself through reading. How pleasant it was, in the midst of a
very harsh winter, to come back to my quarters after dinner, make
up a good fire and there, alone, ensconced behind my screen and
beside my little lamp, to read until eight or nine o'clock; then
to go to bed, in order to save wood, and continue reading to
midnight. In this way I re-read Tacitus and Xenophon and many of
the classical Greek and Roman authors; I revised the history of
Rome and of France, and the principle countries of Europe. My
time, shared between my mother, my work at the school, a little
good society and my beloved books, passed very agreeably.
I began the year 1803 at Versailles. Spring introduced some
changes into my way of life. Each of the officers at the school
was provided with a horse, so I devoted some of my evenings to
taking long rides in the magnificent woods which surround
Versailles, Marly, and Meudon.
During May, my mother was made very happy by the release of her
eldest brother from the Temple prison, and the return to France
of the other two, de l'Isle and de la Coste, who, having been
struck off the list of emigres came to Paris.
The eldest of my mother's brothers, M. de Canrobert was a very
pleasant, sensible man. He entered the service at a very young
age, as a sous-lieutenant in the infantry of Ponthievre, and,
under Lieutenant-general De Vaux, fought in all the campaigns of
the war in Corsica, in which he distinguished himself. After the
conquest of that country, he served out the twenty-four years
which earned him the Cross of St. Louis. He was a captain when he
married Mlle. Sanguinet and then retired to the Chateau of Laval
de Cere.
Having become the father of a son and a daughter, M. de Canrobert
was living happily in his manor when the revolution broke out in
1789. He was forced to emigrate to escape the scaffold, with
which he was threatened, all his possessions were confiscated and
sold, his wife was imprisoned with her two young children. My
mother obtained permission to visit her unhappy sister-in-law,
and found her in a cold, damp tower, stricken by a fever, which
carried off, that very day, her young daughter. By dint of
requests and supplications, my mother managed to obtain the
release of her sister-in-law; but she died a few days later from
the illness she had contracted in prison. My mother then took
charge of the young boy, named Antoine. He was sent in turn to
college and then to the military school, where he was one of
their brightest pupils. Finally he became an infantry officer and
was killed, bravely, on the field of battle, at Waterloo. My
uncle was one of the first of the emigres who, under the
consulate, were given permission to return to France. He
recovered some part of his estate, and married again, this time
to one of the daughters of M. Niocel, an old friend of the
family.
M. Certain de l'Isle, the second of my mother's brothers, was one
of the most handsome men in France. At the time of the revolution
he was a lieutenant in the regiment of Ponthievre, in which were
also serving his elder brother and several of his uncles. He took
the same course as nearly all his comrades and emigrated in
company with his younger brother, Certain de la Coste, who was in
the King's bodyguard. After leaving France the two brothers
stayed always together. They retreated first to the country of
Baden, but their tranquility was soon disturbed: the French
armies crossed the Rhine, and as all emigres who fell into their
clutches were shot, by order of the Convention, the brothers were
forced to hide hurriedly in the interior of Germany. Lack of
money compelled them to travel on foot, which soon became too
much for poor La Coste. They had great difficulty in finding
lodgings, as everywhere was occupied by Austrian troops. La Coste
became ill. His brother supported him. In this way they reached
a little town in Wurtemberg, where they found a bed in a low
class tavern. At daybreak they saw the Austrians leaving, and
they were told that the French were about to occupy the town. La
Coste, unable to move, urged de l'Isle to look to his own safety
and to leave him to the care of Providence; but de l'Isle
declared solemnly that he would not abandon his sick brother.
However two French volunteers arrived at the inn with a
requisition for lodgings. The inn-keeper took them to the room
occupied by my two uncles, whom he told that they would have to
leave. It has been said, quite rightly, that during the
Revolution, the honour of France took refuge in the army. The two
soldiers, seeing that La Coste was ill, told the landlord that
not only did they wish to keep him with them, but that they
wanted a large room which was on the first floor, where they
would establish themselves with my two uncles. In enemy country,
the victor being the master, the inn-keeper obeyed the two French
volunteers, who, during the two weeks in which their battalion
was billeted in the town, took great care of Messers La Coste and
de l'Isle, and even let them share in the good meals which their
host was obliged to provide in accordance with the usages of war;
and this comfortable regime, coupled with rest, restored to some
extent, the health of La Coste.
When they left, the volunteers, who belonged to a battalion from
the Gironde, wishing to give their new friends the means of
passing through the French columns without being arrested, took
from their uniforms the metal buttons which bore the name of
their battalion, and attached them to the civilian clothing worn
by my uncles, who could then pass themselves off as sutlers. With
this new form of passport, they went through all the French
cantonments without rousing any suspicion. They reached Prussia,
and settled down in the town of Hall, where De l'Isle was able to
give French lessons. They lived there peacefully until 1803, when
my mother managed to have them struck of the list of emigres, and
they returned to France after twelve years of exile.
Chap. 19.
Let us now return to Versailles. While I was on the course at the
school of cavalry, great events were under way in Europe. England
having broken the Treaty of Amiens, hostilities recommenced. The
First Consul resolved to take the initiative by leading an army
onto the soil of Great Britain, a daring and difficult
undertaking, but not impossible. To put it into operation,
Napoleon, who had just seized Hanover, the private property of
the English monarchy, stationed on the coasts of the North Sea
and the Channel, several army corps, and ordered the construction
and assembly, at Boulogne and neighbouring ports, of an immense
number of barges and flat-bottomed boats, on which he proposed to
embark his troops.
All the armed forces were set in motion for this war. I regretted
that I was not involved; and being destined to carry back to my
regiment the knowledge I had acquired at the school, I saw myself
condemned to spend several years in the depot with a whip in my
hand, making recruits trot round on elderly horses, while my
comrades were fighting at the head of troops which I had trained.
I did not find this prospect very pleasant, but how was it to be
changed? A regiment must always be fed with recruits, and it was
certain that my colonel, having sent me to the school of cavalry
to learn how to train these recruits, would not deprive himself
of the services which I could render in this respect, and would
keep me out of the fighting squadrons. One day, however, as I was
walking down the Avenue de Paris, with my drill manual in my
hand, I had a brilliant idea, which totally changed my destiny
and contributed greatly to my promotion to the rank which I now
occupy.
I had just learned that the First Consul, having fallen out with
the court of Lisbon, had ordered the formation, at Bayonne, of an
army corps destined to enter Portugal under the command of
General Augereau. I knew that General Augereau owed some of his
advancement to my father, under whose command he had served in
the camp at Toulouse and in the Pyrenees, and although what I had
experienced at Genoa after the death of my father had not given
me a high opinion of the gratitude of mankind, I resolved to
write to him and, having explained the predicament in which I
found myself, ask him to extricate me by taking me on as one of
his aides-de-camp.
Having written this letter, I sent it to my mother, to see if she
approved. She not only approved, but knowing that Augereau was in
Paris, she decided to take the letter to him herself. Augereau
received the widow of his old friend with the greatest
consideration; he immediately took his carriage and went to the
War Ministry, and that same evening he handed to my mother my
appointment as aide-de-camp. Thus a wish, which twenty-four hours
earlier had seemed a dream, became a reality.
The following day I hurried to Paris to thank the general. He
received me most kindly, and ordered me to join him at Bayonne,
to where he was now going. It was now October, I had completed
the first course at the school of cavalry and had little interest
in starting on the second; so I was happy to leave Versailles,
for I felt sure that I was starting on a new career, much more
advantageous than that of a regimental instructor. I was quite
right in thinking this, for nine years later I was a colonel,
while those I had left at the school had hardly reached the rank
of captain.
I reported promptly to Bayonne and took up my post as an
aide-de-camp to the commander-in-chief. He was installed a
quarter of a league from the town in the fine Chateau de Marac,
in which the Emperor lived some years later. I was made very
welcome by General Augereau and by my new comrades, his
aides-de-camp, nearly all of whom had served under my father.
This general staff, although it did not give to the army as many
general officers as that of Bernadotte, was nevertheless very
well made up. General Danzelot who was the chief-of-staff, was a
highly capable man who later became the governor of the Ionian
islands and then Martinique. His second in command was Colonel
Albert, who at his death was general aide-de-camp to the Duc
d'Orleans. The aides-de-camp were Colonel Sicard, who died at
Heilsberg, Major Brame, who retired to Lille after the Peace of
Tilsit, Major Massy, killed as a colonel at Moscow, Captain
Chevetel and Lieutenant Mainville, the first of whom retired to
his estate in Brittany and the second ended his career in
Bayonne. I was the sixth and youngest of the aides-de-camp.
Finally the staff was completed by Dr. Raymond, who helped me
greatly at Eylau, and Colonel Augereau, a half-brother of the
general; a very quiet man, who later became a lieutenant general.
Chap. 20.
The greater part of the generals who made a name for themselves
in the early wars of the revolution having sprung from the lower
ranks of society, it has been supposed, wrongly, that they had
received no education, and that they owed their success solely to
their fighting ability. Augereau, in particular, has been very
badly judged. He has been represented as boastful, hard, noisy
and nasty. This is an error, for although he had a stormy youth,
and fell into some political misconceptions, he was kind, polite
and affectionate, and I can assure you that of the five marshals
under whom I have served, it was he who did most to lessen the
evils of war, who was most considerate toward the local populace
and who treated his officers best, among whom he lived like a
father among his children. It is true that he had a most
irregular life, but before passing judgement you must consider
the conditions which existed at the time.
Pierre Augereau was born in Paris in 1757. His father had an
extensive business in the fruit trade and had acquired a large
fortune, which allowed him to give his children a good education.
His mother was born in Munich, and she had the good sense to
speak nothing but German to her son, who, as a result spoke it
perfectly; something he found most useful in his travels, and
also during the wars.
Augereau was good-looking, large and well built. He loved all
physical activities, at which he excelled. He was a good horseman
and a fine swordsman. When he was seventeen his mother died, and
one of her brothers who worked in the office of Monsieur (the
king's brother) arranged for him to join the Carabiniers, of whom
Monsieur was colonel in chief.
He spent several years at Saumur, where the Carabiniers were
usually garrisoned, and where his efficiency and good conduct
soon raised him to the rank of sergeant. Sadly, there was at this
time a craze for duels. The reputation which Augereau had as an
excellent swordsman compelled him to engage in several, for it
was a great point among duelists not to accept that anyone was
their superior; gentlemen, officers and soldiers fought for the
most futile of reasons. It so happened that when Augereau was on
leave in Paris, the celebrated fencing master Saint-George,
seeing him pass, said, in the presence of several swordsmen,
there is one of the finest blades in France. Upon this, a
sergeant of Dragoons named Belair, who claimed to be next to
Saint-George in ability, wrote to Augereau saying that he would
challenge him to fight unless he recognised the writer's
superiority. Augereau having replied that he would do nothing of
the sort, they met on the Champs-Elysees where Belair received a
penetrating sword-thrust. He subsequently recovered and having
left the service, he married and became the father of eight
children, for whom he was unable to provide. So in the first days
of the Empire it occurred to him to approach his old adversary,
now a marshal. This man, whom I knew, was something of an
original character; he presented himself before Augereau with a
little violin under his arm, and said that as he had nothing to
give his eight children for dinner, he would make them dance a
quadrille to cheer them up, unless the marshal could put him in
the way of providing a more substantial meal. Augereau recognised
Belair, invited him to a meal, gave him some money and a few days
later arranged for him to have a good job in the transport
department. He also placed two of his sons in school. Conduct
which requires no commentary.
Not all the duels which Augereau fought ended like this. As a
result of an absurd custom, there existed an inveterate hatred
between some units, the cause for which was buried in the past
and often hardly known, but which, handed down from age to age,
resulted in duels every time the units met. In this way the
Gendarmes of Luneville and the Carabiniers had been at war for
half a century, though they had not seen one another in this long
period of time. At last, at the beginning of the reign of Louis
XVI, they found themselves in the same camp at Compiegne;
whereupon, to show themselves no less brave than their
forefathers, the Carabiniers and the Gendarmes decided to fight,
and their determination was such that the officers thought it
wiser to look the other way. However, to avoid too much
bloodshed, it was agreed that there would be only one duel; each
unit would select a combatant who would represent them, and after
that there would be a truce. The Carabiniers chose their twelve
best swordsmen, among whom was Augereau, and it was agreed that
the defender of the regimental honour should be chosen by lot.
On that day fate was more blind than usual, for it selected a
sergeant by the name of Donnadieu, who had five children.
Augereau observed that the name of a father of a family should
not have been included in the draw, and asked if he might replace
his comrade. Donnadieu declared that as his name had been chosen
he would go forward. Augereau insisted, and this battle of
generosity was ended only by the members of the meeting accepting
Augereau's proposal. The name of the combatant chosen by the
Gendarmes would soon be known and after that it was merely a
matter of arranging for the two adversaries to meet, when a
simulated quarrel would serve as a motive for the encounter.
Augereau had a fearsome opponent, an excellent swordsman, a
professional duelist, who as a warm-up, awaiting the contest, had
killed two sergeants of the Guards, on the days previously.
Augereau, without allowing himself to be intimidated by the
reputation of this bravo, went to the cafe where he knew he was
to appear, and while awaiting him sat down at a table. The
Gendarme arrived, and when his opponent had been pointed out to
him, he pulled aside his coat-tails, and sat down insolently on
the table, his backside not a foot from Augereau's face. Augereau
was drinking a cup of very hot coffee at the time and he gently
eased back the opening, called the ventouse, which existed then
at the back of a cavalryman's leather breeches, and poured the
steaming liquid onto the the buttocks of the impudent Gendarme,
who turned round in a fury! The quarrel having now been engaged
upon, they went outside, followed by a crowd of Gendarmes and
Carabiniers. As they went along, the ferocious Gendarme, to mock
the man whom, he felt confident, would be his victim, asked
Augereau, in a bantering tone, whether he would prefer to be
buried in the town or in the country. "The country" replied
Augereau, "I have always liked the open air." "Fine," said the
gendarme, and, turning to his second, he said, "Put him with the
other two I killed yesterday and the day before." This was not
very encouraging, and anyone but Augereau might have been put
out, but determined to sell his life dearly, he defended himself
with such skill that his adversary lost his temper and made a
false move, which allowed Augereau, who had remained calm, to run
him through, saying that it was he who would be buried in the
country.
The camp being ended, the Carabiniers returned to Saumur, where
Augereau was peacefully continuing his military service when a
disastrous event precipitated him into a life of high adventure.
A young officer of exalted birth, but with a very nasty temper,
having found something to complain about concerning the grooming
of horses, rounded on Augereau, and in an access of rage offered
to strike him with his riding whip in front of the whole
squadron. Augereau indignantly seized the officer's whip and
threw it away, whereupon the latter, in a fury, drew his sword
and confronted Augereau, saying, "Defend yourself!" Augereau
restricted himself at first merely to parrying, but having been
slightly wounded, he made a riposte and the officer fell dead.
The general, Comte de Malseigne, who commanded the Carabiniers in
the name of Monsieur, was soon told of this affair, and although
eye-witnesses agreed in saying that Augereau, provoked by the
most unjustifiable attack, had legitimately defended himself, the
general, who favoured Augereau, thought it would be wiser to get
him out of the way. To do this he called on a Carabinier named
Papon, a native of Geneva whose term of service was due to expire
in a few days, and invited him to give his travel permit to
Augereau, promising to give him another one later. Papon agreed
to this, and Augereau was always most grateful to him, for when
he arrived in Geneva, he learned that the court-martial, in spite
of the evidence of the witnesses, had condemned him to death for
raising his sword against an officer.
The Papon family had a business which exported a large number of
watches to the east. Augereau decided to go with a representative
whom they were sending there, and travelled with him to Greece,
to the Ionian islands, to Constantinople and the shores of the
Black Sea.
He was in the Crimea when a Russian colonel, guessing from his
bearing that he had been a soldier, offered him the rank of
sergeant.
Augereau accepted, and served for several years in the Russian
army, which the famous Souwaroff commanded in a war against the
Turks, and was wounded in the assault on Ismailoff.
When peace was made between the Porte and Russia, the regiment in
which Augereau was serving was ordered to go to Poland; but he
did not wish to stay any longer with the semi-barbarous Russians,
so he deserted and went to Prussia, where he served at first in
the regiment of Prince Henry, and then, on account of his height
and good looks, he was posted to the famous guards of Frederick
the Great. He was there for two years, and his captain had led
him to hope for promotion, when one day the king, who was
reviewing his guards stopped in front of him and said, "There is
a fine looking Grenadier!....Where does he come from?" "He is
French sire," came the reply. "Too bad," said Frederick, who had
come to detest the French as much as he had once liked them. "Too
bad. If he had been Swiss or German we could have made something
of him".
Augereau, from then on, was convinced he would get nowhere in
Prussia, since he had heard it from the lips of the king himself,
and so he resolved to leave the country. This was a very
difficult matter, because as soon as the desertion of a soldier
was signalised by the firing of a cannon, the population set off
in pursuit of him, in the hope of obtaining the promised reward,
and the deserter when captured was invariably shot.
In order to avoid this fate and to regain his liberty, Augereau,
who knew that a good one third of the guards, foreigners like
himself, had only one wish, and that was to get out of Prussia,
spoke with some sixty of the most daring, to whom he pointed out
that a single deserter had no chance of escape, since it required
only two or three men to arrest him, so that it was essential to
leave in a body with arms and ammunition for defence. This is
what they did, under the leadership of Augereau.
This determined group of men, attacked on their way by peasants,
and even a detachment of soldiers, lost several of their company,
but killed many of their adversaries, and in one night they
reached a small area of the country of Saxony which is not more
than ten leagues from Potsdam. Augereau went to Dresden, where he
gave lessons in dancing and fencing, until the birth of the first
Dauphin, the son of Louis XVI, an event which the government
celebrated by granting an amnesty to all deserters, which allowed
Augereau not only to return to Paris, but to rejoin the
Carabiniers, his sentence having been quashed, and General de
Malseigne having insisted that he was one of the finest N.C.O.s
in the corps.
In 1788, the King of Naples, feeling the need to put his army on
a good footing, requested the King of France to send him a number
of officers and N.C.O.s to act as instructors, whom he undertook
to promote to a rank above their present one on their arrival.
Augereau was included in this party and was promoted to
sous-lieutenant. He served there for several years, and had just
been promoted to lieutenant, when he fell in love with the
daughter of a Greek merchant. When her father refused his consent
to the union, the two lovers were married in secret, and
embarking on the first vessel they found about to leave, they
went to Lisbon, where they lived peacefully for some time.