At Cressensac we found Captain Gault, my father's aide-de-eamp. While we were halting here I saw a sight that I had never seen before. A marching column of gendarmes, national guards, and volunteers entered the little town, their band playing. I thought it grand, but could not understand why they should have in the middle of them a dozen carriages full of old gentlemen, ladies, and children, all looking very sad. My father was furious at the sight. He drew back from the window, and as he strode up and down the room with his aide-de-camp I heard him exclaim: 'Those scoundrels of the Convention have spoilt the Revolution, which might have been so splendid! There is another batch of innocent people being taken off to prison because they are of good family, or have relations who have gone abroad! It is terrible!' I understood him perfectly, and, like him, I vowed hatred to the party of terror who spoilt the Revolution of 1789. I may be asked, Why, then, did my father continue to serve a Government for which he had no esteem? Because he held that to repel the enemy from French territory was under all circumstances honourable, and in no way pledged a soldier to approval of the atrocities committed by the Convention in its internal administration.
What my father had said awakened my lively interest in the persons whom the carriages contained. I found out that they were noble families who had been that morning arrested in their houses and were being carried to prison at Souilhac. I was wondering how these old men, women, and children could be dangerous to the country when I heard one of the children ask for food. A lady begged a national guard to let her get out to buy provisions; he refused harshly; the lady then held out an assignat, and asked him to be so kind as to get her a loaf; to which he replied: 'Do you think I am one of your old lackeys?' His brutality disgusted me; and having noticed that our servant Spire had placed in the pockets of the carriage sundry rolls, each lined with a sausage, I took two of them, and approaching the carriage where the children were, I threw these in when the guard's back was turned. Mother and children made such expressive signs of gratitude that I decided to victual all the prisoners, and accordingly took them all the stores that Spire had packed for the nourishment of four persons during the forty-eight hours which it would take us to reach Toulouse. We started without any suspicion on his part of the way in which I had disposed of them. The children kissed their hands to me, the parents bowed, and we set off. We had not gone a hundred yards when my father,.who in his haste to escape from a sight which distressed him had not taken a meal at the inn, felt hungry and asked for the provisions. Spiro mentioned the pockets in which he had placed them. My father and M. Gault rummaged the whole carriage and found nothing. My father pitched into Spire; Spire from the coach-box swore by all the fiends that he had victualled the carriage for two days. I was rather in a quandary; however, not liking to let poor Spire be scolded any more, I confessed what I had done, fully expecting a slight reproof for having acted on my own authority. But my father only kissed me, and long afterwards he used to delight to speak of my conduct on that occasion. This is why, my children, I thought I might relate it to you. There is always happiness in the recollection of praise earned from those whom we have loved and lost.
From Cressensac to Toulouse the road swarmed with volunteers going gaily to join the Army of the Pyrenees, and the air rang with their patriotic songs. The bustle delighted me, and I should have been happy but for a physical discomfort. I had never made a long journey in a carriage, and during this one I suffered from sea-sickness. My father stopped at night to let me rest; but I was very tired when we got to Toulouse. However, the meeting with my brother, whom I had not seen for four or five years, was a great joy, and soon set me up again.
My father, as general commanding the camp (which was at Le Miral, near Toulouse), had a right to quarters, and the town council had assigned him the Hôtel Rességuier, a fine house, of which the owner had gone abroad. Mme. Rességuier and her son occupied a retired part of the house, and my father ordered that they should be treated with all respect. He entertained largely--indeed, to an extent which his general's allowance of eighteen rations per diem was insufficient to meet. His pay, except for the sum of eight francs a month, which all officers, of whatever rank, received in cash, was paid in assignats, the value of which decreased daily; and he was compelled to draw upon the savings of former years. From the date of his return to active service his fortune was seriously diminished. Though the spirit of subordination and good manners generally were just then at a low ebb in France, his influence was such that a tone of perfect courtesy was always maintained in his drawing-room and at his table alike.
Among the officers serving in the camp, two were especial favourites with my father, and received invitations more often than any. One, Augereau by name, was adjutant-general, that is, a colonel on the staff; the other, Lannes, a lieutenant of grenadiers in a volunteer battalion from the Gers. Both became marshals of the Empire, and I was aide-de-camp to both. You will hear more of them later on.
At this time Augereau had just come from service in Vendée, after previously escaping from the prisons of the Inquisition at Lisbon. He had been noticed for his courage and the ease with which he handled his troops. He was a good tactician, having learnt the science in Prussia, where he had long served in the foot-guards of Frederick the Great; whence his nickname of 'le grand Prussien.' He was always dressed irreproachably, in perfect trim; hair curled and powdered, long queue, his long riding-boots highly polished, and withal a most martial bearing; all the more conspicuous that at that time a brilliant get-up was not common in the French army. The volunteers of which it was mainly composed had not been accustomed to wear uniform, and were careless as to their toilet. Still no one ventured to rally Augereau on this score; he was well known to be handy with his 'tool,' and of undoubted courage. He had made the celebrated Saint-George, the stoutest swordsman in France, lower his colours. His reputation as a tactician caused my father to entrust to him the training of the newly-raised battalions of which the division mostly consisted, coming chiefly from the central and south-western provinces. Augereau got them into excellent shape, little thinking that in so doing he was laying the foundations of his future renown; for the troops which my father then commanded formed in after times the celebrated 'Augereau's division' which did so splendidly in the Eastern Pyrenees and in Italy. He came almost daily to see my father, and, finding himself valued, vowed for him a friendship which was always true to itself, and of which I felt the good effects after my mother's death.
Lieutenant Lannes was the most lively of young Gaseons; witty, merry, devoid of learning or education, but desirous to learn at a time when such a desire was rare. He became a very good instructor, and, having plenty of self-esteem, he received with inexpressible delight the praises which my father deservedly lavished on him. Out of gratitude, moreover, he spoilt his general's children to the best of his ability.
One fine morning my father received orders to strike his camp at Le Miral and march with his division to join the force under General Dugommier, then besieging Toulon, which the English had captured by a surprise. 1 He then pointed out to me that I needed to study more seriously than had been possible in a girls' school, and that the next day he should take me to the college of Sorèze, where he had already entered my brother and myself. I was quite taken aback. I could hardly believe that I was not to go back to my girl friends and Mlle. Mongsslvi. Nor could the sight of the troops and guns which my father reviewed at Castelnaudary comfort me. My mind was full of the professors among whom I was going to be thrown. That night my father heard that the English had evacuated Toulon 2 (December 18, 1793), and that he was ordered to the Eastern Pyrenees. He decided, therefore, to leave us at Sorèze the next day and go on to Perpignan.
As we left Castelnaudary my father stopped his carriage by the famous toll under which the Constable Montmorency was made prisoner by the troops of Louis XIII. after the defeat of the supporters of the revolted Gaston d'Orléans He talked about the story with his aides-de-camp, and my brother, who was already well educated, joined in the conversation. My notions on French history generally were very dim, and I knew nothing of the details. I had never heard of the battle of Castelnaudary, of Gaston or his revolt, or of the capture and execution of the Constable Montmorency; and I was much ashamed to see that my father, knowing that I could not have answered, put no questions to me on the subject. I privately concluded, therefore, that he was quite right to send me to the college, and my regrets were transformed into a resolution to learn all that I ought to know. Still my heart sank when I saw the high gloomy walls of the cloister in which I was to be shut up. I was now eleven years and four months old.
