Napoleonic Literature
The Memoirs of Baron de Marbot - Volume I
Chapter III

THE College of Sorèze dated from the time of the expulsion of the Jesuits in the reign of Louis XV. Their supporters maintained that they alone knew how to educate; their rivals, the Benedictines, resolved to show that they could do it as well. To this end they converted four of their houses into colleges, Sorèze being one. The place flourished; lay teachers were engaged, and settled with their families in the town; girls' schools were started, to profit by the available teaching-power; and many foreigners, English, Spanish, American, took up their abode there for the period of their children's education. The little town became remarkable for the high standard of instruction and cultivation to be found among all classes. The Benedictines went much into society, and were extremely popular. Consequently, when the Revolution broke out, and the property of religious houses was sold, the neighbours urged the principal, Dom Ferlus, to buy in the convent and annexed domain. Instead of bidding against him, they lent him the purchase money (which he repaid in timber), and the local authorities permitted payment to be spread over a long time. The former principal, Dom Despaulx, retired, having had conscientious scruples about taking the civic oath; 1 I but Dom Ferlus and the other brethren accepted the position, and under their management the college continued to prosper. They had no money; but their estates provided all necessaries, and the teachers' salaries were paid in kind. Later, on the death of Dom Ferlus, the college passed into the hands of his brother, an Oratorian who had renounced his orders and married. He was a man of far inferior capacity; and under him and his son-in-law, an ex-officer of artillery, who succeeded him, it lost its importance. The hostility of the Jesuits, who returned in 1814, also aided its downfall.

When I entered, however, it was at the height of its success under Dom Ferlus. The monks wore lay clothes, and were addressed as 'citizen;' but otherwise no change of any importance had taken place in the routine of the school. Of course it could not but show some traces of the feverish agitation which prevailed outside. The walls were covered with Republican 'texts.' We were forbidden to use the term 'monsieur.' When we went to the refectory, or for a walk, we sang the Marseillaise, or other Republican hymns. The exploits of our armies formed the chief subject of conversation; and some of the elder boys enrolled themselves among the volunteers. We learnt drill, riding, fortification, &e. This military atmosphere tended to make the manners of the pupils somewhat free-and-easy; and as for their outward person, thick boots, only cleaned on décadis, grey socks, brown coat and trousers, shirts tattered and inkstained, no necktie or cap, untidy hair, hands worthy of a charcoal- burner, gave them a rough appearance enough.

Now imagine me clean, well brushed, in a good cloth suit, shot into the middle of seven hundred young imps dressed in this fashion. One of them shouted, 'Here are some new boys!' and in a swarm they left their games and came and crowded round us, looking at us as if we had been some strange beasts. My father kissed us and departed. I was in utter despair. There I was, for the first time in my life, all alone, for my brother was in the large quadrangle, and I in the small. It was the depth of winter, and exceedingly cold: the rules of the school forbad the pupils to have any fire. On the other hand, they were well fed; for while France was being laid waste by famine, the good arrangement of Dom Ferlus insured plenty in the college. The fare was certainly all that could be desired for schoolboys. In spite of this it seemed to me a most wretched supper, and the sight of the dishes which were on the table before me disgusted me; they might have offered me ortolans and I should have refused them, my heart was so full. The meal ended as it had begun, with a patriotic song. At the verse of the Marseillaise which begins with the words 'Amour sacré de la patrie' all knelt. Then we marched out as we had come in, to the drum, and so to bed.

Those who were in the large quadrangle had each a room to himself, and were locked in at night; those in the smaller slept four in a room. I was put with Guirand, Romestan, and Lagarde. They were almost as new comers as I, and we sat together at meals. I was glad to be with them, for they seemed, and really were, good fellows. I was horrified, however, to see how narrow my bed was, and how thin the mattress, and, above all, disgusted at finding the bedstead was of iron. I had never seen such before. Still, it was all very clean, and, in spite of my troubles, I slept soundly, being thoroughly tired by the new sensations of this critical day of my life.

Next morning the drum beat very early, and its horrible roll in the dormitories seemed to me terribly barbarous. Think of my feelings when I discovered that while I was asleep they had taken away my nice clothes, my fine stockings, and my pretty shoes, and replaced them by the coarse garments and the clumsy foot-gear of the school! I cried with rage.

Now that I have told you my first impressions on entering the college, I will spare you the history of my troubles for the next six months. I had been so much petted at the ladies school that I was bound to suffer both mentally and physically in my new surroundings. I became very melancholy, and if my constitution had been less strong I should certainly have fallen ill. It was one of the saddest periods of my life Gradually, however, as I got used to the work, my spirits improved; I was very fond of my lessons in French Literature, in geography, and, most of all, in history, and I got on well with them. I became fairly good in mathematics, in Latin, in riding, and in fencing; I learnt my musketry exercise thoroughly, and I took much delight in drilling with the school battalion, commanded by an old retired captain.

As I have said, when I entered the college at the end of 1793, the sanguinary rule of the Convention was at its heaviest. Commissioners were travelling through the provinces, and nearly all those who had any influence in the South came to visit the establishment of Sorèze. Citizen Ferlus had a knack of his own for persuading them that it was their duty to support an institution which was training, in great numbers, young people who were the hope of the country. Thus he got all that he wanted out of them. Very often they allowed him to have large quantities of fagots which were destined for the supply of the armies, on the plea that we formed part of the army, and were its nursery.

When these representatives arrived they were received like sovereigns: the pupils put on their military uniforms, the battalion was drilled in their presence; sentries were placed at every door, as in a garrison town; we acted pieces inspired by the purest patriotism; we sang national hymns. When they inspected the classes, especially the history classes, an opportunity was always found to introduce some dissertation on the excellence of Republican government, and the patriotic virtues which result from it. I remember in this connection that the deputy Chabot, who had been a Capuchin, was questioning me one day on Roman history. He asked me what I thought of Coriolanus, who, when his fellow-citizens, forgetful of his old services, had offended him, took refuge with the Volsei, the Roman's sworn enemies. Dom Ferlus and the masters were in terror lest I should approve the Roman's conduct; but I said that a good citizen should never bear arms against his country, nor dream of revenging himself on her, however just grounds he might have for discontent. The representative was so pleased with my answer that he embraced me, and complimented the head of the college and his assistants on the good principles which they instilled into their pupils.

This little success in no way diminished my hatred for the Convention. Young as I was, I had sense enough to understand that in order to save the country it was not necessary to bathe in the blood of Frenchmen, and that the guillotinings and massacres were odious crimes. There is no need here to speak of the oppression under which our unhappy country then suffered; you have read it in history. But no colours that history can employ to depict the horrors of which the Terrorists were guilty can bring the picture up to the reality. What was most surprising was the stupidity of the masses in allowing themselves to be led by men of whom very few had any capacity; for nearly all the members of the Convention were below the average in ability. Even their boasted courage was due mainly to their fear of each other, since it was through dread of being guillotined that they acquiesced in the wishes of their leaders. During my exile in 1815 I came across numbers of conventionnels who had been compelled to leave France as I had. They were utterly devoid of steady principles, and they admitted to me that they only voted for the execution of Louis XVI. and a heap of hateful decrees in order to save their own heads. The recollections of this period made such an impression on me that I detest anything which might tend to re-establish democracy, so convinced I am that the masses are blind, and that no government is so bad as the government of the people.


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1. The oath of fidelity to the Constitution, including the civil constitution of the Church, which the clergy were ordered, by a decree of the National Assembly in January 1791, to take on pain of deprivation. Return to chapter text.