“...Even with iron wheels, a heavy supply wagon carrying a normal load of one ton, on the best-kept limestone chaussée, will not exceed a top speed of 6.5 km/h. In rain, when the road is slick, or on broken mountain tracks, that speed will likely fall below 4.2 km/h—lower still in mud.”

  “Thank you, Monsieur Lussac,” André said approvingly. “I appreciate your hard work—but stop tormenting Captain Petiet. The quartermaster has filed three complaints in the past few days, alleging you’ve been piling stones and dirt on the road, delaying the wagon train and making the men suspect enemy agents.”

  At this, Second Lieutenant Suchet, busy with paperwork at the side table, burst out laughing, leaving Lussac embarrassed. A single glare from André silenced the well-heeled Lyonnais at once.

  André motioned for Lussac to sit opposite Suchet and take down his dictation.

  “To raise the supply column’s marching speed, we can proceed on two lines. First, continue improving the wagons, especially the wheels. I recommend fitting a resilient solid tyre beneath the cast-iron wheel... yes, by ‘solid tyre’ I mean rubber—latex from the rubber tree native to Portuguese Brazil in South America—of course specially processed. Before we left Bordeaux, I had Perrier place an order with merchants in Lisbon for Brazilian rubber.

  “Second, improve the roads. Surfaces made chiefly of gravel and limestone damage easily and are tedious to maintain; we must consider a newer, longer-lasting paving material. Roman cement is too costly—puzzolana is hard to procure. However, Monsieur Say has brought back from England an improved recipe for Portland cement. This new cement, using lime, clay, and slag as principal ingredients, costs only a third of Roman cement, has cheap and accessible raw materials, and matches or surpasses Roman cement in quality.”

  Having finished, André remembered one more item and told the orderly, Second Lieutenant Suchet, to put aside his work and draft an order: beginning at 06:00 tomorrow, the entire regiment would conduct a thirty-hour forced-march exercise and reach Limoges, capital of Haute-Vienne, by noon on 14 October. On the morning of 15 October, a field exercise would be held on the outskirts of Limoges: Captain Hoche’s cavalry troop to assault Major Moncey’s hollow infantry square.

  On the northward march, the Champagne Composite Regiment conducted such simulated exercises every seven to eight days, to test the regiment’s proficiency in march, attack, and defensive formations.

  “Damn it, these should be the chief of staff’s duties; I’m stuck doing everything myself,” André grumbled inwardly.

  In late September, André received a notice from President Prieur on behalf of the Constituent Assembly appointing Lieutenant Colonel Berthier as chief of staff of the Champagne Composite Regiment; company- and battalion-level officers remained unchanged. André’s first reaction to the appointment was mixed.

  On the positive side: André was certain Lieutenant Colonel Berthier had the ability to serve as chief of staff (hardly a controversial claim). As the most formidable staff officer of the Napoleonic era, Berthier was tireless and vigorous, with the stamina to work eight days and nights in a row; yet, being weak-willed by temperament, he was habitually discreet—strong in planning, hesitant in decision—so he posed no threat to André’s absolute control of the Champagne Composite Regiment.

  On the negative side: as a Chevalier of Saint-Louis, Berthier seemed overly close to the Bourbon court and, last year, had publicly sworn allegiance at Versailles to Louis XVI. That stance diverged sharply from André’s consistent opposition to Louis XVI, and it gave André some concern.

  Meanwhile, at distant Versailles, Berthier was not keen to accept the post, only lacking the courage to refuse it. A week earlier, in a letter to the regimental commander André, Berthier had pleaded ill health and said he must remain in Paris (Versailles) to await the Champagne Composite Regiment’s arrival.

  The son of a senior topographical engineer, Berthier had been shaped by his father from childhood. At thirteen, he began work as a topographical engineer; at seventeen, he was promoted to lieutenant. In 1776, he joined the dragoons and, the following year, was made Captain. In 1780, Captain Berthier volunteered with the Soissons Regiment for the American War of Independence. During the expedition, he served on the staff of the Comte de Rochambeau and witnessed the Siege of Yorktown. Back in France, apart from studying the Prussian army with General Custine, he led a quiet life. In 1788, he was promotedto major; in 1789, Lieutenant Colonel; then given command of the Versailles National Guard. In September 1790, he received a new appointment: chief of staff of the Champagne Composite Regiment.

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  André felt ambivalent about Berthier as his chief of staff; conversely, Berthier inwardly resented that a republican was about to become his commanding officer. Naturally, he lacked the nerve to defy the dual authority of General Lafayette and the National Constituent Assembly.

  Versailles, 15 km southwest of Paris, one of the capital’s satellite towns and later seat of Yvelines, had been the administrative center of the French monarchy since 6 May 1682, when Louis XIV moved the court from Paris to the Palace of Versailles, and had remained so for 107 years.

  On 6 October 1789, Louis XVI was compelled by the Parisian crowds of the Revolution to move into the Tuileries. The Palace of Versailles, as the seat of the French court, thus came to its end. Thereafter, Versailles grew ever emptier, desolate, and ruined. By the winter of 1790, the impoverished populace had repeatedly looted it; furniture, paintings, chandeliers, and other objects were stripped away; even doors and windows were smashed and carted off as firewood. As anything useful dwindled, Versailles became an abandoned ruin. That emblem of feudal royal glory—like the tottering crown on Louis XVI’s head—could no longer regain its former splendor.

  In fact, under Berthier’s command, the Versailles National Guard had once managed to halt the mob’s unlawful pillage of the former palace. But bare bayonets could not deter a second or third assault. Berthier lacked the nerve to order fire upon the rioters—and he also refused Captain Senarmont’s offer of artillery support.

  In early September, tasked with forming the artillery company, Captain Senarmont returned to Paris; after recruiting several old artillery comrades at the école Militaire, he hastened on to Metz.

  Eighteenth-century France set great store by artillery science. When Jean-Baptiste Vaquette de Gribeauval became Inspector-General of Artillery in 1776, he reformed the branch and built a comprehensive system, including specialized units and schools. Senarmont’s alma mater, the renowned Metz School of Artillery, was its unchallenged vanguard. Notably, the school’s commandant was his father, Colonel Senarmont (the father).

  Half a year earlier, Senarmont had stormed off to Paris in anger over his father’s interference in his marriage. André, who prized his subordinate and friend, moved to mend the rift: he disbursed several tens of thousands of livres to bribe the Minister of War, the Comte de Tour du Pin, thereby securing for Colonel Senarmont (the father) his long-coveted post as commandant of the Metz School of Artillery.

  Thus, when Captain Senarmont stood before him, the fifty-eight-year-old colonel embraced his son warmly. Then, once the embrace was over, Colonel Senarmont (the father) cheerfully revealed that the young lady Mary—his son’s fiancée—and her family were already on the road to Metz.

  “Don’t think of running again—this is an order from your commanding officer. You don’t leave until you’re engaged. Why else would I have sent for Mary ahead of time?” the blunt old soldier said, laying it bare at once.

  At that, Senarmont understood. No wonder André had been all smiles when he left Bordeaux—the commander had already “sold” him to Colonel Senarmont (the father) and to a fiancée he had never met.

  Colonel Senarmont (the father) continued: “As for your grand artillery company, I’ve made all preparations. From chiefs of piece to gunners, every man is a seasoned veteran; including the artificers, there are 212 men in all, with eight suitable for promotion to Second Lieutenant, warrant officer, or senior NCO. I trust Lieutenant Colonel André has already prepared several blank commissions. As for the guns, a week ago I placed, on behalf of the Champagne Composite Regiment, an order with the Versailles foundry for fifteen pieces: among them, eight four-pounders suitable for horse artillery; nine-pounders (four guns), and twelve-pounders as well. Once the engagement is concluded, you can take your grand artillery company to Versailles to receive them.”

  Because of the engagement interlude, Senarmont remained in Metz a full half-month. Fortunately, the affairs of the grand artillery company had been set in perfect order by the colonel. In late September, on the day of departure, after son and fiancée had exchanged their farewells, Colonel Senarmont (the father) drew him aside and said, “Tell your commander that I owe Colonel André a debt for this favor; most of it I’ve repaid by organizing the artillery company. But after you’ve served two years with the Champagne Composite Regiment, you are to come back to Metz and be my Aide-de-camp.”

  In the second week after Captain Senarmont and his grand artillery company reached Versailles and took delivery of the guns and their appurtenances, they encountered a mass looting of the palace.

  “If Colonel André were here, he would order fire. Only the sound of guns will cool such a mob,” Senarmont grumbled to Berthier upon returning to quarters.

  In fact, the artillery captain had already put the company on a war footing; a single order from Lieutenant Colonel Berthier, and the concentrated fire of fifteen guns could, in an instant, have scattered the near-thousand rioters.

  Notes:

  chaussée: A raised, paved roadway—often built on an embankment—designed to stay passable and drain well even in wet ground.

  Hollow infantry square: An infantry square formation with its ranks on the outside facing outward, leaving an empty interior used to shelter officers, wounded, or baggage while resisting cavalry.