The Trenqueléon party told me, they were for some time in great uneasiness, for we had no troops near them on the left bank of the river, and on the right bank only came down to the river Lot. Thus Agen was the centre of the formation of partisan corps who were to cross the river near them, and scour the country to annoy us.
In three or four instances they succeeded in this; and the Commissioner was issuing most violent orders to compel all persons to form their corps immediately (these if caught by us would be hung), and to teach the women also, to entice our soldiers into their houses by wine, &c., to make them prisoners and kill them, and even to instruct their children to cut the back sinews of the horses in the stables at night, saying they must do as the Spaniards did by them in Spain.
The Baron’s family said they had different feelings, but would have been compelled to do much of this had matters gone on. They also talked with much horror of the state of terror in which they had been kept by Bonaparte’s agents. One deputy Préfet some time since alarmed them by quietly telling some of their neighbours (who told them again) that they were in a terrible scrape, and had been detected corresponding with the English. They went instantly to the Préfet to know what this meant, and found it was one of my father’s letters about the Bishop of Montpelier’s affairs, which had been stopped by the police. My father was the Bishop’s executor in England. The Préfet afterwards told him to be easy—“ce n’étoit rien.” The Baron seems to have been a popular character in the neighbourhood.
12th, later.—A mail goes to-day, and I have a pile of papers a foot high to arrange by to-morrow. The Duke goes away and leaves the army the day after, Wednesday the 14th, consequently all is a bustle of business, balls, dinners, operas, plays, all proceeding at once. My next will give you an account of this handsome town. I am in quarters at Monsieur Emerigon’s, a barrister now at Paris, but daily expected to return. The Duke has written strongly home to put off this intended Court-martial at Tarragona; all here detest it, and grumble. The worst is, that we are to remain here in suspense until an answer arrives.
I am writing without my coat, and so are all the Duke’s Secretaries, &c., on account of the heat. The thermometer shut up in my writing-desk is at 76°. The sun most ardent when out.
CHAPTER XXX.
The Opera-house—The Cathedral—The Synagogue—A Jewish Wedding—Strange Show-house—Wellington and King Ferdinand.
Head-quarters, Bordeaux,
June 16, 1814.
My dear M——,
As I have no news to communicate, you must be satisfied with the best account of Bordeaux which the excessive heat permits me to give you. The Duke is gone for good, and we are left here in a state of dull, and almost feverish uncertainty. Time slips away fast, however, and my fate will soon be decided.