to the
corps. It is a mistake to suppose that common soldiers are indifferent
to the reputation of their regiment; even the least subordinate, those
in whom military ardor is lowest, feel acutely, too, the stigma of a
condemned corps. We had reason to experience this, on even stronger
grounds. We were despatched to Brest to garrison the prison, and hold in
check that terrible race who are sentenced to the galleys for life.
This mark of disgrace was inflicted on us as the heaviest stain upon a
regiment openly pronounced unworthy to meet the enemies of France in the
field.

This act seemed to consummate the utter degradation of our corps, from
which, weekly, some one or other was either sentenced to be shot, or
condemned to the even worse fate of a galley-slave. I shrink from the
task of recalling a period so full of horror. It was one long dream
of ruffian insubordination and cruel punishment. Time, so far from
correcting, seemed to confirm the vices of this fated regiment; and at
length a commission arrived from the ministry of war to examine into the
causes of this corruption. This inquiry lasted some weeks; and amongst
those whose evidence was taken, I was one. It chanced that no punishment
had ever been inflicted on me in the corps; nor was there a single mark
in the "conduct roll" against my name. Of course, these were favorable
circumstances, and entitled any testimony that I gave to a greater
degree of consideration. The answers I returned, and the views I had
taken, were deemed of consequence enough to require further thought. I
was ordered to be sent to Paris to be examined by General Caulincourt,
at that time the head of the _etat major_.

It would little interest the reader to enter further into this question,
to which I have only made allusion from its reference to my own
fortunes. The opinions I gave, and the suggestions I made, attracted
the notice of my superiors, and I received, as a reward, the grade
of corporal, and was attached to the Chancellerie Militaire at
Strasburg,--a post I continued to occupy for upwards of two years. Two
peaceful, uneventful years were they, and to look back upon, they seem
but as a day.

The unbroken monotony of my life, the almost apathetic calm which had
come over me, and my isolation from all other men, gave me the semblance
of a despondent and melancholy nature; but I was far from unhappy, and
had schooled myself to take pleasure in a variety of simple, uncostly
purs