Journals of Auguste de Chateauneuf — Part 2
(There is a trivia section at the bottom)
7 March, 1800
I am used to solitude. I have always been fond of it. But I see that I do not enjoy loneliness. One might think they are similar, but there is a vast difference, which I would not elaborate upon here, for I already know it.
The conditions are rough. We sleep in tents, we train for hours on end in the scorching heat, and then we are served food which I dare not describe, for I can not take the risk of remembering its taste until I inevitably have to. Though, it is starting to seem better than it did when I first arrived here.
We are all living in the same conditions here, eating the same food, training with the same weapons, and anything else that you can think of. Yet, the others seem a lot happier than I do. Why? Is it because they are used to this life? Is it because they have not known my conditions?
Or is it perhaps, something else entirely?
I tire of being all by myself, all the time. I derive no pleasure from reading anymore, except perhaps my own journals. It is eating me alive. I have never felt this way before, not with such intensity, at least. What am I to do? For now, sleep seems the best choice.
8 March, 1800
The sun has risen, and so have I. I know what to do! I am going to dedicate myself to swordsmanship, and going to become the best swordsman in the whole army. I can’t take this sense of inferiority any longer. I have lazed around for enough time. It is time that my actions were reflective of my family name.
Theo, I will not let you down.
…
*10:00 PM*
Today was a good day. Shall I describe it to you? Upon daybreak, I headed out to find the commander-in-chief, General Alexandre Berthier[1]. The General’s tent stood out from the others, a grand structure made of richly dyed canvas, and adorned with banners bearing the French colours. Two guards stood outside the tent, their eyes tired, but attentive. I gave them my introduction, and upon hearing my name, they promptly gave way.
Inside, I found the general writing, which I presume, are reports to be given to the First Consul[2] about the state of the army. General Berthier is a famously gifted writer. The First Consul is reported to have said to him — “I read your reports with as much relish as I read a novel”. I myself had the pleasure of reading some of his reports that Theo brought. The attention to detail his reports have is astounding.
I stood there for a good minute, before the general noticed me. He looked at me with kind eyes, and seemed to recognize me instantly. As he asked me to take a seat, I introduced myself.
*Auguste starts reminiscing*
“Good morning, General. I am Auguste de Chateaneuf, of -”
“Ah yes, if it isn’t the younger Chateaneuf! Good morning. I am glad to see you. Theodore has told me a lot about you. I was looking forward to having a chat with you one of these days. I hope you find our arrangements comfortable?”
“Yes, sire. They are quite satisfactory.”
“Good, good. How is Theodore these days? It has been a few months since I last met him. From what I am told, he was injured in service. Is he quite good? And how is Lord Chateaneuf?”
“Theodore is all but recovered, sire. He is itching to resume his post. I’m sure he will be back soon. My father is in good health. Thankyou for asking.”
“For all our sake, I hope you are right…Auguste, was it?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Good, good. I hope you are right, Auguste, for the First Consul absolutely relies on him. On your brother, that is.”
”You mentioned wanting to have a talk with me sire. May I ask, what is it about?”
“Certainly, Auguste. I’ve had the opportunity to review your academic records, and I must say they’re quite impressive. I’ve come across several École Militaire alumni in the past, and they’re always very capable. As I understand it, your area of expertise is military history and battle tactics, correct?”
“Yes, sire. That is correct.”
“Good. You will be a valuable asset to us.”
“I hope I will be, sire.”
“Theodore seems to have a lot of faith in you, Auguste. And I have a lot of faith in him.
I am granting you the rank of Lieutenant. You will have 50 men of your choice under your command. You will oversee their training, and ensure that they are taken care of. You will report to Captain Gaston de Montmorency. You will assist him with forming strategies, and tactical decision making. Am I understood? This is a great responsibility, Auguste. But I have no doubt that you will prove equal to the task.”
“Yes, sire. I thank you for having faith in me. I will not let you down. Are we expecting war, sire? I was under the impression that we are a reserve Army.”
“Why, is that fear I sense, Auguste? Good. You should feel fear. Fear keeps you from making stupid mistakes. But do not let it overwhelm you. To answer your question, yes, we are expecting war. An army should always expect war. For when our nation calls upon us, we have to be ready. If that will be all..”
“There was..one more thing, sire.”
“Yes, go ahead?”
“I was hoping to improve my swordsmanship and was wondering if you could recommend an instructor to help me with that?”
“You are in luck, Auguste. Your captain, Monsieur Gaston, is one of our best swords. He will be happy to assist you.”
“Thank you, sire. I take my leave.”
You have made quite a name for yourself, haven’t you Theo? I am not sure I will ever be able to catch up with you, Monsieur Perfect de Chateauneuf. But I can keep trying. And until I succeed, I will stand upon your shoulders, and reap the rewards of being your brother.
I did not expect to be granted the rank of lieutenant just like that. I wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less, but now that I have it, I am afraid of falling short of my responsibilities. Am I capable of commanding a battalion just yet? I suppose, if General Bonaparte, or the Corsican Clown, as father used to call him, can lead the army of Italy at twenty-six, I can lead a small unit at nineteen.
The general has shown faith in me, and I can not allow myself to let him down. I should write to Theo later informing him of this development.
Anyway, after having this pleasant conversation with General Berthier, I headed out and searched the camp for Captain Gaston. After about half an hour of searching, I found him training with two soldiers, each wielding a sword. Gaston himself had two swords, and he moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned dancer. I watched in awe, as Gaston deftly parried and countered his opponents’ attacks, striking with lightning-fast speed and accuracy. It was like a dance of swords.
I had seen sword fighting before, but never quite anything like this.It was like watching a performance, each move executed with perfect timing and fluidity. Theo is a skilled swordsman, but even he couldn’t compare to Gaston’s effortless mastery of the art.
As I stood there, watching him with a mixture of admiration and envy, I realised that I had much to learn. As it stands, I can’t imagine ever attaining the mastery Gaston has. But as I watched him, I felt a surge of determination. There is no doubt in my mind. I have to learn the art of the sword, and I have to learn it from him.
I patiently waited for their training to end. It went on for another hour, before he finally decided to take a break. I walked up to him, and before I could say anything,
*Auguste gets lost in his thoughts again*
“You bear a striking resemblance to your brother, Auguste.”
“You know of me, captain?”
“Anybody who has been in Theodore’s presence for more than ten minutes knows of you” he said, smiling with his piercing blue eyes.
“I see, I am glad to hear that. Now that I am here, I hope you do not find me disappointing. I am to serve under you as a lieutenant, captain.”
“Is that so? That is good news. I look forward to working with you, and getting to know you better. How many men are to be under your command?”
“Fifty, captain.”
“I see, that is on the higher end. Clearly, General Berthier has high expectations for you. That’s good. If you are to quickly advance through your career like your brother, he is the man to impress.”
“I understand. Thank you for your advice, captain.”
“I noticed you watching me earlier. You seemed quite lost. Are you perhaps interested in learning swordsmanship from me?”
“Yes, captain. It would be a great honour to learn from you. Now that I have seen you in action, I am determined to do whatever it takes to become as good as you.”
“It would be a great pleasure to teach you, Auguste. I accept you as my student. The dark clouds of war linger over us. The situation in Italy is grim, and we may be called upon to march there anytime. In the little time that we have, I shall try to instil as much of my skill as I can unto you. I do not claim that it would be easy. But you will emerge a stronger man.”
“I do not expect it to be easy, captain. I will pour all of my blood and sweat into this. I will give you my all.”
“I shall expect no less from a Chateauneuf. Meet me here tomorrow at daybreak. Until then, rest, for once the training starts, you won’t get much of it.”
“What a day! Yesterday, I was a teenage soldier whining about the pathetic conditions of the army, and today, I am largely the same, only I now command a battalion, and have rigorous sword training ahead of me. Coming days are going to be more difficult than any challenge I have faced until now. I might soon be leading men into battle. Am I capable enough? Well, there is no benefit in pondering over that now. Besides, I am not alone anymore. I have a mentor, Captain Gaston, to blame for any messes I make. But let’s hope it does not come to that.
Theo, you have told me all sorts of ridiculous things about your service, yet you have not once mentioned Monsieur Gaston, whose skill with sword could only be described as a heavenly gift. Were you perhaps afraid that I would think of you as less perfect had you told me about him? Well, you were right. He could beat five of you, blindfolded, brother. Major skill issue.
Trivia
[1]Alexandre Berthier was the Chief of Staff of Napoleon, and his right-hand man. As the situation became tense in Italy in early 1800, Napoleon ordered Berthier to covertly assemble a 30,000 strong army of the reserve, to reinforce the French troops in Italy.
In June 1800, a decisive battle between Napoleon’s army and Austria would be fought at Marengo, resulting in French victory and recapture of the Italian territory.
[2]After the coup d’état of 1799, General Napoleon Bonaparte proclaimed himself as the First Consul. As the First Consul, he had dictatorial powers, and was effectively a monarch, without the title.
Three years later, he would later declare himself Emperor of the French.
