this the years 1832 and 1833 were devoted. M. Guerard, a charming
fellow, universally liked and an incomparable instructor, was my
mathematical teacher. A lieutenant in the navy, M. Hernoux, put me
through the course of study of the Naval School. At the same time I set
assiduously to work to learn drawing. My first master in this line was
M. Barbier, the father of Jules Barbier, the poet and librettist, who,
with Emile Augier, was a class-mate of my young brothers. I did
watercolours too, under an Englishman, William Callow, and oils in
Gudin's studio. But my real master, who taught me to draw, and led and
guided me, and gave me my taste for things artistic, was Ary Scheffer,
with whom I remained on terms of the closest intimacy until his death.

It was somewhere about this time that a French army entered Belgium, and
besieged and took the citadel of Antwerp, and during this campaign my
elder brothers first had the honour of leading our soldiers under fire.
Antwerp once taken, the French Government, content with having given a
proof of activity to Europe, and shown everybody what our legions could
do, at once recalled the army, and my father went to review it in the
cantonments on the frontier where it lay. I made this journey with him.
The troops were splendid, full of zeal and confidence. I was shown one
infantry brigade, which at the time of mobilization had done marches of
sixty to seventy kilometres, so as to reach the given point at the hour
fixed upon. It was an interesting journey, though a very trying one.
Every day there was an entry into some town, and a partial review, in
Siberian cold. And every evening there was a banquet, and every night a
ball. The chief review was held at Valenciennes. The troops looked
magnificent, drawn up on the snow, and, though it was so terribly cold,
a brilliant sun lighted up the splendid military scene. It was enlivened
by a little incident. The commandant of the fortress of Valenciennes was
an old colonel, who had re-engaged in 1830, after having dabbled