The Memoirs of General the Baron de Marbot

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Bernadotte expressed surprise...indignation! He knew
nothing...absolutely nothing! General Simon was a villain and so
was Pinoteau! He defied anyone to produce the original
proclamation bearing his signature! Was it his fault if some
lunatic had arranged for his name to be printed at the foot of a
proclamation which he utterly and completely rejected. As for the
wicked originators of all these plots, he would be the first to
demand their punishment.

Bernadotte had indeed contrived to get everything directed by
General Simon, without giving him a single word in writing which
might compromise himself, and had left himself in a position in
which he could deny everything if, in the event of the plot
failing, General Simon should accuse him of being a participant.
The First Consul, though convinced of Bernadotte's guilt, had no
solid evidence to go on, and his council of ministers concluded
that it would not be feasible to bring charges against a general
who was so popular in the country and the army. Sadly, these sort
of considerations did not apply to my brother Adolphe. One fine
night they came to my mother's house to arrest him, and this at a
time when the poor woman was already overburdened with grief.

M. de Canrobert, her eldest brother, whom she had managed to have
taken off the list of emigres, was living peaceably with her when
he was picked out by a policeman as having been present at some
gathering whose aim was the restoration of the previous
government. He was taken to the Temple Prison, where he was
detained for eleven months. My mother was taking every possible
step to prove his innocence and obtain his liberty when she was
struck by another terrible disaster.

My two younger brothers were pupils at the French Military
School. This establishment had a huge park and a fine country
house in the village of Vanves, not far from the banks of the
Seine; and in the summer the pupils went there to pass some of
their holidays, when those who had behaved well were allowed to
bathe in the river. Now it so happened that, because of some
student peccadillo, the headmaster had deprived the whole school
of the pleasure of swimming; however my brother Theodore loved
swimming, so he and some of his friends decided to go swimming
without the knowledge of their masters. While the pupils were
spread about the park playing, they went to an isolated spot
where they climbed over the wall and, on a very hot day, they ran
to the Seine, into which they jumped, bathed in perspiration.
They were scarcely in the water, however, when they heard the
college drum beating for dinner. Fearing that their escapade
would be discovered by their absence from the refectory, they
dressed hurriedly and rushed back by the way they had come, to
arrive, breathless, at the start of the meal. In such
circumstances, they should have eaten little or nothing, but
schoolboys are heedless, and they ate as much as usual, with the
result that they nearly all became ill. Theodore was particularly
affected, and was taken to my mother's house desperately ill with
pneumonia.

It was while she was going from the bedside of her mortally
afflicted son to her brother's prison, that they came to arrest
her first-born. An appalling situation for any mother. To make
matters worse, poor Theodore died. He was eighteen years old,
charming and handsome. I was desolated to hear of his death, for
I was very fond of him. These dreadful misfortunes which, one
after another, assailed my mother, impelled those who were my
father's true friends to exert themselves on her behalf. A
leading figure among them was M. Defermon, who worked almost
daily with the First Consul, and who rarely failed to intercede
for Adolphe and his widowed mother. Eventually, General Bonaparte
said to him one day, that although he had a low opinion of
Bernadotte's common sense, he did not believe that he was so
lacking in judgement that in conspiring against the government,
he would take into his confidence a twenty-one year old
lieutenant; and besides that, General Simon had stated that it
was he and Commandant Foucart who had put the proclamations in
young Marbot's carriage, so that, if he was to blame at all, it
was only to a very small extent. However, he, the First Consul,
was not willing to release the aide-de-camp until Bernadotte came
in person to ask him to do so.

When she heard of this decision taken by the First Consul, my
mother hastened to Bernadotte's house and begged him to take the
necessary step. He promised solemnly to do but the days and weeks
rolled past without him doing anything. Eventually, he said to my
mother, "What you are asKing of me will be extremely painful, but
no matter, I owe this to the memory of your husband, as well as
to the interest I have in your children. I shall go this very
evening to see the First Consul and I shall call at your house
after leaving the Tuileries. I am certain I shall be able to
announce the release of your son."

One can imagine with what impatience my mother waited during this
long day! Every coach she heard made her heart beat. But at last
it struck eleven o'clock and Bernadotte had not appeared. My
mother then went round to his house, and what do you suppose she
was told?....That General Bernadotte and his wife had left, to
take the waters at Plombieres, and would not be back for two
months! In spite of his promises, Bernadotte had left Paris
without seeing the First Consul. Devastated, my mother wrote to
General Bonaparte. M. Defermon, who undertook to deliver the
letter, was so indignant at the conduct of General Bernadotte
that he could not resist telling the First Consul how he had
behaved toward us. "That," said the First Consul, "is the sort of
thing I would expect!"

M. Defermon, Generals Mortier, Lefebvre and Murat then urged that
my brother should be freed; observing that if he had been unaware
of the conspiracy, it was unjust to keep him in prison, and even
if he had known something about it, he could not be expected to
carry tales about Bernadotte, whose aide-de-camp he was. This
reasoning impressed the First Consul, who set my brother at
liberty and sent him to Cherbourg, to join the 49th Line
regiment, as he did not wish him to continue as aide-de-camp to
Bernadotte.

Bonaparte, who had a very long memory, probably had engraved,
somewhere in his head, the words, "Marbot. Aide-de-camp of
Bernadotte. Conspiracy of Rennes." So my brother was never again
looked on with favour, and some time later he was sent to
Pondichery.

Adolphe had spent a month in prison; Commandant Foucart was there
for a year. He was cashiered and ordered to leave France. He took
refuge in Holland, where he lived miserably for thirty years on
earnings from French lessons, which he was reduced to giving, as
he had no personal fortune.

At last, in 1832, he thought to return to his native country, and
during the siege of Anvers I saw, one day, come into my room, a
sort of elderly schoolmaster, very threadbare; it was Foucart, I
recognised him. He told me that he did not have a brass farthing!
While I offered him some assistance, I could not help reflecting
on the bizarre workings of fate. Here was a man who in 1802 was
already a battalion commander, and whose courage and ability
would have certainly carried him to the rank of general, if
Colonel Pinoteau had not decided to shave at the moment when the
conspiracy of Rennes was due to come to a head. I took Foucart to
Marshal Gerard, who also remembered him, and together we
presented him to the Duc d'Orleans, who gave him a job in his
library, at a salary of 2400 francs. He lived there for fifteen
years.

As for General Simon and Colonel Pinoteau, they were imprisoned
in the Isle de Re for five or six years. Eventually, Bonaparte,
having become Emperor, set them free. Pinoteau had been
vegetating for some time in Rufec, his birthplace, when, in 1808,
the Emperor, who was on his way to Spain, having stopped there to
change horses, Pinoteau presented himself boldly before him and
requested to be re-engaged in military service. The Emperor, who
knew that he was an excellent officer, then placed him in command
of a regiment, which he led faultlessly throughout the wars in
Spain, so that after several campaigns, he was promoted to the
rank of brigadier-general.

General Simon also returned to military service. He was in
command of an infantry brigade in Massena's army when we invaded
Portugal. At the battle of Busaco, where Massena made the mistake
of mounting a frontal attack on the Duke of Wellington's army,
which was in position on the heights of a mountain with a very
difficult approach, Poor Simon, wishing, no doubt, to redeem
himself and to make up for the time he had lost towards
promotion, charged bravely at the head of his brigade, overcame
every obstacle, clambered up the rocks under a hail of bullets,
broke through the English line and was first into the enemy
entrenchments. But, there, a bullet fired at close range
shattered his jaw at the moment when the English second line
drove back our troops, who were thrown down into the valley with
considerable losses. The enemy found the unfortunate general
lying in the redout among the dead and dying. His face was hardly
recognisable as human. Wellington treated him with much respect,
and as soon as he could be moved, he sent him to England as a
prisoner of war. He was later permitted to return to France. But
his terrible injury barred him from any further service. The
Emperor gave him a pension, and one heard no more of him.

Chap. 18.

After the unhappy events which had just befallen her, my mother
longed to re-unite her three remaining sons around her. My
brother, having been ordered to join the expeditionary force
which was being sent to India under the command of General
Decaen, was given permission to spend two months with my mother;
Felix was at the Military School, and a piece of good fortune
brought me also to Paris.

The School of Cavalry was then at Versailles; every regiment sent
there an officer and a non-commissioned officer, who, after
completing their studies, returned to their unit to act as
instructors. Now it so happened that at the moment when I was
about to ask for permission to go to Paris, the lieutenant who
had been at the School had completed the course, and the colonel
proposed to send me to replace him. I accepted this with
pleasure, for not only would it allow me to see my mother again,
but it would ensure that for eighteen months I would be living
only a short distance from her.

My preparations were soon made. I sold my horse and taking the
stage-coach, I left the 25th Chasseurs, to which I was never to
return; although not being aware of this at the time, my
farewells to my comrades were lighthearted.

On my arrival in Paris, I found my mother greatly upset, not only
on account of the cruel loss which we had just suffered, but also
over the imminent departure of Adolphe for India, and the
detention of my uncle Canrobert, which continued indefinitely.

We spent a month together as a family, at the end of which my
elder brother had to report to Brest, where he was soon embarked
for Pondichery in the "Marengo." As for me, I went to settle in
at the School of Cavalry, whose barracks were in the great
stables of Versailles.

I was lodged on the first floor, in apartments which had once
been occupied by the Prince de Lambesc, the master of horse. I
had a very big bedroom and an immense "salon" which looked out
over the Avenue de Paris and the parade-ground. I was at first
astonished that the most recently arrived pupil should be so well
housed, but I soon learned that no one wanted this apartment
because its huge size made it glacially cold, and few of the
officer pupils could afford to keep a fire going. Happily I was
not entirely without means. I had a good stove put in, and with a
big screen, I made in this vast apartment a little room, which I
furnished modestly, since all we were issued with was a table, a
bed, and two chairs, which were quite out of place in the
enormous space of my quarters. So I made myself reasonably
comfortable until the return of spring, when the place seemed
quite charming.

Although we were called pupils, you should not suppose that we
were treated as students. We were allowed every freedom, too much
freedom in fact. We were commanded by an old colonel, M. Maurice,
whom we hardly ever saw, and who did not take part in anything.
On three days in the week we had civilian horsemanship, under the
celebrated equestrians Jardin and Coupe, and we went there when
it suited us. In the afternoon, an excellent veterinarian, M.
Valois, ran a course on the care of horses; but no one compelled
us to study with any diligence. The other three days were devoted
to military matters. In the morning, military horsemanship,
taught by the only two captains in the school, and in the
afternoon, drill, also taught by them. Once this parade was
finished, the captains disappeared and each student went his own
way.

You will appreciate that it took a keen desire to learn, to get
anywhere in a school so badly run; however most of the students
made progress because, being destined to become instructors in
their respective regiments, their self-respect made them fear not
being up to the task. So they worked reasonably hard, but not as
hard as one would as a schoolboy. As for behaviour, the staff
took no interest in it. As long as the students caused no trouble
in the establishment itself, they were allowed to do as they
pleased. They came and went at all hours. They were subject to no
role call. They ate in hotels, if it suited them, slept out, and
even went to Paris without asking permission. The
non-commissioned pupils had a little less liberty. Two
moderately strict sergeants were in charge of them, who insisted
that they were back by ten o'clock at night.

Each of us wore the uniform of his regiment, so that a gathering
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.