Kind as my father was to me, I held him in such awe that in his presence I was extremely shy. He fancied me even more so than I really was, and used to say that I ought to have been a girl, often calling me 'Miss Marcellin.' This vexed me a good deal, especially now that I was a hussar. It was in order to overcome this shyness that my father wished me to serve with my comrades. Although, as I have said, it was impossible to enter the army otherwise than through the ranks, my father might have attached me to his personal service, as my regiment formed part of his division; but besides the reason which I have given, he wanted me to learn to saddle and bridle my own horse and to clean my own accoutrements. If he had allowed his son to enjoy any privileges it would have produced a bad effect in the troop. I had already been favoured in getting admitted to the regiment without a long and wearisome apprenticeship at the depôt.

I passed several days with my father and his staff going over the beautiful country about Nice. When the time came for me to join, my father directed Major Muller to send Sergeant Pertelay to him. Now you must know that there were in the regiment two brothers of this name, both sergeants, but quite unlike each other morally and physically. You might have thought that the author of 'Les Deux Philiberts' 1 had taken his characters from these two men: the elder Pertelay being the wicked Philibert, the younger Pertelay the virtuous Philibert. It was the latter whom the colonel had intended to recommend as my mentor; but, being in a hurry, he had omitted when naming Pertelay to add 'junior.' Further, this Pertelay was not in the squadron at Nice, whereas the elder was actually in Troop 7, to which I was to belong. Major Muller therefore supposed that it was the elder brother whom the colonel had named to my father; and that this wild fellow had been selected in order to take the nonsense out of a mild and shy lad like myself. So he sent us Pertelay senior. This typical hussar of the old school was a hard drinker, a brawler, always ready for a quarrel and a fight; brave, moreover, to the point of rashness. He was absolutely ignorant of everything that did not concern his horse, his accoutrements, or his service in the field. Pertelay Junior, on the other hand, was gentle, well-mannered, highly educated; and, being also a very handsome man and every whit as brave as his brother, he would certainly have got on fast had he not been killed, while still young, on the battle-field. However, to return to the elder. He came to my father's house, and what did we behold? A jolly ruffian--very well set up, I must admit--with his shako over his ear, his sabre trailing, his florid countenance divided by an enormous scar, moustaches half a foot long waxed and turned up to his ears, on his temples two long locks of hair plaited, which came from under his shako and fell on his breast, and withal such an air!--a regular rowdy air, heightened still further by his words, jerked out in the most barbarous French-Alsatian gibberish. This last peculiarity was no surprise to my father, for he knew that the 1st Hussars were the old Bercheny regiment, consisting formerly of nothing but Germans. Indeed, down to 1793 the word of command used to be given in German, which was the language of most of the officers and the troopers, who were nearly all born in the provinces on the banks of the Rhine. What was a surprise, however, was the demeanour, the answers, and the swaggering manner of my mentor. Later on, indeed, I learnt that my father had had some hesitation in entrusting me to the hands of this fellow, but M. Gault pointed out that Colonel Picart had specified him as the best non-commissioned officer in the squadron, and so he resolved to give him a trial. Accordingly I followed Pertelay, who took my arm in an offhand way, came to my room, showed me how to pack up my things, and brought me to a little barrack established in an old convent and occupied by a squadron of the 1st Hussars. He made me saddle and unsaddle a handsome little horse which my father had bought for me. Then he showed me how to dispose of my cloak and accoutrements, showed me, in short, all that was to be shown. When he had explained everything he bethought him that it was time to go to dinner; for my father, wishing me to take my meals with my mentor, had allowed us extra pay for this item. Pertelay brought me to a little inn, where the dining-room was full of hussars, grenadiers, and soldiers of all arms. Our dinner was served, and on the table was placed an enormous bottle of the strongest and roughest red wine, of which Pertelay poured me out a bumper. We clinked our glasses, my friend emptied his. I set mine down without putting it to my lips, for I had never drunk unmixed wine, and I did not like the smell of this. I confessed as much to my mentor, who straightway shouted in a stentorian voice, 'Waiter, lemonade for this lad--he never drinks wine.' Shouts of laughter rang through the whole room. I was much abashed, but I could not make up my mind to taste this wine, nor did I dare to ask for water, so I dined without drinking.

The apprenticeship to a soldier's life is at all times pretty rough; it was especially so at the time of which I am writing, and I had some disagreeable moments to pass. But what seemed to me intolerable was to be obliged to sleep with another hussar, for the regulations at that time only allowed one bed for two soldiers. Non-commissioned officers alone had a bed to themselves. The first night which I passed in barracks I had just got into bed, when a strapping great hussar, who had come in an hour after the others, came up to the bed, and, seeing that there was someone there already, unhooked the lamp and put it under my nose to have a better look at me. As I watched him undressing I had no idea that he proposed to take his place by me, but I was soon undeceived when he said roughly, 'Make room, recruit.' Therewith he got into the bed, lay down so as to take up three-quarters of it, and set to work snoring in a high key. I found it impossible to sleep, chiefly by reason of the horrible smell which emanated from a great bundle placed by my comrade under the bolster to raise his head. I couldn't imagine what it could be. In order to find out I slipt my hand gently towards the object and discovered a leathern apron well impregnated with cobbler's wax. My amiable bedfellow was one of the regimental shoemaker's assistants. I was so disgusted that I got up, dressed, and went to the stable to sleep on a truss of straw. Next day I imparted my misfortune to Pertelay, who reported it to our sub-lieutenant. He happened to be a man of good breeding, by name Lesteinschneider (German for 'lapidary'). Under the Empire he became a colonel, and senior aide-de-camp to Bessières, and was killed. Understanding how disagreeable it must be to me to sleep with a shoemaker, he ordered me on his own responsibility a bed in the non-commissioned officers' room, which was a great comfort to me.

Although with the Revolution military costume had become slovenly, the 1st Hussars had always preserved theirs as correct as in the days when they were Bercheny. Save, therefore, for the physical dissimilarities imposed by nature, all the troopers were bound to get themselves up alike, and as the hussar regiments at that time wore not only a pig-tail but also long 'love locks,' locks on the temples, and had their moustaches turned up, everyone belonging to the corps was expected to have moustaches, pigtails, and locks. As I had none of them, my mentor took me to the regimental barber, where I purchased a sham pigtail and locks. These were attached to my hair, which was already fairly long, for since my enlistment I had let it grow. I was embarrassed at by this make-up, but in a few days I got used to it, and enjoyed it because I thought it gave me the air of an old hussar. With regard to moustaches the case was different. Of them I had no more than a girl, and as a beardless face would have spoilt the uniformity of the squadron, Pertelay, in conformity with the practice of the regiment, took a pot of blacking and with his thumb made two enormous hooks covering my upper lip and reaching almost to my eyes. At that time the shakoes had no peak, so it happened that during reviews or when I was doing vedette duty and was bound to remain perfectly motionless, the scorching rays of the Italian sun pouring down on to my face used to suck up the liquid of the blacking with which my moustaches had been made, and the blacking as it dried drew my skin in a very unpleasant way. Still I did not so much as wink: I was a hussar; the word had a magical effect on me, and, besides, when I entered on a military career I thoroughly understood that my first duty was to conform to the regulations.

Before my father left Nice the news arrived of the overthrow of the Directory on the 18th Brumaire and the establishment of the Consulate. My father's opinion of the Directory had not been such as to make him regret its fall, but, he feared that in the intoxication of power Bonaparte, when he had restored order in France, would not content himself with the modest title of consul, and predicted that before long he would want to make himself king. He was only wrong as to the title: in four years' time Napoleon made himself emperor. Whatever his presentiments may have been, my father rejoiced at being absent from Paris on the 18th Brumaire; if he had been there I think he would have vigorously opposed Bonaparte's enterprise. But being on service, at the head of a division in face of the enemy, he felt able to take refuge in the passive obedience of a soldier. He rejected the proposals which several generals and colonels made to him to march on Paris at the head of their troops. 'Who,' he asked, 'will defend the frontier if we desert it? And what will become of France if the miseries of a civil war are added to our war against the foreigner?' By this caution he kept the excitement in cheek, but, at the same time, he none the less felt very strongly on the subject of the recent coup d'état. He adored his country, and would have wished to see her saved without being brought under the yoke of a tyrant.

My father's chief motive, as I have said, in making me go through my service in the ranks, was to get rid of my rather foolish schoolboy air, which my short stay in the world of Paris had not removed. He succeeded beyond his hopes, for, living in the middle of the boisterous hussars, and having for my tutor a kind of Pandour who laughed at all my follies, I learnt to suit my conduct to my company, and for fear of being laughed at for my shyness I became a perfect daredevil. I was not, however, as yet qualified to be admitted into a sort of brotherhood which, under the name of 'the gang,' drew its initiated from all the squadrons of the 1st Hussars. The 'gang' was composed of the most reckless and the bravest soldiers of the regiment; its members supported each other against all comers, especially in presence of the enemy. They called each other by the name of loustic, 2 and were to be known by means of a notch made with a knife in the first button of the row on the right side of the pelisse and the jacket. The officers knew of the existence of the gang, but as its greatest crimes were limited to the occasional looting of sheep and fowls, or playing tricks on the inhabitants, while, on the other hand, the loustics were always the first under fire, the chiefs winked at it. Feather-brain that I was, I was eager to be admitted into this society of roysterers; it seemed to me that it would give me a respectable position among my comrades; but it was all very well to frequent the fencing-school, to learn foil and broad-sword, pistol and carbine, to elbow out of the way everyone I met, to let my sabre trail, and wear my shako over one ear: the members of the gang looked upon me as a child and refused to admit me. However, an unforeseen adventure brought about my unanimous election, in the following way.

At that time the Army of Italy was occupying Liguria, extended on a front more than sixty leagues in length, its right on the Gulf of Spezia beyond Genoa, the centre at Finale, and the left on the Var--that is, the French frontier. We had, therefore, the sea in our rear, and were fronting towards Piedmont, which was occupied by the Austrian army, separated from us by the spur of the Apennines which extends from the Var to Gavi. It was a false position, for the French army was exposed to be cut in two, which actually happened some months later; but I will not anticipate. My father had been ordered to concentrate at Savona, and established his head-quarters in the bishop's palace; the infantry was distributed among the country towns and villages in the neighbourhood, to watch the valleys through which issue the roads leading to Piedmont. The 1st Hussars had come from Nice, and were bivouacking in a plain called La Madona. The enemy's outposts were at Dego, four or five leagues from us, on the reverse slope of the Apennines. The mountain-tops were covered with snow, while Savona and the neighbourhood enjoyed a mild temperature. Our bivouac would have been delightful if provisions had been more plentiful. But there was then no high road from Nice to Genoa; the English cruisers held the sea; and the army had to live on supplies brought on mules along the Corniche, or landed from such small coasters as could slip along unperceived. These precarious methods barely sufficed to provide the grain necessary for the daily bread of the troops. Happily, however, the country produces plenty of wine, which served to keep up the soldiers' spirits and make them bear their hardships more cheerfully. So one lovely day, as I was walking along the shore with friend Pertelay, he spied a public-house in a garden full of orange-trees and olives. Under these were tables, at which soldiers of all arms were sitting, and he proposed that we should go in. I had not been able to get over my dislike of wine; but out of friendship I followed him.

I may mention that at this time a cavalry soldier's belt had no hook, so that when he went on foot he had to hold the scabbard of his sword in the left hand, letting the point trail on the ground. This made a clatter and gave a roystering air, which was quite enough to make me adopt the fashion. But behold, as I entered the garden the end of my scabbard touched the foot of a gigantic horse-artilleryman who was taking his ease stretched out on his chair, his legs in front of him. The horse-artillery (or 'flying-artillery ' as it was then called) had been formed, at the beginning of the Revolutionary wars, of volunteers from the grenadier companies; and the opportunity had been taken to get rid of some of the more disorderly from the regiments. The 'gallopers' were therefore renowned for their courage, and for their love of a quarrel no less. The man whom my sabre had touched said to me in a stentorian voice and a very majestic tone: 'You hussar, your sword trails far too much.' I was going on without taking any notice, when friend Pertelay, touching my elbow, whispered in a low tone: 'Answer him, "Come and pick it up." ' I, to the gunner: 'Come and pick it up.' 'That is easily done,' replied he. Pertelay, prompting me again: 'We have got to see that.' Thereupon the gunner--the Goliath, I might say, for he was all six feet high--sat upright with a threatening air. My mentor dashed between him and me. All the artillerymen in the garden at once took their comrade's part; but a crowd of hussars ranged up alongside of Pertelay and myself. Tempers grew hot; all shouted and spoke at once: I quite thought there would be a general scrimmage. The hussars, however, being two to one, were the calmer; and the artillerymen perceived that if swords were drawn they would get the worst of it. So at length the giant was brought to see that in touching his foot with the point of my sword I had in nowise insulted him, and that between us two things need go no further. But in the tumult an artillery bugler some twenty years old had been saying rude things to me, and in my anger I had pushed him so roughly that he had fallen head foremost into a muddy ditch. So it was agreed that this lad and I should fight with sabres, and we left the garden, followed by all present. Behold us, then, close to the water's edge, on fine firm sands, ready for a bout with the steel. Pertelay knew that I was fairly good with the sabre, but still he gave me some advice as to the best method of attack, and fastened my sword-hilt to my hand with a large handkerchief which he wrapped round my arm.

Here I may mention that my father had a horror of duelling, based not only on his views as to the barbarism of the practice, but also on a recollection of his youthful days in the body-guard, when he had acted as second to a much-loved comrade who had been killed in single combat in a most futile cause. For whatever reason, his first step on assuming a command was to order the gendarmes to arrest and bring before him any soldiers whom they might catch crossing swords. The artillery bugler and I were well aware of this order; none the less had we thrown off our jackets and stood sabre in hand. I had my back to the town of Savona; my adversary faced it. Just as we were about to begin our fence, I saw the bugler leap to one side, catch up his jacket and bolt. 'Running away, coward?' I shouted, and was pursuing him, when a grip of iron seized my collar from behind. I turned, and found myself in the hands of eight or ten gendarmes. I knew then why my antagonist had bolted. The spectators had done the same, and were making off as fast as their legs could carry them, Master Pertelay among the number, in dire fear of being arrested and brought before the general.

There I was, disarmed and a prisoner! I slipped on my jacket and followed the gendarmes, with a pretty hang-dog look. I did not give my name, and they brought me to the bishop's palace, where my father lodged. He was at that moment with General (afterwards Marshal) Suchet, who had come to Savona to talk over some service matters with him; and they were walking in a gallery open to the court. The gendarmes brought me up, without a notion that I was the general's son, and the corporal explained the reason of my arrest. My father, in his most severe manner, gave me a sharp reprimand, and at the end of his admonition said to the corporal, 'Take this hussar to the citadel.' I retired without a word, and without a suspicion on the part of General Suchet, who did not know me, that the scene to which he had been a witness had passed between father and son. He did not learn our relationship till the next day, and has often since then laughed over the story with me. On reaching the citadel, an old relic of the Genoese, standing near the harbour, I was shut up in a vast room lighted by a dormer looking towards the sea. Gradually I got over my excitement, and felt that I had deserved the reprimand which I had undergone. At the same time I thought more of having given pain to my father than of having disobeyed my commanding officer. I spent the rest of the day gloomily enough; and in the evening an old pensioner of the Genoese army brought me a jug of water, a piece of ammunition bread, and a truss of straw. I flung myself on it, unable to eat. Nor could I sleep; first, because I was too much upset, and, further, by reason of the evolutions of some big rats, who soon took possession of my bread. I was in the dark, brooding over my sorrows, when towards ten o'clock I heard the bolts of my prison drawn, and behold, my father's faithful old servant, Spire. From him I learnt that after I had been sent to the citadel Colonel Ménard, Captain Gault, and all my father's officers had interceded for me, that the general had agreed to pardon me, and had sent him, Spire, to fetch me, and to bear the order for my liberation to the governor of the fort. I was taken before this governor, General Buget, an excellent man, who had lost an arm in battle, and who knew me, and had a great regard for my father. He returned me my sword, and thought it his duty to give me a long lecture. I listened patiently enough, but with the thought that I had got to have another, much more severe, from my father. This I did not feel that I had courage to endure, and I resolved to get off it if I could. Well, we were escorted past the gates of the citadel, and, as the night was dark, Spire walked in front of me with a lantern. As we made our way through the narrow and tortuous streets, the good man, in his delight at bringing me back, enlarged upon all the comforts that awaited me at head-quarters. ' But you know,' he added, 'you may expect a fine scolding from your father.' This last remark fixed my resolution, and in order to leave time for my father's wrath to cool, I decided to return to the bivouac at Madona, and to keep out of his presence for several days. I could, no doubt, have got away without playing any trick on poor Spire; but I was afraid that he might pursue me by the light of the lantern which he carried, so with a kick I sent it flying ten yards away, and ran for my life. As the good man groped about after his lantern I could hear him exclaim, 'You little scamp, I'll tell your father! I'm blessed if he was not quite right to put you with those Bercheny rascals. A fine school for a scapegrace!"

I wandered for a while through the deserted streets, and at length found the road to La Madona and reached the bivouac of my regiment. All the hussars thought I was in prison; but as soon as I was recognised by the firelight they came round me, asking questions, and shouting with laughter when I related how I got away from the trusty servant charged to bring me to the general. The members of the 'gang' were especially delighted with this sign of a resolute character, and unanimously agreed to admit me into their society. They were just planning an expedition for that very night: to go to the gates of Dego, and carry off a herd of cattle belonging to the Austrian army. The French generals and corps commanders were obliged to feign ignorance of the excursions which the soldiers made beyond the outposts, since there was no other way of procuring a regular supply of victuals. Thus in every regiment the bravest men had formed marauding bands, who had a wonderful knack of discovering the places where the enemy's victualling went forward, and of getting hold, by cunning or boldness, of his stores.

A scoundrelly horse-dealer had given information to the 'gang' of the 1st Hussars that a herd of cattle which he had sold to the Austrians was parked in a meadow a quarter of a league from Dego. Accordingly, sixty hussars, armed only with their carbines, started off to lift them. We went for several leagues through the mountains by side-roads of the most fearful kind so as to avoid the highway, and surprised five Croats who were on guard over the herd asleep in a shed. Lest they should give the alarm to the garrison of Dego, we tied them up and left them there, carrying off the herd without having to strike a blow. By the time we got back to our bivouac we were tired, but highly pleased at the smart trick we had played the enemy, to say nothing of having got our victuals. I have told this story to show the state of destitution into which the Army of Italy had fallen, and how disorganised troops must get when left to themselves to such an extent that their officers not only tolerate expeditions of this kind but profit by the victuals so obtained, affecting all the while to be ignorant whence they have come.