I am not superstitious; but at the moment when I left French soil, and was crossing the Bidassoa to enter Spain an incident happened which struck me as an evil omen. A huge hideous black jackass, with rough and shaggy coat, was standing in the middle of the bridge, apparently disputing our passage. The outrider, who was a little in front of us, administered a sharp cut with his whip to make it get out the way, when the animal in a fury threw itself upon the man's horse and bit it savagely, lashing out all the time at Woirland and myself, who had come up to the rescue. The blows which we all three dealt to the infernal beast, so far from making him let go, seemed to excite him still further; and I really do not know how the ridiculous fight would have ended but for the help of the custom-house officers, who pricked the donkey's rump with their spiked sticks. My melancholy anticipations were certainly justified by the event, for my two campaigns in the Peninsula were exceedingly laborious. I was twice wounded without obtaining any reward, and scarcely any mark of kindness from Masséna.

After crossing the Bidassoa and reaching Irun there was no more security. Officers bearing despatches had to be escorted by a picket of the so-called Burgos gendarmerie, which had been formed of picked men in the town of that name, and had the special duty of protecting the communications. To this end there was at every posting-station a detachment in an entrenched blockhouse. The gendarmes, men in the prime of life, had very severe service for five years, and lost heavily, since it was war to the death between them and the Spanish insurgents. It was raining hard as I left Irun. After some hours' march through the mountains, as I was reaching the little town of Montdragon, I heard a brisk musketry fire about half a league ahead. I stopped to consider. If I went forward it might be to fall into the hands of the bandits, with whom the country was swarming. On the other hand, if an officer bearing despatches turned back every time he heard a musket-shot it would take him several months to go the shortest journey. So I went on, and soon came upon the corpse of a French officer. The poor man, on his way from Madrid to Paris with letters from King Joseph to the Emperor, had just changed horses at Montdragon. He was not two cannon-shots from the station when he and his escort received an almost point-blank discharge from a group of bandits hidden behind a rock. The officer had several bullets through his body, and two of the gendarmes in his escort were wounded. If he had started a quarter of an hour later from Montdragon, I should undoubtedly have been the one to fall into the ambush. This looked promising, and I had still more than one hundred leagues to traverse through provinces all up in arms against us. The attack at the very gates of Montdragon had put the little garrison of the town on the alert, and they had started in pursuit of the brigands. These, delayed in their march by their wish to carry off three of their men, who had been wounded by the gendarmes, were quickly overtaken and forced to escape into the mountains leaving their wounded behind. These last were shot.

My experience in the former Spanish campaign had taught me that the most favourable moment for an officer who has a difficult country to traverse is just after one of these attacks, when the brigands, in their fear of being pursued, are in a hurry to get out of the way. I was therefore getting ready to proceed, but the officer in command of the place objected—first, because he had just learnt that the famous guerrilla leader, Mina, had appeared in the neighbourhood; and, secondly, because the night was drawing on and by the Emperor's order escorts were directed to start only in daylight. This commandant was a Piedmontese who had long served in the French army, and was distinguished for unwonted intelligence and courage. The insurgents were extremely afraid of him, and, except for a few ambuscades, which it was impossible to foresee, he had, by employing address and vigour in turn, got the whole district in hand. I will instance each quality, which will give you some idea of kind of war which we had to wage in Spain, though plenty of the educated class were on our side.

The parson of Montdragon was one of the fiercest opponents of the French. When, however, Napoleon passed through the town on his way back to Paris, in January 1809, the reverend gentleman, like all the rest of the inhabitants went in front of the post-house to have a look at the Emperor. The commandant caught sight of him, went straight up to him, took him by the hand, and, leading him to the Emperor, said, loud enough for everyone to hear, 'I have the honour to present to your Majesty the curate of this town, one of the most devoted servants of your brother King Joseph.' Napoleon, taking what the wily Piedmontese said as sound currency, received the clergyman most kindly, and thus he found himself against his will compromised in presence of his whole flock. That very evening, as he was going home, he was shot in the arm. He knew his compatriots too well not to understand that if the French were not victorious in the struggle his fate was sealed. From that moment he declared openly for them, and, at the head of the partisans on King Joseph's side, known as Joséphins, he rendered us useful service.

Not long before I passed through Montdragon the same commandant had shown great courage. He had had to send the greater part of his garrison away to guard an expected convoy of provisions, and when he had a few hours later to furnish escorts to some officers bearing despatches he had but a score of soldiers left. It was market-day, and the market-place was full of country folks. The postmaster, one of our bitterest foes, harangued them, bidding them profit the weakness of the French garrison to cut their throats. At last the crowd made for the house, whither the commandant had retired with his small reserve. An impetuous attack was met by a vigorous defence, but our men would have given way in the end. Then the commandant ordered the door to be opened, sallied out with his little force, went straight up to the postmaster and ran him through the heart, then had the body dragged into the house and placed on the balcony. This vigorous action was followed by a well-delivered volley, whereupon the crowd fled in terror. That evening the garrison returned, and the commandant had the postmaster's body hung on the public gibbet as an example; nor, though he had many friends and relations in the town, did anyone lift a finger.

Next morning I started at daybreak. To my disgust, the Spanish postilion who was leading stopped under the gallows and lashed with his whip the corpse which was hanging there. I reproved the scoundrel sharply, but he answered, laughing: 'It is my postmaster; when he was alive he gave me many a cut with a whip, and I don't mind giving him back a few '—a very characteristic instance of the vindictive disposition of the lower class of Spaniards.

I got to Vittoria drenched through, and so feverish that I had to stop with General Séras, for whom I brought despatches. You will remember that he was the general who had made me sergeant ten years before, after the affair between the Bercheny detachment and the Barco Hussars. 1He welcomed me warmly, and wished me to rest there for a time; but my errand would not bear delay, and I rode on next day in spite of my fever, which was not improved by the frightful weather. That day I crossed the Ebro at Miranda, where the spurs of the Pyrenees end, and where ended then the power of the famous partisan leaders named Mina.

The first of these guerrilleros was the son of a rich farmer near Montdragon, and was studying for holy orders when the War of Independence broke out in 1808. It is a fact, not generally known, that at that time many Spaniards, with some of the secular clergy at their head, wishing to shake off the yoke of the Inquisition and the monks, not only longed for the continuance of Joseph on the throne, but even joined our troops in trying to beat off the insurgents. Young Mina was of this number; he levied a company of 'friends of order,' and made war on the bandits. By a curious reaction, however, Mina, captivated by the adventurous life, became an insurgent himself, and fought us desperately in Biscay and Navarre, at the head of a band which at this time amounted to near 10,000 men. The commandant of Montdragon managed at last to seize him at a wedding festivity in the house of a relation; and Napoleon put him into prison at Vincennes. Mina was an able and straightforward guerrilla chief. When he returned in 1814 he opposed Ferdinand VII., for whom he had fought so well; and when about to be arrested he escaped to America, where he got mixed up in Mexican revolutions, and was shot. During his confinement at Vincennes the insurgents took for their chief an uncle of his. This man, a rough blacksmith, of bloodthirsty disposition, and no ability, 2gained great influence solely through his name. The Seville Junta sent some educated officers to direct this new chief, who did us a great deal of damage.

I entered now upon the vast and dreary plains of Old Castile. At first sight an ambush seems quite impossible in this treeless and mountainless country; but it is so undulating that this apparent security was deceptive. The hollows between the frequent hillocks allowed bands of insurgents to hide, and pour forth unawares upon French detachments, marching with confidence through a country where they could apparently see four or five leagues all round them and discover no enemy. A few disasters had made our men more cautious, and they no longer crossed the plains without searching the hollows with skirmishers. This precaution, however, was not available in the case of such escorts—five or a six gendarmes—as were allowed to officers bearing despatches; so that many of them lost their lives on the plains of Castile. Still, I liked better to travel in this open country than in the mountains of Biscay and Navarre, where rocks command the roads; and the inhabitants are likewise far more enterprising than the Castilians.

I went on my way without accident as far as the little town of Briviesca; but between that place and Burgos we saw twenty mounted Spaniards appear suddenly round a low hill. They fired several shots at us without effect; then my escort, my servant, and I drew our swords, and went forward without deigning to reply to the enemy, who, judging from our resolute attitude that we were the kind of people to defend ourselves vigorously, went off in another direction.

At Burgos I put up with General Dorsenne, commanding a brigade of the guard, for in the actual state of the country nearly every town and village was occupied by our troops. The roads only were insecure, and therefore those who, like me, had to travel with small escorts ran the most danger. Of this I had a fresh proof next day, when between Palencia and Dueñas I fell in with an officer and twenty-five men of the Young Guard escorting a chest of money for the garrison of Valladolid. The escort was evidently inadequate, for the guerrilleros of the neighbourhood had assembled to the number of 150, and were just attacking the detachment; on seeing my escort galloping up they took us for the advanced guard of a cavalry corps, and stopped short in their onset. But one of them, ascending a hillock, whence he got a distant view, called out that no French troops were in sight, whereupon the brigands advanced boldly towards the tempting treasure-waggon. I naturally took command of the small united forces, and bade the officer of the guard not to fire till I gave the word. Most of the enemy had dismounted, the better to get hold of the money-bags, and were poor fighters with muskets; many had only pistols. I had placed my infantry behind the wagon, and as soon as the Spaniards were within twenty paces I made them come out, and gave the order to fire. This was obeyed with terrible precision; the leader of the Spaniards and a dozen of his men dropped. The rest bolted at full speed towards their horses, which some of their friends were holding two hundred yards off; but as they were mounting I ordered the infantry and the six gendarmes to charge them, my servant Woirland joining. This little band of brave fellows, catching the bandits in disorder, killed thirty of them, and captured fifty horses, which they sold that evening at Dueñas. I had only two wounded, and those slightly. The officer and men of the Young Guard had shown much courage; if I had had only recruits we might well have suffered a disaster, especially as I was myself too weak to take part in the charge. The excitement had increased my fever, and I was forced to spend the night at Dueñas. Next day, the commandant of that place, in consequence of what had happened, sent a whole company to escort the treasure to Valladolid, and I went with them, being hardly able to sit my horse, and quite unable to gallop. The details I have given may serve further to show you the danger to which officers were exposed who were compelled by their duties to post through the insurgent provinces.

My mission being discharged, I hoped to get some rest at Valladolid; but tribulation of a new kind awaited me. Junot, the Duke of Abrantes, commanding one of the corps which was to form part of Masséna's army, had been for some months at Valladolid, quartered in the huge palace built by Charles V., an ancient house, but in perfect preservation and comfortably furnished. I made no doubt that on hearing of the immediate arrival of the marshal to take supreme command, the Duke of Abrantes would at once leave this old palace of the kings, and take up his quarters in one of the handsome houses which the town contained. To my surprise, however, Junot, whose wife, the duchess, had come to Valladolid, and held a most elegant little court there, informed me that he meant only to surrender half his palace to Masséna. He was sure, he said, that the marshal would be too polite to turn the duchess out, especially as the palace was large enough to lodge both staffs comfortably.

To understand the dilemma in which this statement placed me, you must know that Masséna was accustomed to take everywhere, and even to the wars, with him a lady named N—. So attached was he to her that he only accepted the command of the Army of Portugal on condition that the Emperor would let him take her. Being of a gloomy and misanthropic turn, and preferring to live alone, secluded in his own rooms and away from his staff, Masséna needed sometimes the distraction afforded by a lively and witty companion. In this way Mme N— suited him perfectly, for she was a clever, kindly, and amiable woman, who, besides, quite understood the awkwardness of her position. It was impossible that she could lodge under the same roof with the Duchess of Abrantes, a descendant of the Comneni, and full of family pride. 3On the other hand, it was not fitting that the marshal should be quartered in a private house, while his subordinate was in the palace. So I was obliged to explain the state of things to Junot, who, however, would only laugh, and say that he and Masséna had often lodged in one cottage in Italy, and that the ladies might settle it among themselves.

In despair I spoke to the duchess herself. She was a woman of quick wit, and decided to go and establish herself in the down. Junot opposed this obstinately, much to my annoyance; but what could I do against a commander-in-chief? Things were still in this position when, after being several days in bed with fever, I got a message by express to say that the marshal was coming in a few hours. I had at the venture taken a house for him in the town, and, weak as I was, would have mounted my horse to meet him and let him know what had happened, but his mules had gone so quickly that on going downstairs I found the marshal himself, leading in Mme N—. I was beginning to explain my difficulties, when in rushed Junot, bringing the duchess with him. He fell into Masséna's arms; then before all the staff he kissed Mme N—'s hand, and introduced his wife. Imagine the ladies' confusion! They stood like stones, without a word. The marshal had the wit to restrain himself; but he was deeply hurt when the Duchess of Abrantes, pleading indisposition, left the dining-room just as Junot was leading in Mme N—.

These details, which at first sight may seem superfluous, are here related because the scene had serious results. The marshal never quite forgave Junot for refusing to give up the old palace to him, and for putting him in a false position before a number of general officers. Junot, on his side, made common cause with Marshal Ney and General Reynier, the commanders of the two other corps forming with his the Grand Army of Portugal. This gave rise to mischievous differences, which had a great deal to do with the unlucky result of the campaign in 1810 and 1811, and the unhappy effects which flowed from that, and weighed so heavy on the destiny of the French Empire. So true is it that causes apparently trivial or ridiculous often lead to great calamities. General Kellerman, commanding in Valladolid, reported to Masséna all the trouble which I had taken to spare him a part of this unpleasantness; but he bore me a grudge for it all the same.

In due course the marshal's staff arrived at Valladolid. It was pretty numerous, since, peace appearing to be settled for some time in Germany, officers desirous of promotion had asked as a favour to be allowed to fight in Portugal; and those who had the most interest got on to the staff of the general-in-chief. With his extensive command at a great distance from France, he required many officers, and his staff accordingly consisted of fourteen aides-de-camp and four orderly officers.

The promotion of Sainte-Croix to the rank of general had been a misfortune for Masséna. In him he lost a wise counsellor at a moment when, growing old, and left to his own resources, he had to oppose a foe like the Duke of Wellington, and get obeyed by lieutenants, one of whom was a marshal as well as himself, while the other two, with the title of commander-in-chief, had long been used to take their orders directly from the Emperor. Although Sainte-Croix was with the Army of Portugal in command of a brigade of dragoons, his new duties did not allow him to be constantly by Masséna's side. The marshal's character, once so firm, had become in a high degree irresolute, and one soon missed the able man who during the Wagram campaign had been the life and soul of his staff. The marshal having no longer a colonel as senior aide-de-camp, the office was filled by the senior major. This was Pelet, a good comrade, a brave man, a learned mathematician, but one who had never commanded troops, for on leaving the Polytechnic School he had been placed in the corps of mapping engineers. This corps while accompanying the armies was non-combatant, and acted, to tell the truth, merely as an understudy to the engineers. It is human nature to admire what one can least do one's self, and thus Masséna, whose education was very incomplete, had an immense respect for mapping engineers who could lay nice plans before him, and had had several on his staff. Pelet had been with him in this capacity at Naples in 1806, and in Poland in 1807. He behaved with courage in the campaign of 1809, and was wounded on the bridge at Ebersberg, earning thereby his promotion to major. He was present at the battles, and often risked himself in mapping the island of Lobau and the Danube. Good service as this doubtless was, it could not give Pelet practice in the art of war, especially when it was a question of commanding 70,000 men against Wellington in a difficult country. Yet he became Masséna's chief advisor even when neither Ney, nor Reynier, nor Junot, nor any of the other generals were consulted. Sainte-Croix, no doubt, was an extraordinary genius who understood the art of war on a great scale by intuition without having every held an important command. Miracles of this kind are rare; and Masséna, after he had got into the way of yielding to the inspiration of his senior aide-de-camp, put his lieutenants out of heart and paved the way to disobedience which led us into disaster. These disasters would have been still greater if the name and fame of Masséna had not survived to act as a caution to the English leader. So afraid was Wellington of making any mistake in presence of the conqueror of Zurich, that he always acted with the utmost circumspection. The prestige of his name had influenced even the Emperor. Napoleon never considered enough that he himself had been the prime author of the success gained at Wagram, and when he set Masséna the difficult task of going five hundred leagues away from France to conquer Portugal it was through a too firm belief that he had preserved all his vigour of mind and body. This judgment may appear to you too severe, but it will be confirmed when I relate the events of the two campaigns.

Pelet, though at that time not up to Masséna's requirements, gained much in practical soldiership, especially during the Russian campaign, where he commanded a regiment of infantry. He was then serving under Marshal Ney; and though Ney had conceived a great antipathy to him, Pelet was able to recover his esteem. When Ney, cut off from the Russians by the rest of the army [should be, cut off from the rest of the army by the Russians] during the retreat from Moscow, found himself in a most dangerous position, it was Pelet who proposed to cross the half-frozen Dnieper--a perilous enterprise, but one which, being resolutely executed, saved Ney's corps. This good advice made Pelet's fortune in a military sense; he was appointed by the Emperor general to the grenadiers of the old guard, and fought valiantly at their head in Saxony in 1813, and the next year in France; also at Waterloo. Afterwards he became director of the Ordnance Office, but in his excessive attachment to scientific officers he too often took on his staff map-draughtsmen who know nothing of manœuvring. He has written several works of good repute, especially an account of the Austrian campaign of 1809, the clearness of which has unluckily been injured by theoretic discussions.

I was Masséna's second aide-de-camp; the third was Major Casabianca, a Corsican by birth, and related to the Emperor on the mother's side. Educated, able, and very brave, this officer had been attached to Masséna by Napoleon himself; so Masséna, while paying him much attention, often kept him away from the army under the pretext of honouring him. He sent him to the Emperor with the news of the capitulation of Ciudid Rodrigo, and when he came back, a month later, sent him back to Paris to announce the capture of Almeida, and, on his rejoining us as we entered Portugal, gave him the duty of reporting the position of the armies to the minister. He did not finally come back to us till the end of the campaign. In the Russian campaign he was colonel of the 11th Infantry in the same army corps with my own regiment. He was killed in a fight which he had undertaken fruitlessly and to no purpose.

The fourth aide-de-camp was Major the Count of Ligniville. He belonged to one of four distinguished families, known as the great team of Lorraine, which spring from the same house as the present sovereigns of Austria. After the battle of Wagram the Emperor Francis II. sent a flag of truce to inquire if any harm had happened to his cousin the Count of Ligniville. He had such a passion for soldiering that at fifteen he ran away and enlisted in the 13th Dragoons. He was severely wounded at Marengo, was promoted officer of the battle-field, and served brilliantly in the campaigns of Austerlitz, Jena, and Friedland. In 1809 he passed from the staff of General Becker to that of Masséna. I have told how he got into trouble with the marshal by helping me in supporting the interests of the brave servants who had driven him on the battle-fields of Wagram and Znaym. The marshal's dislike increased during the campaign in Portugal, and Ligniville went back to the 13th Dragoons, of which he soon became colonel. After the Restoration he became general, married well, and was living happily, when he ruined himself by unsound speculations. He was much depressed by this, and died soon after, much to my regret.

The fifth aide-de-camp was Major Barin, who had lost an arm at Wagram, but persisted in serving as aide-de-camp, though he could do hardly any active service; a good fellow by taciturn. My brother was the sixth. The following were captains: M. Poncher de Richebourg, a capable officer, but with no great taste for military life. He left the army when his father died, and succeeded him in the Chamber of Peers. Captain Barral, nephew of the Archbishop of Tours, had many of the qualities which make a good soldier, but they were neutralised by his extreme shyness; he retired as captain. Captain Cavalier belonged to the same corps as Pelet and acted as his secretary. Captain Desponoux came of a legal family, and had inherited from them an extremely calm temperament, only becoming animated when going into action. The fatigues of the Portuguese campaign were almost too much for him, and he succumbed to the climate of Russia. He was found in a bivouac frozen stiff. Captain Renique was in particular favour with Masséna, but, being a good comrade, he did not presume upon it. I took him into my regiment when I became colonel of the 23rd Chasseurs, and he left the army after the retreat from Moscow. Captain d'Aguesseau, a descendant of the celebrated chancellor, was one of the wealthy young men who, at the Emperor's instance, took to military life without considering their physical strength. He was a brave man but very delicate, and the incessant rain of the winter 1810-11 injured his health so far that he died on the banks of the Tagus.

Captain Prosper Masséna, whose noble conduct at Wagram I have already related, was a brave and excellent young man, and displayed the greatest friendship towards me. The marshal often associated him with me on difficult missions. After long hesitation, his father, having no command in the Russian campaign, ended by keeping him at home. When the marshal died in 1817, Prosper was so deeply affected that he was seized with violent fits. I was then in exile, and when I returned, and went to pay my respects to the marshal's widow, she sent for her son. His emotion at seeing me again was such that he again fell seriously ill; his health was hopelessly broken, and he soon departed this life, leaving his title and part of his fortune to his younger brother, Victor.

The youngest and the junior in rank of all the aides-de camp was Victor Oudinot, son of the marshal. He had been the Emperor's page, and had accompanied him in this capacity at the battle of Wagram. Now he had just entered Masséna's staff as lieutenant, being but twenty years old. To-day he is lieutenant-general. We shall hear of him again in the course of my story; I will now merely say that he gained the reputation of being one of the best horsemen of his time.

Besides the fourteen aides-de-camp, the marshal had four orderly officers: Captain Beaufort d'Hautpoal, of the Engineers, Lieutenant Perron, a Piedmontese, ugly, but witty and jovial—he kept us all merry during the winter of 1810, by a theatre of marionettes which he got up, and which the marshal and generals sometimes attended for their amusement. He died at the battle of Montmirail, just as he was leaping astride on to a Russian gun. The next was Lieutenant de Briqueville, a man distinguished by bravery, carried to the point of imprudence, as he showed when fighting in 1815, at the head of his regiment, between Versailles and Rocquencourt, when he got entangled between two park walls, losing many men, and receiving three sabre-cuts on the head. He entered the Chamber as deputy for Caen, and went into violent opposition, ultimately dying in a condition of mental excitement. Masséna's fourth orderly officer was Octave de Ségur, son of the count. Educated, exquisitely polite, of an affable disposition and calm valour, he was beloved by the whole staff. In rank, he was the junior officer, though nearly thirty years old. He left the Polytechnic School in the days of the Directory, and held the post of Sub-Prefect of Soissons under the Consulate, but resigned in disgust at the judicial murder of the Duke of Enghein, and enlisted in the 6th Hussars. He was wounded and taken prisoner in 1809 at Raab, in Hungary, and when exchanged asked leave to serve as sub-lieutenant in the Portuguese campaign, where he did brilliant service. When captain in the 8th Hussars, he was taken prisoner in Russia and, as son of our former ambassador, was treated with much consideration by Catherine II. After two years' residence at Saratoff, in the Volga, he returned to France in 1814 and was on the staff of the guard under Louis XVIII. He died, still young, in 1816.