1 '-'/^^ 1&\ yN^ ^•MRm^VVI Mm'irm ry>i ,";■.'■,'., ■' t' i fi ///'.: Ill y^ i'^i k;^II"i THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES IN THE COLLECTION OF THE DUG DE MoBNY TYPOGBAVCRE BOUSSOD, VALADON 4 CO, PAHIS. meissonier's " 1814 ". REPRODUCED BV ARRANGEMENT WITH THE DUG DE MOR.W, OWNER OF THE ORIGINAL PAINTING. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE BY WILLIAM MILLIGAN SLOANE, Ph. D., L. H. D. PROFESSOR OF HISTORY IN PRINCETON UNIVERSITY VOLUME I THE CENTURY CO. NEW YORK LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED 1896 Copyright, 1894, 1895, 1896, By The Centuey Co. THE DE VINNE PRESS, NEW YORK, U. S. A. Stack Annex UNIVEKSITATI PEINCETONIENSI MATRI STUDIOEUM HIC LIBER OPTIME DEBETUR PREFACE. In the closing years of the eighteenth century European society began its eifort to get rid of benevolent despotism, so called, and to secure its liberties under forms of constitutional government. The struggle began in France, and spread over the more important lands of continental Europe; its influence was strongly felt in England, and even in the United States. Passing through the phases of constitu- tional reform, of anarchy, and of military despotism, the movement seemed for a time to have failed, and to outward appearances ab- solutism was stronger after Waterloo than it had been half a cen- tury earlier. But the force of the revolution was only checked, not spent ; and to the awakening of general intelligence, the strengthening of national feeling, and the upbuilding of a sense of common brotherhood among men, produced by the revolutionary struggles of this epoch, Europe owes whatever hberty and free government its peoples now enjoy. At the close of this period national power was no longer in the hands of the aristocracy, nor in those of kings; it had passed into the third social stratmii, variously designated as the middle class, the burghers or bourgeoisie, and the third estate, a body of men as little willing to share it with the masses as the kings had been. Nevertheless, the transition once begun could not be stopped, and the advance of manhood suffi'age has ever since been proportionate to the capacity of the laboring classes to receive and use it, until now at last, what- ever may be the nominal form of government in any civilized land, its stability depends entirely upon the support of the people as a whole. That which is the basis of all government — the power of the purse — has passed into their hands. This momentous chano-e was of course a turbulent one — the most turbulent in the history of civilization, as it has proved to be the most comprehensive. Consequently its epoch is most interesting, being dramatic in the highest degree, having brought into prominence men Vi PREFACE and characters which rank among the great of all time, and having exhibited to succeeding generations the most important lessons in the most vivid light. By common consent the eminent man of the time was Napoleon Bonaparte, the revolution queller, the burgher sovereign, the imperial democrat, the supreme captain, the civil reformer, the victim of circumstances which his soaring ambition used but which his unrivaled prowess could not control. Gigantic in his proportions, and Satanic in his fate, his was the most tragic figure on the stage of modern history. While the men of his own and the following generation were still alive, it was almost impossible that the truth should be known concerning his actions or his motives; and to fix his place in general history was even less feasible. What he wrote and said about himself was of course animated by a determination to appear in the best light; what others wrote and said has been biased by either devotion or hatred. Until wathin a very recent period it seemed that no man could discuss him or his time without manifesting such strong personal feel- ing as to vitiate his judgment and conclusions. This w^as partly due to the lack of perspective, but in the main to ignorance of the facts essential to a sober treatment of the theme. In this respect the last quarter of a century has seen a gradual but radical change, for a band of dispassionate scientific scholars have during that time been occu- pied in the preparation of material for his life without reference to the advocacy of one theory or another concerning his character. European archives, long carefully guarded, have been thrown open ; the diplomatic correspondence of the most important periods has been published; family papers have been examined, and numbers of valuable memoirs have been printed. It has therefore been possible to check one account by another, to cancel misrepresentations, to eliminate passion — in short, to establish something like correct outline and accurate detail, at least in regard to what the man actually did. Those hidden secrets of any human mind which we call motives must ever remain to other minds largely a matter of opinion, but a very fair indication of them can be found when once the actual conduct of the actor has been determined. This investigation has mainly been the work of speciahsts, and its results have been pubHshed in monographs and technical journals ; most of these workers, moreover, were continental scholars writing each in his own language. Its results, as a whole, have therefore not been accessible to the general reader in either America or England. It PREFACE vii seems highly desirable that they should be made so, and this has been the ettbrt of the writer. At the same time he claims to be an independent investigator in some of the most important portions of the field he covers. His researches have extended over many years, and it has been his privilege to use original materials which, as far as he knows, have not been used by others. At the close of the book will be found a short account of the papers of Bonaparte's boyhood and youth which the author has read, and of the portions of the French and English archives which were generously put at his disposal, together with a short though reasonably complete bibliography of the published books and papers which really have scientific value. The number of volumes concerned with Napoleon and his epoch is enormous; outside of those mentioned very few have any value except as curiosities of literature. SI QUID NOVISTI RECTroS ISTIS, CANDIDUS IMPEETI: SI NON, HIS UTERE MECUM. HORACE. TABLE OF CONTENTS Volume I Introduction p^oe The Revolutionary Epoch in Eiirope — Corsica as a Center of Interest — Its Geography — The People and their Rulers — Sampiero — Paoli — His Success as a Liberator — His Plan for Alliance with France — The Policy of Choiseul — Paoli's Reputation — Napoleon's Account of Corsica and of Paoli — Rous- seau and Corsica 1 Chaptee I. The Bonapartes in Corsica The French Occupy Corsica — Paoli Deceived — Conquest of Corsica by France — English Intervention Vain — Paoli in England — Introduction of the French Administrative System — Paoli's Policy — Origin of the Bonapartes — Carlo Maria di Buonaparte — Maria Letizia Ramolino — Their Marriage and Natur- alization as French Subjects — Their Fortunes — Their Children 8 Chapter II. Napoleon's Birth and Infancy Birth of Nabulione or Joseph — Date of Napoleon's Birth — The Name Napoleon — Corsican Conditions as Influencing Napoleon's Character — His Early Edu- cation — Influenced by Traditions Concerning Paoli — Charles de Buonaparte as a Suitor for Court Favor — Napoleon Appointed to Brienne — His Efforts to Learn French at Autun — Development of His Character — His Father Delegate of the Corsican Nobility at Versailles 17 Chapter III. Napoleon's School-days Military Schools in France — Napoleon's Initiation into the Life of Brienne — His Powerful Friends — His Reading and Other Avocations — His Studies — His Conduct and Scholarship — The Change in His Life Plan — His Influence in His Family — His Choice of the Artillery Service 25 Chapter IY. In Paris and Valence Introduction to Paris — Death of Charles de Buonaparte — Napoleon's Poverty — His Character at the Close of His School Years — Appointed Lieutenant in the Regiment of La Fere — Demoralization of the French Army — The Men in the Ranks — Napoleon as a Beau — Return to Study — His Profession and Vocation 31 X TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter V. Peivate Study and Gtaeeison Lefe p^ge Napoleon as a Student of Politics — Nature of Rousseau's Political Teachings — The Abb6 Raynal — Napoleon Aspires to be the Historian of Corsica — Napo- leon's First Love — His Notions of Political Science — The Books he Read — Napoleon at Lyons — His Transfer to Douay — A Victim to Melancholy — Return to Corsica 37 Chapter VI. Further Attempts at Authorship Straits of the Bonaparte Family — Napoleon's Efforts to Relieve Them — His History and Short Stories — Visit to Paris — Secures Extension of His Leave — The FamQy Fortunes Desperate — The History of Corsica Completed — Its Style, Opinions, and Value — Failure to Find a Publisher — Sentiments Ex- pressed in His Short Stories — Napoleon's Irregularities as a French Officer — His Vain Appeal to Paoli — The History Dedicated to Necker 43 Chapter YII. The Revolution in Trance The French Aristocracy — Priests, Lawyers, and Petty Nobles — Burghers, Artisans, and Laborers — The Great Nobles a Barrier to Reform — Mistakes of the King — The Estates Meet at Versailles — The Court Party Provokes Vio- lence — Downfall of Feudal Privilege 52 Chapter VIII. Bonaparte and Revolution Napoleon's Studies Continued at Auxonne — Another Illness and a Furlough — His Scheme of Corsican Liberation — His Appearance at Twenty — His Attain- ments and Character — His Shifty Conduct — The Homeward Journey — New Parties in Corsica — Salicetti and the Nationalists — Napoleon becomes a Politi- cal Agitator — And Leader of the Radicals — The National Assembly Incorpo- rates Corsica with France and Grants Amnesty to Paoli — Momentary Joy of the Corsican Patriots — The French Assembly Ridicules Genoa's Protest — Na- poleon's Plan for Corsican Administration 58 Chapter IX. First Lessons in Revolution French Soldier and Corsican Patriot — Paoli's Hesitancy — His Return to Cor- sica — Cross Purposes in France — A New Furlough — Money Ti-ansactions of Napoleon and Joseph — Open Hostilities against France — Thwarted a Second Time — Reorganization of Corsican Administration — Meeting of Bonaparte and Paoli — Corsican Politics — Studies in Society 67 Chapter X. Traits of Character Literary Work — Essay on Happiness — Thwarted Ambition — The Corsican Patriots — The Brothers Napoleon and Louis — Studies in Politics — Reorgan- ization of the Army — The Change in Public Opinion — Napoleon again at Auxonne — Napoleon as a Teacher — Further Literary Efforts — The Sentimen- tal Journey — His Attitude toward Religion 75 TABLE OF CONTENTS xi Chaptee XI. The Revolution in the Rhone Valley page A Dark Period — Bonaparte, First Lieutenant — Second Sojourn in Valence — Books and Reading — The National Assembly of France — The King Returns from Versailles — Administrative Reforms in France — Passing of the Old Or- der — Flight of the King — Bonaparte's Oath to Sustain the Constitution — His View of the Situation — His Revolutionary Zeal — A Serious Blunder Avoided — Return to Corsica 84 Chapter XII. Bonaparte the Corsican Jacobin Bonaparte's Corsican Patriotism — His Position in His Family — Corsican Poli- tics — His Position in the Jacobin Club of Ajaccio — His Failure as a Contes- tant for Literary Honors — Apjjointed Adjutant-General — His Attitude toward France — His New Ambitions — Use of Violence — Lieutenant-Colonel of Volun- teers — Polities in Ajaccio — Bonaparte's First Expei-ience of Street Warfare — His Manifesto — Dismissed to Paiis — His Plans — The Position of Louis XVL — Bonaparte's Delinquencies — Disorganization in the Army — Petition for Rein- statement — The Marseillais — Bonaparte a Spectator — His Estimate of France — His Presence at the Scenes of August Tenth — State of Paris 93 Chapter XIII. Bonaparte the French Jacobin Reinstatement and Promotion — Further Solicitation — Napoleon and Elisa — Occupations in Paris — Return to Ajaccio — Disorders in Corsica — Bonaparte a French Jacobin — Expedition against Sardinia — Course of French Affairs — Paoli's Changed Attitude — Estrangement of Bonaparte and Paoli — Mischances in the Preparations against Sardinia — Failure of the French Detachment — Bonaparte and the Fiasco of the Corsican Detachment — Further Developments in France — England's Policy — Paoli in Danger — Denounced and Summoned to Paris 106 Chapter XIV. A Jacobin Hejira The Waning of Bonaparte's Patriotism — Alliance with Salicetti — Another Scheme for Leadership — Failure to Seize the Citadel of Ajaccio — Second Plan — Paoli's Attitude toward the Convention — Bonaparte Finally Discredited in Corsica — Paoli Turns to England — Plans of the Bonapai'te Family — Their Arrival in Toulon — Napoleon's Character — His Corsican Career — Lessons of his Failures — His Ability, Situation, and Experience 118 Chapter XV. "The Supper of Beaucaiee" Revolutionary Madness — Uprising of the Girondists — Convention Forces Be- fore Avignon — Bonaparte's First Success in Arms — Its Effect Upon his Career — His Political Pamphlet — The Genius it Displays — Accepted and Published by Authority — Seizure of Toulon by the Allies 127 Chapter XVI. Toulon The Jacobin Power Threatened — Bonaparte's Fate — His Appointment at Tou- lon — His Ability as an Artillerist — His Name Mentioned with Distinction — His Plan of Operations — The Fall of Toulon — Bonaparte a General of Bri- gade — Behavior of the Jacobin Victors — A Corsican Plot — Horrors of the French Revolution 133 xii TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter XVII. A Jacobin Genekai p^oe Transformation in Bonaparte's Character — Confirmed as a French General — Conduct of his Brothers — Napoleon's Caution — His Report on Marseilles — The New French Army — Bonaparte the Jacobin Leader — Hostilities with Aus- tria and Sardinia — Enthusiasm of the French Troops — Bonaparte in Society — His Plan for an Italian Campaign 139 Chapter XVIII. Vicissitudes in War and Diplojiacy Signs of Maturity — The Mission to Genoa — Course of the French Republic — The "Ten-or" — Thermidor — Bonaparte a Scapegoat — His Prescience — Ad- ventures of his Brothers — Napoleon's Defense of his French Patriotism — Bloodshedding for Amusement — New Expedition against Corsica — Bona- parte's Advice for its Conduct 146 Chapter XIX. The End of Apprenticeship The English Conquest of Corsica — Effects in Italy — The Buonapartes at Tou- lon — Napoleon Thwarted Again — Departure for Paris — His Character Deter- mined — His Capacities — Reaction from the "Terror" — Resolutions of the Convention — Parties in France — Their Lack of Experience — A New Consti- tution — Drffei'ent Views of its Value 154 Chapter XX. The Antechajviber to Success Punishment of the Terrorists — Dangers of the Thermidorians — Successes of Republican Arms — The Treaty of Basel — Vendeau Disorders Repressed — The "White Terror" — Royalist Activity — Friction under the New Constitution — Arrival of Bonaparte in Paris — Paris Society — Its Power — The People Angry — Resurgence of Jacobinism — Bonaparte's Dejection — His Relations with Mme. Pei'mon — His Magnanimity 162 Chapter XXI. Bonaparte the General op the Convention Disappointments — Another Furlough — Connection with Barras — Official So- ciety in Paris — Bonaparte as a Beau — Condition of His Family — A Political Genei'al — An Opening in Turkey — Opportunities in Eui'ope — Social Advance- ment — OfiQcial Degradation — Schemes for Restoration — Plans of the Royalists — The Hostility of Paris to the Convention — Bonaparte, General of the Con- vention Troops — His Strategy 171 Chapter XXII. The Day of the Paris Sections The Warfare at St. Roch and the Pont Royal — Oi'der Restored — Meaning of the Conflict — Political Dangers — Bonaparte's Dilemma — His True Attitude — Sudden Wealth — The Directory and Their General — Bonaparte in Love — His Corsican Temperament — His Matrimonial Adventures 181 Chapter XXIII. A Marriage of Inclination and Interest The Taschers and Beauhamais — Execution of Alexandre Beauharnais — Adven- tures of His Widow — Meeting of Napoleon and Josephine — The Latter's Un- certainties — Her Character and Station — Passion and Convenience — The Bride's Dowry — Bonaparte's Philosophy of Life — The Ladder to Glory . . . 189 TABLE OF CONTENTS xiii Chapter XXIV. Europe and the Directory pj^ob The First Coalition — England and Austria — The Arniies of the Repuhlif; — The Treasury of the Republic — The Directory — The Abb6 Sieyfes — Carnot as a Model Citizen — His Capacity as a Military Organizer — His Personal Char- acter — His Policy — France at the Opening of 1796 197 Chapter XXV. Bonaparte on a Great Stage Bonaparte and the Army of Italy — The System of Pillage — The General as a Despot — The Republican Armies and French Politics — Italy as the Focal Point — Condition of Italy — Bonaparte's Sagacity — His Plan of Action — His Army and Generals — Strength of the Army of Italy — The Napoleonic Maxims of Warfare — Advance of Military Science — Bonaparte's Achievements — His Financial Policy — Effects of his Success 204 Chapter XXVT. The Conquest of Piedmont and the Milanese The Armies of Austria and Sardinia — Montenotte and Millesimo — Mondovi and Cherasco — Consequences of the Campaign — The Plains of Lombardy — The Crossing of the Po — Advance toward Milan — Lodi — Retreat of the Aus- trians — Moral Effects of Lodi 213 Chapter XXVII. An Insubordinate Conqueror and Diplomatist Bonaparte's Assertion of Independence — Helplessness of the Directory — Threats and Proclamations — The General and His Officers — Bonaparte's Com- prehensive Genius — The Devotion of France — The Position of the Austrians — Bonaparte's Strategy — His Conception of the Problem in Italy — Justification of His Foresight — Modena, Parma, and the Papacy — The French Radicals and the Pope — Bonaparte's Policy — His Ambition 221 Chapter XXVIII. Mantua and Arcole The Austrian System — The Austrian Strategy — Castiglione — French Gains — Bassano — The French in the Tyi'ol — The French Defeated in Germany — Bonaparte and Alvinczy — Austrian Successes — Caldiero — First Battle of Arcole — Second Battle of Arcole 231 Chapter XXIX. Bonaparte's Imperious Spirit Bonaparte's Transformation — Military Genius — Powers and Principles — Theory and Conduct— Political Activity— Purposes for Italy — Private Corre- spondence — Treatment of the Italian Powers — Antagonism to the Directoiy— The Task before Him 241 Chapter XXX. Rivoli and the Capitulation of Mantua Austria's Strategic Plan— Renewal of Hostilities — The Austrians at Rivoli and Nogara — Bonaparte's Night March to Rivoli — Monte Baldo and the Berner Klause — The Battle of Rivoli — The Battle of La Favorita — Feats of the French Army — Bonaparte's Achievement — The Fall of Mantua 250 xiv TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter XXXI. Humiliation of the Papacy and of Venice p^oe Rome Threatened — Pius VI. Surrenders — The Peace of Tolentino — Bona- parte and the Papacy — Designs for the Orient — The Policy of Austria — The Archduke Charles — Bonaparte Hampered by the Directory — His Treatment of Venice — Condition of Venetia — The Commonwealth Warned 259 Chapter XXXII. The Preliminaries of Leoben Austrian Plans for the Last Italian Campaign — The Battle on the Tagliamento — Retreat of the Archduke Charles — Bonaparte's Proclamation to the Carin- thians — Joubert Withdraws from the Tyrol — Bonaparte's "Philosophical" Letter — His Situation at Leoben — The Negotiations for Peace — Chai-acter of the Treaty — Bonaparte's Rude Diplomacy — French Successes on the Rhine — Plots of the Directory — The Uprising of Venetia — War with Venice ... 26G Chapter XXXIII. The Fall of Venice Feebleness of the Venetian Oligai-chy — Its Overthrow — Bonaparte's Duplicity — Letters of Opposite Purport — Montebello — The Republican Court — Eng- land's Proposition for Peace — Plans of the Directory — General Clarke's Diplo- matic Career — Conduct of Mme. Bonaparte — Bonaparte's Jealous Tenderness — His Wife's Social Conquests 275 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS VOLUJIE I Meissonier's "1814" Frontispiece FACrNG PAGE House in the Place Letizia, Ajaccio, Corsica, in which Napoleon Bonaparte was born 1 Room in which Napoleon was born 8 The Infant Napoleon in the Room op his Birth 12 Carlo Buonaparte 17 Napoleon Bonaparte in 1785, aged sixteen 20 L^TiTiA Ramolino 24 Bonaparte, the Nouveau, at the School op Brienne 28 Bonaparte attacking Snow Forts at the School of Bkienne 33 Bonaparte at the Military School, Paris, 1784 36 Napoleon in Society at Valence, 1785 40 Napoleon Bonaparte 43 Bonaparte at Auxonne, 1788 44 Mlle. du Colombier 47 Marie-Anne-Elisa Bonaparte 49 In the Garden of the Tuileries 52 Napoleon on his Way to Corsica with his Sister Elisa 56 Joseph Bonaparte 60 Pascal Paoli 65 Landing of Paoli on Corsican Soil 68 Target Practice (Dieppe, 1795) 70 The Entrance to the Grotto on the Estate of Milleli 72 Napoleon Bonaparte 77 The Lodging op Bonaparte at Valence -81 Bonaparte during his later Service at Valence 84 Bonaparte pawning his Watch 88 Bonaparte addressing a Jacobin Club in Corsica 93 Bonaparte in 1792 as a Frequenter of a six-sous Restaurant in Paris ... 96 The Young Napoleon 101 La Causerie — Life in Paris in 1793 104 XV xvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE Jeanne-Marie-Ignace-Th]i;rese de Cabarrus 108 The Battle of Jemmapes, near Mons, Belgium, November 6, 1792 114 The Drummers op the Republic 116 L.\zare-Nicolas-Marguerite Carnot 121 The Supper op Beaucaire 127 The Conquest of Holland 128 Bonaparte explaining his Plan for the Taking of Toulon, 1793 134 The Harbor op Toulon, prom the Heights of Six-fours 137 The Battle of Quiberon 140 Bonaparte, Turreau, and Volney at Nice in 1793 144 Bonaparte under Arrest, August, 1794 151 Marie-Julie Clary 157 The Siege of Pavia 161 Louis-Marie de Larevelli^ire-Lepeaux 165 Felice Pasquale Bacciocchi 169 MARiE-Josi;PHE-RosE Tascher de la Paqerie, called Josephine, Empress op the French 172 Napoleon Bonaparte 176 The Thirteenth Vendemiaire, October 5, 1795 180 Bonaparte closing the Pantheon Club 184 The Civil Marriage of Napoleon and Josephine 193 Bonaparte on the Road from Paris to Nice 196 Capture op a Dutch Fleet by Hussars of the French Republic, January, 1795 200 Rampon's Soldiers taking the Oath never to Surrender 209 Marshal Andr6 Mass^na 212 Bonaparte aiming the Cannon at Lodi 216 Bonaparte, surprised at Lonato with his Staff and 1200 Men, compels 4000 Austrians to surrender 219 Napoleon Bonaparte 221 Bonaparte in Italy 225 Bonaparte in Italy, 1796 229 Bonaparte at Arcole 236 Bonaparte at Aecole 238 A Grenadier 245 The Battle of Rivoli, January 14, 1797 253 Marshal Jean-Matthieu-Philibert, Count Serurier 256 Bulletin op Victory from the Armies of Italy, 1797 260 Archduke Charles of Austria 265 Francis I., Emperor of Austria 268 Capture of the Pass of Tarvis 272 The French before the Ducal Palace, Venice 276 Eugenie-Bernardine-Desiree Clary 280 DEAWINO MADE TUB TUE LE>"TUaY CO. HOUSE IN THE PLACE LETIZIA, AJACCIO, CORSICA, IN WHICH NAPOLEON BONAPARTE WAS BORN FROM THE HEAWINO BY KRIC FAPE Tbe bouse is now owned by Ex-Empress Eugo'nie LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE INTRODUCTION The Revolutionaby Epoch m Eueope — Corsica as a Center of Interest — Its Geography — The People aj!^d their Rulers — Sam- piERO — Paoli — His Success as a Liberator — His Plajj for Alli- ance WITH France — The Policy of Choiseul — Paoli's Reputa- tion — Napoleon's Account of Corsica and of Paoli — Rousseau AND Corsica. "lyTAPOLEON BONAPARTE was the representative man of the X 1 epoch which ushered in the nineteenth century. That period was the most tumultuous and yet the most fruitful in the world's history. But the progress made in it was not altogether direct ; rather was it like the advance of a traveler whirled through the spiral tunnels of the St. Gotthard. Flying from the inclemency of the north, he is carried by the ponderous train due southward into the opening. After a time of dark- ness he emerges into the open au*. But at first sight the goal is no nearer; the direction is perhaps reversed, the skies are more forbidding, the chill is more intense. Only after successive ventures of the same kind is the climax reached, the summit passed, and the vision of sunny plains opened to view. Such experiences are more common to the race than to the in- dividual ; the muse of history must note and record them yvith equa- nimity, with a buoyancy and hopefulness bom of large knowledge. The movement of civihzation in Europe dm'ing the latter portion of the eighteenth century was onward and upward, but it was at times not only laborious and devious, but fruitless in immediate results. "We 2 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE must study the age and the people of any great man if we sincerely desire the truth regarding his strength and weakness, his purposes and inborn tendencies, his failures and successes, the temporary incidents and the lasting, consti-uctive, meritorious achievements of his career; and this is certainly far more true of Napoleon than of any other heroic personage. An affectionate awe has sometimes lifted him to heaven; a spiteful hate has often hurled him down to hell. Every nation, every party, faction, and cabal among his own and other peoples, has judged him from its own standpoint of self-interest and self -justification. Whatever chance there may be of reading the secrets of his life lies rather in a just consideration of the man in relation to his times, about which much is known, than in an attempt at the psychological- dissec- tion of an enigmatical nature, about which httle is known, in spite of the fullness of our information. The abimdant facts of his career are not facts at all unless considered in the light not only of a great na- tional life, but of a continental movement which was inclusive of all civilization in its day. There had been in Corsica since the beginning of the sixteenth cen- tiu'y an obscure family by the name of Buonaparte. No land and no family could to all outward appearance be further aside from the main channel of European history in the eighteenth century. Yet that iso- lated land and that unknown family were not merely to be drawn into the movement : they were to illustrate its most characteristic phases. Rousseau endeavored, though unsuccessfully, to forecast a great des- tiny for Corsica, declaring that it was the only European land capable of movement, of law-making, of peaceful renovation. It was small and remote, but it came near to being an actual exemplification of his favor- ite and fimdamental dogma concerning man in a state of nature, of order as arising from conflict, of government as resting on general consent and mutual agreement among the governed. Toward Corsica, there- fore, the eyes of all Europe had long been directed. There, more than elsewhere, the setting of the world-drama seemed complete in minia- ture, and, in the closing quarter of the eighteenth century, the action was rapidly imfolding a plot of universal interest. A lofty mountain-ridge divides the island into eastern and western districts. The former is gentler in its slopes, and more fertile. Look- ing, as it does, toward Italy, it was during the middle ages closely bound in intercourse with that peninsula ; richer in its resources than INTRODUCTION 3 the other part, it was more open to outside influences, and for this reason fi'eer in its institutions. The rugged western division had come more completely under the yoke of feudalism, haying close affinity in sympathy, and some relation in blood, with the Greek, Roman, Sara- cenic, and Teutonic race-elements in France and Spain. The com- munal administi'ation of the eastern slope, however, prevailed eventu- ally in the western as well, and the differences of origin, wealth, and occupation, though at times the occasion of intestine discord, were as nothing compared with the common characteristics which knit the population of the entire island into one national organization, as much a unit as their insular territory. The people of this small commonwealth were in the main of Itahan blood. Some shght connection with the motherland they still main- tained in the relations of commerce, and by the education of their pro- fessional men at Itahan schools. While a small minority supported themselves as tradesmen or seafarers, the mass of the population was dependent for a hvehhood upon agiiciiltiu-e. As a nation they had long ceased to foUow the coiu'se of general European development. They had been successively the subjects of Greece, Rome, and the CaHfate, of the German-Roman emperors, and of the repubhc of Pisa. Their latest ruler was Genoa, which had now degenerated into an untrustworthy oligarchy. United to that state originally by terms which gave the island a " speaker" or advocate in the Genoese senate, and recognized the most cherished habits of a hardy, natui-al-minded, and primitive people, they had little by little been left a prey to their own faults in order that their unworthy mistress might plead then* dis- orders as an excuse for her tyranny. Agricultm*e languished, and the minute subdivision of arable land finally rendered its tillage profitless. Among a people who are isolated not only as islanders, but also as mountaineers, old institutions are particularly tenacious of hfe : that of the vendetta, or blood revenge, with its accompanying clanship, never disappeared from Corsica. In the centuries of Genoese rule the caiTy- ing of arms was winked at, quarrels became rife, and often family con- federations, embracing a considerable part of the country, were arrayed one against the other in lawless violence. The feudal nobility, few in number, were um-ecognized, and failed to cultivate the indi;strial arts in the security of costly strongholds as their class did elsewhere, while the fairest portions of land not held by them were gi'adually absorbed 4 LIFP] OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE by the monasteries, which Genoa favored as hkely to render easier the government of a tm-bulent people. The hmnan animal, however, throve. Of medium stature and powerful mold, with black hair and piercing eyes, with well-formed, agile, and sinewy limbs, endowed with courage and other primitive virtues, the Corsican was everywhere sought as a soldier, and could be found in all the armies of the south- ern Continental states. In their periodic struggles against Genoese encroachments and tyranny, the Corsicans had produced a line of national heroes. Sam- piero, oue of these, had in the sixteenth century incoi-porated Corsica for a brief hour with the dominions of the French crown, and was regarded as the typical Corsican. Dark, warhke, and revengeful, he had displayed a keen intellect and fine judgment. Simple in his dress and habits, untaiated by the luxury then prevalent in the courts of Florence and Paris, at both of which he resided for considerable periods, he could kill his wife without a shudder when she put her- self and child into the hands of his enemies to betray him. Hospitable and generous, but untamed and tenible ; binisk, dictatorial, and with- out consideration or compassion ; the offspring of his times and his people, he stands the embodiment of primeval energy, physical and mental. But the greatest of these heroes was also the last — Pascal Paoli. Fitted for his task by birth, by capacity, by superior training, this youth was iu 1755 made captain-general of the island, a virtual dicta- tor in his twenty-ninth year. His success was as remarkable as his measures were wise. Elections were regulated so that strong organiza- tion was introduced into the loose democratic institutions which had hitherto prevented sufficient unity of action in troubled times. An army was created from the straggling bands of volunteers, and brig- andage was suppressed. Wise laws were enacted and enforced — among them one which made the blood-avenger a murderer, instead of a hero as he had been. Moreover, the foundations of a university were laid in the town of Corte, which was the hearthstone of the liberals because it was the natural capital of the west slope, connected by difficult and defensible paths with every cape and bay and intervale of the rocky and broken coast. The Genoese were gradually driven from the inte- rior, and finally they occupied but three harbor towns. Through skilful diplomacy Paoh created a temporary breach be- INTRODUCTION 5 tween his oppressors and the Vatican, which, though soon healed, nev- ertheless enabled him to recover important domains for the state, and prevented the Roman liierarchy from using its enormous influence over the superstitious peasantry utterly to crush the movement for their emancipation. His extreme and enlightened liberahsm is admirably shown by his invitation to the Jews, with their industiy and steady habits, to settle in Corsica, and to live there in the fuUest enjoyment of civil rights, according to the traditions of their faith and the precepts of then' law. " Liberty," he said, "knows no creed. Let us leave such distinctions to the Inquisition." Commerce, under these influences, began to thrive. New harbors were made and fortified, while the equipment of a few gunboats for their defense marked the small be- ginnings of a fleet. The haughty men of Corsica, changing then- very nature for a season, began to labor with their hands by the side of their wives and hired assistants ; to agricultiu'e, industry, and the arts was given an impulse which promised to be lasting. The rule of Paoli was not entirely without disturbance. From time to time there occurred rebelhous outbreaks of petty factions hke that headed by Matra, a disappointed rival. But they were on the whole of httle importance. Down to 1765 the advances of the nationahsts were steady, their battles being won against enormous odds by the force of their warhke nature, which sought honor above all things, and could, in the words of a medieval chronicle, "endure without a mm-mm* watchings and pains, hunger and cold, in its pursuit — which could even face death without a pang." Finally it became necessary, as the result of imparalleled success in domestic affairs, that a foreign pohcy should be foitntdated. Paoli's idea was an offensive and defensive alh- ance with France on terms recognizing the independence of Corsica, securing an exclusive commercial reciprocity between them, and prom- ising mihtary service with an annual tribute from the island. This idea of France as a protector without administrative power was held by the majority of patriots. But Choiseul, the minister of foreign affairs under Louis XV., would entertain no such visionary plan. It was clear to every one that the island could no longer be held by its old masters. He had found a facile instrument for the measures necessary to his contemplated seizm-e of it in the son of a Corsican refugee, that later notorious But- tafuoco, who, carrying water on both shoulders, had ingi'atiated him- 6 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE self with his father's old fiiends, while at the same time he had for years been successful as a French ofi&cial. Corsica was to be seized by France as a sop to the national pride, a shght compensation for the loss of Canada, and he was willing to be the agent. On August sixth, 1764, was signed a provisional agreement between Genoa and France by which the former was to cede for four years all her rights of sover- eignty, and the few places she still held in the island, in return for the latter's intervention. By this tune the renown of PaoU had filled all Europe. As a states- man he had skilfuJly used the Em*opean entanglements both of the Boiu'bon-Hapsbiu'g alliance made in 1756, and of the alhances conse- quent to the Seven Years' War, for whatever possible advantage might be secured to his people and their cause. As a general he had found profit in defeat, and had organized his httle forces to the highest possi- ble efficiency, displaying prudence, fortitude, and capacity. His per- sonal character was blameless, and could be fearlessly set up as a model. He was a convincing orator and a wise legislator. FuU of sympathy for his backward compatriots, he knew their weaknesses, and could avoid the consequences, while he recognized at the same time their virtues, and made the fullest use of them. Above all, he had the wide horizon of a philosopher, understanding fully the proportions and rela- tions to each other of epochs and peoples, not striving to uplift Corsica merely in her own interest, but seeking to find in her regeneration a leverage to raise the world to higher things. So gi'acious, so influential, so far-seeing, so all-embracing was his nature, that Voltaire called him " the lawgiver and the glory of his people," while Frederick the Great dedicated to him a dagger with the inscription, " Libertas, Patria." The shadows in his character were that he was imperious and arbi- trary; so overmastering that he trained the Corsicans to seek guidance and protection, thus preventing them from acquii'ing either personal independence or self-rehance. Awaiting at every step an impulse from their adored leader, growing timid in the moment when decision was imperative, they did not prove equal to their task. Without his people Paoh was still a philosopher; without him they became in succeeding years a byword, and fell supinely into the arms of a less noble subjec- tion. In this regard the comparison between him and Washington, so often instituted, utterly breaks down. " Corsica," wi-ote in 1790 a youth destined to lend even greater in- INTRODUCTION 7 terest than Paoli to that name — " Corsica has been a prey to the ambi- tion of her neighbors, the victim of their pohtics and of her own wilfulness. . . . We have seen her take up arms, shake the atrocious power of Genoa, recover her independence, hve happily for an instant ; but then, pursued by an irresistible fatahty, fall again into intolerable disgrace. For twenty-four centiu-ies these are the scenes which recur again and again; the same changes, the same misfortune, but also the same corn-age, the same resolution, the same boldness. ... If she trembled for an instant before the feudal hydra, it was only long enough to recognize and destroy it. If, led by a natm-al feehng, she kissed, like a slave, the chains of Rome, she was not long in breaking them. If, finally, she bowed her head before the Ligm'ian aristocracy, if irre- sistible forces kept her twenty years in the despotic grasp of Versailles, forty years of mad warfare astonished Europe, and confounded her enemies." The same pen wrote of Paoli that by following traditional hues he had not only shown in the constitution he framed for Corsica a his- toric intuition, but also had found "in his unparalleled activity, in his warm, persuasive eloquence, in his adroit and far-seeing genius," a means to guarantee it against the attacks of wicked foes. Such was the country in whose fortunes the " age of enlighten- ment " was so interested. Montesquieu had used its history to illustrate the loss and recovery of privilege and rights; Rousseau had thought the little isle would one day fill all Europe with amazement. When the latter was driven into exile for his utterances, and before his flight to England, Paoh offered him a refuge. Buttafuoco, who represented the opinion that Corsica for its own good must be incorporated with France, and not merely come under her protection, had a few months previously also invited the Genevan prophet to visit the island, and outline a con- stitution for its people. But the snare was spread in vaui. In the let- ter which with pohshed phrase declined the task, on the gi'ound of its writer's ill-health, stood the words : " I believe that under then* present leader the Corsicans have nothing to fear from Genoa. I believe, more- over, that they have nothing to fear from the troops which France is said to be transporting to their shores. What confirms me in this feel- ing is that, in spite of the movement, so good a patriot as you seem to be continues in the service of the country which sends them." Paoli was of the same opinion, and remained so until his nide awakening in 1768. CHAPTER I the bonapaetes in cobsica The Feench Occupy Coesica — Paoli Deceived — Conquest of Coe- siCA BY Feance — English Inteevention Vain — Paoli in England — Inteoduction of the Feench Administeative System — Paoli's Policy — Oeigin of the Bonapaetes — Caelo Maeia di Buona- PAETE — Maeia Letizia Ramolino — Theie Maeeiage and Natueal- ization as Feench Subjects — Theie Foetunes — Theie Childeen. Chap. I rXlHE prelimiuaiy occupation of Corsica by tho French was osten- i7(M-72 A sibly formal. The process was continued, however, until the forniahty became a reahty, imtil the fortifications of the seaport towns ceded by Genoa were filled with troops. Then, for the fii'st time, the text of the convention between the two powers was communicated to PaoH. Choiseul explained thi'ough his agent that by its first section the King guaranteed the safety and liberty of the Corsican nation, but, no doubt, he forgot to explain the double dealing in the second section whereby in the Italian form the Corsicans were in return to take " all right and proper measures dictated by their sense of justice and natural moderation to secm-e the glory and interest of the republic of GTenoa," while in the French form they were "to yield to the Glenoese all ' they ' thought necessary to the glory and interests of their repubhc." Who were the " they " ? — the Corsicans or the Genoese ? PaoH's eye was fixed on the acknowledgment of Corsican independence ; he was hoodwinked completely as to the treachery in this second section, the meaning of which, according to diplomatic usage, was settled by the interpretation the language employed for one form put upon that in which the other was written. Combining the two translations, Italian and French, of the second section, and interpreting one by the other, the Genoese were stiU the arbiters of Corsican conduct and the prom- ise of hbeiiy contained in the first section was worthless. ?0 O O S O ^ r I O > on 03 O 70 Z xm ^^•w* v \ ' 1767] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA Four years passed : apparently they were uneventftil, but in reality chap. i Choiseul made good use of his time. Through Buttafuoco he was m 1704-72 regular commimication with that minority among the Corsicans which desired incorporation. By the skilful manipulation of private funds, and the unstinted use of money, this minority was before long turned * into a majority. Toward the close of 1767 Choiseul began to show his hand by demanding absolute possession for France of at least two strong towns. PaoU replied that the demand was unexpected, and required consideration by the people ; the answer was that the King of France could not be expected to mingle in Corsican affaii-s without some advantage for himself. To gain time Paoli chose Buttafuoco as his plenipotentiary, despatched him to Versailles, and thus fell into the very trap so carefully set for him by his opponent. He consented as a compromise that Corsica shoidd join the Bourbon-Hapsburg league. More he could not grant for love of his wild, free Corsicans, and he cherished the secret conviction that, Genoa being no longer able to assert her sovereignty, France would never allow another power to intervene, and so, for the sake of peace, might accept this solution. But the great French minister was a master of diplomacy and would not yield. In his designs upon Corsica he had httle to fear from European opposition. He knew how hampered England was by the strength of parhamentaiy opposition, and the unrest of her Ameri- can colonies. The Sardinian monarchy was still weak, and quailed under the jealous eyes of her strong enemies. Austria could not act without breaking the league so essential to her weKare, while the Bom'bon comets of Spain and Naples would regard the family aggi-an- dizement with complacency. Moreover, something must be done to save the prestige of France : her American colonial empu'e was lost ; Catherine's briUiant policy, and the subsequent victories of Russia in the Orient, were threatening what remained of French influence in that quarter. Here was a propitious moment to emulate once more the English : to seize a station on the Indian highroad as valuable as Gibraltar or Port Mahon, and to raise again high hopes of recovering, if not the colonial supremacy among nations, at least that equahty which the Seven Years' War had destroyed. Without loss of time, therefore, the negotiations were ended, and Buttafuoco was dismissed. On May fifteenth, 1768, the price to be paid having been fixed, a de- finitive treaty with Genoa was signed whereby she yielded the exer- 10 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [1768-69 Chap.1 cise of sovereignty to France, and Cor.'iica passed finally from her 1764^72 hands. Paoli appealed to the great powers against this arbitrary transfer, but in vain. The campaign of subjugation opened at once, Buttafuoco, with a • few other Corsicans, taking service against his kiusfolk. The soldiers of the Royal Corsican regiment, which was in the French service, and which had been formed under his father's influence, flatly refused to fight their brethren. The French troops already in the island were at once reinforced, but during the first year of the final conflict the ad- vantage was all with the patriots ; indeed, there was one substantial victory on October seventh, 1768, that of Borgo, which caused dismay at Versailles. Once more Paoli hoped for intervention, especially that of England, whose liberal feehng would coincide with his interest in keeping Corsica from France. Money and arms were sent from Great Britain, but that was all. This conduct of the British ministry was afterward recalled by France as a precedent for rendering aid to the Americans in their uprising against England. The following spring an army of no less than twenty thousand men was despatched from France to make short and thorough work of the conquest. The previous year of bloody and embittered conflict had gone far to disorganize the patriot army. It was only with the ut- most difficulty that the little bands of mountain villagers could be tempted away fi'om the ever more necessary defense of their homes and fii'esides. Yet in spite of disintegration before such overwhelm- ing odds, and though in want both of the simplest munition and of the very necessities of hf e, the forces of Paoh continued a fierce and heroic resistance. It was only after months of devastating, heart- rending, hopeless warfare, that their leader, utterly routed in the affaii" known as the battle of Ponte-Nuovo, finally gave up the des- perate cause. Exhaiisted, and without resoui'ces, he would have been an easy prey to the French; but they were too wise to take him prisoner. On June thu-teenth, 1769, by their connivance he escaped, with three hundred and forty of his most devoted supporters, on two Enghsh vessels, to the mainland. His goal was England. The joiuTiey was a long, triumphant procession from Leghorn through Gfermany and Holland; the honors showered on him by the hberals in the towns through which he passed were such as are generally paid to victory, not to defeat. Kindly received and entertained, he 1770] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA n lived for the next thirty years in London, the recipient from the Chap. i government of twelve hundred pounds a year as a pension. }7m--2 The year 1770 saw the King of France apparently in peaceful pos- session of that Corsican sovereignty which he claimed to have bought from Genoa. His administration was soon and easily inaugurated, and there was nowhere any interference from foreign powers. Philan- thropic England had provided for Paoli, but would do no more, for she was busy at home with a transformation of her parties. The old Whig party was disintegrating ; the new Toryism was steadily assert- ing itself in the passage of contemptuous measures for oppressing the American colonies. She was, moreover, soon to bo so absorbed in her great struggle on both sides of the globe that interest in Corsica and the Mediterranean must remain for a long time in abeyance. But the estabhshment of a French administration in the King's new acquisition did not proceed smoothly. The party favorable to incor- poration had grown, and, in the rush to side with success, it now prob- ably far outnumbered the old patriots. At the outset they faithfully supported the conquerors in an attempt to retain as much of Paoh's system as possible. But the appointment of a royal governor with a veto over legislation was essential. This of necessity destroyed the old democracy, for, in any case, such an office must create a quasi- aristocracy, and its power would rest not on popular habit and good- will, but on the French soldiery. The situation was frankly recog- nized, therefore, in a complete reorganization of the old nobility, from among whom a council of twelve was selected to support and counte- nance the governor. Moreover, the most important offices were given into French hands, while the seat of government was moved from Corte, the highland capital, to the lowland towns of Bastia and Ajac- cio. The primeval feud of highlanders and lowlanders was thus re- kindled, and in the subsequent agitations the patriots won over by France either lost influence with then* followers, or ceased to sup- port the government. Old animosities were everywhere revived and strengthened, until finally the flames burst forth in open rebellion. They were, of course, suppressed, but the work was done with a savage thoroughness the memory of which long survived to prevent the for- mation in the island of a natm*al sentiment fiiendly to the French. Those who professed such a feeling were held in no gi'eat esteem. It was perhaps an en-or that Paoli did not recognize the indissolxi- 12 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [1769 Chap. I ble bonds of race and speech as powerfully di'awing Corsica to Italy, 1764-72 disregard the leanings of the democratic mountaineers toward France, sympathize with the fondness of the towns for the motherland, and so use his influence as to confirm the natural aUiance between the insular Italians and those of the continent. When we regard Sardinia, how- ever, time seems to have justified him. There is httle to choose be- tween the sister islands as regards the backward condition of both; but the French department of Corsica is, at least, no less advanced than the Italian province of Sardinia. The final amalgamation of Paoh's country with France, which was in a measure the result of his leaning toward a French protectorate, accomplished one end, however, which has rendered it impossible to separate her from the course of great events, from the number of the mighty agents in history. Cuiiously longing in his exile for a second Sampiero to have wielded the physical power while he himself should have become a Lyctu'gus, Paoh's wish was to be half-way fulfilled in that a warrior greater than Sampiero was about to be born in Corsica, one who should, by the very tmion so long resisted, come, as the master of France, to wield a power strong enough to shatter both tyrannies and dynasties, thus clearing the ground for a lawgiving closely related to Paoh's own just and wise conceptions of legislation. This scion was to come from the stock which at first bore the name of Bonaparte, or, as the heraldic etymology later spelled it, Buonaparte. There were branches of the same stock, or, at least, of the same name, in many other parts of Italy. Whatever the origin of the Corsican Buonapartes, it was neither royal from the twin brother of Louis XIV., thought to be the Iron Mask, nor imperial fi'om the Juhan gens, nor Greek, nor Saracen, nor, in short, anything which later-invented and lying genealogies declared it to be. But it was almost certainly Itahan, and probably patrician, for in 1780 a Tuscan gentleman of the name devised a scanty estate to his distant Corsican kinsman. The earliest home of the family was Florence ; later they removed for pohti- cal reasons to Sarzana, in Tuscany, where for generations men of that name exercised the profession of advocates. They were persons of some local consequence in their latest seats, partly because of their Itahan connections, partly in their substantial possessions of land, and partly through the official positions which they held in the city of Ajaccio. Theu' sympathies as lowlanders and townspeople were with H X m Z > z -1 z > O r- m O z H m 3 ?0 5 O s o o ■D ■X c7i 1771] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA 13 the country of their origin and with Genoa. Dui-ing the last years Chap. i of the sixteenth century that republic authorized Jerome, then head 1754-72 of the family, to prefix the distinguishing particle " di " to his name ; but the Italian custom was averse to its use, which was not revived until later, and then only for a short time. Nearly two centuries passed before the grand duke of Tuscany is- sued formal patents in 1757, attesting the Buonaparte nobility. It was Joseph, the grandsire of Napoleon, who received them ; soon afterward he announced that the coat-armor of the family was "la couronne de compte, I'ecusson fendu par deux barres et deux etoiUes, avec les lettres B. P. qui signifient Buona Parte, le fond des armes rougeatres, les baiTes et les etoiUes bleu, les ombrements et la couronne jaime ! " Translated as Hterally as such doubtful language and con- struction can be, this signifies : "A count's coronet, the escutcheon with two bends sinister and two stars, bearing the letters B. P., which signify Buonaparte, the field of the arms red, the bends and stars blue, the letters and coronet yellow ! " In heraldic parlance this would be : Grilles, two bends sinister between two estoiles azm*e charged with B. P. for Buona Parte, or ; surmounted by a count's coronet of the last. In 1759 the same sovereign granted further the title of patrician. Charles, the son of Joseph, received a similar grant from the Arch- bishop of Pisa in 1769. These facts have a substantial historical value, since by reason of them the family was recognized as noble in 1771 by the French authorities, and as a consequence the most illus- trious scion of the stem became, eight years later, the ward of a France which was still monarchical. Reading between the hnes of such a narrative, it appears as if the short-hved family of Corsican lawyers had some difficulty in preserving an influence proportionate to their descent, and therefore sought to draw aU the strength they could from a bygone gi'andeur, easily forgotten by then* neighbors in their moderate circumstances at a later day. No task had lain nearer to Paoli's heart than to unite in one nation the two factions into which he found his people divided. Accordingly, when Carlo Maria di Buonaparte, the single stem on which the conse- quential lowland family depended for continuance, appeared to piu'sue his studies at Corte, the stranger was received with flattering kindness, and probably, as one account has it, was appointed to a post of emolu- ment and honor as Paoli's private secretary. The new patrician, 14 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [1769 Chap. I accorcUng to a custom common among Corsicans of Liis class, de- 1764-72 termined to take his degree at Pisa, and in November, 1769, he was made doctor of laws by that university. Many pleasant and probably true anecdotes have been told to illustrate the good-fellowship of the young advocate among his comi-ades while a student. There are like- wise naiTatives of his persuasive eloquence and of his influence as a patriot, but these sound mythical. In short, an organized effoi-t of sycophantic admirers, who would, if possible, illuminate the whole family in order to heighten Napoleon's renown, has invented fables and distorted facts to such a degree that the entire truth as to Charles's character is hard to discern. Certain undisputed facts, however, throw a strong hght upon Napo- leon's father. His people were proud and poor; he endured the hard- ships of poverty with equanimity. Strengthening what little influence he could muster, he at first appears ambitious, and has himself de- scribed in his doctor's diploma as a patrician of Florence, San Miniato, and Ajaccio. On the other hand, with no apparent regard for his personal advancement by marriage, he followed his own inclination, and in 1764:, at the age of eighteen, gallantly wedded a beautiful child of fifteen, Maria Letizia Ramohno. Her descent, though re- motely noble, was far inferior to that of her husband, but her fortune was equal, if not superior, to his. Although well bom, she was of peasant natiu^e to the last day of her long life — hardy, imsentimental, frugal, and sometimes unscrupulous. Yet for all that, the hospitaUty of her httle home in Ajaccio was lavish and famous. Among the many guests who were regularly entertained there was Marbeuf, com- mander in Corsica of the fii'st army of occupation. There was long afterward a mahcious trachtion that the French general was Napo- leon's father. The morals of Letizia di Buonaparte, like those of her conspicuous children, have been bitterly assailed, but her own good name, at least, has always been vindicated. The evident motive of the story sufiiciently refutes such an aspersion as it contains. Of the bride's extraordinary beauty there has never been a doubt. She was a woman of heroic mold, hke Jimo in her majesty, unmoved in pros- perity, undaunted in adversity. It was probably to his mother, whom he strongly resembled in childhood, that the famous son owed his tremendous, even gigantic, physical endurance. After their marriage the youthful paii- resided in Corte, waiting 1772] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA 15 until events should permit their retm-n to Ajaccio. Naturally of an chap. i indolent temperament, the husband, though he had at first been di^awn 1764-72 into the daring enterprises of PaoU, and had displayed a momentary enthusiasm, was now, as he had been for more than a year, weary of them. At the head of a body of men of his own rank, he finally with- drew to Monte Rotondo, and on May twenty-third, 1769, a few weeks before Paoh's flight, the band made formal submission to Vaux, com- mander of the second army of occupation, explaining through Buona- parte that the national leader had misled them by promises of aid which never came, and that, recognizing the impossibility of fui-ther resistance, they were anxious to accept the new government, to return to their homes, and to resume the peaceful conduct of their affairs. It was this precipitate naturahzation of the father as a French subject which made his great son a Frenchman. Less than three months afterward, on August fifteenth, the fourth child, Napoleone di Buona- parte, was bom in Ajaccio. The resources of the Buonapartes, as they stiU wrote themselves, were small, although their family and expectations were large. An only child, and her mother having married a second time, Lsetitia, to use the French form, inherited her father's home and his vineyards. Her stepfather had been a Swiss mercenary in the pay of Genoa. In order to secure the woman of his choice he became a Roman Cathohc, and was the father of Mme. di Buonaparte's half-brother, Joseph Fesch. Charles himself was the owner of lands in the interior, but they were heavily mortgaged, and he could contribute little to the support of his family. His maternal uncle, a wealthy landlord, had died childless, leaving his domains to the Jesuits, and they had promptly entered into possession. According to the terms of his grandfather's will, the bequest was void, for the fortune was to faU hi such a case to Charles's mother, and on her death to Charles himself. Joseph, his father, had wasted many years and most of his fortiuie in weary htigation to recover the property. Nothing daimted, Charles settled down to pursue the same phantom, virtually depending for a hveUhood on his wife's patrimony. He became an officer of the highest court as assessor, and was made in 1772 a member, and later a deputy, of the council of Corsican nobles. The stm-dy mother was most prolific. Her eldest child, born in 1765, was a son who died in infancy; in 1767 was born a daughter, IQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [1772 Chap. I Maria-Anna, destined to the same fate ; in 1768 a son, known later nei-12 as Joseph, but baptized as Nabulione; in 1769 the great son, Napo- leone. Nine other children were the fruit of the same wedlock, and six of them — three sons, Lucien, Louis, and Jerome, and three daugh- ters, EHsa, Pauline, and Caroline — survived to share their brother's greatness. Charles himself, like his short-hved ancestors, — of whom five had died within a century, — scarcely reached middle age, dying m his thirty-ninth year, Lsetitia, hke the stout Corsican that she was, lived to the ripe age of eighty-six in the fuU enjoyment of her facul- ties, known to the world as Madame Mere, a sobriquet devised by her great son to distinguish her as the mother of the Napoleons. i DJ UOTEL Ut: VltXE, AJACCIO, COESICA ENGRAVED BY K, A. JIULLLB CARLO BUONAPARTE FATHER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE FHOM THK PArXTINfi BV OlROriKT CHAPTER II napoleon's bieth and infancy BmTH OF Nabulione ok Joseph — Date of Napoleon's Birth — The Name Napoleon — Coesican Conditions as Influencing Napo- leon's Character — His EAiiLY Education — Influenced by Tra- ditions Concerning Paoli — Charles de Buonaparte as a Suitor FOR Court Favor — Napoleon Appointed to Brienne — His Ef- forts TO Learn French at Autun — Development of His Char- acter — His Father Delegate of the Corsican Nobility at Versailles. THE trials of poverty made the Buonapartes so clever and adi-oit chap. n that suspicions of shiftiness in small matters were developed later itgT-td on, and these led to an over-close scrutiny of their acts. The opinion has not yet disappeared among reputable authorities that Nabuhone and Napoleone were one and the same, horn on January seventh, 1768, Joseph being really the younger, born on the date assigned to his dis- tinguished brother. The earliest documentary evidence consists of two papers, one in the archives of the French "War Department, one in those of Ajaccio. The former is dated 1782, and testifies to the bu'th of Nabuhone on January seventh, 1768, and to his baptism on January eighth; the latter is the copy of an original paper which declares the birth, on January seventh, of Joseph Nabuhon. Neither is decisive, but the addition of Joseph, with the use of the two French forms for the name in the second, destroys much of its value, and leaves the weight of authority with the former. The reasonableness of the sus- picion seems to be heightened by the fact that the certificate of Napo- leon's marriage gives the date of his birth as Febiaiary eighth, 1768. Moreover, in the mari'iage contract of Joseph, witnesses testify to his having been born at Ajaccio, not at Corte. 3 u IQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 1-10 Chap. II But tliei'G are facts of greater weight on the other side. In the first 1768-79 place, the documentary evidence is itself of equal value, for the ar- chives of the French War Department also contain an extract from the one original baptismal certificate, which is dated July twenty- first, 1771, the day of the baptism, and gives the date of Napoleoue's birth as August fifteenth, 1769. Charles's apphcation for the appoint- ment of his two eldest boys to Brienne has also been found, and it contains, according to regulation, still another copy from the original certificate, which is dated June twenty-third, 1776, and also gives what must be accepted as the correct date. This explodes the stoiy that Napoleon's age was falsified by his father in order to obtain admittance for him to the mihtary school. The application was made in 1776 for both boys, so as to secure admission for each before the end of his tenth year. It was the delay of the authorities in granting the request which, after the lapse of three years or more, made Joseph ineligible. The father could have had no motive in 1776 to perpetrate a fraud, and after that date it was impossible, for the papers were not in his hands ; moreover, the Minister of War wrote in 1778 that the name of the elder Buonaparte boy had already been withdrawn. That charge was made dm'ing Napoleon's hfetime. His brother Joseph positively denied it, and asserted the fact as it is now substantially proved to be; Bour- rienne, who had known his Emperor as a child of nine, was of hke opinion; Napoleon himself, in an autograph paper still existing, and written in the handwriting of his youth, thrice gives the date of his birth as August fifteenth, 1769. If the substitution occiuTcd, it must have been in early infancy. In the walk of life to which the Buona- partes belonged, the fixity of names was not as rigid then as it later became. There were three Maria- Annas in the family first and last, one of whom was afterward caUed Elisa. Besides, we know why Napo- leon at marriage sought to appear older than he was, and Joseph's con- tract was written when the misstatement in it was valuable as making him appear thoroughly French. As to the given name Napoleon, there is a curious though unimpor- tant confusion. We have already seen the forms Nabuhone, Nabuhon, Napoleone, Napoleon. Contemporary documents give also the form Napoloeone, and his marriage certificate uses Napohone. On the Ven- dome Column stands Napoho. Imp., which might be read either Na- I^ohoni Imperatori or Napoho Imperatori. In either case we have iET. 1-10] NAPOLEON'S BIRTH AND INFANCY 19 indications of a new form, Napolion or Napolius. The latter, which ceap. ii was more probably intended, would seem to be an attempt to recall 1708-79 Neopolus, a recognized saint's name. The absence of the name Napo- leon fi'om the calendar of the Latin Chm'ch was considered a serious reproach to its bearer by those who hated him, and their incessant taunts stung him. In after years he had the matter remedied, and the French Cathohcs for a time celebrated a St. Napoleon's day with proper ceremonies, among which was the singing of a hymn composed to celebrate the power and virtues of the holy man for whom it was named. The iireverent school-boys of Autun and Brienne gave the nickname "straw nose" — iKtille-au-nez — to both the brothers. The pronunciation, therefore, was probably as uncertain as the form, Na- paille-au-nez being probably a distortion of Napouillone. The chame- leon-like character of the name corresponds exactly to the chameleon- like character of the times, the man, and the lands of his birth and his adoption. The Corsican noble and French royalist was Napoleone de Buonaparte; the Corsican repubhcau and patriot was Napoleone Buonaparte; the French repubhcan. Napoleon Buonaparte; the vic- torious general, Bonaparte; the emperor, Napoleon. There was hke- wise a change in this person's handwriting analogous to the change in his nationahty and opinions. It was probably to conceal a most de- fective knowledge of French that the adoptive Frenchman, repubhcan, consul, and emperor abandoned the faMy legible hand of his youth, and recurred to the atrocious one of his childhood, continuing always to use it after his definite choice of a country. Stormy indeed were his nation and his birthtime. He himseK said: "I was bom while my country was dying. Thu-ty thousand French, vomited on our shores, drowning the throne of liberty in waves of blood — such was the horrid sight which first met my view. The cries of the dying, the groans of the oppressed, tears of despair, surrounded my cradle at my birth." Such were the words he used in 1789, while still a Corsican in feel- ing, when addressing Paoh. They strain chronology for the sake of rhetorical effect, but they truthfuhy picture the circumstances imder which he was conceived. There is a late myth which recalls in de- tail that when the pains of partuiition seized his mother she was at mass, and that she reached her chamber just in time to deposit, on a piece of embroidery representing the young Achilles, the prodigy 20 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 1-10 Chap, h biu'sting SO iuipetuously into the world. By the man himself his na- 17C8-79 ture was always represented as the product of his houi-, and this he considered a sufficient excuse for any line of conduct he chose to fol- low. When in banishment at Longwood, and on his death-bed, he recalled the circumstances of his childhood in conversations with the attendant physician, a Corsican like himself: "Nothmg awed me; I feared no one. I struck one, I scratched another, I was a terror to everybody. It was my brother Joseph with whom I had most to do ; he was beaten, bitten, scolded, and I had put the blame on him almost before he knew what he was about ; was telhng tales about him almost before he could collect his wits. I had to be quick : my mama Letizia would have restrained my warhke temper; she would not have put up with my defiant petulance. Her tenderness was severe, meting out punishment and reward with equal justice; merit and demerit, she took both into account." Of his earhest education he said at the same time: "Like every- thing else in Corsica, it was pitiful." Lucien Buonaparte, his great- uncle, was a canon, a man of substance with an income of five thousand hvres a year, and of some education — sufficient, at least, to permit his further ecclesiastical advancement. " Uncle " Fesch, whose father had received the good education of a Protestant Swiss boy, and had in turn imparted his knowledge to his own son, was the friend and older play- mate of the turbulent little Buonaparte. The child learned a few notions of Bible history, and, doubtless, also the catechism, from the canon ; by his eleven-year-old uncle he was taught his alphabet. In his sixth year he was sent to a dame's school. The boys teased him because his stockings'were always down over his shoes, and for his de- votion to the girls, one named Griacominetta especially. He met their taunts with blows, using sticks, bricks, or any handy weapon. Accord- ing to his own story, he was fearless in the face of superior numbers, however large. His mother declared that he was a perfect imp of a child. Of French he knew not a word; he had lessons at school in his mother tongue, which he learned to read under the instruction of the Abbe Recco. This scanty information is all we possess. With slight additions from other sources it is substantially Napoleon's own account of him- self in that last period of seK-examtnation when, to him, as to other men, consistency seems the highest virtue. He was, doubtless, striving 1 1 K ;i vr-onfuvniK Tioisson, vafahon A- co, Paris. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE IN 178=^, AGED SIXTEEN. FROM SKETCH MADE ilV A COMRADE . rORMERLV IN THE MUSEE DES SOUVERilN^, NOW t.N THE LOUVRE. ^T. 1-10] NAPOLEON'S BIRTH AND INFANCY 21 to compound with his conscienco by emphasizing the adage that the chap. ii child is father to the man — that he was horn what he had always been. i76»-79 In 1775 Corsica had been for six years in the possession of Franco, and on the surface all was fau'. There was, however, a httle remnant of faithful patriots left in the island, with whom Paoh and his banished friends were still in communication. The royal cabinet, seeking to remove every possible danger of disturbance, even so slight a one as lay in the disaffection of the few scattered nationahsts, and in the unconcealed distrust which these felt for their confoi-ming feUow-citi- zens, began a httle later to make advances, in order, if possible, to win at least Paoh's neutrahty, if not his acquiescence. All in vain: the exUe was not to be moved. Prom time to time, therefore, there was throughout Corsica a noticeable flow in the tide of patriotism. There are indications that the child Napoleon was conscious of this influence, listening probably with intense interest to the sympathetic tales about Paoh and his struggles for hberty which were still told among the people. As to Charles de Buonaparte, some things he had hoped for fi'om annexation were secured. His nobihty and official rank were safe ; he was in a fau- way to reach even higher distinction. But what were honors without wealth? The domestic means were constantly grow- ing smaller, while expenditures increased with the accumulating digni- ties and ever-growing family. He had made his hiunble submission to the French; his reception had been warm and graceful. The authori- ties knew of his pretensions to the estates of his ancestors. The Jesuits had been disgi'aced and banished, but the property had not been restored to him; on the contrary, the buildings had been con- verted into school-houses, and the revenues turned into various chan- nels. Years had passed, and it was evident that his suit was hopeless. How could substantial advantage for the part he had taken be seciu^ed from the King? His friends. General Marbeuf in particular, were of the opinion that he could profit to a certain extent at least by secuiing for his children an education at the expense of the state. The fli'st steps were soon taken, and in 1776 the formal supplication for the two eldest boys was forwarded to Paris. Immediately the proof of four noble descents was demanded. The movement of letters was slow, that of officials even slower, and the delays in secm-iug copies and authentications of the various documents were long and vexatious. 22 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 1-10 Chap, ii Meantime Choiseul had been disgi-aced, and on May tenth, 1774, the 1767-79 old King had died; Louis XVI. now reigned. The inertia which marked the brilliant decadence of the Bom-bon monarchy was finally over- come. The new social forces were partly emancipated. Facts were examined, and their significance considered. Bankruptcy was no longer a threatening phantom, but a menacing reaUty of the most serious nature. Retrenchment and reform were the order of the day. Necker was trying his promising schemes. There was, among them, one for a body consisting of delegates fi-om each of the three estates, — nobles, ecclesiastics, and bm'gesses, — to assist in deciding that trou- blesome question, the regulation of imposts. The Swiss financier hoped to destroy in this way the sullen, defiant influence of the royal intendants. In Corsica the governor and the intendant both thought themselves too shrewd to be trapped, securing the appointment from each of the Corsican estates of men who were beheved by them to be their humble servants. The needy suitor, Charles de Buonaparte, was to be the delegate at Versailles of the nobihty. They thought they knew this man in particular, but he was to prove as malleable in France as he had been in Corsica. Though nearly penniless, his vanity was tickled, and he accepted the mission, setting out in 1778 by way of Tuscany with his two sons Joseph and Napoleon. With them were Joseph Fesch, appointed to the seminary at Aix, and Varesa, Laetitia's cousin, who was to be sub-deacon at Autun. Joseph and Napoleon both asserted in later fife that during theu' sojourn in Florence the grand duke gave his friend, the father, a letter to his sister, Marie Antoinette. As the grand duke was at that time in Vienna, the whole account they give of the jom'ney is probably untrue. It was reaUy to Marbeuf's in- fluence that the final partial success of Charles de Buonaparte's supph- cation was due; to the general's nephew, bishop of Autun, Joseph, now too old to be received in the royal mihtary school, and later Lucien, were both sent, the former to be educated as a priest. It was probably Marbeuf's influence also, combined with a desire to concihate Corsica, which caused the heralds' office finally to accept the documents attesting the Buonapartes' nobility. On April twenty-third, 1779, Napoleon left Autun, having been admitted to Brienne, and it was to Marbeuf that in later life he attributed his appointment. After spending three weeks with a school friend, he entered upon his duties about the middle of May. On New Year's day, 1779, the Buonapartes had arrived at Autun, iET.1-10] NAPOLEON'S BIRTH AND INFANCY 23 and for three months the young Napoleone had been trained in the use char. n of French. Prodigy as he was, his progi'ess had been slow, the diffi- nos-vj culties of that elegant and pohshed tongue having scarcely been reached; so that it was with a most imperfect knowledge of their language, and a sadly defective pronunciation, that he made his ap- pearance among his futm'e schoolmates at Brienno. There were one hundred and fifty of them, although the arrangement and theory of the institution had contemplated only one hundred and twenty, of whom half were to be foundationers. The instructors were Minim priests, and the hfo was as severe as it coidd be made with such a cUentage under half-educated and inexperienced monks. In spite of all efforts to the contrary, however, the place had an air of elegance; there was a certain school-boy display proportionate to the pocket- money of the young nobles, and a very keen discrimination among themselves as to rank, social quality, and relative importance. Those famihar with the ruthlessness of boys in their treatment of one an- other can easily conceive what was the reception of the newcomer, whose nobihty was unknown and uni-ecognized in France, and whose means were of the scantiest. It appears that the journey from Corsica through Florence and Marseilles had abeady wi'ought a marvelous change in the boy. Na- poleon's teacher at Autun, the Abbe Chardon, described his pupil as having brought with him a sober, thoughtfid character. He played with no one, and took his walks alone. The boys of Autun, says the same authority, on one occasion brought the sweeping charge of cow- ardice against all inhabitants of Corsica, in order to exasperate him. " If they [the French] had been but four to one," was the calm, phleg- matic answer of the ten-year-old boy, " they would never have taken Corsica; but when they were ten to one ..." "But you had a fine general — Paoh," interrupted the narrator. " Yes, sire," was the reply, uttered with an air of discontent, and in the very embodiment of am- bition; "I should much like to emulate him." The description of the untamed faun as he then appeared is not flattering: his complexion sallow, his hair stiff, his figure shght, his expression lusterless, his manner insignificant. Moreover, he spoke broken French with an Italian accent. During his son's preparatory studies at Autun the father had been busy at Versailles with further suppHcations — among them one for 24 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 1-10 Chap. II a supplement from the royal purse to his scanty pay as delegate, and 1768-79 another for the speedy settlement of his now notorious claim. The former of the two was granted not merely to M. de Buonaparte, but to his two colleagues, in view of the "excellent behavior" — other- wise subserviency — of the Corsican delegation at Versailles. When, in addition, the certificate of Napoleon's appointment finally anived, and the father set out to place his son at school, with a proper outfit, he had no difficulty in securing sufficient money to meet his immediate and pressing necessities ; but more was not forthcoming. L/ETITIA RAMOLINO WIFE OF CARLO BUONAPARTK ; MOTHER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE KHitM Tl[r: [•llUTKATT IHNUINII IV THK KDIIM OF IllS BIKTH AT AJA' CHAPTEE III napoleon's school-days MiLiTAEY Schools m Feance — Napoleon's Initmtion into the Lite OF Brienne — His Powerful Friends — His Reading and Other Avocations — His Studies — His Conduct and Scholarship — The Change in His Life Plan — His Influence in His Fajmely — His Choice of the Artillery Service. IT was an old charge that the sons of poor gentlemen destined to be chap. m artillery officers were bred like princes. Brienne, with nine other 1779-84 similar academies, had been but recently founded as a protest against the luxmy which had reigned in the military schools at Paris and La Fleche. Both the latter were closed for a time because they could not be reformed ; that at Paris was aftei-ward reopened as a finishing- school. Various rehgious orders were put in charge of the new col- leges, with instructions to secure simplicity of life and manners, the formation of character, and other desirable benefits, each one in its own way in the school or schools intrusted to it. The result so far had been a failure ; there were simply not ten first-rate instructors to be found in France for the new positions in each branch; the in- struction was therefore much impaired, and with it declined the right standards of conduct, while the old notions of hoUow courthness and conventional behavior flourished as never before. Money and pohshed manners, therefore, were the things most needed to secure kind treat- ment for an entering boy. These were exactly what the young foun- dation scholar from Corsica did not possess. The ignorant and un- worldly Minim fathers could neither foresee nor, if they had foreseen, alleviate the miseries incident to his arrival under such conditions. At Autun Napoleon had at least enjoyed the sympathetic society 26 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 10-15 Chap. Ill of liis mild and unemotional brother, whose easy-going nature could 1779-84 smooth many a rough place. He was now entirely without compan- ionship, resenting from the outset both the ill-natured attacks and the playful personal allusions through which boys so often begin, and with time knit ever more fiimly, their inexplicable friendships. To the taunts about Corsica which began immediately he answered coldly, " I hope one day to be in a position to give Corsica her liberty." Entering on a certain occasion a room in which unknown to him there hung a portrait of the hated Choiseul, he started back as he caught sight of it and biu'st into bitter revilings; for this he was compelled to undergo chastisement. Brienne was a nursery for the qualities first developed at Autun. Dark, solitary, and untamed, the new scholar assumed the indifference of wounded vanity, despised all pastimes, and foimd de- light either in books or in scornful exasperation of his comrades when compelled to associate with them. There were quarrels and bitter fights, in which the IshmaeHte's hand was against every other. Some- times in a kind of frenzy he inflicted serious wounds on Ms fellow- students. At length even the teachers mocked him, and deprived Mm of his position as captain in the school battalion. The climax of the miserable business was reached when to a taunt that Ms ancestry was notMng, "Ms father a wretched tipstaff," Napo- leon replied by challenging Ms tormentor to fight a duel. For tMs offense he was put in confinement while the instigator went unpun- ished. It was by the intervention of Marbeuf that Ms young friend was at length released. Bruised and wounded in spirit, the boy would gladly have shaken the dust of Brienne from Ms feet, but necessity forbade. Either from some direct communication Napoleon had with Ms protector, or tM-ough a dramatic but unauthenticated letter purport- ing to have been written by him to Ms fiiends in Corsica and still in existence, Marbeuf learned that the cMefest cause of all the bitterness was the inequahty between the pocket allowances of the young Erench nobles and that of the young Corsican. The kindly general displayed the liberality of a family fiiend, and gladly increased the boy's gratu- ity, administering at the same time a smart rebuke to Mm for Ms readiness to take offense. He is likewise thought to have introduced Ms yoimg charge to Mme. Lomeme de Brienne, whose mansion was near by. This noble woman, it is asserted, became a second mother to the lonely cMld: Ms vacations and holidays were passed with her; her ^T. 10-15] NAPOLEON'S SCHOOL-DAYS 27 tenderness softened his rude nature, tlie more so as she knew the value of cuap. hi tips to a school-boy, and administered them Uberally though judiciously. 1779-84 Nor was this the only light among the shadows in the picture of these early school-days. Each of the hundred and fifty pupils had a small garden spot assigned to him. Buonaparte developed a passion for his own, and, annexing by force the neglected plots of his two neighbors, created for himseK a retreat, the solitude of which was insured by a thick and lofty hedge planted about it. To this citadel, the sanctity of which he protected with a fury at times half insane, he was wont to retire in the fan* weather of all seasons, with whatever books he could secui'e. In the companionship of these he passed happy, pleasant, and fruitful hours. His youthful patriotism had been intensified by the hatred he now felt for French school-boys, and through them for Prance. "I can never forgive my father," he once cried, "for the share he had in uniting Corsica to France." Paoli became his hero, and the favorite subjects of his reading were the mighty deeds of men and peoples, especially in antiquity. Such matter he found abundant in Plutarch's "Lives." Moreover, his degradation by the school authorities at once created a sentiment in his favor among his companions, which not only counteracted the effect of the punishment, but gave him a sort of compensating leadership in their games. The well-known episode of the snow forts illustrates the bent of his nature. When driven by storms to abandon his garden haunt, and to associate in the pubUc hall with the other boys, he often instituted sports in which opposing camps of Greeks and Persians, or of Romans and Carthaginians, fought until the uproar brought down the authori- ties to end the conflict. On one occasion he proposed the game, com- mon enough elsewhere, but not so famihar then in France, of building snow forts, of storming and defending them, and of fighting with snowballs as weapons. The proposition was accepted, and the prepara- tions were made under his direction with scientific zeal; the intrench- ments, forts, bastions, and redoubts were the admiration of the neigh- borhood. For weeks the mimic warfare went on, Buonaparte, always in command, being sometimes the besieger and as often the besieged. Such was the aptitude, such the resoiu'ces, and such the commanding power which he showed in either role, that the winter was always re- membered in the annals of the school. It is a trite remark that diamonds can be poHshed only by diamond 28 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt. 10-15 Chap. Ill cliist. Whatever the rude processes were to which this rude nature was 1779-84 subjected, the result was remarkablCo Latin he dishked, and treated with disdainful neglect. His particular aptitudes were for mathemat- ics and for history, in which he made fair progress. In all dii-ections, however, he was quick in his perceptions; the rapid maturing of his mind by reading and reflection was evident to all his associates, hostile though they were. The most convincing evidence of the fact will be found in a letter written, probably in 1784, when he was fifteen years old, to an uncle, — possibly Fesch, — concerning family matters. His brother Joseph had gone to Autun to be educated for the Church, his sister (Maria- Anna) Ehsa had been appointed on the royal foundation at Saint-Cyr, and Lucien was, if possible, to be placed like Napoleon at Brienne. The two younger childi'en had already accompanied their father on his regular journey to Versailles, and Lucien was now in- stalled either in the school itself or near by, to be in readiness for any vacancy. All was well with the rest, except that Joseph was uneasy, and wished to become an officer too. The tone of Napoleon is extra- ordinary. Opening with a Uttle sketch of Lucien such as any elder brother might draw of a younger, he proceeds to an analysis of Joseph both searching and thorough, explaining with fullness of reasoning and illustration how much more advantageous from the worldly point of view both for Joseph and for the family would be a career in the Church: "the bishop of Autun would bestow a fat living on him, and he was sure of himself becoming a bishop." As an obiter dictum it con- tains a curious expression of contempt for infantiy as an arm, the origin of which feeling is by no means clear. There is an utter absence of loose talk, or of enthusiasm, and no allusion to principle or senti- ment. It is the work of a cold, calculating, and dictatorial nature. There is a poetical quotation in it, very apt, but very badly spelled; and while the expression throughout is fair, it is by no means what might be expected fi'om a person capable of such thought, who had been studying French for three years, and using it exclusively in daily life. In August, 1783, Buonaparte and Bourrienne, according to the statement of the latter, shared the first prize in mathematics; and soon afterward, in the same year, a royal inspector, M. de Keraho, arrived at Brienne to test the progress of the King's wards. He took a great fancy to the Httle Buonaparte, and declaring that, though unacquainted with his family, he found a spark in him which must not be extin- iET. 10-15] NAPOLEON'S SCHOOL-DAYS 29 guished, wrote an emphatic recommendation of the lad, couched in the Chap. ni following terms: "M. de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born August fifteenth, 1779-84 1769. Height four feet, ten inches, ten Unes [about five feet three inches English]. Constitution: excellent health, docile disposition, mild, straightforward, thoughtful. Conduct most satisfactory; has always been distinguished for his application in mathematics. He is faMy weU acquainted with history and geogi'aphy. He is weak in all accomplishments — di-awing, dancing, music, and the hke. This boy would make an excellent sailor; deserves to be admitted to the school in Paris." Unfortunately for the prospect of a place in the navy, M. de Keraho, who was a powerful friend, died almost immediately. By means of fm-ther genuflections, supphcations, and wearisome persistency, Charles de Buonaparte at last obtained favor not only for Lucien, but for Joseph also. Deprived unjustly of his inheritance, de- prived also of his comforts and his home in piu'suit of the ambitious schemes rendered necessary by that wrong, the poor diplomatist was now near the end of his resources and his energy. Napoleon had been destined for the navy. Through the favor of the school inspec- tor, who had just died, he was to have been sent to Paris, and thence assigned to Toulon, the naval port in closest connection with Corsica. There were so many influential applications, however, for that favorite branch of the service that the department must rid itself of as many as possible ; a youth without a patron would be the first to suffer. The agreement, therefore, was that he might continue at Bri- enne, while Joseph could go thither, or to Metz, in order to make up his deficiencies in the mathematical sciences and pass his examinations to enter the royal service along with Napoleon, on condition that the latter would renounce his plans and choose a career in the army. The letter in which the boy communicates his decision to his father is as remarkable as the one just mentioned. The anxious and indus- trious parent had finally broken down, and in his feeble health had taken Joseph as a support and help on the arduous homeward jour- ney. With the same succinct, unsparing statement as before, Napoleon confesses his disappointment, and in commanding phrase, with logical analysis, lays down the reasons why Joseph must come to Brienne instead of going to Metz. There is, however, a new element in the composition — a frank, hearty expression of affection for his family, and a message of kindly remembrance to his fiiends. But the most 30 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 10-15 Chap. Ill striking fact, in view of subsequent developments, is a request for 1777-84 Boswell's "History of Corsica," and any other histories or memoirs relating to the island. "I will bring them back when I retm-n, if it be six years from now." He probably did not remember that he was preparing to strip France of her latest and highly cherished acqui- sition at her own cost, or if he did, he must have felt like the archer phmiing his arrow from the off-cast feathers of his victim's wing. It is plain that his humihations at school, his studies in the story of hb- eriy, his inherited bent, and the present disappointment, were all cumulative in the result of fixing his attention on his native land as the destined sphere of his activity. Pour days after writing he passed his examination a second time before the new inspector, announced his choice of the ai-tUlery as his branch of the service, and a month later was ordered to the military academy in Paris. This institution had not merely been restored to its former renown: it now enjoyed a special reputation as the place of reward to which only the foremost candidates for official honors were sent. The choice of the artOlery seems to have been reached by a simple process of exclusion; the infantry was too unintellectual and indolent, the cavahy too expensive and aristocratic; between the engineers and the artillery there was httle to choose — in neither did wealth or influence control promotion. The decision seems to have fallen as it did because the artillery was accidentally mentioned fii-st in the fatal letter he had received announcing the family straits, and the necessary renimciation of the navy. On the ceriificate which was sent up with Napoleon from Brienne was the note: "Character master- ful, imperious, and headstrong." CHAPTER IV in paris and valence Introduction to Paris — Death of Charles de Buonaparte — Napo- leon's Poverty — His Character at the Close of His School Years — Appointed Lieutenant est the Regiment of La Fere — Demoralization of the French Army — The Men in the Ranks — Napoleon as a Beau — Return to Study — His Profession and Vocation. IT was on October thirtieth, 1784, that Napoleon went to Paris. He chap. rv was in the sixteenth year of his age, entirely ignorant of what were 1784-86 then called the "humanities," hnt well trained in history, geogi-aphy, and the mathematical sciences. His knowledge, hke the bent of his mind, was practical rather than theoretical, and he knew more about fortification and sieges than about metaphysical abstractions ; more about the deeds of histoiy than about its philosophy. His defiant scorn and habits of solitary study grew stronger together. It is asserted that his humor found vent in a preposterous and peevish memorial ad- di-essed to the Minister of War on the proper training of the pupils in French mihtary schools ! He may have written it, but it is almost im- possible that it should ever have passed beyond the waUs of the school? even as is claimed, for revision by a former teacher, Berton. Never- theless he foiind almost, if not altogether, for the first time a real friend in the person of Des Mazis, a youth noble by birth and nature, who was assigned to him as a pupil-teacher, and was moreover a foundation scholar like himself. It is also declared by various authorities that from time to time he enjoyed the agreeable society of the bishop of Autun, who was now at Versailles, of his sister Ehsa at Saint-Cyi', and, toward the close, of a family filend who had just settled in Paris, the beautiful Mme. Permon, mother of the future duchess of Abrantes. 32 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 15-17 Chap. IV Although born in Corsica, she belonged to a branch of the noble Greek 1784-86 family of the Comneni. In view of the stringent regulations both of the military school and of Saint-Cyr, these visits are problematical, though not impossible. It was in the city of Mme. Permon's residence, at MontpeUier, that in the spring of 1785 Charles de Buonaparte died. This was apparently a final and mortal blow to the Buonaparte fortimes, for it seemed as if vsdth the father must go aU the family expectations. The circum- stances were a fit close to the Hfe thus ended. Peehng his health some- what restored, and despairing of further progress in the settlement of his well-worn claim by legal methods, he had determined on still another journey of sohcitation to Versailles. With Joseph as a com- panion he started; but a serious relapse occurred at sea, and ashore the painful disease continued to make such ravages that the father and son set out for Montpelher to consult the famous specialists of the medical faculty at that place. It was in vain, and, after some weeks, on February twenty-fourth the heartbroken father breathed his last. Having learned to hate the Jesuits, he had become indifferent to aU religion, and is said by some to have repelled with his last exertions the kindly services of Fesch, who was now a frocked priest, and had has- tened to his brother-in-law's bedside to offer the fiaal consolations of the Church to a dying man. Others declare that he turned again to the solace of religion, and was attended on his death-bed by the Abbe Coustou. Failure as the ambitious schemer had been, he had never- theless been so far the support of his family in their hopes of advance- ment. Sycophant as he had become, they recognized his untiling energy in their behalf, and truly loved him. He left them penniless and in debt, but he died in their service, and they sincerely mourned for him. Napoleon's letter to his mother is dignified and affectionate, referring in a becoming spirit to the support her childi'en owed her. As if to show what a thorough child he stUl was, the dreary httle note closes with an odd postscript giving the irrelevant news of the birth, two days earher, of a royal prince — the duke of Normandy ! This may have been added for the benefit of the censor who examined all the coiTespondence of the young men. Some time before. General Marbeuf had married, and the pecimiary supplies to his boy fiiend seem after that event to have stopped. Mme. de Buonaparte was left with four infant children, the youngest, ^m fi ' \ y 'Louis 1 Dt a'i- DEAWIBO MADE FOR THE CENTtTBT CO. ESOEAVEB BT M. HAIDEB BONAPARTE ATTACKING SNOW FORTS AT THE SCHOOL OF BRIENNE FROU THE DBAWINU BT LOUIS LOEB ^T. 15-17] IN PARIS AND VALENCE 33 Jerome, but three months old. Their great-uncle, Lucien, the arch- chap. iv deacon, was kind, and Joseph, abandoning all his ambitions, returned 1784-86 to be, if possible, the support of the family. Napoleon's poverty was no longer relative or imaginary, but real and hard. Drawing more closely than ever within himself, he became a still more ardent reader and student, devoting himself with passionate industiy to examining the works of Rousseau, the poison of whose political doctrines instilled itself with fieiy and grateful stings into the thin, cold blood of the unhappy cadet. In many respects the instruction he received was ad- mu'able, and there is a traditional anecdote that he was the best mathe- matician in the school. But on the whole he profited little by his studies. The marvelous French style which he finally created for him- self is certainly unacademic in the highest degree ; in the many courses of modern languages he mastered neither German nor English, in fact he never had more than a few words of either; his attainments in fen- cing and horsemanship were very slender. Among all his comi-ades he made but one friend, while two of them became in later life his embit- tered foes. PheUppeaux thwarted him at Acre and Picot de Peccadeuc became Schwarzenberg's most tinisted adviser in the successful cam- paigns of Austria against France. Whether to alleviate as soon as possible the miseries of his destitu- tion, or, as has been charged, to be rid of their querulous and exasper- ating inmate, the authorities of the mihtary school shortened his stay to the utmost of their abihty, and admitted Buonaparte to examination in August, 1785, less than a year from his admission. He passed with no distinction, being forty-second in rank, but above his fiiend Des Mazis, who was fifty-sixth. His appointment, therefore, was due to an entire absence of rivahy, the young nobihty having no predilection for the arduous duties of service in the artillery. He was eligible merely because he had passed the legal age, and had given evidence of sufficient acquisitions. In an oft-quoted description, pm-poi-ting to be an official certificate given to the young officer on leavmg, he is characterized as reserved and industrious, preferring study to any kind of amusement, dehghting in good authors, diligent in the abstract sci- ences, caring httle for the others, thoroughly trained in mathematics and geography ; quiet, fond of sohtude, capricious, haughty, extremely inclined to egotism, speaking little, energetic ui his rephes, prompt and severe in repartee ; having much seK-esteem ; ambitious and aspiring 34 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 15-17 Chap. IV to any height : " the youth is worthy of protection." There is, un- 1784-86 fortunately, no documentary evidence to sustain the genuineness of this report ; but whatever its origin, it is so nearly contemporary that it probably contains some truth. The two friends had both asked for appointments in a regiment stationed at Valence, known by the style of La Fere. Des Mazis had a brother in it ; the ardent young Corsican would be nearer his native land, and might, perhaps, be detached for sei'vice in his home. They were both nominated in September, but the appointment was not made until the close of October, Buonaparte was reduced to utter penury by the long delay, his only resource being the two hundred hvres provided by the funds of the school for each of its pupils imtil they reached the grade of captain. It was probably, and according to the generally received account, at his comrade's expense, and in his company, that he traveled. Then- slender funds were exhausted by bojdsh dissipation at Lyons, and they measured the long leagues thence to their destination on foot, an-iving at Valence early in November. The growth of absolutism in Europe had been due at the outset to the employment of standing armies by the kings, and the consequent alhance between the crown, which was the paymaster, and the people, who furnished the soldiery. There was constant conflict between the crown and the nobihty concerning privilege, constant fi'iction between the nobility and the people in the survivals of feudal relation. This sturdy and wholesome contention among the three estates ended at last in the victory of the kings. In time, therefore, the army became no longer a mere support to the monarchy, but a portion of its moral organism, sharing its vii'tues and its vices, its weakness and its strength, reflecting, as in a mirror, the true condition of the state so far as it was personified in the king. The French army, in the year 1785, was in a sorry pHght. With the consohdation of classes in an old monarchical society, it had come to pass that, imder the prevaiUng voluntary system, none but men of the lowest social stratum would enhst. Barracks and camps became the schools of vice. " Is there," exclaimed one who at a later day was active in the work of army reform — "is there a father who does not shudder when abandoning his son, not to the chances of war, but to the associations of a crowd of scoundrels a thousand times more dangerous ? " We have abeady had a ghmpse at the character of the of&cers. ^T. 15-17] IN PARIS AND VALENCE 35 Their first thought was position and pleasure, duty and the practice chap. iv of their profession being considerations of almost vanishing impor- 1784-86 tance. Things were quite as bad in the central administration. Neither the organization, nor the equipment, nor the commissariat, was in con- dition to insui'e accuracy or promptness in the working of the machine. The regiment of La Fere was but a sample of the whole. " Dancing three times a week," says the advertisement for recruits, "rackets twice, and the rest of the time skittles, prisoners' base, and di-ill. Pleasui'es reign, every man has the highest pay, and all are well treated." Buonaparte's pay was eleven hundred and twenty hvres a year; his necessary expenses for board and lodging were seven hun- dred and twenty, leaving less than thirty-five hvres, about seven dol- lars, a month for clothes and pocket-money. Fifteen years as heuten- ant, fifteen as captain, and, for the rest of his life, half pay with a decoration — such was the summary of the prospect before the ordi- nary commonplace ofi&cer in a like situation. Dui-ing the first months of his garrison service, Buonaparte, as an apprentice, saw arduous service in matters of detail, but he threw off entu-ely the darkness and reserve of his character, taking a fxdl di"aught from the brimming cup of pleasure. On January tenth, 1786, he was finally received to full standing as heutenant. The novelty, the absence of restraint, the comparative emancipation from the arrogance and shghts to which he had hitherto been subject, good news from the family in Corsica, whose hopes as to the inheritance were once more high — all these elements combined to intoxicate for a time the boy of sixteen. The strongest will cannot forever repress the exuberance of budding manhood. There were balls, and with them the fii-st experience of gallantry. The young officer even took dancing-lessons. Moreover, in the di-a wing-rooms of the Abbe of Saint-Ruff and his friends, for the first time he saw the manners and heard the talk of refined society — provincial, to be sui'e, but excellent. It was to the special favor of Monseigneiu* de Marbeuf, the bishop, of Autun, that he owed his warm reception. The acquaintances there made were with persons of local consequence, who in later years reaped a rich harvest for their condescension to the young stranger. Of his feUow-ofScers he saw but httle, not because they were distant, but because he had no genius for good-fellowship, and the habit of indifference to his comi*ades had grown strong upon him. 36 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [yEr. 15-17 Chap. IV The period of pleasure was not long. It is impossible to judge 1784-86 whether the little self-indulgence was a weak relapse from an iron pur- pose or part of a definite plan. The former is more likely, so abrupt and apparently conscience-stricken was the retuiii to labor. Even dur- ing the months from November to April he had not entirely deserted his favorite studies, and again Rousseau had been their companion and guide. But in the spring it was the Abbe Raynal of whom he became a devotee. At the first blush it seems as if Buonaparte's studies were u-regular and haphazard. It is customary to attribute slender powers of observation and undefined purposes to childhood and youth. The opinion may be correct in the main, and would, for the matter of that, be true as regards the great mass of adults. But the more we know of psychology through autobiographies, the more certain it appears that many a great life-plan has been formed in childhood, and canied through with unbending rigor to the end. Whether Buonaparte con- sciously ordered the course of his study and reading or not, there is unity in it from first to last. After the fii'st rude beginnings there were two nearly parallel hnes in his work. The first was the acquisition of what was essential to the practice of a profession — nothing more. No one could be a soldier in either army or navy without a practical knowledge of history and geog- raphy, for the earth and its inhabitants are in a special sense the ele- ments of military activity. Nor can towns be fortified, nor camps in- trenched, nor any of the manifold duties of the general in the field be performed without the science of quantity and numbers. Just these things, and just so far as they were practical, the dark, ambitious boy was willing to leam. For spelling, grammar, rhetoric, and philosophy he had no care ; neither he nor his sister Ehsa, the two strong natures of the family, could ever speU any language with accuracy and ease, or speak and write with rhetorical elegance. Among the private papers of his youth there is but one mathematical study of any importance ; the rest are either trivial, or have some practical bearing on the prob- lems of gunnery. When at Brienne, his patron had certified that he cared nothing for accomphshments and had none. This was the case to the end. But there was another branch of knowledge equally practical, but at that time necessary to so few that it was neither taught nor learned in the schools — the art of politics. 'l " ■' "'■■ ■-\\\ y\ .._. ^ ^- , 1 JHBHH DRftWINW MADK VOR THK CKNTUKY CO. M. BAIDER BONAPARTE AT THE MILITARY SCHOOL, PARIS, 1784 KKOM THE DRAWINO BY ANPRtf CABTAIONB CHAPTER V PRIVATE STUDY AND GARRISON LIFE Napoleon as a Student or Politics — Nature of Rousseau's Po- litical Teachings — The Abbe Raynal — Napoleon Aspires to BE THE Historian of Corsica — Napoleon's First Love — His Notions of Political Science — The Books He Read — Napoleon at Lyons — His Transfer to Douay — A Victim to Melancholy — Return to Corsica. IN one sense it is true that the first Emperor of the French was a chap. v man of no age and of no country; in another sense he was, as few iim-si have been, the child of his sun-oundings and of his time. The study of politics was his own notion ; the matter and method of the study were conditioned by his relations to the thought of Europe in the last cen- tury. He evidently hoped that his militaiy and pohtical attainments would one day meet in the culmination of a gi*and career. Those years of his life which appear hke a reahzation of the plan were, in fact, the least successful. The unsoundness of his political instructors, and the temper of the age, combined to thwart this ambitious pm-pose. Rousseau had every fascination for the young at that time — a captivating style, persuasive logic, the sentiment of a poet, the inten- sity of a prophet. A native of Corsica would be doubly drawn to bii^i by his interest in that romantic island. Sitting at the feet of such a teacher, a young scholar would learn thi"Ough convincing argument the evils of a passing social state as they were not exhibited elsewhere. He would discern the dangers of ecclesiastical authority, of feudal privilege, of absolute monarchy; he woidd see theu' disastrous influ- ence in the prostitution, not only of social, but of personal morality; he would become famihar with the necessity for renewing institutions as the only means of regenerating society. All these lessons would have 38 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 17-18 Chap. V a value not to be exaggerated. On tlie other hand, when it came to the 1786-87 substitution of positive teaching for negative criticism, he would learn nothing of value and much that was most dangerous. In utter dis- regard of a sound historical method there was set up as the corner- stone of the new political structure a fiction of the most dangerous kind. Buonaparte in his notes, written as he read, shows his contempt for it in an admirable refutation of the fundamental error of Rousseau as to the state of nature by this remark: "I beheve man in the state of natm-e had the same power of sensation and reason which he now has." But if he did not accept the premises, there was a portion of the con- clusion which he took with avidity, the most dangerous point in all Rousseau's system ; namely, the doctrine that all power proceeds fi'om the people, not because of their nature and their historical organization into famiUes and commimities, but because of an agreement by individ- uals to secure pubhc order, and that, consequently, the consent given they can withdi'aw, the order they have created they can destroy. In this lay not merely the germ, but the whole system of extreme radical- ism, the essence, the substance, and the sum of the French Revolution on its extreme and doctrinaire side. Rousseau had been the prophet and forerunner of the new social dispensation. The scheme for applying its principles is found in a work which bears the name of a very mediocre person, the Abbe Ray- nal, a man who enjoyed in his day an extended and splendid reputation which now seems to have had only the slender foundations of unmer- ited persecution and the friendship of superior men. In 1770 appeared anonymously a volume of which, as was widely known, he was the com- piler. " The Philosophical and Pohtical Histoiy of the Estabhshments and Commerce of the Europeans in the Two Indies " is a miscellany of extracts fi'om many sources, and of short essays by Raynal's brilhant acquaintances, on superstition, tyranny, and similar themes. The re- puted author had written for the pubhc prints, and had pubhshed sev- eral works, none of which attracted attention. The amazing success of this one was not remarkable if, as the critics now beheve, at least a third of the text was by Diderot. The position of Raynal as a man of letters immediately became a foremost one, and such was the vogue of a second edition pubhshed over his name in 1780 that the authorities be- came alarmed. The climax to his renown was achieved when, in 1781, his book was pubhcly burned, and the compiler fled into exile. ^T. 17-18] PRIVATE STUDY AND GARRISON LIFE 39 The storm had finally subsided, he had returned to France in 1785, chap. v and through the friendshi}) of Mme. du Colombier, a patroness of the ivse-s? young Heutenant, communication was opened between the great man and his aspiring reader. " Not yet eighteen," are the startling words in the letter written by Buonaparte, " I am a writer ; it is the age when we must leam. WiU my boldness subject me to your railleiy ? No ; I am sure. If indulgence be a mark of true genius, you should have much indulgence. 1 inclose chapters one and two of a history of Cor- sica, with an outUne of the rest. If you approve, I will go on ; if you advise me to stop, I wiU go no fm'ther." The young historian's letter teems with bad spelling and bad gi'ammar, but it is saturated with the spirit of his age. The chapters as they came to Raynal's hands are not in existence so far as is known, and posterity can never judge how moniimental their author's assurance was. The abbe's reply was kindly, but he advised the novice to complete his researches, and then to rewrite his pieces. Buonaparte was not unwiUing to profit by the counsels he received : soon after, in July, 1786, he gave two orders to a Genevese bookseller, one for books concerning Corsica, another for the memoirs of IVIme. de Warens and her sei-vant Claude Anet, which are a sort of supplement to Rousseau's " Confessions." During May of the same year he jotted down with considerable full- ness his notions of the true relations between Church and State. He had been reading Roustan's reply to Rousseau, and was evidently over- powered with the necessity of subordinating ecclesiastical to secular authority. The paper is rude and incomplete, but it shows whence he derived his pohcy of dealing with the Pope and the Roman Church in France. It has very unjustly been called an attempted refutation of Christianity : it is nothing of the sort. Ecclesiasticism and Christian- ity being hopelessly confused in his mind, he uses the terms inter- changeably in an academic and polemic discussion to prove that the theory of the social contract must destroy all ecclesiastical assimiption of supreme power in the state. Some of the lagging days were not only spent in novel-reading, as the Emperor in after years confessed to Mme. de Remusat, but in attempts at novel-writing, to relieve the tedium of idle hours. It is said that first and last Buonaparte read " Werther " five times through. Enough remains among his boyish scribbhngs to show how fantastic were the di-eams both of love and of glory in which he indulged. 40 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [.^Jt. 17-18 Chap. V Many entertain a shrewd suspicion that amid the gaieties of the winter 1786-87 he lost his heart, or thought he did, and was repulsed. At least, in his " Dialogue on Love," written five years later, he says, " I, too, was once in love," and proceeds, after a few lines, to decry the sentiment as harmful to mankind, a something from which God would do well to emancipate it. There seems to have been in the intei'val no oppor- tunity for philandering so good as the one he had enjoyed during his boyish acquaintance with Mile. Caroline du Colombier. It has, at all events, been her good fortune to secure, by this supposition, a place in history, not merely as the first girl friend of Napoleon, but as the object of his first passion. But these were his avocations ; the real occupation of his time was study. Besides reading again the chief works of Rousseau, and de- vouring those of Raynal, his most beloved author, he also read much in the works of Voltaire, of Filangieri, of Necker, and of Adam Smith. With note-book and pencil he extracted, annotated, and criticized, his mind alert and eveiy faculty bent to the clear apprehension of the sub- ject in hand. To the conception of the state as a private corporation, which he had imbibed from Rousseau, was now added the convic- tion that the institutions of France were no longer adapted to the occupations, behefs, or morals of her people, and that revolution was a necessity. To judge from a memou-, presented some years later to the Lyons Academy, he must have absorbed the teachings of the " Two Indies" almost entire. The consuming zeal for studies on the part of this incomprehensible youth is probal)ly unparalleled. Having read Plutarch in his child- hood, he now devomed Herodotus, Strabo, and Diodorus ; China, Ai'abia, and the Indies dazzled his imagination, and what he coidd lay hands upon concerning the East was soon assimilated. England and Germany next engaged his attention, and toward the close of his studies he became ardent in examining the minutest particulars of French history. It was, moreover, the science of history, and not its literature, which occupied him — diy details of revenue, resources, and institutions ; the Sorbonne, the bull Unigenitus, and church his- tory in general ; the character of peoples, the origin of institutions, the philosophy of legislation — all these he studied, and, if the fragments of his notes be trustworthy evidence, as they surely are, with some thoroughness. He also found time to read the masterpieces of French > -a O t- m O 2: 3 Ln ' O i n i < 5 > z n m 00 ^T. 17-18] PRIVATE STUDY AND GARRISON LIFE 41 literature, and the great critical judgments which had been passed chap. v upon them. nse-s? The agreeable and studious life at Valence was soon ended. Early in August, 1786, a httle rebelhon, known as the "Two-cent Revolt," broke out in Lyons over an attempt to reassert an ancient feudal right concerning the sale of wine which had long been in abeyance. The neighboring garrisons were ordered to furnish their respective quotas for its suppression. Buonaparte's company was sent among others, but the cUsturbanoe was already quelled when he arrived, and the days he spent at Lyons were so agreeable that, as he wrote his uncle Fesch, he left the city with regret "to follow his destiny." His regi- ment had been ordered noi-thward to Douay in Flanders ; he rejoined it and reached that city about the middle of October. The time spent under the inclement skies of the north must have been dreary if he regvilarly received news from home. Utterly without success in finding occupation in Corsica, and hopeless as to France, Joseph had some time before turned his eyes toward Tuscany for a possible career. He was now about to make a final eif ort, and seek per- sonally at the Tuscan capital employment of any kind that might offer. Lucien, the archdeacon, was seriously iU, and General Marbeuf, the last influential friend of the family, had died. Louis had been prom- ised a scholarship in one of the royal artillery schools; deprived of his patron, he would probably lose the appointment. Finally, the pecu- niary affairs of Mme. de Buonaparte were again entangled, and now appeared hopeless. She had for a time been receiving an annual state bounty for raising mulberry -trees, as France was introducing silk cul- ture into the island. The inspectors had condemned this year's work, and were withholding the allowance. These were the facts ; it was doubtless a knowledge of them which put an end to all Napoleon's study, historical or pohtical. He immediately applied for leave of absence, that he might instantly set out to his mother's rehef. His request was refused. No leave could be obtained until January. Despondent and anxious, he moped, grew miserable, and contracted a shght malarial fever which for the next six or seven years never entirely relaxed its hold on him. Among his papers has recently been foimd a long, wild, pessimistic rhaj^sody, in which there is talk of suicide. The plaint is of the degeneracy among men, of the destruc- tion of primitive simpUcity in Corsica by the French occupation, of his 42 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 17-18 Chat. V owii isolation, and of Ms yearning to see Ms friends once more. Life 1786^87 is no longer worth wMle; his country gone, a patriot has naught to hvo for, especially when he has no pleasure and all is pain — when the char- acter of those about him is to his own as moonhght is to sunlight. If there were hut a single life in his way, he would hiuy the avenging blade of Ms coimtry and her violated laws in the bosom of the tyrant. Some of Ms complaining was even less coherent than tMs. It is absm-d to take the morbid outpouring seriously, except in so far as it goes to prove that its writer was a victim of the sentimental egoism into which the psychological studies of the eighteenth centmy had degen- erated, and to suggest that possibly if he had not been Napoleon he might have been a Werther. Though dated May thu-d, no year is given, and it may weU describe the writer's feelings in the despondency of tMs winter. No such state of mind was hkely to have arisen in the preceding spring. The slow weeks finally passed; on February first, 1787, the leave began. Traveling by way of Valence and Marseilles, he visited in the former city Ms old friend the Abbe of Saint-Ruff, to solicit Ms favor for Lucieu, who, though at Brienne, would study notliing but the humanities, and was determined to enter the seminary at Aix and to become a priest. At Marseilles he paid his respects to the Abbe Raynal, no doubt requestmg advice, and seeking further encourage- ment m Ms Mstorical labors. Thence he sailed to Ajaccio, arriving, if the ordinary time had been consumed in the journey, toward the close of the month. Such appears to be the likeUest account of tMs period, although our knowledge is not complete. In the archives of Douay there is, according to the local historian, a record of Buonaparte's pres- ence in that city with the regiment La Fere, and he himself declared at Elba that he had been sent thither. But in the brief note made in youth by Ms own hand, and entitled " Epochs of My Life," he wrote that he left Valence on September first, 1786, for Ajaccio, arriving on the fifteenth. WeigMng the probabihties, it seems likely that the latter was untnie, since there is but the slenderest possibility of Ms havmg been at Douay in the following year, the only other hypothesis, and no record of Ms activities in Corsica before the spring of 1787. IS THE COLLECTION" oF M. ('. MiliyLLS I>i; LAS CASJ ESUKAVLU kV 1. J -a > H m > o 2: z - ^a ' 00 t 00 ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 45 a last remedy, not understood, but at least untried, for ever-increasing ohap. vi embarrassments; and the government, fearing still greater disorders, 1787-89 was making ready to repress any that might break out in districts known to be specially disaffected. All this was of secondary impor- tance to Buonaparte; he had a scheme to use the crisis for the benefit of his family. Compelled by their utter destitution at the time of his father's death, he had temporarily and for one occasion assumed his father's role of suppUant. Now for a second tune he sent in a petition. It was wiitten in Paris and addressed, in his mother's behalf, to the intendant for Corsica resident at the capital. Though a supplication in form, it is unUke his father's humble and almost cringing papers, being rather a demand than a request ; it is unlike them in another respect in that it contains a falsehood, or at least an utterly misleading half-truth : a statement that he had shortened his leave because of his mother's urgent necessities. The paper was not handed in until after the expiration of his leave, and his true object was not to rejoin his regiment, as was hinted in it, but to secure a second extension of leave. Such was the slackness of discipline that he spent all of November and the first half of December in Paris, remaining in that city until he actually succeeded in procur- ing permission to spend the next six months in Corsica. He was quite as disingenuous in his request to the Minister of War as in his memo- rial to the intendant for Corsica, representing that the estates of Corsica were about to meet, and that his presence was essential to safeguard important interests which in his absence would be seriously compromised. Whatever such a plea may have meant, his serious cares as the real head of the family were ever uppermost, and never neg- lected. Louis had, as was feared, lost his appointment, and though not past the legal age, was really too old to await another vacancy; Lucien was determined to leave Brienne in any case, and to await at Aix the first chance which might arise of entering the seminary. Napo- leon made some provision — what it was is not known — for Louis's further temporary stay at Brienne, and then took Lucien with him as far as their route lay together. He reached his home again on the first of January, 1788. The affairs of the family were at last utterly desperate, and were Hkely, moreover, to grow worse before they grew better. The old arch- deacon was faihug daily, and, although known to have means, declared 46 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 cuAP. VI himself destitute of ready money. With his death would disappear a 1787-89 portion of his income; his patrimony and savings, which the Buona- partes hoped of course to inherit, were an imcertain quantity, probably insufficient for the needs of such a family. The mulberry money was still unpaid; all hope of wi'esting the ancestral estates from the govern- ment authorities was buried; Joseph was without employment, and, as a last expedient, was studying in Pisa for admission to the bar. Louis and Lucien were each a heavy charge; Napoleon's income was insuf- ficient even for his own modest wants, regulated though they were by the strictest economy. Who shall cast a stone at the shiftiness of a boy not yet nineteen, charged with such cares, yet consumed with am- bition, and satm"ated with the romantic sentimentahsm of his times'? Some notion of his embaiTassment and despair can be obtained from a rapid survey of his mental states and the corresponding facts. An ardent repubhcan and revolutionary, he was tied by the strongest bonds to the most despotic monarchy in Europe. A patriotic Corsican, he was the servant of his country's oppressor. Conscious of great ability, he was seeking an outlet in the pursuit of hterature, a line of work entirely unsuited to his powers. The head and support of a large family, he was almost penniless; if he should follow his convictions, he and they might be altogether so. In the period of choice and requiring room for experiment, he saw himself doomed to a fixed, inglorious career, and caged in a fi-amework of unpropitious circum- stance. Whatever the moral obhquity in liis feeble expedients, there is the pathos of human limitations in their character. Whether the resolution had long before been taken, or was of recent formation. Napoleon now intended to make fame and profit go hand in hand. Returned to Ajaccio, the meeting of the Corsican estates was forgotten, and authorship was resumed, not merely with the ardor of one who writes fi-om inclination, but with the regular drudgery of a craftsman. The amusements of his leisiire hours would have been suf- ficient occupation for most men. Regulating, as far as possible, his mother's complicated affairs, he journeyed frequently to Bastia, proba- bly to collect money due for young mulberry-trees which had been sold, possibly to get material for his history. He also completed a plan for the defense of St. Florent, of La MortiUa, and of the Gulf of Ajaccio ; drew up a report on the organization of the Corsican militia ; and wrote a paper on the strategic importance of the Madeleine Islands. DRAWING MADE FOR THE (.-KNTITRV CO. FRUM A fORTRAlT IS THE CHATEAU COLOMBIER MLLE. DU COLOMBIER napoleon's first love FROU THK DRAWING BY ERIC PAPK ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTIIORSHIP 47 This was his play ; his work was the histoiy of Corsica. It was com- Chap, vi pleted sooner than he had expected, and, anxious to reap the pecuniary 1787-89 harvest of his labors, he left for France in the early part of May to secm-e its pubhcation. Although dedicated at first to a powerful patron, Monseignem- Marbeuf, then bishoj) of Sens, hke many works from the pen of genius it is still in manuscript. The book was of moderate size, and of moderate merit. Its form, repeatedly changed from motives of expediency, was at first that of let- ters addressed to the Abbe Raynal ; its contents display httle research and no scholarship. The style is intended to be popular, and is dra- matic rather than naiTative. There is exhibited, as everywhere in these early wiitings, an intense hatred of France, a glowing affection for Corsica and her heroes. A very short account of one chapter wiU sufficiently characterize the whole work. Having outlined in perhaps the most effective passage the career of Sampiero, and sketched his diplomatic failures at aU the Em-opean couris except that of Constanti- nople, where at last he had secured sympathy and was promised aid, the author depicts the patriot's bitterness when recalled by the news of his wife's treachery. Confronting his guilty spouse, deaf to every plea, for pity, hardened against the tender caresses of his children, the Corsican hero utters judgment. "Madam," he sternly says, "in the face of crime and disgrace, there is no other resort but death." Van- nina at first falls unconscious, but, regaining her senses, she recalls the memory of her earher virtue, and, facing her fate, begs as a last favor that no base executioner shall lay his soiled hands on the vnfe of Sam- piero, but that he himseK shall execute the sentence. Vannina's be- havior moves her husband, but does not touch his heart. " The pity and tenderness," says Buonaparte, "which she should have awakened found a soul thenceforward closed to the power of sentiment. Vannina died. She died by the hands of Sampiero." Neither the pubhshers of Valence, nor those of Dole, nor those of Auxonne, would accept the work. At Paris one was finally found who was willing to take a half risk. The author, disillusioned but sanguine, was on the point of accepting the proposition, and was occupied with considering ways and means, when the Bishop of Sens was suddenly disgraced. The manuscript was immediately copied and revised, with the result, probably, of making its tone more intensely Corsican; for it was now to be dedicated to PaoU. The literary aspu*ant must have 43 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 Chap. VI foreseen the comiBg crash, and must have felt that the exile was to he 1787^89 again the liberator, and perhaps the master, of his native land. At any rate, he abandoned the idea of immediate publication, possibly in the dawning hope that as PaoU's heutenant he could make Corsican his- tory better than he could write it. It is this copy which has been preserved ; the original was probably destroyed. The other literaiy efforts of this feverish time were not as success- ful even as those in historical writing. The stories are wild and crude; one only, " The Masked Prophet," has any merit or interest whatso- ever. Though more finished than the others, its style is also abrupt and fidl of surprises ; the scene and characters are Oriental ; the plot is a feeble invention. An ambitious and rebellious ameer is struck with bhndness, and has recourse to a silver mask to deceive his followers. Unsuccessful, he poisons them aU, throws their corpses into pits of quicklime, then leaps in himself, to deceive the world and leave no trace of mortality behind. His enemies believe, as he desired, that he and his people have been taken up into heaven. The whole, how- ever, is dimly prescient, and the concluding hnes of the fable have been thought by believers in augury to be prophetic. " Incredible instance ! How far can the passion for fame go ! " Among the papers of this period are also a constitution for the " calotte," a secret society in the army, and many pohtical notes. One of these is a project for an essay on royal power, intended to treat of its origin and to display its usur- pations, and which closes with these words : " There are but few kings who do not deserve to be dethroned." The various absences of Buonaparte from his regiment up to this time are antagonistic to our modern ideas of military duty. The sub- sequent ones seem simply inexphcable, even in a service so lax as that of the crumbUng Bom-bon dynasty. He did not reach Auxonne, where the artiUery regiment La Fere was now stationed, until the end of May, 1788. He remained there less than a year and a half, and then actually obtained another leave of absence, from September tenth, 1789, to Feb- ruary, 1791, which he fully intended should end in his retirement fi-om the French service. The incidents of this second term of garrison life are not numerous, but from the considerable body of his notes and exer- cises which dates from this period we know that he suddenly developed great zeal in the study of artillery, theoretical and practical, and that he redoubled his industry in the pursuit of historical and political IS Tut. tULLt-i Tli^:. t'l M. KulAK ENGRAVED BY K. G, TIETZE MARIE-ANNE-ELISA BONAPARTE WIFE OF FELICE PASQUALE BACCIOCCHI ; PRINCESS OF LUCCA AND PIOMBINO, GRAND DUCHESS OF TUSCANY, COUNTESS OF COMPIGNANO PAD.TED ET PIERKF. rBUn HON ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 49 science. In the former line of work ho made the acquaintance of chap. vi Duteil, a brother of whom befriended him at Toulon; in the latter he 1787-89 read Plato and examined the constitutions of antiquity, devouring with avidity what hterature he could find concerning Venice, Turkey, Ta- taiy, and Ai'abia. At the same time he carefully read the history of England, and made some accurate observations on the condition of con- temporaneous politics in France. His last disappointment had ren- dered him more taciturn and misanthropic than ever; it seems clear that he was worldng to become an expert, not for the benefit of France, but for that of Corsica. Charged with the oversight of some shght works on the fortifications, he displayed such incompetence that he was actually punished by a short arrest. Misfortune still pursued the family. The youth who had been appointed to Brienne when Louis was expecting a scholarship suddenly died. Mme. de Buonaparte was true to the family tradition, and immediately forwarded a petition for the place, but was, as before, imsuccessfid. Lucien was not yet ad- mitted to Aix ; Joseph was a barrister, to be sure, but briefless. Napo- leon once again, but for the last time, — and with marked impatience, even with impertinence, — took up the task of solicitation. The only result was a good-humored, non-committal reply. Meantime the first mutterings of the revolutionary outbreak were heard, and spasmodic disorders, trifling but portentous, were breaking out, not only among the people, but even among the royal troops. One of these, at Seurre, was occasioned by the news that the hated and notorious syndicate existing under the scandalous agreement with the King known as the "Bargain of Famine" had been making additional piu-chases of grain from two merchants of that town. This was in April, 1789. Buona- parte was put in command of a company and sent to aid in suppress- ing the riot. But it was ended before he arrived; on May first he returned to Auxonne. Four days later the Estates met at Versailles. What was passing in the mind of the restless, bitter, disappointed Corsican is again plainly revealed. A famous letter to Paoli, to which reference has ah-eady been made, is dated June twelfth. It is a justification of his cher- ished work as the only means open to a poor man, the slave of circum- stances, for summoning the French administration to the bar of public opinion ; viz., by comparing it with Paoh's. Willing to face the conse- quences, the wi'iter asks for dociunentary materials and for moral sup- 50 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 18-20 Chap. VI port, ending with ardent assurances of devotion from his family, his 1787-89 mother, and himself. But there is a ring of false coin in many of its words and sentences. The "infamy" of those who betrayed Corsica was the infamy of his own father; the "devotion" of the Buonaparte family had been to the French interest, in order to secure free educa- tion, with support for their children, in Prance. The "enthusiasm" of Napoleon was a cold, unsentimental deteiinination to push their for- tunes, which, with opjjosite principles, would have been honorable enough. In later years Lucien said that he had made two copies of the history. It was probably one of these which has been presei-ved. Whether or not Paoh read the book does not appear. Be that as it may, his reply to Buonaparte's letter, written some months later, was not calculated to encoui'age the would-be historian. Without abso- lutely refusing the documents asked for by the aspiring writer, he explained that he had no time to search for them, and that, besides, Corsican history was only important in any sense by reason of the men who had made it, not by reason of its achievements. Among other bits of fatherly counsel was this: "You are too young to write history. Make ready for such an enterprise slowly. Patiently collect your anecdotes and facts. Accept the oi)iiiions of other writers with reserve." As if to soften the severity of his advice, there foUows a strain of modest self-depreciation: "Would that others had known less of me and I more of myself. Probe diu vivimus; may our descen- dants so Uve that they shaU speak of me merely as one who had good intentions." Buonaparte's last shift in the treatment of his book was most undignified and petty. With the unprincipled resentment of despair, in want of money, not of advice, he entirely remodeled it for the third time, its chapters being now put as fragmentary traditions into the mouth of a Corsican mountaineer. In this form it was dedicated to Necker, the famous Swiss, who as French minister of finance was vainly struggling with the problem of how to distribute taxation equally, and to collect from the privileged classes their share. A copy was fii'st sent to a former teacher for criticism. His judgment was ex- tremely severe both as to expression and style. In particular, atten- tion was called to the disadvantage of indulging in so much rhetoric for the benefit of an overworked pubhc servant hke Necker, and to the inappropriateness of putting his own metaphysical generalizations ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 51 and captious criticism of French royalty into the mouth of a peasant chap. vi mountaineer. Before the correspondence ended, Napoleon's student itst-so life was over. Necker had fled, the French Eevolution was laishing on with ever-increasing speed, and the young adventurer, despaiiing of success as a wi-iter, seized the proffered opening to become a man of action. CHAPTER VII THE REVOLUTION IN FKANCE The French Aristocracy — Priests, Lawyers, and Petty Nobles — Burghers, Artisans, and Laborers — The Great Nobles a Bar- rier TO Reform — Mistakes of the King — The Estates Meet AT Versailles — The Court Party Provokes Violence — Down- fall OF Feudal Privilege. Chap. VII AT last the ideas of the century had declared open war on its insti- 1787-89 Jl\. tiitions ; theu' moral conquest was already coextensive with cen- tral and western Europe, but the first efforts toward their realization were to be made in France, for the reason that the Hne of least resist- ance was to be foimd not through the most down-trodden, but thi'ough the freest and the best-instructed, nation on the Continent. Both the clergy and the nobility of France had become accustomed to the ab- sorption in the crown of their ancient feudal power. They were con- tent with the great offices in the church, in the army, and in the civil administration, with exemption from the payment of taxes ; they were happy in the dehghts of literature and the fine arts, in the joys of a polite, self-iudulgent, and spendthiift society, so artificial and con- ventional that for most of its members a sufficient occupation was found in the study and exposition of its trivial but complex customs. The serious-minded among the upper classes were as enlightened as any of their rank elsewhere. They were famiUar with prevalent phi- losophies, and full of compassion for miseries which, for lack of power, they could not remedy, and which, to their dismay, they only intensi- fied in their attempts at alleviation. They were even ready for con- siderable sacrifices. The gracious side of the character of Loius XVI. is but a reflection of the piety, moderation, and earnestness of many of the nobles. His rule was mild ; there were no excessive indigiiities 62 iET. 18-20] THE REVOLUTION IN PRANCE 53 practised in the name of royal power except in cases like that of the cuap. vii " Bargain of Famine," where he believed himself helpless. The lower 1787-89 clergy, as a whole, were faithful in the perfonnance of theh- duties. This was not true of the hierarchy. They were great landowners, and their interests coincided with those of the upper nobility. The doubt of the century had not left them untouched, and there were many without conviction or principle, time-serving and in'everent. The lawyers and other professional men were to be found, for the most part, in Paris and in the towns. They had theu* livelihood in the ir- regularities of society, and, as a class, were retentive of ancient custom and present social habits. Although by birth they belonged in the main to the third estate, they were in reality adjunct to the first, and consequently, being integi-al members of neither, formed a strong inde- pendent class by themselves. The petty nobles were in much the same condition with regard to the wealthy, powerful families in their own estate and to the rich burghers ; they married the f ortimes of the latter and accepted their hospitahty, but otherwise treated them with the same exclusive condescension displayed to themselves by the great. But if the estate of the clergy and the estate of the nobihty were alike divided in character and iaterests, this was still more true of the biu'ghers. In 1614, at the close of the middle ages, the third estate had been httle concerned with the agricultural laborer. For various reasons this class had been gradually emancipated until now there was less serfage in France than elsewhere ; more than a quarter, perhaps a third, of the land was in the hands of peasants and other small proprie- tors. This, to be sure, was economically disastrous, for over-division of land makes tillage unprofitable, and these very men were the tax- payers. The change had been stiU more marked in the denizens of towns. During the last two centuries the wealthy burgesses had grown still more wealthy in the expansion of trade, commerce, and manufactures; many had struggled and bought their way into the ranks of the nobihty. The small tradesmen had remained smug, hard to move, and resentful of change. But there was a large body of men unknown to previous constitutions, and gi'owing ever larger with the increase in population — inteUigent and unintelligent artisans, half- educated employees in workshops, mUls, and trading-houses, ever recruited fi*om the country population, seeking such intermittent occu- pation as the towns afforded. The very lowest stratum of this society 54 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JEt. 18-20 Chap. VII was then, as now, most dangerous ; idle, dissipated, and unscrupulous, 1787-89 they were yet sufficiently educated to discuss and disseminate peril- ous doctrines, and were often most ready in speech and fertile in resource. As early as 1739 there had been a deficiency in the French finances. From small beginnings the annual loans had grown until, in 1787, the sum to be raised over and above the regular income was no less than thirty-two milhons of dollars. This was aU due to the extravagance of the court and the aristocracy, who spent, for the most part, far more than the amount they actually collected and honestly believed to be theu' income. This coui'se was vastly more disastrous than it ap- peared, being ruinous not only to personal but to national well-being, inasmuch as what the nobles, even the earnest and honest ones, be- lieved to be their legitimate income was not reaUy such. Two thirds of the land was in theii- hands; the other third paid the entire land- tax. They were therefore regarding as their own two thirds of what was in reality taken altogether fi'om the pockets of the small proprie- tors. SmaU sacrifices the ruling class professed itself ready to make, but such a one as to pay their share of the land-tax — never. It had been proposed also to destroy the monopoly of the gi-ain trade, and to abolish the road-work, a task more hateful to the people than any tax, because it brought them into dii-ect contact with the exasperating su- perciliousness of petty officials. But in aU these proposed reforms Necker, Calonne, and Lomenie de Brienne, each approaching the nobles fi-om a separate standpoint, had aUke failed. The nobility could see in such retrenclmient and change nothing but ruin for themselves. An assembly of notables, called in 1781, would not Usten to propositions which seemed suicidal. The Eang began to alienate the affection of his natural allies, the people, by yielding to the clamor of the court party. From the nobility he could wring nothing. The royal treasmy was therefore actually bankrupt, the nobles believed that they were threat- ened with banki-uptcy, and the people knew that they themselves were not only bankiiipt, but also hungry and oppressed. At last the King, aware of the nation's extremity, began to under- take reforms without reference to class prejudice, and on his own authority. He decreed a stamp-tax, and the equal distribution of the land-tax. He strove to compel the unwiUing parHament of Paris, a com't of justice which he himself had reconstituted, to register his ^T. 18-20] THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE 55 decrees, and then banished it from the capital because it would not. Chap, vn That coTu-t had been the last remaining check on absolutism in the usi-sq country, and, as such, an aUy of the people ; so that although the motives and the measures of Louis were just, the high-handed means to which he resorted in order to carry them ahenated him stiU further fi'om the affections of the nation. The parMament, in justifying its opposition, had declared that taxes in France could be laid only by the Estates-General. The people had almost forgotten the veiy name, and were entu^ely ignorant of what that body was, vaguely supposing that, like the Enghsh ParMament or the American Congress, it was in some sense a legislative assembly. They therefore made then* voice heard in no uncertain sound, demanding that the Estates should meet. Louis abandoned his attitude of independence, and recalled the parhament from Troyes, but only to exasperate its members stiU further by insist- ing on a huge loan, on the restoration of civil rights to the Protestants, and on restricting, not only its powers, but those of all similar courts throughout the realm. The parliament of Paris declared that France was a limited monarchy with constitutional checks on the power of the crown, and exasperated men flocked to the city to remonstrate against the menace to their hberties in the degradation of aU the parhaments by the King's action in regard to that of Paris. Those fi-om Brittany formed an association, which soon admitted other members, and de- veloped into the notorious Jacobin Club, so called from its meeting- place, a convent on the Rue St. Honore once occupied by Dominican monks who had moved thither from the Rue St. Jacques. To siunmon the Estates was a virtual confession that absolutism in France was at an end. In the seventeenth centmy the three estates dehberated separately. Such matters came before them as were sub- mitted by the crown, chiefly demands for revenue. A decision was reached by the agreement of any two of the three, and whatever propo- sition the crown submitted was either accepted or rejected. There was no real legislation. Louis no doubt hoped that the eighteenth-centmy assembly would be Hke that of the seventeenth. He could then, by the coalition of the nobles and the clergy against the biu-ghers, or by any other arrangement of two to one, secure authorization either for his loans or for his reforms, as the case might be, and so cany both. But the France of 1789 was not the France of 1614. As soon as the call for the meeting was issued, and the decisive steps were taken, the 56 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 Chap. VII whole couTitry was flooded with pamphlets. Most of them were ephem- 1787-89 eral; one was epochal. The Abbe Sieyes asked the question, "What is the third estate I " and answered it so as to strengthen the already spreading conviction that the people of France were really the nation. The King was so far convinced as to agree that the third estate shovild be represented by delegates equal in number to those of the clergy and nobles combined. The elections passed quietly, and on May fifth, 1789, the Estates met at Versailles, under the shadow of the coui-t. It was immediately evident that the hands of the clock could not be put back two centuries, and that here was gathered an assembly unhke any that had ever met in the country, determined to express the sentiments, and to be the executive, of the masses who in their opinion constituted the nation. On June seventeenth, therefore, after long talk and much hesitation, the representatives of the third estate declared themselves the representatives of the whole nation, and invited their colleagues of the clergy and nobles to join them. Their meeting-place having been closed in consequence of this decision, they gathered without authoriza- tion in the royal tennis-coui't on June twentieth, and bound themselves by oath not to disperse until they had introduced a new order. Louis was nevertheless nearly successful in his plan of keeping the sittings of the three estates separate. He was thwai-ted by the eloquence and courage of Mu-abeau. On June twenty-seventh a majority of the delegates from the two upper estates gave way, and joined those of the thii'd estate as representatives of the people. At this juncture the com-t party began the disastrous policy which in the end was responsible for most of the terrible excesses of the French Revolution, by insisting that troops should be called to restram the Assembly, and that Necker should be banished. Louis showed the same vacillating spirit now that he had displayed in yielding to the Assembly, and assented. The noble officers had lately shown them- selves untrustworthy, and the men in the ranks refused to obey when called to fight against the people. The baser social elements of the whole country had long since swarmed to the capital. Their leaders now fanned the flame of popular discontent until at last resort was had to violence. On July tweKth the barriers of Paris were burned, and the regular troops were defeated by the mob in the Place Vendome ; on July fourteenth the Bastille, in itself a harmless anachronism but considered by the masses to typify all the tyrannical shifts and inhu- Agl.vllELLE SIAOIC FOR THE. CESTUaY CO, NAPOLEON ON HIS WAY TO CORSICA WITH HIS SISTER ELISA FROU THE AQUARELLE BT ERIC PAPE They were met at Valence by hie former landlady, who brought him a present of fniit ^T. 18-20] THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE 57 man oppressions known to despotism, was razed to the ground. As if Chap. vii to crown their baseness, the extreme conservatives among the nobles, 1787-89 the very men who had brought the King to such straits, now aban- doned him and fled. Louis finally bowed to the storm, and came to reside among his people in Paris, as a sign of submission. Bailly, an excellent and ju- dicious man, was made mayor of the city, and Lafayette, with his American laurels still unfaded, was made commander of a newly or- ganized force, to be known as the National Guard. On July seven- teenth the King accepted the red, white, and bhie — the recognized colors of hberty — as national. The insignia of a dynasty were ex- changed for the badge of a principle. A similar transfonnation took place throughout the land, and administration everywhere passed qui- etly into the hands of the popular representatives. The flying no- bles found their chateaux hotter than Paris. Not only must the old feudal privileges go, but with them the old feudal grants, the charters of oppression in the muniment chests. These charters the peasants in- sisted must be destroyed. If they could not otherwise gain possession of them they resorted to violence, and sometimes in the intoxication of the hour they exceeded the bounds of reason, abusing both the persons and the legitimate property of then* enemies. Death or surrender was often the alternative. So it was that there was no refuge on their es- tates, not even a temporary one, for those who had so long possessed them. Many had ah'eady passed into foreign lands ; the emigi'atiou in- creased, and continued in a steady stream. The moderate nobles, honest patriots to whom life in exile was not hfe at all, now clearly saw that theii" order must yield : in the night session of August fourth, some- times called the " St. Bartholomew of privilege," they surrendered their privileges in a mass. Every vestige, not only of feudal, but also of chartered privilege, was swept away ; even the King's hunting-grounds were reduced to the dimensions permitted to a private gentleman. All men alike, it was agreed, were to renounce the conventional and arbi- trary distinctions which had created inequality in civil and political Hfe, and accept the absolute equality of citizenship. Liberty and fi*a- temity were the two springers of the new arch ; its keystone was to be equality. On August twenty-thii-d the Assembly decreed fi-eedom of religious opinion; on the next day freedom of the press. CHAPTER Vin bonapaute and eevolution in Corsica Napoleon's Studies Continued at Auxonne — Another Illness and A Furlough — His Scheme of Corsican Liberation — His Ap- pearance AT Twenty — His Attainments and Character — His Shifty Conduct — The Homeward Journey — New Parties in Corsica — Salicetti and the Nationalists — Napoleon becomes a Political Agitator — And Leader of the Radicals — The Na- tional Assembly Incorporates Corsica with France and Grants Amnesty to Paoli — Momentary Joy of the Corsican Patriots — The French Assembly Ridicules Genoa's Protest — Napoleon's Plan for Corsican Administration. Chap. VIII ^^ UCH were the events taking place in tlie great world while Buona- 1789-90 ^^ parte was at Auxonne. That town, as had been expected, was most tmeasy, and on July nineteenth, 1789, there was an actual out- break of violence, dii'ected there, as elsewhere, against the tax-receivers. The riot was easily suppressed, and for some weeks yet the regular round of studious monotony in the young heutenant's life was not dis- tiu^bed except as his poverty made his asceticism more rigorous. " I have no other resoiu'ce but work," he wrote to his mother ; " I dress but once in eight days [Sunday parade ?] ; I sleep but httle since my iUness ; it is incredible. I retu*e at ten, and rise at four in the morning. I take but one meal a day, at three ; that is good for my health." More bad news came from Corsica. The starving patriot feU seri- ously ill, and for a time his life hung in the balance. On August eighth he was at last sufficiently restored to travel, and apphed for a six months' fm-lough, to begin immediately. Under the regulations, in spite of his previous leaves and UTegularities, he was this year entitled to such 68 ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 59 a vacation, but not before October. His plea that the winter was unfa- Chap. viii vorable for the voyage to Corsica was characteristic, for it was neither i789-9o altogether true nor altogether false. He was feverish and ill, excited by news of turmoils at home, and wished to be on the scene of action; this would have been a true and sufficient gi-ound for his request. It was likewise true, however, that his chance for a smooth passage was better in August than in October, and this evident fact, though probably ii'relevant, might move the authorities. Their answer was favorable, and on September sixteenth he left Auxonne. In the interval occuiTed a mutiny in the regiment. The pay of the men was far in arrears, and they demanded a division of the surplus which had accumulated from the various regimental grants, and which was managed by the officers for the benefit of their own mess. The officers were compelled to yield, so far had revolutionary license sup- planted royal and miUtary authority. Of course a general orgy fol- lowed. It seems to have been durmg these days that the scheme of Corsican hberation which brought him finally into the field of poHtics took shape in Napoleon's mind. Fesch had retm-ned to Corsica, and had long kept his nephew thoroughly informed of the situation. By the anarchy prevailing all about him in France, and beginning to pre- vail in Corsica, his eyes were opened to the possibilities of the Revo- lution for one who knew how to take advantage of the changed order. The appearance of Buonaparte in his twentieth year was not in general noteworthy. His head was shapely, but not uncommon in size, although disproportionate to the frame which bore it. His fore- head was wide and of medium height; on each side long chestnut hair — lanky as we may suppose fi'om his own accoimt of his personal habits — fell iti stiff, flat locks over his lean cheeks. His eyes were large, and in their steel-blue irises, lurking under deep-arched and pro- jecting brows, was a penetrating quality which veiled the mind within. The nose was straight and shapely, the mouth large, the hps full and sensuous, although the powerful projecting chin diminished somewhat the true effect of the lower one. His complexion was sallow. The frame of his body was ia general small and fine, particularly his hands and feet ; but his deep chest and short neck w^ere gigantic. This lack of proportion did not, however, uiterfere with his gait, which was firm and steady. The student of character would have declared the strip- ling to be self-reliant and secretive; ambitious and calculating; mas- GO LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20-21 Chap, vhi terful, but kindly. In an age when phrenology was a mania, its mas- 1787-90 ters found in his cranium the organs of what they called imagination and causahty, of individuality, comparison, and locality — by which jargon they meant to say that he had a strong power of imaging and of inductive reasoning, a knowledge of men, of places, and of things. The life of the young officer had thus far been so commonplace as to awaken httle expectation for his future. Poor as he was, and care- ful of his slim resources, he had, like the men of his class, indulged his passions to a certain degree ; but he had not been riotous in his hving, and he had so far not a debt in the world. What his education and reading were makes clear that he could have known nothing with a scholar's comprehensive thoroughness except the essentials of his pro- fession. But he could master details as no man before or since ; he had a vast fund of information, and a historic outhne drawn in fair proportion and powerful strokes. His philosophy was meager, but he knew the principles of Rousseau aud Raynal thoroughly. His concep- tion of politics and men was not scientific, but it was clear and practi- cal. The trade of arms had not been to his taste. He heartily disliked routine, and despised the petty duties of his rank. His profession, however, was a means to an end ; of any mastery of strategy or tactics or even interest in them he had as yet given no sign, but he was ab- sorbed in contemplating and analyzing the exploits of the gi*eat world- conquerors. In particular his mind was dazzled by the splendors of the Orient as the only field on which an Alexander could have displayed himself, and he knew what but a few gi'eat minds have gi-asped, that the interchange of relations between the East and the West had been the life of the world. The greatness of England he understood to be largely due to her bestriding the two hemispheres. Up to this moment he had been a theorist, and might have wasted his fine powers by fui'ther indulgence in dazzling generahzations, as so many boys do when not called to test their hypotheses by experience. Henceforward he was removed from this temptation. A plan for an elective council in Corsica to replace that of the nobles, and for a local militia, having been matm'ed, he was a cautious and practical experimenter from the moment he left Auxonne. Thus far he had put into practice none of his fine thoughts, nor the lessons learned in books. The family destitution had made liim a solicitor of favors, and, but for the turn in public affairs, he might have continued to be :'4Via(*»*«a««.«*fc<«aa!jwi^^ m TUJi uCxta. UK VliXt, AJACCIO ENQHAVKU BV r. E. fllXOmOWN JOSEPH BONAPARTE KING OF NAPLES, KING OF SPAIN, COMTE DE SURVILLIERS FROM A PAINTINQ BY AN UNKNOWN ARTIST Aa Comte ile Survilliers. resident of Bordentown, N. J. ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA Gl one. His own inclinations had made Mm botli a good student and a Chap. vni poor officer ; without a field for larger duties he might have remained i789-9o as he was. In Corsica his line of conduct was not changed ahrujjtly : the possibiUties of greater things dawning gradually, the application of great conceptions already formed came with the march of events, not hke the sun bui'sting out from behind a cloud. Traveling by way of Aix, Napoleon took the unlucky Lucien with him. This wayward but independent younger brother, making no al- lowance, as he tells us in his pubhshed memoirs, for the disdain an older boy at school is supposed to feel for a younger one, blood relative or not, had been repelled by the cold reception his senior had given him at Brienne. Having left that school against the advice of the same would-be mentor, his suit for admission to Aix had been fruitless. Necessity was diiving him homeward, and the two who in after days were again to be separated were now, for almost the only time in their hves, companions for a considerable period. Their intercourse made them no more harmonious in feeling. The only incident of the joiu*- ney was a visit to the Abbe Raynal at Marseilles. We would gladly know something of the talk between the master and the pupil, but we do not. Napoleon found no change in the circumstances of the Buonaparte family. The old archdeacon was still hving, and for the moment all except Ehsa were at home. On the whole, they were more needy than ever. The death of theh' patron, Marbeuf, had been followed by the final rejection of their long-urged suit, and this fact, combined with the pohtical opinions of the elder Lucien, was beginning to wean them from the official chque. There were the same factions as before — the official party and the patriots. Since the death of Charles de Buona- parte, the former had been represented at Versailles by Buttafuoco, Choiseul's unworthy instrument in acquiring the island, and now, as then, an uninfluential and consequential self-seeker. Its members were an aristocrats and royalist in politics. The higher priesthood were of similar mind, and had chosen the Abbe Peretti to represent them ; the parish priests, as in France, were with the people. Both the higher classes were comparatively small; in spite of twenty years of peace under French rule, they were both excessively unpopular, and utterly with- out any hold on the islanders. They had but one partizan with an in- fluential name, a son of the old-tune patriot Gaffori, the father-in-law 62 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [.^t. 20-21 Chap. VIII of Biittafuoco. The overwhelming majority of the natives were Uttle 1789^90 changed in their temper. There were the old, imswerving patriots who wanted absolute independence, and were now called Paohsts; there were the self-styled patriots, the younger men, who wanted a protec- torate that they might enjoy vii'tual independence and secure a career by peace. There was in the harbor towns on the eastern slope the same submissive, peace-loving temper as of old ; in the west the same fiery, warUke spirit. Corte was the center of Paoh's power, Calvi was the seat of French influence; Bastia was radical, Ajaccio was about equally divided between the younger and older parties, with a strong infusion of official influence. Both the repi'esentatives of the people in the National Convention were of the moderate party; one of them, Salicetti, was a man of abihty, a friend of the Buonapartes, and destined later to influence deeply the com-se of their affair's. He and his colleague Colonna were urging on the National Assembly measures for the local administration of the island. To this faction, as to the other, it had become clear that if Corsica was to reap the benefits of the new era it must be by union under Paoli. All, old and young alike, desired a thorough reform of then barbarous jiuispradence, and, like all other French subjects, a free press, free trade, the abohtion of all privilege, equahty in taxation, ehgibihty to office without regard to rank, and the diminution of mo- nastic revenues for the benefit of education. Nowhere could such changes be more easily made than in a land just emerging fi-om bar- barism, where old institutions were disappearing and new ones were still fluid. Paoh himself had come to beUeve that independence could more easily be secm-ed from a regenerated France, and with her help, than by a warfare which might again arouse the ambition of Genoa. Buonaparte's natural associates were the younger men — Masseria, sou of a patriot hne, Pozzo cU Borgo, Peraldi, Cimeo, Ramohni, and others less influential. The only Corsican with French military train- ing, he was, in view of uncertainties and probabilities abeady on the horizon, a person of considerable consequence. His contribution to the schemes of the young patriots was significant : it consisted in a pro- posal to form a body of local mihtia for the support of that central com- mittee which his fi'iends so ardently desired. The plan was promptly adopted by the associates, the radicals seeing in it a means to put anns once more into the hands of the people, the others no doubt having in ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 03 mind the storming of the Bastillo and the possibility of similar move- chap. vni ments in Ajaccio and (ilsowhere. Buonaparte, the only trained officer i789-90 among them, may have dreamed of abandoning the Freiich service, and of a supreme command in Corsica. Many of the people who appeared well disposed toward France had from time to tune received permission from the authorities to cany anns, many carried them secretly and without a hcense ; but proportionately there were so few in both classes that vigorous or successful armed resistance was in most places imprac- ticable. The attitude of the department of war at Paris was regulated by Buttafuoco, and was of com-se hostile to the insidious scheme of a local mihtia. The Minister of War would do nothing but submit the suggestion to the body against whose influence it was aimed, the hated council of twelve nobles. The stupid sarcasm of such a step was well-nigh criminal. Under such instigation the flames of discontent broke out in Cor- sica. Paoh's agents were again most active. In many towns the people rose to attack the citadels or barracks, and to seize the authority. In Ajaccio Napoleon de Buonaparte promptly asserted himself as the natufal leader. The already existing democratic club was rapidly or- ganized into the nucleus of a home guard, and recruited in numbers. But there were none of Paoh's moimtaineers to aid the unwarlike burghers, as there had been in Bastia. Gaffori appeared on the scene, but neither the magic of his name, the troops that accompanied him, nor the adverse representations of the council, which he brought with him, could allay the discontent. He therefore remained for thi-ee days in seclusion, and then departed m secret. On the other hand, the popu- lace was intimidated, permitting without resistance the rooms of the club to be closed by the troops, and the town to be put under mariial law. Nothing remained for the agitators but to protest and disperse. They held a final meeting therefore on October thu-ty-fii-st, 1789, in one of the churches, and signed an appeal to the National Assembly, to be presented by Salicetti and Colonna. It had been written, and was read aloud, by Buonaparte, as he now signed himself. Some share in its composition was later claimed for Joseph, but the fiery style, the numerous blunders in grammar and spelhng, the terse thought, and the concise form, are all characteristic of Napoleon. The right of peti- tion, the recital of unjust acts, the illegal action of the coimcil, the use of force, the hoUowness of the pretexts under which then- request had 64 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE . [^.t. 20-21 Chap, vm been refused, the demand that the troops he withdrawn and redress 1789^90 granted — all these are crudely but forcibly presented. The document presages revolution. Under a well-constituted and regular authority, its wi-iter and signatories would of course have been punished for in- subordination. Even as things were, an officer of the King was run- ning serious risks by his prominence in connection with it. Diseoiu'aging as was the outcome of this movement in Ajaccio, sim- ilar agitations elsewhere were more successful. The men of Isola Rossa, under Ai-ena, who had just returned fi'om a consultation with PaoU in England, were entirely successful in seizing the supreme au- thority ; so were those of Bastia, under Murati, a devoted friend of Paoh. One untrustworthy authority, a personal enemy of Buonaparte, declares that the latter, thwarted in his own town, at once went over to Bastia, then the residence of the French royalist governor, and suc- cessfuUy directed the revolt in that place, but there is no corroborative evidence to this doubtful story. Simultaneously with these events the National Assembly had been debating how the position of the King under the new constitution was to be expressed by his title. Absolutism being ended, he could no longer be long of France, a style which to men then hving imphed ownership. King of the French was selected as the new form ; should they add " and of Navarre " ? Sahcetti, with consimimate diplomacy, had already warned many of his fellow-delegates of the danger lest England should intervene in Corsica, and France lose one of her best recruiting-grounds. To his compatriots he set forth that France was the best protector, whether they desired partial or complete indepen- dence. He now suggested that if the Assembly thus recognized the separate identity of the Pyrenean people, they must supplement theu' phrase still further by the words "and of Corsica"; for it had been only nominally, and as a pledge, that Genoa in 1768 had put France in control. At this stage of the debate, Yolney presented a nimiber of formal demands from the Corsican patriots asking that the position of their country be defined. One of these papers certainly came from Bastia ; among them also was probably the document which had been executed at Ajaccio. This was the culmination of the skilful revolu- tionary agitation which had been started and directed by Masseria under Paoh's guidance. The anomalous position of both Corsica and Navarre was clearly depicted in the mere presentation of such petitions. PASCAL PAOLI FROM THF. PAINTING BY DRELLINO, MAPE IN PARIB, 17S ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 65 " If the Navan-ese are not French, what have we to do with them, or chap. viii they with us 1 " said Mirabeau. The argument was as unanswerable nso-oo for one land as for the other, and both were incorporated in the reahn : Corsica on November thirtietli, by a proposition of Sahcetti's, who was apparently imwilling, but wlio posed as one under imperative necessity. In reality he had reached the goal for which he had long been striving. Dimiom-iez, later so renowned as a general, and Mu-abeau, the great statesman and orator, had both been members of the French army of occupation which had reduced Corsica to submission. The latter now recalled his misdeed with sorrow and shame in an impassioned plea for amnesty to aU pohtical offenders, including Paoh. There was bitter opposition, but the great orator prevailed. The news was received in Corsica with every manifestation of joy ; bonfires were lighted, and Te Deums were simg in the churches. Paoh to rejoin his own again ! What more could disinterested patriots de- sire I Corsica a province of France ! How coidd her aspiring youth secure a wider field for the exercise of their powers, and the attainment of ambitious ends ? The desires of both parties were temporarily ful- filled. The names of Mirabeau, Salicetti, and Volney were shouted with acclaim, those of Buttafuoco and Peretti with reprobation. The regular troops were withdrawn from Ajaccio ; the ascendancy of the hberals was complete. Then feeble Grenoa was heard once more. She had pledged the sovereignty, not sold it; had yielded its exercise, and not the thing it- self ; France might administer the government as she chose, but an- nexation was another matter. She appealed to the fairness of the King and the National Assembly to safeguard her treaty rights. Her tone was querulous, her words without force. In the Assembly the pro- test was but fuel to the fire. On January twenty-first, 1790, occun-ed an animated debate in which the matter was fully considered. The discussion was notable, as indicating the temper of parties and the na- ture of their action at that stage of the Revolution. Mu'abeau as ever was the leader. He and his friends were scornful not only because of Genoa's temerity in seeming still to claim what France had con- quered, but of her conception that mere paper contracts were binding where principles of public law were concerned ! The opposition mildly but firmly recalled the existence of other nations than France, and sug- gested the consequences of international bad faith. The conclusion of QQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20-21 Chap, viii the matter was the adoption of a cunning and insolent combination of 1789-90 two propositions, one made by each side, " to lay the request on the table, or to explain that there is no occasion for its consideration." The incident is otherwise important only in the light of Napoleon's future dealings with the Italian commonwealth. The situation was now most dehcate, as far as Buonaparte was con- cerned. His suggestion of a local militia contemplated the extension of the revolutionary movement to Corsica. His appeal to the National Assembly demanded merely the right to do what one French city or district after another had done, to estabhsh local authority, to form a National Guard, and to unfm-l the red, white, and blue. There was nothing in it about the incoi^poration of Corsica in France ; that had come about through the insurgents of Bastia, who had been organized by PaoH, inspired by the attempt at Ajaccio, and guided at last by Sa- Uoetti. A httle later Buonaparte took pains to set forth how much better, imder his plan, would have been the situation of Corsican affairs if, with their guard organized and their colors mounted, they coidd have recalled Paoli, and have awaited the event with power either to reject such propositions as the royahsts, if successful, would have made, or to accept the conclusions of the French Assembly with proper self-respect, and not on compulsion. Hitherto he had lost no opportimity to express his hatred of France ; it is possible that he had planned the virtual independence of Corsica, with himself as the hbera- tor, or at least as Paoli's Sampiero. The reservations of his Ajaccio document, and the bitterness of his feelings, are not, however, suffi- cient proof of such a presumption. But the incoi-poration had taken place, Corsica was a portion of France, and everybody was wild with dehght. CHAPTER IX FIKST LESSONS IN EEVOLUTION Fkench Soldiee and Coesican Pateiot — Paoli's Hesitancy — His Retuen to Coesica — Ceoss Pueposes in Feance — A New Fue- LOUGH — Money Teansactions of Napoleon and Joseph — Open Hostelities against Feance — Thwaeted a Second Time — Reoe- ganization of coesican aoannisteation — meeting of bonapaete AND Paoli — Coesican Politics — Studies in Society. WHAT was to be the futiu'e of one whose feehngs were so hostile Chap. ix to the nation with the fortunes of which he now seemed irrev- 1790 ocably identified? There is no evidence that Buonaparte ever asked himself such disquieting questions. To judge from his conduct, he was not in the least troubled. Fully aware of the disorganization, both social and military, which was well-nigh universal in France, with two months more of his furlough yet unexpired, he awaited developments, not hastening to meet difficulties before they presented themselves. What the young democrats could do, they did. The town govei'nment was entirely reorganized, with a friend of the Buonapartes as mayor, and Joseph — employed at last ! — as his secretary. A local giiard was also raised and equipped. Being French, however, and not Corsican, Napoleon could not accept a command in it, for he was abeady an offi- cer in the French army. But he served in the ranks as a common soldier, and was an ardent agitator in the club, which almost imme- diately reopened its doors. In the impossibihty of further action there was a relapse into authorship. The history of Corsica was again revised, though not softened, and dedicated to Raynal. In collabora- tion with Fesch, Buonaparte also drew up a memoir on the oath which was required fi-om priests. When Paoli fii-st received news of the amnesty granted at the g3 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONATAKTE [^t. 21 Chap. IX instance of Mirabeau, and of the action taken by the Frencli Assembly, irao which had made Corsica a French department, he was dehghted and deeply moved. His noble instincts told him at once that he could no longer hve in the enjoyment of an English pension or even in England; for he was convinced that Ms country would eventually reach a more perfect autonomy xmdev France than under the wing of any other power, and that as a patriot he must not fail even in appearance to maintain that position. But he also felt that his return to Corsica would endanger the success of this pohcy : the ardent moiin- taineers would demand more extreme measures for complete indepen- dence than he could take; the lowlanders would be angry at the attitude of sympathy with his old friends which he must assume. In a spirit of self-sacrifice, therefore, he made ready to exchange his comfortable exile for one more uncongenial and of coiu'se more bitter. But the National Assembly, with less insight, desu-ed nothing so much as his presence in the new French department. He was grooving old, and yielded against his better judgment to the united solicitation of French interest and of Corsican impolicy. Passing through France, he was detained for over two months by the ovations forced upon him. In Paris the King urged him to accept honors of every kind ; but they were firmly refused : the reception, however, which the Assembly gave him in the name of hberty, he declared to be the proudest occasion of his hfe. At Lyons the popidace crowded the streets to cheer him, and delegations fi-om the chief towns of his native island met him to sohcit for each of their respective cities the honor of his landing. On July foiu-teenth, 1790, after twenty-one years of exile, the now aged hero set foot on Corsican land at Maginajo, near Capo Corso. His first act was to kneel and kiss the soil. The nearest town was Bastia, the revolutionary capital. There and elsewhere the rejoicings were gen- eral, and the ceremonies were such as only the warm hearts and willing hands of a primitive Italian people could devise and perform. Not one true Corsican but must " see and hear and touch him." But in less than a month his conduct was, as he had foreseen, so misrepresented by friend and foe alike, that it was necessary to defend him in Paris against the charge of scheming to hand over the island to England. It is not entu'ely clear where Buonaparte was dm-ing this time. It is said that he was seen in Valence dm'ing the latter part of Janu- ary, and the fact is adduced to show how deep and secret were his > z D 2 o > o o z n o en n > z (7) o Mt. 21] FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION G9 plans for preserving the double chance of an opening in either France ciiai». ex or Corsica, as matters might turn out. The love-affair to wliich he irao refers in that thesis on the topic to which reference has been made would be an equally satisfactory explanation, considering his age. Whatever was the fact as to those few days, he was not absent long. The serious division between the executive in France and the new Assembly came to Hght in an ugly circimistancc which occuired in March. On the eighteenth a French flotilla unexpectedly ai)peared off St. Florent. It was commanded by Rully, an ardent royahst, who had long been employed in Corsica. His secret instructions were to embark the French troops, and to leave the island to its fate. Tliis was an adroit stab at the repubhcans of the Assembly; for, should the evacuation be secured, it was believed that either the radicals in Corsica would rise, overpower, and destroy the friends of France, call in English help, and diminish the number of democratic dejjariments by one, or that Genoa would immediately step in and reassert her sov- ereignty. The moderates of St. Florent were not to be thus duped ; sharp and angiy discussions arose among both citizens and troops as to the obedience due to such orders, and soon both soldiers and towns- folk were in a frenzy of excitement. A coUision between the two parties occurred, and Rully was killed. Papers were found on his per- son which proved that his sympathizers would gladly have abandoned Corsica to its fate. For the moment the young Corsicans were more devoted than ever to Paoli, since now only through his good offices with the French Assembly could a chance for the success of their plans be secured. Such was the diversity of opinion as to ways and means, as to resources, opportunities, and details, that everything was, for the mo- ment, in confusion. On April sixteenth Buonaparte applied for an extension of his fiu'lough until the following October, on the plea of continued ill health, that he might drink the waters a second time at Orezza, whose springs, he explained, had shown themselves to be effica- cious in his complaint. He may have been at that resort once before, or he may not. Doubtless the fever was still lingering in his system. What the degree of his illness was we cannot tell. It may have un- fitted him for active ser\dce with his regiment ; it did not disable him from piu'suing liis occupations in writing and political agitation. His request was granted on May twentieth. The history of Corsica was 70 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt. 21 Chap. IX now filially revised, and a new dedication completed. This, with a 1790 letter and some chapters of the book, was forwarded to Raynal, probably by post. Joseph, who was one of the delegates to meet Paoh, would pass through Marseilles, wrote Napoleon to the abbe, and would hand him the rest if he should so desire. The text of the unlucky book was not materially altered. Its theory appears always to have been that history is but a succession of great names, and the story, therefore, is moi-e a biographical record than a connected nan-ative. The dedication, however, is a new step in the painful progress of more accurate thinking and better expression ; the additions to the volume contain, amid many immatuiities and platitudes, some ripe and clever thought. Buonapai-te's passion for his banthng is once more the ardor of a misdirected genius, unsuUied by the desire for money, which had played a temporary part. We know nothing definite of his pecuniary affairs, but somehow or other his fortunes must have mended. There is no other explanation of his numerous and costly journeys, and we hear that for a time he had money in his purse. In the will which he dictated at St. Helena is a bequest of one hundred thousand francs to the children of his friend who was the first mayor of Ajaccio by the popular will. It is not imlikely that the legacy was a grateful souvenu- of advances made about this time. There is another possible explanation. The club of Ajaccio had chosen a delegation, of which Joseph Buonaparte was a member, to bring PaoU home fi'om France. To meet its expenses, the municipahty had forced the authorities of the priests' seminary to open theu* strong box and to hand over upward of two thousand francs. Napoleon may have shared Joseph's portion. We should be reminded in such a stroke, but with a difference, to be sure, of what happened when, a few years later, the hungry and ragged soldiers of the Republic were led into the fat plains of Lombardy. The contemptuous attitude of the Ajaccio Uberals toward the re- ligion of Rome seriously alienated the superstitious populace fi"om them. Buonaparte was once attacked in the public square by a pro- cession organized to deprecate the policy of the National Assembly with regard to the ecclesiastical estates. One of the few royahst officials left in Corsica also took advantage of the general disorder to express his feelings plainly as to the acts of the same body. He was arrested, tried in Ajaccio, and acquitted by a sympathetic judge. At JEt. 21] FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION 71 once the liberals took alarm ; their club and the officials first pro- chap. ix tested, and then on June twenty-fifth assumed the offensive in the 1790 name of the Assembly. At last the opportunity to emulate the French cities seemed assm-ed. It was determined to organize a local indepen- dent government, seize the citadel with the help of the home guard, and throw the hated royalists into prison. But the preparations were too open : the governor and most of liis friends fled in season to their stronghold, and raised the di'awbridge ; the agitators could lay hands on but four of their enemies, among whom were the judge, the of- fender, and an officer of the garrison. So great was the disappoint- ment of the radicals that they would have vented their spite on these ; it was with difficulty that the lives of the prisoners were saved by the efforts of the militia officers. The garrison really sympathized with the insurgents, and would not obey orders to suppress the rising by an attack. In retm'n for this forbearance the regular soldiers stipulated for the hberation of their officer. In the end the chief offenders among the radicals were punished by imprisonment or banished, and the tumidt subsided ; but the French officials now had strong support, not only from the hierarchy, as before, but from the plain pious people and theii- priests. This result was a second defeat for Napoleon Buonaparte, who was almost certainly the instigator and leader of the uprising. He had been ready at any moment to assume the direction of affairs, but again the outcome of such a movement as could alone seciu'e a possible tem- porary independence for Corsica and a militaiy command for himself was absolutely naught. Little perturbed by failure, he took iip the pen to wi'ite a proclamation justifying the action of the municipal authorities. The paper was fearlessly signed by himself and the other leaders, including the mayor. It execrates the sympathizers with the old order in France, and lauds the Assembly, with aU its works ; de- nounces those who sold the land to France, which could offer nothing but an end of the chain that bound herseK ; and warns the enemies of the new constitution that their day is over. There is a longing refer- ence to the ideal self-determination which the previous attempt might have secured. The present rising is justified, however, as an effort to caiTy out the principles of the new charter. There are the same sug- gested force and suppressed fmy as in his previous manifesto, the same fervid rhetoric, the same lack of coherence in expression. The same 72 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 21 Chap. IX two elements, that of the eighteenth-centuiy metaphysics and that of 1790 his own uncultured force, combine in the composition. Naturally enough, the unrest of the town was not diminished ; there was even a shght colhsion between the garrison and the civil authorities, Buonaparte was of course suspected and hated by Catholics and military alike. French officer though he was, no one in Corsica thought of him otherwise than as a Corsican revolutionist. Among his own friends he continued his unswerving career. It was he who wrote and read the address from Ajaccio to Paoli, although the two men did not meet until somewhat later. With the arrival of the great hberator the grasp of the old officials on tlie island relaxed, and the bluster of the few who had grown rich in the royal service ceased. The Assembly was finally triumphant; this new department was at last to be organized hke those of the adoptive mother. It was high time, for the public order was seriously endangered in this transi- tion period. The distm'bances at Ajaccio were trifling compared with the revolutionary procedure inaugui'ated and earned to extremes in Bastia. Two letters of Napoleon's written in August display a fever- ish spii'it of unrest in himself, and enumerate the many uprisings in the neighborhood with their varying degrees of success. Under pro- visional authority, arrangements were made, after some delay, to hold elections for the officials of the new system whose legal designation was directors. Then- appointment and conduct would be determinative of Corsica's futiu-e, and were therefore of the highest importance. In a pure democracy the voters assemble to deliberate and record their decisions. Such were the local district meetings in Corsica. These chose the representatives to the central constituent assembly, which was to meet at Orezza on September ninth, 1790. Joseph Buo- naparte and Fesch were among the members sent from Ajaccio. The heahng waters which Napoleon wished to quaff at Orezza were the in- fluence of the debates. Although he could not be a member of the assembly on accoimt of his youth, he was determined to be present. The three relatives traveled from their home in company, Joseph en- chanted by the scenery. Napoleon studying the strategic points on the way. The village of Rostino, which Paoli had dehcately chosen as his temporary home in order that his presence at Orezza might not unduly affect the course of events, was on their route. There occurred the meeting between the two great Corsicans, the man of ideas and the H I m H -a X o m -0 m m 2: -i -) ^ ^ O > Tl Z 2: n > m ■0 H r- m z -^ (y^ I m -n > 1 ?D m ?o H z > -a z t- m z H 1 en" m -0 m > C/l < H > H M m tn T) t- Tl ^ E c o yET. 21] FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION 73 man of action. No doubt Paoli was anxious to win a family so im- Chap. ix portant and a patriot so ardent. In any case, he invited the three i790 young men to accompany liim over the fatal battle-gi-ound of Ponte- Nuovo. If Napoleon's ambition had really been to become the chief of the French National Guard for Corsica, which would now, in aU prob- ability, be fuUy organized, it is very hkoly that he would have exerted himself to secure the favor of the only man who could fulfil his desire. There is, however, a tradition which tends to show quite the contrary : it is said that after Paoh had pointed out the disposition of his troops for the fatal conflict Napoleon diyly remarked, " The result of these arrangements was just what it was bound to be." Among the Em- peror's reminiscences at the close of his hfe, he recalled this meeting, because Paoh had on that occasion declared him to be a man of ancient mold, Uke one of Plutarch's heroes. The constituent assembly at Orezza sat for a month. Its sessions passed almost without any incident of importance except the fii'st appearance of Napoleon as an orator in various public meetings held in connection with its labors. He is said to have been bashful and embarrassed in his beginnings, but, insjimted by each occasion, to have become more fluent, and finally to have won the attention and applause of his hearers. What he said is not known, but he spoke in Itahan, and succeeded in his design of being at least a personage in the preg- nant events now occun*ing. Both parties were represented in the pro- ceedings and conclusions of the convention. Corsica was to constitute but a single department. Paoli was elected president of its directory and commander-in-chief of its National Guard, a combination of offices which again made him \irtual dictator. He accepted them unwilhngly, but the honors of a statue and an annual grant of ten thousand dollars, which were voted at the same time, he absolutely declined. The Paohst party secured the election of Canon Belce as vice-president, of Pana- theri as secretary, of Arena as Salicetti's substitute, of Pozzo di Borgo and Gentih as members of the directory. Colonna, one of the delegates to the National Assembly, was a member of the same gi*oup. The younger patriots, or Young Corsica, as we should say now, perhaps, were represented by then' delegate and leader Sahcetti, who was chosen as plenipotentiary in Buttafuoco's place, and by Multedo, Gentili, and Pompei as members of the directory. For the moment, however, Paoli was Corsica, and such petty politics was significant only as indicating 74 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 Chap. IX the suTvival of counter-currents. There was some dissent to a vote of 1790 censure passed upon the conduct of Buttafuoco and Peretti, hut it was insignificant. Pozzo di Borgo and Gentili were chosen to declare at the bar of the National Assembly the devotion of Coi-sica to its pur- poses, and to the coiu'se of reform as represented by it. They were also to secure, if possible, both the permission to form a departmental National Guard, and the means to pay and ann it. The choice of Pozzo di Borgo for a mission of such importance in preference to Joseph was a disappointment to the Buonapartes. In fact not one of the plans concerted by the two brothers succeeded. Joseph sustained the pretensions of Ajaccio to be capital of the island, but the honor was awarded to Bastia. He was not elected a member of the general directory, though he succeeded in being made a member for Ajaccio in the district dkectory. Whether to work off his ill humor, or fi'om far-seeing purpose, Napoleon used the hours not spent in wire-pull- ing and listening to the proceedings of the assembly for making a series of excursions which were a vii'tual canvass of the neighborhood. The houses of the poorest were his resort ; partly by his inborn power of pleasing, partly by diplomacy, he won then* hearts and learned their in- most feelings. His piu'se, which was for the moment full, was open for their gratification in a way which moved them deeply. For years target-practice had been forbidden, as giving dangerous skill in the use of arms. Liberty having retmned, Napoleon reorganized many of the old rural festivals in which contests of that nature had been the chief featiu'e, offering prizes fi'om his own means for the best marksmen among the youth. His success in feeling the pidse of pubhc opinion was so great that he never forgot the lesson. Not long afterward, in the neighborhood of Valence, — in fact, to the latest times, — he courted the society of the lowly, and established, when possible, a certain intimacy with them. This gave him popularity, while at the same time it enabled him to obtain the most valuable indications of the general temper. CHAPTER X TKAITS or CHAEACTEE Literary Work — Essay on Happiness — Thwarted Aimbition — The CoRSicAN Patriots — The Brothers Napoleon and Louis — Studies est Politics — Reorganization of the Ariiy — The Change in Public Opinion — Napoleon Again at Auxonne — Napoleon as a Teacher — Further Literary Efforts — The Sentimental Journey — His Attitude Toward Religion. ON Ms retiuTi to Ajaccio, the rising agitator continued as before to chap. x frequent Ms cMb. The action of the convention at Orezza in 1791 displacing Buttafuoco had mflamed the young pohticians still more against the renegade. This effect was further heightened when it was known that, at the reception of their delegates by the National Assem- bly, the greater coimcil had, under Mirabeau's leadership, virtually taken the same position regarding both him and his colleague. Napo- leon had written, probably in the previous year, a notorious diatribe against Buttafuoco in the form of a letter to its object, and the very mght on which the news from Paris was received, he seized the op- portunity to read it before the club at Ajaccio. The paper, as now in existence, is pompously dated January twenty-thii-d, 1791, from "my summer house of Milleh." This was a retreat on one of the httle family properties, some miles from the town, where in the rocks was a gi"otto known familiarly as Milleh; Napoleon had improved and beautified the spot, usuig it, as he did his garden at Brienne, for contemplation and qmet study. Although the letter to Matteo Buttafuoco has been often printed, and was its author's first successful effort m writmg, much emphasis should not be laid on it except in noting the better power to express tumultuous feehng, and m marking the implications wMch show an expansion of character. Lisubordinate to France it rjQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 Chap. X Certainly is, and intemperate ; turgid, too, as any youth of twenty irai could well make it. No douljt, also, it was intended to secure notori- ety for the writer. It makes clear the tnorough apprehension its au- thor had as to the radical character of the Revolution. It is his final and public renunciation of the royalist principles of Charles de Buona- parte. It contains also the last profession of morality which a youth is not ashamed to make before the cynicism of his own life becomes too evident for the castigation of selfishness and insincerity in others. Its substance is a just reproach to a selfish trimmer ; the froth and scum are characteristic rather of the time and the circumstances than of the personality behind them. There is no further mention of a difference between the destinies of France and Corsica. To compare the pamphlet with even the poorest work of Rousseau, as has often been done, is absurd; to vilify it as ineffective trash is equally so. As may be imagined, the " Letter " was received with mad applause, and ordered to be printed. It was now the close of Januaiy; Buona- parte's leave had expired on October fifteenth. On November sixteenth, after loitering a whole month beyond his time, he had secm'ed a docu- ment from the Ajaccio officials certifying that both he and Louis were devoted to the new republican order, and bespeaking assistance for both in any difficulties which might arise. The busy Corsican perfectly un- derstood that he might already at that time be regarded as a deserter in France, but still he continued his dangerous loitering. He had two ob- jects in view, one literary, one political. Besides the successful "Letter" lie had been occupied with a second composition, the notion of which had probably occupied him as his purse grew leaner. The jury before which this was to be laid was to be, however, not a lieated body of young political agitators, but an association of old and mature men with calm, critical minds — the Lyons Academy. That society was finally about to award a prize of fifteen hundred livres founded by Raynal as long before as 1780 for the best thesis on the question : " Has the discov- ery of America been useful or hurtful to the human race? If the former, how shall we best preserve and increase the benefits ? If the latter, how shall we remedy the evils '? " Americans must regret that the learned body had been compelled for lack of interest in so concrete a subject to change the theme, and now offered in its place the ques- tion : " What truths and ideas should be inculcated in order best to promote the happiness of mankind ? " HE aLol.LM vf \ Lli^AlLLEA l^iiHAVliL- liY T. JUHNS( NAPOLEON BONAPARTE LIEUTENANT-COLONEL OF THE FIRST BATTALION OF CORSICA fBOM TUK PAISTl^O BT H. K. y PHILIPPOTEAUX ^T. 21] TRAITS OF CHARACTER i I Napoleon's astounding paper on this remarkable theme was finished chap. x in December. It bears the marks of carelessness, haste, and over-con- itoi fidence in every direction — in style, in content, and in lack of accuracy. " Illustrious RajTial," writes the author, " the question I am about to discuss is worthy of your gi-aver, but without assuming to be steel of the same temper, I have taken courage, saying to myself with Correggio, I, too, am a painter." Thereupon follows a long encomium upon Paoli, whose principal merit is explained to have been that he strove in his legislation to keep for every man a property sufficient with mod- erate exertion on his own part for the sustenance of life. Happiness consists in hving conformably to the constitution of our organization. Wealth is a misfortune, primogeniture a rehc of barbarism, ceHbacy a reprehensible practice. Om* animal nature demands food, shelter, clothing, and the companionship of woman. These are the essen- tials of happiness ; but for its perfection we require both reason and sentiment. These theses are the tolerable portions, being discussed with some coherence. But much of the essay is mere meaningless rhetoric and bombast, which sounds like the effusion of a boyish rhapsodist. "At the sound of your [reason's] voice let the enemies of natm'e be still, and swallow their serpents' tongues in rage." " The eyes of reason restrain mankind from the precipice of the passions, as her decrees modify likewise the feeling of their rights." Many other passages of equal absurdity could be quoted, full of far-fetched metaphor, abounding in strange terms, straining rhetorical figm^es to distortion. And yet iu spite of the bombast, certain essential Napo- leonic ideas appear in the paper much as they endured to the end, namely, those on heredity, on the equal division of property, and on the nature of civil society. And there is one pi'ophetic sentence which de- serves to be quoted. " A disordered imagination ! there hes the cause and source of human misfortune. It sends us wandering from sea to sea, from fancy to fancy, and when at last it grows calm, opportunity has passed, the hour strikes, and its possessor dies abhorring life." In later days the author threw what he probably supposed was the only existing manuscript of this vaporing effusion into the fire. But a copy of it had been made at Lyons, perhaps because one of the judges thought, as he said, that it " might have been written by a man other- wise gifted with common sense." Another has been found among the papers confided by Napoleon to Fesoh. The proofs of authenticity are 78 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 ceap. X complete. It seems miraculous that its writer should have become, as 1791 he did, master of a concise and nervous style when once his words he- came the complement of his deeds. The second cause for Buonaparte's delay in returning to France on the expiration of his furlough was his political and military ambition. This was suddenly quenched by the receipt of news that the Assemljly at Paris would not create the longed-for National Gruard, nor the min- istry lend itself to any plan for circumventing the law. It was, there- fore, evident that every chance of becoming Paoh's Ueutenant was finally gone. By the advice of the president himself, therefore, Buona- parte detennined to withdraw once more to France and to await re- sults. Corsica was stiU distracted. A French official sent by the war department just at this time to report on its condition is not sparing of the language he uses to denounce the independent feehng and anti- French sympathies of the people. "The Italian," he says, "acquiesces, but does not forgive ; an ambitious man keeps no faith, and estimates his life by his power." The agent fmi;her describes the Corsicans as so accustomed to unrest by forty years of anarchy that they would gladly seize the first occasion to throw off the domination of laws which re- strain the social disorder. The Buonaparte faction, enumerated vdth the patriot brigand Zampaghni at their head, he calls " despicable crea- tures," " ruined in reputation and credit." It would be hard to find a higher compliment to Paoh and his fiiends, considering the source fi*om which these words emanated. They were all poor and they were all in debt. Even now, in the age of re- form, they saw their most cherished plans thwarted by the presence in every town of ganisons the officers and men of which, though long resident in the island, and attached to its people by many ties, were nevertheless conservative in their feehngs, and, by the instinct of their tradition and disciphne, devoted to the stiU powerful official bui-eaus not yet destroyed by the Revolution. To replace these by a well-or- ganized and equipped National Guard was now the most ardent wdsh of all patriots. There was nothing unworthy in Napoleon's longing for a command under the much desired but ever elusive reconstitution of a force armed according to the model furnished by France itself. Re- peated disappointments hke those he had suffered before, and was experiencing again, would have cmshed a common man. But the young author had his manuscripts in his pocket ; one of ^T. 21] TRAITS OF CHARACTEK 79 them he had means and authority to jjuhHsh. Perfectly aware, more- Chap. x over, of the disorganization in the nation and the anny, careless of the i79i order fulminated on December second, 1790, against absent officers, which he knew to bo aimed especially at the young nobles who were deserting in troops, with his spirit undaunted, and his brain full of resources, he left Ajaccio on Februaiy first, 1791, having secured a new set of certificates as to his patriotism and devotion to the cause of the Revolution. Like the good son and the good brother which he had always been, he was not forgetful of his family. Life at his home had not become easier. Joseph, to be sine, had an office and a career, but the younger children were becoming a source of expense, and Lucien would not accept the provision which had been made for him. The next to be educated and placed was Louis, now between twelve and thirteen years old ; accordingly Louis accompanied his brother. Napo- leon had no promise, not even an outlook, for the boy ; but he deter- mined to have him at hand in case anything should turn up, 'and while waiting to give him fi'om his own slender means whatever precarious education the times and circumstances could afford. We can under- stand the untroubled confidence of the boy ; we must admne the trust, determination, and seK-rehance of the elder brother. Not only was there no punishment in store for Napoleon on his ar- rival at Auxonne, but there was considerate regard, and, later, promo- tion. The brothers had traveled slowly, stopping first for a shori time at Marseilles, and then at Aix to visit friends, and wandering several days in a leisurely way tlnough the parts of Dauphiny round about Valence. Associating again with the country j)eople, and forming opinions as to the comse of affairs, Buonaparte reopened his corre- spondence with Fesch on February eighth from the hamlet of Serves in order to acquaint him with the news and the prospects of the countiy, describing in particular the formation of patriotic societies by all the towns to act in concert for carrying out the decrees of the Assembly. This beginning of " federation for the Revolution," as it was called, in its spread finally welded the whole country, civil and even mihtary authorities, together. Napoleon's presence in the time and place of its begimiing explains much that followed. It was February tlnrteenth when he rejoined his regiment. Comparatively short as had been the time of Buonaparie's absence, everything in France, even the army, had changed and was still chang- gQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 Chap. X iiig. Step by step the most wholesome reforms were introduced as 1791 each in turn showed itself essential: promotion exclusively according to service among the lower officers ; the same, with room for royal dis- cretion, among the higher gi^ades ; division of the forces into regulars, reserves, and national guards, the two former to be still recruited by voluntary enlistment. The ancient and privileged constabulary, and many other formerly existing but inefficient armed bodies, were swept away, and the present system of gendai-merie was created. The mili- tary courts, too, were reconstituted under an impartial system of mar- tial law. Simple numbers were substituted for the titular distinctions hitherto used by the regiments, and a fair schedule of pay, pensions, and military honors abolished all chance for undue favoritism. The necessity of compulsory enlistment was lu'ged by a few with all the energy of powei-ful conviction, but the plan was dismissed as despotic. The Assembly debated as to whether, imder the new system, king or people should wield the mOitary power. They could find no satisfac- tory solution, and finally adopted a weak compromise which went far to destroy the power of Mirabeau, because canied through by him. The entire work of the commission was temporarily rendered worthless by these two essential defects — there was no way of filling the ranks, no strong arm to direct the system. The first year of trial, 1790, had given the disastrous proof. By this time all monarchical and absolutist Em-ope was awakened against France ; but a mere handful of euhghtened men in England, and still fewer elsewhere, were in symijathy vdth her efforts. The stohd com- mon sense of the rest saw only ruin ahead, and viewed askance the idealism of her unreal subtleties. The French nobles, sickened by the thought of reform, had continued their silly and wicked flight ; the neighboring powers, now preparing for an aimed resistance to the spread of the Revolution, were not slow to abet them iu their schemes. On every border agencies for the encoui'agement of desertion were es- tabhshed, and by the opening of 1791 the effective fighting force was more than decimated. There was no longer any question of discipline ; it was enough if any person worthy to command or sei-ve could be re- tained, Biit the remedy for this disorganization was at hand. In the letter to Fesch, to which reference has already been made. Napoleon, after his observations among the people, wrote : "I have everywhere found the peasants firm in then.' stuTups [steadfast in then' opinions]. THE LODGING OF BONAPARTE AT VALENCE I'BOM AN OLD LITHOGRAPH The house, whioli was kept by MUe. Bou, is the four-story building with heart-shaped *avcni-sigTi to the left of the picture. The tuiilding to the right (now known as the MaiBon des Tetes) was the printing-house and reading-room much frequented by Bonaparte* in 1791 when writing his competitive essay for the Lyons Academy. ^T. 21] TRAITS OF CHARACTER gl especially in Daupliiny. They are all disposed to perish in support of Chap. x the constitution. I saw at Valence a resolute peojjle, patriotic soldiers, noi and aristocratic officers. There are, however, some exceptions, for the president of the cluh is a captain named Du Cerbeau. He is captain in the regiment of Forez in gan-ison at Valence. . . . The women are everywhere royaUst. It is not amazing ; Liberty is a prettier woman than they, and echpses them. All the parish priests of Dauphiny have taken the civic oath; they make sport of the bishop's outciy. . . . Wliat is called good society is three fourths aristocratic — that is, they disguise themselves as admirers of the English constitution." What a concise, terse sketch of that rising tide of national feeling which was soon to make good all defects and to fill all gaps in the new militaiy system, put the army as part of the nation under the popular assembly, knit regulars, reserves, and home guard into one, and give moral support to enforcing the proposal for compulsory enlistment ! This movement was Buonaparte's opportunity. Declaring that he had twice endeavored since the expiration of his extended furlough to cross into France, he produced certificates to that effect from the au- thorities of Ajaccio, and begged for his pay and allowances since that date. His request was granted. It is impossible to deny the tinith of Ms statement, or the genuineness of his certificates. But both were loose perversions of a half-truth, shifts paUiated by the imcertainties of a revolutionary epoch. A habitual casuistry is further shown in an interesting letter wi'itten at the same time to a business friend of Joseph's at Chalons, in which there occurs a passage of double mean- ing, to the effect that his elder brother " hopes to come in person the following year as deputy to the National Assembly," which was no doubt true ; for, in spite of being incapacitated by age, he had already sat in the Corsican convention and in the Ajaccio councils. But the imperfect French of the passage could also mean, and, casually read, does carry the idea, that Joseph, being already a depiity, would ^dsit his friend the following year in person. Buonaparte's connection with his old regiment was soon to be broken. He joined it on February thirteenth ; he left it on Jime four- teenth. With these foiu- months his total service was five years and nine months ; but he had been absent, with or without leave, something more than half the time ! His old friends in Auxonne were few in number, if there were any. No doubt his feUow-officers were tired of u 82 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Er. 21 Chap. X perfonnuig the absentee's duties, and of good-fellowship there could be 1791 in any case but little, with such difference of taste, politics, and fortune as there was between him and them. However, he made a few new fi'iends ; but it was in the main the old sohtary life which he resumed. Hi s own barrack-room was fiuTiished with a wretched uncurtained couch, a table, and two chairs. Louis slept on a pallet in a closet near by. All pleasm'es but those of hope were utterly banished fi'om those plucky lives, while they studied in preparation for the examination which might admit the younger to his brother's corps. The elder pinched and scraped to pay the younger's board ; himself, according to his own account, brushing his own clothes that they might last longer, and supping often on dry bread. His only place of resort was the political club. One single pleasure he allowed himself — the occasional piu'chase of some long-coveted volume from the shelves of a town bookseller. Of coiu'se neither authorship nor pubhcation was forgotten. Dur- ing these months were completed the two short pieces, a "Dialogue on Love," and the acute " Reflections on the State of Nature," fi'om both of which quotations have akeady been given. " I too was once in love," he says of himself in the former. It could not well have been in Ajaccio, and it must have been the memories of the old Valence, of a pleasant existence now ended, which called forth the doleful confession. It was the future Napoleon who was presaged in the antithesis. " I go further than the denial of its existence ; I believe it hurtful to society, to the individual welfare of men." The other trenchant document de- molishes the cherished hypothesis of Rousseau as to man in a state of nature. The precious manuscripts brought from Corsica were sent to the only publisher in the neighborhood, at Dole. The much-revised history was refused ; the other — whether by moneys fmmished from the Ajaccio club, or at the author's risk, is not known — was printed in a slim octavo volume of twenty-one pages, and published with the title, " Letter of Buonaparte to Buttafuoco." Short as was Buonaparte's residence at Auxonne, he availed himself to the utmost of the slackness of discipline in order to gratify his curi- osity as to the state of the country. He paid fi-equent visits to Mar- niont in Dijon, and he made what he called at St. Helena his " Sen- timental Joui'ney to Nuits " in Biu'gundy. The account he gave Las Cases of the aristocracy in the latter city, and its assemblies at the ^T.21] TRAITS OF CHARACTER 80 mansion of a wine-merchant's widow, is most entertaining. To his host chap. x Gassendi and to the wortliy mayor he aired his radical doctrines with i79i great complacence, but according to his own account he had not the best of it in the discussions which ensued. Under the empire Gas- sendi's son was a member of the council of state, and in one of its ses- sions he dared to support some of his opinions by quoting Napoleon himself. The Emperor remembered perfectly the conversation at Nuits, but meaningly said that his fiiend must have been asleep and dreaming. Several traditions which throw some light on Buonaparte's attitude toward religion date from this last residence in Auxonne. He had been prepared for confirmation at Brienne by a confessor who was now in retirement at Dole, the same to whom when First Consul he wrote an acknowledgment of his indebtedness, adding : " Without rehgion there is no happiness, no future possible. I commend me to your prayers." The dwelling of this good man was the frequent goal of his walks abroad. Again, he once jocularly asked a friend who visited him in his room, if he had heard mass that morning, opening, as he spoke, a trunk in which was the complete vestment of a priest. The regimental chaplain, who must have been his friend, had confided it to him for safe keeping. Finally, it was in these dark and never-forgotten days of trial that Louis was confirmed, probably by the advice of his brother. Even though Napoleon had collaborated with Fesch in the paper on the oath of priests to the constitution, though he himself had been mobbed in Corsica as the enemy of the Church, it does not appear that he had any other than decent and reverent feelings toward religion and its professors. CHAPTER XI THE EEVOLUTION IN THE EHONE VALLEY A Dabk Period — Bonapaete, Fiest Lieutenant — Second Sojouen IN Valence — Books and Reading — The National Assembly of Feance — The King Returns from Veesailles — AoMmisTEATiVE Refoems in Feance — Passing of the Old Oedee — Flight of THE King — Bonapaete's Oath to Sustain the Constitution — His View of the Situation — His Revolutionaey Zeal — A Se- Eious Blundee Avoided — Retuen to Corsica. Chap. XI T I IHE tortuous course of Napoleon's life for the years from 1791 to 1791 -L 1795 has heen neither described nor understood by those who have written in his interest. It was his own desire that his biogra- phies, in spite of the fact that his public life began after Rivoli, should commence with the recovery of Toulon for the Convention. His de- tractors, on the other hand, have studied this prefatory period with such evident bias that dispassionate readers have been repelled from its consideration. And yet the sordid tale well repays perusal ; for in this epoch of his hfe many of his characteristic quahties were tem- pered and ground to the keen edge they retained throughout. Swept onward toward the trackless ocean of pohtical chaos, the youth seemed afloat without oars or compass : in reality, his craft was well under control, and his chart correct. Whether we attribute his conduct to accident or to design, from an adventiu'er's point of view the instinct which made him spread his sails to the breezes of Jacobin favor was quite as sound as that which later, when Jacobinism came to be ab- horred, made him anxious that the fact should be forgotten. In the earher stages of army reorganization, changes were made without much regard to personal merit, the dearth of efficient officers being such that even the most indifferent had some value. About the ^B^Kmma^mstmm rUBr.ICATION AUTHOniZED KY THK AtlTJST. M m TYPOGUAVL-UE BOlSSOIl, VAl.ADO.N" A LO, ^Ai■.l^. BONAPARTE DURING HIS LATER SERVICE AT VALENCE. THE yOUKG LIEUTENANT HAS JUST TRACED OUT A FOEtTIFICATlOS WITH HIS WAI.KINtt-.'-TICK. FllCM THE rAINTlM'. IIV REa LI EFt- DUMAS. Mt.21-22] the revolution IN THE RHONE VALLEY 85 fii'st of June, 1791, Buonaparte was promoted to the rank of fii'st lieu- Chap. xi tenant, with a salary of thirteen hundred livres, and transfen-ed to the i79i Fourth Regiment, which was in Valence. He heard the news with mingled feelings : promotion was, of course, welcome, but he shrank from returning to his former station, and from leaving the three or four warm friends he had among his comrades in the old regiment. On the ground that the arrangements he had made for educating Louis would be disturbed by the transfer, he besought the war office for permission to remain at Auxonne with his old rogimont, now known as the Fu'st. Probably the real ground of his disinchnation was the fear that a resi- dence at Valence might revive the painful emotions which time had somewhat withered. He may also have felt how discordant the radical opinions he was beginning to hold would be with those still cherished by his former friends. But the authoi-ities were inexorable, and on June foui'teenth the brothers departed. Napoleon for the first time leaving debts which he could not discharge : for the new uniform of a first heutenant, a sword, and some wood, he owed about a hundred and fifteen hvres. This smn he was careful to pay within a few years and as soon as his affairs permitted. Arrived at Valence, he found that the old society had vanished. Both the bishop and the abbe of Saint-Ruff were dead. Mme. dii Colombier had withdi-awn with her daughter to her country-seat. The brothers were able, therefore, to take up theu* lives just where they had made the break at Auxonne : Louis pm-suing the studies necessary for entrance to the coi-ps of officers. Napoleon teaching him, and fre- quenting the pohtical club ; both destitute and probably suffering, for the officer's pay was soon far in arrears. In such desperate straits it was a relief for the elder brother that the alhu"ements of his former associations were dissipated; such companionship as he now had was among the middle and lower classes, whose estates were more propor- tionate to his own, and whose sentiments were virtually identical with those which he professed. The list of books which he read is significant : Coxe's " Travels in Switzerland," Duclos's "Memou's of the Reigns of Louis XFV. and Louis XV.," Machiavelh's " History of Florence," Voltaire's " Essay on Manners," Duvernet's "History of the Sorbonne," Le Noble's " Spirit of Grerson," and Dulam-e's " History of the Nobility." There exist among his papers outhnes more or less complete of aU these 86 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21-22 Chap. XI books. They prove that he understood what he read, but unhke other 1791 similar jottings by him they give little evidence of critical power. Aside from such historical studies as would explain the events pre- liminary to that revolutionary age upon which he saw that France was entering, he was carefully examining the attitude of the Gallican Church toward the claims of the papacy, and considering the role of the aristocracy in society. It is clear that he had no intention of being merely a curious onlooker at the successive phases of the political and social transmutation ah'eady beginning; he was bent on examining causes, comprehending reasons, and sharing in the movement itself. By the summer of 1791 the first stage in the transformation of Prance had almost passed. The reign of moderation in reform was nearly over. The National Assembly had apprehended the magnitude but not the nature of its task, and was unable to grasp the conse- quences of the new constitution it had outlined. The nation was suf- ficiently familiar with the idea of the crown as an executive, but hitherto the executive had been at the same time legislator ; neither King nor people quite knew how the King was to obey the nation when the former, trained in the school of the strictest absolutism, was de- prived of all volition, and the latter gave its orders through a single chamber, responsive to the le\dty of the masses, and controlled neither by an absolute veto power, nor by any feeling of responsibility to a calm public opinion. This was the urgent problem which had to be solved under conditions the most unfavorable that could be conceived. Diu'ing the autumn of 1789 famine was actually stalking abroad. The Parisian populace grew gaunt and dismal, but the King and aris- tocracy at Versailles had food in plenty, and the contrast was height- ened by a lavish display in the palace. The royal family was betrayed by one of its own house, the despicable Phihp " Egalite," who sought to stir up the basest dregs of society, that in the ferment he might rise to the top ; hungiy Paris, stimg to action by rumors which he spread and by bribes which he lavished, put Lafayette at its head, and on Oc- tober fifth marched out to the gates of the royal residence in order to make conspicuous the contrast between its own sufferings and the wasteful comfort of its servants, as the King and his ministers were now considered to be. Louis and the National Assembly yielded to the menace, the court retui'ned to Paris, politics grew hotter and more bitter, the fickleness of the mob became a stronger power. Soon the ^T. 21-22] THE REVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY 87 Jacobin Club bcgau to wield the mightiest single influence, and as it Chap. xi did so it grew more and more radical. mi Throughout the long and trying winter the masses remained, never- theless, quietly expectant. There was much tumultuous talk, but ac- tion was suspended while the Assembly sat and struggled to solve its problem, elaborating a really fine paper constitution. Unfortu- nately, the provisions of the document had no relation to the political habits of the French nation, or to the experience of England and the United States, the only free governments then in existence. Feudal privilege, feudal provinces, feudal names having been obliterated, the whole of France was reaiTanged into administrative departments, with geogi-aphical in place of historical boundaries. It was felt that the ecclesiastical domains, the holders of which were considered as mere trustees, should be adapted to the same plan, and this was done. Ec- clesiastical as well as aristocratic control was thus removed by the stroke of a pen. In other words, by the destruction of the mechanism through which the temporal and spiritual authorities exerted the rem- nants of then- power, they were both completely paralyzed. The King was denied aU initiative, being granted merely a suspensive veto, and in the refoi-m of the judicial system the pi-estige of the lawyers was also destroyed. Eoyalty was tm-ned into a function, and the courts were stripped of both the moral and physical force necessary to compel obedience to their decrees. Every form of the guardianship to which for centui'ies the people had been accustomed was thus removed — royal, aristocratic, ecclesiastical, and judicial. Untrained to self-con- trol, they were as ready for mad excesses as were the German Ana- baptists after the Reformation or the Enghsh sectaries after the execution of Charles. Attention has been called to the disturbances which arose in Auxonne and elsewhere, to the emigration of the nobles fi'om that quarter, to the utter break between the parish priests and the higher church functionaries in Dauphiny ; this was but a sample of the whole. When, on July fourieenth, 1790, the King accepted a constitution which decreed a secular reorganization of the ecclesiastical hierarchy accord- ing to the terms of which both bishops and priests were to be elected by the taxpayers, two thirds of all the clergy in France refused to swear allegiance to it. All attempts to estabhsh the new administra- tive and judicial systems were more or less futile; the disaffection of 88 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JEt. 21-22 Chap. XI officials iuid lawyers became more intense. In Paris alone the changes 1791 were introduced with some success, the municipahty being reaiTanged into forty-eight sections, each with a primary assembly. These were the bodies which later gave Buonaparte the opening whereby he entered his real career. The influence of the Jacobin Club increased, just in proportion as the majority of its members grew more radical. Necker trimmed to their demands, but lost popularity by his monotonous calls for money, and fell in September, reaching his home on Lake Leman only with the greatest difficulty. Mirabeau succeeded him as the sole possible prop to the tottering throne. Under his leadership the mod- erate monarchists, or Feuillants, as they were later called from the convent of that order to which they withdrew, seceded from the Jaco- bins, and before the Assembly had ceased its work the land was cleft in two, divided into opponents and adherents of monarchy. As if to insure the disasters of such an antagonism, the Assembly, which num- bered among its members every man in France of ripe political expe- rience, committed the incredible folly of self-effacement, voting that not one of its members should be ehgible to the legislature about to be chosen. A new impulse to the revolutionary movement was given by the death of Mirabeau on April second, 1791. His obsequies were cele- brated in many places, and, being a native of Provence, there were probably solemn ceremonies at Valence. There is a tradition that they occiuTed during Buonaparte's second residence in the city, and that it was he who superintended the draping of the choir in the principal church. It is said that the hangings were aiTanged to represent a fu- nerary urn, and that beneath, in conspicuous letters, ran the legend: "Behold what remains of the French Lycm-gus." Mu-abeau had in- deed displayed a genius for pohtics, his scheme for a strong ministry, chosen from the Assembly, standing in bold relief against the feeble- ness of Necker in persuading Louis to accept the suspensive veto, and to choose his cabinet without relation to the party in power. When the mad dissipation of the statesman's youth demanded its penalty at the hoiu- so critical for France, the King and the moderates alike lost coiu-age. In June the worried and worn-out monarch determined that the game was not worth the playing, and on the twenty-first he fled. Though he was captui-ed, and brought back to act the impossible role of a democratic prince, the patriots who had wished to advance with DltAWINU WADK KDR THK CKNTUKY CO. BONAPARTE PAWNING HIS WATCH FROM THE DRAWtSO BT ERIC PAPE Bounienne, his early I'riend and companion in Parid, relates thia incident JEt. 21-22] THE REVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY 89 experience and tradition as guides were utterly discredited. All the chap. xi world could see how pusillanimous was the royalty they had wished to i79i preserve, and the masses made up their mind that, real or nominal, the institution was not only useless, but dangerous. TMs feeling was strong in the Rhone valley and the adjoining districts, which, have ever been the home of extreme radicalism. Sympathy with Corsica and the Corsicans had long been active in southeastern France. Neither the island nor its people were felt to be strange. When a society for the defense of the constitution was formed in Valence, Buonaparte, though a Corsican, was at first secretary, then president, of the as- sociation. The "Friends of the Constitution" grew daily more numerous, more powerful, and more radical in that city ; and when the great solemnity of swearing allegiance to the new order was to be celebrated, it was chosen as a convenient and siutable place for a convention of twenty- two similar associations fi'om the neighboring districts. The meeting took place on July third, 1791 ; the official administration of the oath to the civil, military, judicial, and ecclesiastical authorities occmTed on the fourteenth. Before a vast altar erected on the di-ill-groimd, in the pres- ence of all the dignitaries, with cannon booming and the an- resound- ing with shouts and patriotic songs, the officials in groups, the people in mass, swore with uplifted hands to sustain the constitution, to obey the National Assembly, and to die, if need be, in defending French territory against invasion. Scenes as impressive and dramatic as this occurred all over France. They appealed powerfully to the imagination of the nation, and profoundly influenced pubHc opinion. " Until then," said Buonaparte, refen-ing to the solemnity, "I doubt not that if I had received orders to turn my guns against the people, habit, prejudice, education, and the King's name would have induced me to obey. With the taking of the national oath it became otherwise ; my instincts and my duty were thenceforth in harmony." But the position of liberal officers was still most trying. In the streets and among the people they were in a congenial atmosphere ; be- hind the closed doors of the drawing-rooms, in the society of ladies, and among their fellows in the mess, there were constraint and suspicion. Out of doors aU was exultation ; in the houses of the hitherto privileged classes all was sadness and uncertainty. But everywhere, indoors or out, was spreading the fear of war, if not civil at least foreign war, with the 90 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt. 21-22 Chap. XI French emigrants as the allies of the assailants. On this point Buona- 1791 parte was mistaken. As late as July twenty-seventh, 1791, he wrote to Naudin, an intimate friend who was chief of the mihtary bureau at Auxonne : " Will there he war? No; Europe is divided between sover- eigns who rule over men and those who rule over cattle and horses. The former understand the Revolution, and are terrified ; they would gladly make personal sacrifices to annihilate it, but they dare not lift the mask for fear the fire should break out in then- own houses. See the history of England, Holland, etc. Those who bear the rule over horses misunderstand and cannot grasp the bearing of the constitution. They think this chaos of incoherent ideas means an end of French power. You would suppose, to hsten to them, that our brave patriots were about to cut one another's throats, and with their blood purge the land of the ciimes committed against kings." The news contained in this letter is most interesting. There are accounts of the zeal and spirit eveiywhere shown by the democratic patriots, of a petition for the trial of the King sent up from the recent meeting at Valence, and an assur- ance by the writer that his regiment is " sure," except as to half the officers. He adds in a postscript : " Southern blood courses in my veins as swiftly as the Rhone. Pardon me if you feel distressed in reading my scrawl." Restlessness is the habit of the agitator, and Buonaparte's tem- perament was not exceptional. His movements and pm-poses during the months of July and August are very uncertain in the absence of documentaiy evidence sufficient to determine them. But his earhest biographers, following what was in their time a comparatively short tradition, enable us to fix some things with a high degree of probabihty. The young radical had been but two months with his new command when he began to long for change; the fever of excitement and the discomfort of his life, with probably some inkhng that a Corsican national guard woidd ere long be organized, awakened in him a pui-pose to be off once more, and accordingly he applied for leave of absence. His colonel, a very lukewarm constitutionahst, angry at the notoriety which his Heutenant was acquiring, had already sent in a complaint of Buonaparte's insubordinate spirit and of his inattention to duty. Standing on a formal right, he therefore refused the apphca- tion. With the quick resource of a schemer, Buonaparte turned to a higher authority, his friend Duteil, who was inspector-general of artU- ^T. 21-22] THE REVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY Ql lery in the clepai-tmont and not unfavorable. Something, however, chap. xi must have occuiTed to cause delay, for weeks passed and the desired i79i leave was not gi'anted. While awaiting a decision the applicant was very uneasy. To friends he said that he would soon bo in Paris ; to his great-uncle he wrote, " Send me three hundred livres ; that sum would take me to Paris. There, at least, a person can show himself, overcome obstacles. Everything tells me that I shall succeed there. Will you stop me for lack of a hundred crowns I " And again : " I am waiting impatiently for the six crowns my mother owes mo ; I need them sadly." These demands for money met with no response. The explanation of Buona- parte's impatience is simple enough. One by one the provincial socie- ties which had been formed to support the constitution were affiliating themselves with the influential Jacobins at Paris, who were now the strongest single pohtical power in the country. He was the recognized leader of their sympathizers in the Rhone valley. He evidently in- tended to go to headquarters and see for himself what the outlook was. With backers such as he thus hoped to find, some advantage, perhaps even the long-desu-ed command in Corsica, might be secured. It was rare good fortune that the young hotspm- was not yet to be cast into the seething caldi'on of French pohtics. The time was not yet ripe for the exercise of his powers. The storming of the Bastille had symbohzed the overthrow of privilege and absolute monarchy; the flight of the King presaged the overthrow of monarchy, absolute or otherwise. The executive gone, the legislatui'e popular and demo- cratic but ignorant how to administer or conduct affairs, the judiciary equally disorganized, and the army transforming itself into a patriotic organization — was there more to come? Yes. Thus far, in spite of well-meant attempts to substitute new constructions for the old, all had been disintegration. French society was to be reorganized only after fui'ther pulverizing ; cohesion would begin only under pressure from without — a pressure apphed by the threats of eiTatic royalists that they would bring in the foreign powers to coerce and arbitrate, by the active demonstrations of the emigrants, by the outbreak of foreign wars. These were the events about to take place; they would in the end evolve from the chaos of mob rule fii'st the irreg- ular and temporary dictatorship of the Convention, then the tyranny of the Directory ; at the same time they would infuse a fervor of pa- 92 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21-22 Ceap. XI triotism into the whole mass of the French nation, stunned, helpless, 1791 and leaderless, but loyal, brave, and vigorous. In such a crisis the peo- ple would tolerate, if not demand, a leader strong to exact respect for France and to enforce his commands ; would prefer the vigorous mas- tery of one to the feeble misrule of the many or the few. 8tiU fiuiher, the man was as unready as the time ; for it was, in aU probabihty, not as a Frenchman but as an ever true Corsican patriot that Buonaparte wished to " show himself, overcome obstacles " at this conjuncture. On August fourth, 1791, the National Assembly at last decided to form a paid volunteer national guard of a hundred thousand men, and their decision became a law on August twelfth. The term of enhst- ment was a year ; four battalions were to be raised in Corsica. Buona- parte heard of the decision on August tenth, and was convinced that the hour for reahzing his long-cherished aspirations had finally struck. He could cei-tamly have done much ia Paris to secure office in a French-Corsican national guard, and with this in miad he immediately wi'ote a memorandum on the armament of the new force, addressing it, with characteristic assurance, to the Minister of War. When, how- ever, three weeks later, on August thu-tieth, 1791, a leave of absence anived, to which he was entitled in the course of routine, and which was not granted by the favor of any one, he had abandoned aU idea of service under France ia the Corsican guard. The disorder of the times was such that while retaining office ia the French army he could test ia an independent Corsican command the possibihty of chmbiag to leadership there before abandoning his present subordinate place ia France. In view, apparently, of this new ventiu*e, he had for some time been taking advances fi'om the regimental paymaster, imtil he had now in hand a considerable sum — two hundi-ed and ninety livres, A formal announcement to the authorities might have elicited embar- rassing questions fi-om them, so he and Louis quietly departed without explanations, leaving for the second time debts of considerable amoimt. They reached Ajaccio on September sixth, 1791. Napoleon was not actually a deserter, but he had in contemplation a step toward the defiance of French authority — the acceptance of service in a Corsican mihtary force. f ?f. \'-9^^ i^ ; fi < u 00 O rf^^ O < 'O z 00 OJ < z CHAPTEE XII BONAPAETE THE COKSICAN JACOBIN Bonapaete's Coesioan Pateiotism — His Position in His Family — CoEsiCAN Politics — His Position in the Jacobin Club of Ajac- cio — His Failuee as a Contestant foe Liteeaey Honoes — Appointed Adjutant- Gteneeal — His Attitude towaed Feance — His New Ambitions — Use of Violence — Lieutenant-Colonel of Volunteees — Politics in Ajaccio — Bonapaete's First Ex- peeience of Steeet Waefaee — His ISIanifesto — Dismissed to Paeis — His Plans — The Position of Louis XVI. — Bonapaete's Delinquencies — Disoeganization in the Aemy — Petition foe Reinstatement — The Maeseillais — Bonapaete a Spectatoe — His Estimate of Feance — His Peesence at the Scenes of Au- gust Tenth — State of Paeis. THIS was the thii'd time in four years that Buonaparte had re- chap. xn visited his home. On the plea of iU health he had been able the 1791-92 first time to remain a year and two months, giving full play to his Cor- sican patriotism and his own ambitions by attendance at Orezza, and by pohtical agitation among the people. The second time he had re- mained a year and four months, retaining his hold on his commission by subterfuges and irregularities which, though condoned, had strained his relations with the ministry of war in Paris. He had openly defied the royal authority, relying on the coming storm for the concealment of his conduct if it should prove reprehensible, or for preferment in his own country if Corsica should secure her hberties. There is no rea- son, therefore, to suppose that his intentions for the thu'd visit were different from those displayed in the other two, although again sohci- tude for his family was doubtless one of many considerations. 13 93 94 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 22 Chap. XII Diu-ing Napoleon's absence from Corsica the condition of his family 1791^92 had not materially changed. Soon after his arrival the old archdeacon died, and his httle fortune fell to the Buonapartes. Joseph, failing shortly afterward in his plan of being elected deputy to the French legislatiu'e, was chosen a member of the Corsican directory. He was, therefore, forced to occupy himself entirely with his new duties and to Uve at Corte. Fesch, as the eldest male, the mother's brother, and a priest at that, expected to assume the direction of the family affairs. But he was doomed to speedy disenchantment : thenceforward Napo- leon was the family dictator. In conjunction with his uncle he used the whole or a considerable portion of the archdeacon's savings for the pm'chase of several estates from the national domain, as the seques- trated lands of the monasteries were called. Eendered thus more self- imporiant, he talked much in the home circle concerning the greatness of classical antiquity, and wondered "who would not willingly have been stabbed, if only he could have been Csesar? One feeble ray of his glory would be an ample recompense for sudden death." Such chances for Ceesarism as the island of Corsica afforded were very rapidly becoming better. During the last few months reUgious agitation had been steadily increasing. Pious Cathohcs were embittered by the virtual expulsion of the old clergy, and the induction to office of new priests who had swom to uphold the constitution. Amid the disorders of administra- tion the people in ever larger numbers had secui'ed arms ; as of yore, they appeared at their assemblies under the guidance of their chiefs, ready to fight at a moment's notice. It was but a step to violence, and without any other provocation than religious exasperation the towns- folk of Bastia had lately sought to kill their new bishop. Even Arena, who had so recently seized the town in Paoh's interest, was now re- garded as a French radical, maltreated, and banished with his sup- porters to Italy. The new election was at hand ; the contest between the Paolists and the extreme French party grew hotter and hotter. Deputies to the new assembly, and superior officers of the new guard, were to be elected. Buonaparte, being only a heutenant of the regu- lars, could according to the law aspire no higher than an appointment as adjutant-major with the title and pay of captain. It was not worth while to lose his place in France for this, so he determined to stand for one of the higher elective offices, that of heutenant-colo- ^T. 22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 95 nel, a position which would give him more power, and, under the Chap. xii latest legislation, entitle him to retain his gi*ade in the regular army. i7yi-92 There were now two pohtical clubs in Ajaccio : that of the Corsi- can Jacobins, countiy people for the most part ; and that of the Cor- sican Feuillants, composed of the officials and townsfolk. Buonaparte became a moving spirit in the former, and determined at any cost to desti'oy the influence of the latter. The two previous attempts to secure Ajaccio for the radicals had failed: a third was already under consideration. The new leader began to garnish his language with those fine and specious phrases which thenceforth were never wanting in his utterances at revolutionary crises. " Law," he wrote about this time, " is like those statues of some of the gods which are veiled under certain cu'cumstances." For a few weeks there was Uttle or nothing to do in the way of electioneering at home ; he therefore obtained permission to travel with the famous Volney, who had been chosen director of commerce and manufactures in the island. This journey was for a candidate like Buonaparte invaluable as a means of observation and of winning friends for his cause. Before the close of this trip his fiu*lough had expu'ed, his regiment had been put on a war footing, and orders had been issued for the return of every officer to his post by Chi-istmas day. But in the ex- ecution of his fijxed purpose the young Corsican patriot was heedless of military obligations to France, and vnlfully remained absent from duty. Once more the spell of a wild, free life was upon him ; he was enlisted for the campaign, though without position or money to back him. The essay on happiness which he had presented to the Academy of Lyons had failed, as a matter of course, to win the prize, one of the judges pronouncing it " too badly arranged, too imeven, too discon- nected, and too badly written to deserve attention." This decision was a double blow, for it was announced about this time, at a moment when fame and money would both have been most welcome. The scanty income from the lands purchased with the legacy of the old arch- deacon remained the only resource of the family for the lavish hos- pitality which, according to immemorial, semi-barbarous tradition, was required of a Corsican candidate. A peremptory order was now issued from Paris that those officers of the line who had been serving in the National Guard Avith a grade lower than that of heutenant-colonel should return to regnilar ser- 96 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 22 Chap. XII vice before April first, 1792. Here was an implication which might 179T-92 be tm-ned to account. As a lieutenant on leave, Buonaparte should of course have returned on December twenty-fifth ; if, however, he were an of&cer of volunteers he could plead the new order. Though as yet the recruits had not come in, and no companies had been formed, the mere idea was sufficient to suggest a means for saving appearances. An appointment as adjutant-major was sohcited from the major-general in command of the department, and he, under authorization obtained in due time from Paris, granted it. Safe from the charge of desertion thus far, it was essential for his reputation and for his ambition that Buona- parte shoidd be elected lieutenant-colonel. Success would enable him to plead that his first lapse in discipline was due to irregular orders from his superior, that anyhow he had been an adjutant-major, and that finally the position of lieutenant-colonel gave him immunity from pimishment, and left him blameless. He nevei-theless was imeasy, and wrote two letters of a cm-ious character to his friend Sucy, the commissioner-general at Valence. In the first, written five weeks after the expiration of his leave, he calmly reports himself, and gives an account of his occupations, men- tioning incidentally that unforeseen circumstances, duties the dearest and most sacred, had prevented his return. In the second he plumply declares that in perilous times the post of a good Corsican is at home, that therefore he had thought of resigning, but his friends had ar- ranged the middle course of appointing him adjutant-major in the volunteers so that he could make his duty as a soldier conform to his duty as a patriot. Asking for news of what is going on in France, he says, writing Uke an outsider, " If your nation loses courage at this moment, it is done with forever." It was toward the end of March that the volunteers from the moun- tains began to appear in Ajaccio for the election of their officers. Napoleon had bitter and powerful rivals, but his recent trip had ap- parently enabled him to win many friends among the men. While, therefore, success was possible by that means, there was another in- fluence almost as powerful — that of three commissioners appointed by the directory of the island to organize and equip the battahon. With skiKul diplomacy Buonaparte agreed that he would not presume to be a candidate for the office of first lieutenant-colonel, which was to go to Peretti, a near friend of Paoli, but would seek the position of second AOUAnF.I.I.E M\UE KOll THE CENTrRV CO. T^nor.rAM RE coi'jjoii, vvi\in.i.\ iV no. paiu^. BONAPARTE IN 1 792 AS A FREQUENTER OF A SIX-SOUS RESTAURANT IN PARIS. tnOM Tilt AtJLAI-.tlLLt: liV LIllC PAPE. ^T. 22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 97 lieutenant-colonel. In this way he was assured of good will from two chap. xu of the three commissioners; the other was hostile, being a partizan 1791-92 of Peraldi, the rival candidate. Peretti himself declared in favor of a nobody, his brother-in-law, Qucnza. The election, as usual in Corsica, seems to have passed in turbulence and noisy violence. The third commissioner, living as a guest with Peraldi, was seized during the night preceding the election by a body of Buonaparte's fiiends, and put under lock and key in their candidate's house — "to make you entirely free; you were not free where you were," said the instigator of the stroke, when called to explain. To the use of fine phrases was now added a facility in employing violence at a pinch which likewise remained characteristic of Buonaparte's career down to the end. There is a story that in one of the scuffles incident to this brawl a member of Pozzo di Borgo's family was thrown down and trampled on. Be that as it may, Buonaparte was successful, and from that moment the families of Peraldi and of Pozzo di Borgo were his deadly enemies. As it tiu-ned out, the insignificant Quenza, and not Peretti, was chosen first heutenant-colonel. Buonaparte, therefore, was in virtual command of a stui-dy, well-armed, legal force. Having been adjutant- major, and being now a regularly elected heutenant-colonel according to statute, he appUed, with a well-calculated effrontery, to his regi- mental paymaster for the pay which had accrued during his absence. It was at first refused, for in the interval he had been cashiered for re- maining at home in disobedience to orders ; but such were the in'egu- larities of that revolutionaiy time that later, virtual deserter as he had been, it was actually paid. No one was more adroit than Buonaparte in taking advantage of possibilities. He was a pluralist without con- science. A French regular if the emergency should demand it, he was hkewise a Corsican patriot and commander in the volunteer guard of the island, fully equipped for another move. Perhaps, at last, he could assume with success the hberator's role of Sampiero. But an oppor- tunity must occur or be created. One was easily arranged. Ajaccio had gradually become a resort for many ardent Roman Cathohcs who had refused to accept the new order. The town authori- ties, although there were some extreme radicals among them, were, on the whole, in sympathy with these conservatives. Thi'ough the devices of his friends in the city government, Buonaparte's battahon, the second, gg LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt.22, Chap, xu was on 0116 pretext or another assembled in and around the town, 179T-92 Thereupon, according to the most probable account, which is supported by Buonaparte's own story, a demand was made that according to the recent ecclesiastical legislation of the National Assembly, the Capuchin monks, who had been so far undisturbed, should evacuate their friary. Feehng ran so high that the other volunteer companies were sum- moned; they arrived on April first. At once the pubUc order was jeopardized: on one extreme were the religious fanatics, on the other the political agitators, both of whom were loud with threats and ready for violence. In the middle, between two fires, was the mass of the people, who sympathized with the ecclesiastics, but wanted peace at any hazard. Quarrehng began first between individuals of the various factions, but it soon residted in confiicts between civilians and the volimteer guard. The first step taken by the military was to seize and occupy the cloister, which lay just below the citadel, the final goal of theu' leader, whoever he was, and the townsfolk believed it was Buona- parte. Once inside the citadel walls, the Corsicans in the regular French service would, it was hoped, fraternize with their kin; with such a beginning all the garrison might in time be won over. This further exasperated the ultramontanes, and on Easter day, April eighth, they made demonstrations so serious that the scheming commander — Buonaparte again, it was believed — found the much de- sired pretext to interfere ; there was a melee, and one of the militia officers was killed. Next morning the burghers found their town beset by the volunteers. Good citizens kept to their houses, while the acting mayor and the council were assembled to authorize an attack on the citadel. The authorities could not agree, and dispersed; the following forenoon it was discovered that the acting mayor and his sympathizers had taken refuge in the citadel. From the vantage of this stronghold they proposed to settle the difficulty by the arbitration of a board com- posed of two from each side, under the presidency of the commandant. There was again no agreement. Worn out at last by the haggling and delay, an officer of the garri- son finally ordered the militia officers to withdraw their forces. By the advice of some determined radical — Buonaparte again in all i^robability — the latter fiatly refused, and the night was spent in preparation for a conflict which seemed inevitable. But early in the morning the com- missioners of the department, who had been sent by Paoli to preserve ^T.22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 99 the peace, arrived in a body. They were welcomed gladly ])y the chap. xii majority of the people, and, after hearing the case, dismissed the hat- 1791-92 talion of volunteers to various posts in the surrounding countiy. Pub- lic opinion immediately turned against Buonaparte, convinced as the populace was that he was the author of the entire disturbance. The commander of the garrison was embittered, and sent a report to the war department displaying the young officer's behavior in the most unfavorable hght. Buonaparte's defense was contaiaed in a manifesto which made the citizens still more furious by its declaration that the whole civic structui-e of theu' town was worthless, and should have been overthrown. The aged Paoh found his situation more trying with every day. Under a constitutional monarchy, such as he had admired and studied in England, such as he even yet hoped for and expected in France, he had believed his own land might find a virtual autonomy. With riot and disorder in every town, it would not be long before the absolute disquahfication of his countrymen for self-government would be proved and the French administration restored. For his present purpose, therefore, the peace must be kept, and Buonaparte, upon whom, whether justly or not, the blame for these recent broils rested, must be removed elsewhere, if possible ; but as the troublesome youth was the son of an old friend and the head of a still influential family, it must be done without offense. The government at Paris might be pacified if the ab- sentee officer were restored to his post ; with Quenza in command of the volimteers there would be little danger of a second outbreak in Ajaccio. It was more than easy, therefore, for the discredited revolutionary, on condition that he should leave Corsica, to secure from the authori- ties the papers necessary to put himself and his actions in the most fa- vorable hght. Buonaparte armed himself accordingly with an authen- ticated certificate as to the posts he had held, and the period during which he had held them, and wdth another as to his "civism" — the phrase used at that time to designate the quahty of friendliness to the Revolution. The former seems to have been fi-amed according to his own statements, and was speciously deceptive. Valence, where the roy- alist colonel regarded him as a deserter, was of course closed, and in Paris alone could the necessary steps be taken to secure restoration to rank with back pay, or rather the reversal of the whole record as it then 100 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 22 Chap, xh stood on the regimental books. For this reason he likewise secured 179T-92 letters of introduction to the leading Corsicans in the French capital, and, boiTowing money for the journey, sailed from Bastia on May second, 1792. The outlook might have disheartened a weaker man. Peraldi, the Corsican deputy, was a brother of the defeated rival; Paoli's displeasure was only too manifest; the bitter hate of a large element in Ajaccio was unconcealed. Rejected by Corsica, would France receive him? Would not the few French friends he had be likewise ahenated by these last escapades 1 Could the formal record of regimental offenses be expunged? In any event, how shght the prospect of success in the great mad capital, amid the convulsive thi-oes of a nation's disorders ! But in the last consideration lay his only chance : the nation's dis- order was to supply the remedy for Buonaparte's irregularities. The King had refused his sanction to the secularization of the estates which had once been held by the emigrants and recusant ecclesiastics; the Jacobins retorted by open hostihty to the monarchy. The plotting of noble and princely refugees with various royal and other schemers two years before had been a crime against the King and the constitutional- ists, for it jeopardized their last chance for existence, even their very hves. Within so short a time what had been criminal in the emigi-ants had seemingly become the only means of self-preservation for their in- tended victim. His constitutional supporters recognized that, in the adoption of tliis course by the King, the last hope of a peaceful solution to their awful problem had disappeared. It was now certain and gen- erally known that Louis himself was iu negotiation with the foreign sovereigns; to thwart his plans and avert the consequences it was essential that open hostilities against his secret aUies should be begun. Consequently, on April twentieth, 1792, war had been declared against Austria by influence of the King's friends. The populace, awed by the armies thus called out, were at first silently defiant, an attitude which changed to open fury when the defeat of the French troops in the Aus- trian Netherlands was announced. The moderate repubhcans, or Girondists, as they were called fi'om the district where they were strongest, were now the mediating party; their leader, Roland, was summoned to form a ministiy and appease this popular rage. It was one of his colleagues who had examined the complaint against Buonaparte received fi'om the commander of the IN TIIK MrSEUM OF AJACCIO, COBSICA THE YOUNG NAPOLEON VROM A MAHBLK BUST BY AN UNKNOWN SCULPTOB iET. 22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN IQI garrison at Ajaccio. According to a strict interpretation of the chap. xn military code there was scarcely a ciime which Buonapai-te had not 1791-92 committed : desertion, disobedience, tampering, attack on constituted authority, and abuse of oflBcial power. The minister reported the conduct of both Quenza and Buonaparte as most reprehensible, and declared that if their oifense had been piu'ely mihtary he would have court-martialed them. Learning first at Marseilles that war had broken out, and that the companies of his regiment were dispersed to various camps for active service, Buonapai'te hastened northward. A new passion, which was indicative of the freshly awakened patriotism, had taken possession of the popular fancy. Where the year before the cuiTcnt and universal phrase had been " federation," the talk was now all for the " nation." It might well be so. Before the traveler arrived at his destination fur- ther disaster had overtaken the French army, one whole regiment had deserted under arms to the enemy, and individual soldiers were escap- ing by hundreds. The of&cers of the Fourth Artillery were resigning and running away in about equal numbers. Consternation ruled su- preme, treason and imbecility were everywhere charged against the authorities. War within, war without, and the army in a state of col- lapse ! The emigrant princes would return, and France be sold to a bondage tenfold more galling than that from which she was struggling to free herself. When Buonaparte reached Paris on May twenty-eighth, 1792, there was a poor outlook for a supphant, banknipt ui funds and nearly so in reputation ; but he was undaunted, and his apphcation for reinstate- ment in the artillery was made without the loss of a moment. A new minister of war had been appointed but a few days before, — there were six changes in that office during as many months, — and the assis- tant now id charge of the artillery seemed favorable to the request. For a moment he thought of restoring the supphant to his position, but events were marching too swiftly, and demands more urgent jos- tled aside the claims of an obscm'e heutenant with a shady character. Buonaparte at once grasped the fact that he could win his cause only by patience or by importunity, and began to consider how he should arrange for a prolonged stay in the capital. His scanty resources were already exhausted, but he found Bourrienne, a former school-fellow at Brienne, in equal straits, waiting hke himself for something to turn 11 202 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 22 Chap, xn up. Over their meals in a cheap restaurant on the Rue St. Honore 179T-92 they discussed various means of gaining a livehhood, and seriously- contemplated a partnership in subletting furnished rooms. But Bour- rienne very quickly obtained the post of secretary in the embassy at Stuttgart, so that his comrade was left to make his struggle alone by pawning what few articles of value he possessed. The days and weeks were full of incidents terrible and suggestive in their nature. The Assembly dismissed the King's body-guard on May twenty-ninth ; on June thirteenth, the Grirondists were removed fi'om the ministry; within a few days it was known at court that Prussia had taken the field as an ally of Austria, and on the seventeenth a conserva- tive, Feuillant cabinet was formed. Three days later the popular insur- rection began, on the twenty-sixth the news of the coaUtion was an- noiinced, and on the twenty-eighth Lafayette endeavored to stay the tide of fmious discontent which was now rising in the Assembly. But it was as ruthless as that of the ocean, and on July eleventh the coimtry was declared in danger. There was, however, a temporary check to the rush, a moment of repose in which the King, on the fom'teenth, cele- brated among his people the fall of the Bastille. But an address from the local assembly at Marseilles had arrived, demanding the dethrone- ment of Louis and the aboUtion of the monarchy. Such was the im- patience of that city that, without waiting for the logical effect of theu' declaration, its inhabitants determined to make a demonstration in Paris. On the thirtieth a deputation five hundi-ed strong arrived before the capital. On August third, they entered the city singing the im- mortal song which bears their name, but which was wiitten at Strasburg by an officer of engineers, Rouget de Lisle. The southern fire of the newcomers kindled again the flame of Parisian sedition, and the radi- cals fanned it. At last, on August tenth, the conflagration burst forth in an uprising such as had not yet been seen of all that was outcast and lawless in the great town; with them consorted the discontented and the envious, the giddy and the frivolous, the curious and the fickle, all the unstable elements of society. This time the King was unnerved ; in de- spau" he fled for asylum to the chamber of the Assembly. That body, unsympathetic for him, but sensitive to the ragings of the mob without, found the fugitive imworthy of his ofiice. Before night the kingship was abohshed, and the royal family were imprisoned in the Temple. There is no proof that the young Corsican was at this time other ^T. 22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 103 than an interested spectator. We hear of him as visiting his sister chap. xn EHsa at St. Cyr, and in a letter written on June eighteenth he specu- 1791-92 lates on her fate, and on the chance of her nianying without a dot. In quiet times, the wards of St. Cyr received, on leaving, a dowry of three thousand Uvres, with three hundred more for an outfit ; but as matters then were, the establishment was breaking up and there were no funds for that pui-pose. Like the rest, the Corsican girl was soon to be stripped of her pretty uniform, the neat silk gown, the black gloves, and the dainty bronze shppers wliich Mme. de Maintenon had pi-eseribed for the noble damsels at that royal school. In another letter written four days later there is a graphic accoimt of the threatening demonstrations made by the rabble and a vivid description which indicates Napoleon's being present when the mob recoiled at the very door of the Tuileries before the calm and dignified courage of the King. There is even a story, told as of the time, by Bourrienne, a very doubtful authority, but probably invented later, of Buonaparte's openly expressing contempt for riots. "How could the King let the rascals in! He should have shot down a few hundred, and the rest would have run." This statement, like others made by Bourrienne, is to be received with the utmost caution. In a letter written about the beginning of July, probably to Lucien or possibly to Joseph, and evidently intended to be read in the Jacobin Club of Ajaccio, there are clear indications of its writer's temper. He speaks with judicious calmness of the project for educational reform ; of Lafayette's appearance before the Assembly, which had pronounced the country in danger and was now sitting in permanence, as perhaps necessary to prevent its taking an extreme and dangerous coiu-se ; of the French as no longer deserving the pains men took for them, since they were a people old and without continuity of coherence ; ^ of their leaders as poor creatures engaged in low plots; and of the damper which such a spectacle puts on ambition. Clearly the lesson of mod- 1 The rare and curious pamphlet entitled " Manu- powers of Europe. The republic made a new scrit de I'lle d'Elbe," attributed to Montholon and France by emancipating the Gauls from the rule probably published by Edward O'Meara, contains of the Franks. The people had raised their leader headings for ten chapters which were dictated by to the imperial throne in order to consolidate their Napoleon at Elba on February twenty-second, 1815. new interests: this was the fourth dynasty, etc., etc. The argument is: The Bourbons ascended the throne, The contemplated book was to work out in detail in the person of Henry IV., by conquering the so- this very conception of a nation as passing through called Holy League against the Protestants, and by successive phases : at the close of each it is worn the consent of the people ; a third dynasty thus fol- out, but a new rule regenerates it, throwing off lowed the second; then came the republic, and its the incrustations and giving room to the life within, succession was legitimated by victory, by the will It is interesting to note the genesis of Napoleon's of the people, and by the recognition of all the ideas and the pertinacity with which he held them. 104 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 22 Chap, xn eration which he inculcates is for the first time sincerely given. 1791-92 The preacher, according to his own judgment for the time being, is no Frenchman, no demagogue, nothing but a simple Corsican anxious to Hve far from the madness of mobs and the emptiness of so-called glory. It has been asserted that on the dreadful day of August tenth Buona- parte's assumed philosophy was laid aside, and that he was a mob leader at the bamcades. His own account of the matter does not bear this out. "I felt," said he, "as if I should have defended the King if called to do so. I was opposed to those who would found the repub- lic by means of the populace. Besides, I saw civilians attacking men in uniforms ; that gave me a shock." He said further in his reminis- cences that he viewed the entire scene from the windows of a furniture shop kept by Fauvelet, an old school friend. The impression left after reading his narrative of the frightful carnage before the Tuileries, of the indecencies committed by fi-enzied women at the close of the fight, of the mad excitement in the neighboring cafes, and of his own calm- ness throughout, is that he was in no way connected either with the actors or their deeds, except to shout " Hurrah for the nation ! " when simimoned to do so by a gang of ruffians who were parading the streets under the banner of a gory head elevated on a pike. The truth of his statements cannot be estabhshed by any collateral evidence. It is not likely that an ardent radical leader like Buonaparte, well known and influential in the Rhone vaUey, had remained a stranger to the Marseilles deputation. If the Duchesse d'Abrantes be worthy of any credence, he was very influential, and displayed great activity with the authorities during the seventh and eighth, running hither, thither, everywhere, to secure redress for an illegal domiciliary visit which her mother, Mme. Permon, had received on the seventh. But her testi- mony is of very httle value, such is her anxiety to establish an early intimacy with the great man of her time. Joseph, in his memoirs, de- clares that his brother was present at the conflict of August tenth, and that Napoleon wrote him at the time, " If Louis XVI. had appeared on horseback, he would have conquered." "After the victoiy of the Mar- seiUais," continues the passage quoted from the letter, " I saw a man about to kiU a soldier of the guard. I said to him, ' Southron, let us spare the unfortunate ! ' 'Art thou from the South?' 'Yes.' 'WeU, then, we will spare him.' " Moreover, it is a fact that Santerre, the notorious leader of the mob on that day, was three years later, on the r > n > a w PC 2 ^T.22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 105 thirteenth of Vendemiaire, most useful to Buonaparte; that though de- Chap. xii graded from the office of general to which he was appointed in the 179^92 revolutionary army, he was in 1800 restored to his rank by the First Consul. All this is consistent with Napoleon's assertion, but it proves nothing conclusively; and there is certainly ground for suspicion when we reflect that these events were ultimately decisive of Buonaparte's fortimes. The Feuillant ministry fell with the King, and an executive council composed of radicals took its place. For one single day Paris reeled hke a di-unkard, but on the next the shops were open again. On the following Sunday the opera was packed at a benefit performance for the widows and orphans of those who had fallen in victoiy. A few days later Lafayette, as commander of the armies in the North, issued a pronunciamento against the popular excesses. He even arrested the commissioners of the Assembly who were sent to supplant him and take the ultimate direction of the campaign. But he quickly found that his old prestige was gone ; he had not kept pace with the mad rush of popidar opinion ; neither in person nor as the sometime commander of the National Guard had he any longer the shghtest influence. Im- peached and declared an outlaw, he lost his balance like the King, and fled for refuge into the possessions of Liege. The Austrians violated the sanctuary of neutral territory, and captured him, exactly as Napo- leon at a later day violated the neutrality of Baden in the case of the Due d'Enghien. On August twenty-third the strong place of Longwy was delivered into the hands of the Prassians, the capitulation being due, as was claimed, to treachery among the French officers. CHAPTER XIII bonapaete the french jacobin Reinstatement and Peomotion — Fuether Solicitation — Napoleon AND Elisa — Occupations in Paeis — Retuen to Ajaccio — Disoe- DERS IN Corsica — Bonapaete a Feench Jacobin — Expedition AGAINST SaEDINIA — COUESE OF FeENCH AfFAIES — PaOLI'S CHANGED Attitude — Esteangement of Bonapaete and Paoli — Mischances IN THE PeEPAEATIONS AGAINST SaEDINIA — FaILUEE OF THE FeENCH Detachment — Bonapaete and the Fiasco of the Coesican De- tachment — Fuethee Developments in Feance — England's Pol- icy — Paoli in Dangee — Denounced and Summoned to Paeis. Chap, xm fT^HE Committee to which Buonaparte's request for reinstatement was 1792-93 JL referred made a report on June twenty-first, 1792, exonerating him from blame. The reasons given were evidently based on the rep- resentations of the suppUant himself, first that Duteil, the inspector, had given him permission to sail for Corsica in time to avoid the equi- nox, a distorted truth, and second that the Corsican authorities had certified to his civism, his good conduct, and his constant presence at home during his irregular absence from the army, a truthful statement, but incomplete, since no mention was made of the disgraceful Easter riots at Ajaccio and of Buonaparte's share in them. On July tenth the Minister of War adopted the committee's report, and this fact was announced in a letter addressed by him to Captain Buonaparte ! A formal report in his favor was drawn up on August twentieth. On the thirtieth he was completely reinstated, or rather his record was entirely sponged out and consigned, as was hoped, to obUvion ; for his captain's commission was dated back to February sixth, 1792, the day on which his promotion would have occuri'ed in due course if he 106 ^T.23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN IQT had been present in full standing with his regiment. His arrears for chap. xiii that rank were to be paid in full. 1792-93 Such success was intoxicating. Monge, the great mathematician, had been his master at the mihtary school in Paris, and was now min- ister of the navy. True to his natm-e, with the carelessness of an ad- venturer and the effrontery of a gambler, the newly fledged captain promptly put in an application for a position as heutenant-colonel of artillery in the sea service. The authoi-ities must have thought the petition a joke, for the paper was pigeonholed, and has been found marked S. R., that is, sans reponse — without reply. Probably it was written in earnest, the motive being possibly an invincible distaste for the regiment in which he had been disgraced, which was still in com- mand of a colonel who was not disposed to leniency. An easy excuse for shu-king duty and returning to the old habits of a Corsican agitator was at hand. The events of August tenth settled the fate of all monarchical institutions, even those which were partly charitable. Among other royal foundations suppressed by the Assem- bly on August eighteenth was that of St. Cyr, formally styled the Estabhshment of St. Louis. The date fixed for closing was just sub- sequent to Buonaparte's promotion, and the pupils were then to be dismissed. Each beneficiary was to receive a mileage of one livre for every league she had to traverse. Three hundred and fifty-two was the sum due to Elisa. Some one must escort an unprotected girl on the long journey; no one was so suitable as her elder brother and natural protector. Accordingly, on September first, the brother and sister ap- peared before the proper authorities to apply for the traveling allow- ance of the latter. Whatever other accompHshments Mile, de Buona- parte had learned at the school of St. Loius, she was still as deficient in writing and spelling as her brother. The formal requisitions wiitten by both are still extant ; they would infuriate any conscientious teacher in a primary school. But they suf&ced ; the money was paid on the next day, and that night the brother and sister lodged in the Holland Pa- triots' Hotel in Paris, where they appear to have remained for a week. This is the statement of an early biographer, and appears to be borne out by an autogi-aph letter of Napoleon's, recently found, in which he says he left Paris on a date which, although the figure is blurred, seems to be the ninth. Some days would be necessar}^ for the new captain to procure a fui-ther leave of absence. Judging from 108 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 Chap. XIII subsequent events, it is possible that he was also seeking further ac- i792"-93 quaintance and favor with the influential Jacobins of Paris. During the days from the second to the seventh more than a thousand of the royahsts confined in the prisons of Paris were massacred. It seems incredible that a man of Napoleon's temperament should have seen and known nothing of the riotous events connected with such bloodshed. Yet nowhere does he hint that he had any personal knowledge. It is possible that he left earher than is generally supposed, but it is not likely in view of the known dates of his journey. In any case he did not seriously compromise himself, doing at the most nothing further than to make plans for the future. It may have become clear to him, for it was true and he behaved accordingly, that France was not yet ready for him, nor he for France. It is, moreover, a strong indication of Buonaparte's interest in the French Revolution being purely tentative that as soon as the desired leave was granted, probably in the second week of September, without waiting for the aU-important fifteen hundred hvres of aiTears, now due him, but not paid until a month later, he and his sister set out for home. They traveled by dihgence to Lyons, and thence by the Rhone to Marseilles. During the few hours' halt of the boat at Valence, Napoleon's friends, among them some of his creditors, who apparently bore him no grudge, waited on him with kindly manifes- tations of interest. His former landlady, Mme. Bou, although her bill had been but insignificantly diminished by payments on account, brought as her gift a basket of the fruit in which the neighborhood abounds at that season. The regiment was no longer there, the greater portion, with the colonel, being now on the northeastern frontier under Dmnouriez, facing the victorious legions of Prussia and Austria. On the fourteenth the travelers were at Marseilles, next day they sailed for Corsica, and on the seventeenth Buonaparte was once more in his home, no longer so confident, perhaps, of a career among his own people, but determined to make another effort. It was his fourth return. Lucien and Fesch were leaders in the radical club; Joseph was at his post ; Louis, as usual, was disengaged and idle ; Mme. Buo- naparte and the yoimger childi-en were well ; he himseK was of course triumphantly vindicated by his promotion. The ready money from the fortune of the old archdeacon was long since exhausted, to be sure ; but the excellent vineyards, mulberry plantations, and gardens of the IN TBK MP8E0M OP VERSAILLES JEANNE-MARIE-IGNACE-THERESE DE CABARRUS MADAME TALLIEN ; TUK PAINTING BY KKAN^OIS 0£raR1> ^T. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 109 family properties were still productive, and Napoleon's private pui'se chap. xui would soon be replenished by the quartennaster of his regiment. 1792-93 The course of affairs in France had materially changed the aspect of Corsican poUtics ; the situation was, if anything, more favorable for a revolutionary venture than ever before. SaUcetti had come back to Corsica after the adjom-nment of the Constituent Assembly with many new ideas which he had gathered fi'om observing the conduct of the Paris commune, and these he unsparingly disseminated among his sympathizers. They proved to be apt scholars, and quickly caught the tricks of demagogism, bribery, coiTuption, and malversation of the pubhc funds. He had returned to France before Buonaparte arrived, as a member of the newly elected legislatm-e, but his evil influence survived his departui-e, and his Meutenants were ubiquitous and active. Paoli had been rendered helpless, and was sunk in despair. He was now commander-in-chief of the regular troops in ganison, but it was a position to which he had been appointed against his will, for it weak- ened his influence with his own party. Pozzo di Borgo, his stanch supporter and Buonaparte's enemy, was attorney-general in Sahcetti's stead. As Paoli was at the same time general of the volimteer guard, the entire power of the islands, mihtary and civil, was in his hands : but the responsibility for good order was likewise his, and the people were, if anything, more imruly than ever; for it was to their minds illogical that their idol should exercise such supreme power, not as a Corsican, but in the name of France. The composition of the two chief parties had therefore changed materially, and although their respective views were modifled to a certain extent, they were more embittered than ever against each other. Buonaparte could not be neutral ; his nature and his surroundings forbade it. His first step was to resume his command in the volim- teers, and, under pretext of inspecting then* posts, to make a journey through the island ; his second was to go through the form of seeking a reconciUation with Paoh. In the clubs, among his fiiends and sub- ordinates at the various military stations, his talk was loud and imperi- ous, his manner haughty and assuming. A letter written by him at the time to Costa, one of the militia Meutenants and a thorough Cor- sican, explains that the writer is detained from going to Bonifacio by an order from the general (PaoU) to come to Corte ; he will, however, hasten to his post at the head of the volunteers on the very next day. 110 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [.Et. 23 Chap, xhi and there will be an end to all disorder and irregularity. " Greet our 1797-93 fi'iends, and assure them of my desire to further their interests." The epistle was written in ItaUan, but that fact signifies little in comparison with the new tone used in speaking about France : " The enemy has abandoned Verdun and Longwy, and recrossed the river to return home, but om- people are not asleep." Lucien added a postscript ex- plaining that he had sent a pamphlet to his dear Costa, as to a friend, not as to a co-worker, for that he had been unwilling to be. Both the brothers seem already to have considered the possibility of abandoning Corsica. No sooner had war been declared against Austria in April, than it became evident that the powers whose territories bordered on those of France had previously reached an agi-eement, and were about to form a coahtion in order to make the war general. The Austrian Netherlands, what we now know as Belgium, were already saturated with the revo- lutionary spirit. It was not probable that much annoyance would come from that quarter. Spain, Prussia, and HoUand would, how- ever, surely join the alliance ; and if the ItaUan principahties, with the kingdom of Sardinia, should take the same course, France would be in dire straits. It was therefore suggested in the Assembly that a blow should be stnick at the house of Savoy, in order to awe both that and the other courts of Italy into inactivity. The idea of an attack on Sardinia for this purpose originated in Corsica, but among the friends of Sahcetti, and it was he who lu^ged the scheme success- fully. In order to secure Paoh's influence not only in his own island, but in Sardinia, where he was hkewise well known and admired, the ministers forced upon him the unwelcome appointment of lieutenant- general in the regular army, and his friend Peraldi was sent to prepare a fleet at Toulon. The events of August tenth put an end for the time being to con- stitutional government in France. The commissioners of the Paris sections supplanted the municipal council, and Danton, climbing to power as the representative " plain man," became momentarily the pre- siding genius of the new Jacobin commune, which was soon able to usurp the supreme control of France. A caU was issued for the elec- tion by manhood suffrage of a National Convention, and a committee of surveillance was appointed with the bloodthii-sty Marat as its motive power. At the instigation of this committee large numbers of royahsts. ^T.23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN m constitutionalists, and others suspected of holding kindred doctrines, chap. xiii were thrown into prison. The Assembly went through the foi-m of 1792-93 confirming the new despotism, including both the commune of the sec- tions and a Jacobin ministry in which Danton held the portfolio of justice. It then dispersed. On September second began that general clearance of the jails under mock forms of justice to which reference has been made. It was really a massacre, and lasted, as has been said, for five days. Versailles, Lyons, Meaux, Kheims, and Orleans were similarly " purified." Amid these scenes the immaculate Robespierre, whose hands were not soiled with the blood spilled on August tenth, appeared as the calm statesman controlling the wild vagaries of the rough and impulsive but unselfish and uncalculating Danton. These two, with PhiUp Egahte and Collet d'Herbois, were among those elected to represent Paris in the Convention. That body met on September twenty-first. As they sat in the amphitheater of the Assembly, the Girondists, or moderate republicans, who were in a strong majority, were on the right of the president's chair. High up on the extreme left were the Jacobins, or " Mountain " ; between were placed those timid trimmers who were called the "Plain" and the "Marsh" accord- ing to the degree of their democratic sentiments. The members were, of course, without exception republicans. The first act of the Conven- tion was to abohsh the monarchy, and to declare France a republic. The next was to establish an executive council. It was decreed that September twenty-second, 1792, was the "first day of the year I of the repubhc." Under the leadership of Brissot and Roland the Gu-on- dists asserted then* power as the majority, endeavoruig to restore order in Paris, and to bridle the extreme Jacobins. But notwithstanding its right views and its numbers, the Girondist party displayed no sagacity ; before the year I was three months old, the unscrupidous Jacobins, with the aid of the Paris commune, had reasserted their supremacy. The declaration of the repul)hc only hastened the execution of SaH- cetti's plan regarding Sardinia, and the Convention was more energetic than the Assembly had been. The fleet was made ready, troops from Prance were to be embarked at ViUefranche, and a force composed in part of regulars, in part of mihtia, was to be equipped in Corsica and to sail thence to join the main expedition. Buonaparte's old battahon was among those that were selected fi-om the Corsican volimteers. From the outset Paoli had been unfriendly to the scheme ; its sup- 122 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 Chap, xni porters, whose zeal far outran their means, were not his friends. 1792-93 Nevertheless, he was in supreme command of both regulars and volun- teers, and the government having authorized the expedition, the neees- saiy orders had to be issued thi'ough him as the only channel of authority. Buonaparte's reappearance among his men had been of course m-egular. Being now a captain of artillery in the Fourth Regiment, on active service and in the receipt of full pay, he could no longer legally be a lieutenant-colonel of volunteers, a position which had also been made one of emolimient. But he was not a man to stand on sUght formaUties, and had evidently determined to seize both horns of the dilemma. Paoh, as a French official, of course could not listen for an instant to such a preposterous notion. But as a patriot anxious to keep aU the influence he could, and as a family friend of the Buonapartes, he was unwilling to order the yoimg captain back to his post in France, as he might well have done. The interview between the two men at Corte was, therefore, indecisive. The older was benignant but firm in refusing his formal consent; the younger pretended to be indignant that he could not secure his rights : it is said that he even threatened to denounce in Paris the anti-nationaUst attitude of his former hero. So it happened that Buonaparte returned to Ajaccio with a permissive authorization, and, welcomed by his men, assumed a command to which he could have no claim, while Paoli shut his eyes to an act of flagrant insubordination. Paoh saw that Buonaparte was UTevocably committed to revolutionary France; Buonaparte was convinced, or pre- tended to be, that Paoh was again leaning toward an Enghsh protec- torate. French imperiahst writers hint without the shghtest basis of proof that both Paoh and Pozzo di Borgo were in the pay of England. Many have beheved, in the same gratuitous manner, that there was a plot among members of the French party to give Buonaparte the chance, by means of the Sardinian expedition, to seize the chief com- mand at least of the Corsican troops, and thus eventually to supplant Paoh. If this conjectm'e be true, Paoh either knew nothing of the conspu-acy, or behaved as he did because his own plans were not yet ripe. The di-ama of his own personal perplexities, cross-purposes, and ever false positions was rapidly mo\^ng to an end ; the logic of events was too strong for the upright but perplexed old patriot, and a scene or two would soon complete the final act of his pubhc career. ^T. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 113 The plan for invading Sardinia was over-complex and too nicely ad- Chap, xni justed. One portion of the fleet was to skirt the Italian shores, make 1792-93 demonstrations in the various harbors, and demand in one of them — that of Naples — public reparation for an insult ah'eady offered to the new French flag, which displayed the three colors of hberty. The other portion was first to embark the Corsican guards and French troops at Ajaccio, then to unite with the former in the Bay of Palma, whence both were to proceed against Cagliari. But the French soldiers to be taken from the Ai'my of the Var under Greneral Anselme were in fact non-existent; the only mihtary force to be found was a portion of the Marseilles national guard — mere boys, unequipped, untrained, and inexperienced. Winds and waves, too, were adverse : two of the vessels were wrecked, and one was disabled. The rest were badly demoralized, and their crews became unruly. On the arrival of the ships at Ajaccio, a party of roistering sailors went ashore, affiliated immediately with the French soldiers of the garrison, and in the rough horse-play of such occasions picked a quarrel with certain of the Corsican mihtia, killing two of then- number. The character of the islanders showed itself at once in further violence and the fiercest threats. The tumult was finally allayed, but it was perfectly clear that for Corsicans and MarseiHais to be embarked on the same vessel was to invite mutiny, riot, and bloodshed. Buonaparte thought he saw his way to an independent command, and at once proposed what was manifestly the only alternative — a separate Corsican expedition. The French fleet accordingly embarked the garrison troops, and proceeded on its way ; the Corsicans remained ashore, and Buonaparte with them. Scenes hke that at Ajaccio were repeated in the harbor of St. Florent, and the attack on Caghari by the French failed, partly, as might be supposed, from the poor equipment of the fleet and the wretched quahty of the men, partly because the two flotillas, or what was left of them, failed to effect a jimction at the appointed place and time. When they did unite, it was Februaiy fourteenth, 1793 ; the men were ill fed and mutinous ; the troops that landed to storm the place fell into a panic, and would actually have surrendered if the officers had not quickly reembarked them. The costly enterprise met with but a single success : Naples was cowed, and the court promised neutrahty, with reparation for the insult to the tricolor. ]^]^4 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 Chap. XIII The Corsican expedition was quite as ill-starred as the French. 179T-93 Paoli accepted Buonaparte's plan, but appointed his nephew, Colonna- Cesari, to lead, with instructions to see that, if possible, " this unfortu- nate expedition shall end in smoke." The disappointed but stubborn young aspirant remained in his subordinate place as an officer of the second battahon of the Corsican national guard. It was a month before the volunteers could be equipped and a French corvette with her attendant feluccas could be made ready to sail. On February twentieth, 1793, the vessels were finally armed, manned, and pro- visioned. The destination of the flotilla was the Magdalena Islands, one of which is Caprera, since renowned as the home of Garibaldi. The troops embarked and put to sea. Almost at once the wind fell ; there was a two days' cahn, and the ships reached their destination with diminished supphes and dispirited crews. The first attack, made on St. Stephen, was successful. Buonaparte and his gims were then landed on that spot to bombard, across a narrow strait, Magdalena, the chief town on the main island. The enemy's fire was soon silenced, and nothing remained but for the corvette to work slowly round the intervening island of Caprera, and take possession. The vessel had suf- fered shghtlyfrom the enemy's fire, two of her crew having been killed. On the pretense that a mutiny was imminent, Colonna-Cesari declared that cooperation between the sloop and the shore batteries was no longer possible ; the artillery and their commander were reembarked only with the utmost difficulty; the unlucky expedition returned on February twenty-seventh to Bonifacio. Both Buonaparte and Quenza were enraged with Paoli's nephew, declaring him to have acted traitor- ously. It is significant of the utter anarchy then prevaihng that no- body was piuiished for the disgraceful fiasco. Buonaparte, on landing, at once bade farewell to his volunteers. When he entered Ajaccio, on March third, he found that he was no longer, even by assumption, a heutenant-colonel; for dm-ing his short absence the whole Corsican guard had been disbanded to make way for two battahons of light in- fantry whose officers were to be appointed by the directory of the island. Strange news now greeted his ears. Much of what had occurred since his departure from Paris he already knew. France having de- stroyed root and branch the tyranny of feudal privileges, the whole social edifice was slack in every joint, and there was no strong hand to -i m > H H t- m O ■n m S 2 > -o m i z ' m 3 > : ^ I s s o S ' ► CD s m O z o < m 3 m o\ ~-4 ^T. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOIUN HO tighten the bolts; for the King, in dallying with foreign courts, hiid ohap. xiii virtually deserted his people. The monarchy had therefore fallen, hut 1792-93 not until its friends had resorted to the expedient of a foreign war as a prop to its fortunes. The early victories won l>y Austria and Prussia had stung the nation to madness. Robesi)ien'e and Danton having become dictators, all moderate policy was echpsed. The executive council of the Convention, determined to appease the nation, gathered their strength in one vigorous effort, and put three great armies in the field. On November sixth, 1792, to the amazement of the world, Dumouriez won the battle of Jemmapes, thus conquering the Austrian Netherlands as far north as Liege. The Scheldt, which had been closed since 1648 through the influence of England and Holland, was reopened, trade resumed its natural channel, and, in the exuberance of popular joy, measures were taken for the immediate establishment of a Belgian repubUc. The other two armies, under Custine and Keller- mann, were less successful. The former, having occupied Frankfort, was driven back to the Rhine ; the latter defeated the Allies at Valmy, but failed in the task of coming to Custine's support at the proper moment for combined action. Meantime the agitation in Paris had taken the form of personal animosity to " Louis Capet," as the leaders of the disordered populace called the King. In November he was sum- moned to the bar of the Convention and questioned. When it came to the consideration of an actual trial, the Girondists, wilhng to save the prisoner's life, claimed that the Convention had no jurisdiction, and must appeal to the sovereign people for authorization. The Jacobins insisted on the sovereign power of the Convention, Robespierre protest- ing in the name of the people against an appeal to the people. Sup- ported by the noisy outcries not only of the Parisian populace, but of their followers elsewhere, the radicals prevailed. By a vote of three hundred and sixty-six to thi-ee hundred and fifty-five the verdict of death was pronounced on January seventeenth, 1793, and four days later the sentence was executed. This act was a defiance to all monarchs, or, in other words, to all Europe. The younger Pitt was at this juncture prime m i n ister of England. Like the majority of his countrymen, he had mildly approved the course of the French Revolution down to 1789 ; with them in the same way his opinions had since that time undergone a change. By the aid of Burke's biased but masterful eloquence the Enghsh people were 216 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt. 23 Chap, xui gradually convinced that Jacobinism, violence, and crime were the 179T-93 essence of the movement, constitutional reform but a specious pretext. Between 1789 and 1792 there was a rising tide of adverse public senti- ment so swift and strong that Pitt was unable to follow it. By the execution of Louis the English moderates were silenced; the news was received with a cry of horror, and the nation demanded war. Were kings' heads to fall, and repubhcan ideas, supported by repubh- can armies, to spread like a conilagi'ation ? The stiU monarchical lib- erals of England could give no answer to the case of Louis or to the instance of Belgium, and were stunned. The Enghsh anti-Jacobins became as fanatical as the French Jacobins. Pitt could not resist the torrent. Yet in his extreme necessity he saw his chance for a double stroke : to throw the blame for the war on France, and to consolidate once more his nearly vanished power in Parhament. With masterly adroitness France was tempted into a declaration of war against Eng- land. Enthusiasm raged in Paris like fire among dry stubble. France, if so it must be, against the world ! Liberty and equahty her religion ! The land a camp ! The entire people an army ! Three hundred thou- sand men to be selected, equipped, and drilled at once ! Nothing indicates that Buonaparte was in any way moved by the ter- rible massacres of September, or even by the news of Louis's unmerited fate. But the declaration of war was a novelty which must have deeply interested him; for what was Paoh now to do? From gratitude to England he had repeatedly and earnestly declared that he could never take up arms against her. He was already a Heutenant-general in the service of her enemy, his division was assigned to the feeble and disorganized Army of Italy, which was nominally being equipped for active service, and the leadership, so ran the news received at Ajaccio, had been conferred on the Corsican director. The fact was that the radicals of the Convention had long been aware of the old patriot's devotion to constitutional monarchy, and now saw their way to be rid of so dangerous a foe. Three successive commanders of that army had ah'eady found disgrace in then* attempts with inadequate means to dis- lodge the Sardinian troops from the moimtain passes of the Maritime Alps. Mindful, therefore, of their fate, and of his obhgations to Eng- land, Paoli firmly refused the proffered honor. Suspicion as to the existence of an English party in the island had early been awakened among the members of the Mountain ; for half the Corsican delegation H W O a w O H w bd bd n ^T. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 117 to the Convention had opposed the sentence passed on the King. chap. xiii When the ill-starred Sardinian expedition reached Toulon, the blame of 1792-93 failure was laid by the Jacobins on PaoU's shoulders. SaUcetti, who was now a real power among the leaders at Paris, felt that he must hasten to his department in order to forestall events, if possible, and keep together the remnants of sympathy with France ; he was appointed one of a commission to enforce in the island the de- crees of the Convention. The commission was well received and the feehng against France was being rapidly allayed when, most unex- pectedly, fatal news arrived from Paris. In the preceding November Lucien Buonaparte had made the acquaintance in Ajaccio of Huguet de Semonville, who was on his way to Constantinople as a special envoy of the provisory council then in charge of the Paris administration. The ambassador was recalled to the mainland on February second, 1793, and took his new-found friend with him as secretary or useful man. Both were firm Jacobins, and the master having failed in making any im- pression on Paoh dui-ing his Corsican sojourn, the man took revenge by denouncing the lieutenant-general as a traitor before a political meeting in Toulon. An address calumniating the Corsican leader in the most excited terms was sent to the deputy of the department in Paris. The news of the defection of Dumouriez had just amved, pubhc opinion was inflamed, and on April second PaoU, who seemed likely to be a sec- ond Dumouriez, was summoned to appear before the Convention. For a moment he became again the most popular man in Corsica. He had always retained many warm personal friends even among the radicals; the royalists were now forever alienated fi-om a government which had killed their king ; the church could no longer expect protection when impious men were in power. These three elements united immediately with the Paohsts to protest against the arbitrary act of the Convention. Even in that land of confusion there was a degree of chaos hitherto unequaled. CHAPTER XIV a jacobin hejiea The Waning op Bonaparte's Patriotism — Alliance with Salicetti — Another Scheme por Leadership — Failure to Seize the Citadel op Ajaccio — Second Plan — Paoli's Attitude toward THE Con^t:ntion — Bonaparte Finally Discredited in Corsica — Paoli Turns to England — Plans op the Bonaparte F amply — Their Arrival in Toulon — Napoleon's Chaeacter — His Cor- sicAN Career — Lessons of his Failures — His Ability, Situation, AND Experience. Chap. XIV X^LTONAPARTE was for an instant among the most zealous of 1793 _Lf Paoli's supporters, and, taking up his ever-ready pen, he wrote two impassioned papers whose respective tenors it is not easy to reconcile : one an appeal to the Convention in Paoh's behalf, the other a demand addressed to the municipahty of Ajaccio that the people should renew their- oath of allegiance to France. The captain's French regiment had ah-eady been some five months in active service. If his passion had been only for mihtary glory, that was to be found nowhere so certainly as in its ranks, where he should have been. But his passion for poUti- cal reno^vTi was clearly far stronger. Where could it be so easily grati- fied as in Corsica under the present conditions ? The personahty of the young adventiu'er had for a long time been cimously double : but while he had successfully retained the position of a French officer in France, his identity as a Corsican patriot had been nearly obhterated in Corsica by his constant quan*els and repeated failures. Having become a French radical, he had been forced into a certain antagonism to Paoh and had thereby jeopardized both his fortunes and his career as far as they were dependent on Corsican support. But with Paoli under the ban of the Convention, and suspected of connivance with English U8 -iEt. 23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 119 schemes, there might be a revulsion of feehng and a chance to make chap. xtv French influence paramount once more in the ishuid iindcr the leader- noa ship of the Buonapartes and their fi-iends. For the inoiiM'ut Napoleon preserved the outward semblance of the Corsican patriot, but he seems to have been weary at heart of the thankless role and entirely ready to exchange it for another. Whatever may have been his plan or the principles of his conduct, it appears as if the decisive step now to be taken had no relation to either plan or principles, but that it was forced upon him by a chance development of events which he could not have foreseen, and which he was utterly unable to control. It is unknown whether SaUcetti or he made the first advances in coming to an understanding for mutual support, or when that under- standing was reached, but it existed as early as January, 1793, a fact conclusively shown by a letter of the former dated early in that month. It was April fifth when Salicetti reached Corsica ; the news of Paoh's denunciation by the Convention anived, as has been said, on the seven- teenth. Seeing how nicely adjusted the scales of local pohtics were, the deputy was eager to secure favor fi'om Paris, and wi'ote on the sixteenth an account of how warmly his commission had been received. Next day the blow of Paoli's condemnation fell, and it became plain that compromise was no longer possible. When even the Buonapartes were supporting Paoh, the reconcihation of the island with France was clearly impracticable. SaUcetti did not hesitate, but as between Paoli and Corsica with no career on the one side, and the possibihties of a great career imder France on the other, quickly chose the latter. The same considerations weighed with Buonaparte, he followed his patron, and as a reward was appointed by the French commission inspector- general of artillery for Corsica. SaUcetti had gi'anted what PaoU would not : Buonaparte was free to strike his blow for Corsican leadership. With swift and decisive mea- STires the last scene in his Corsican adventures was arranged. Several great guns which had been saved from a war-ship wrecked in the har- bor were lying on the shore unmounted. The inspector-general hypo- critically declared that they were a temptation to insm"gents and a menace to the public peace ; they should be stored in the citadel. His plan was to seize the moment when the heavy pieces were passing the drawbridge, and at the head of his foUowers to take possession of the stronghold he had so long coveted, and so often failed to captm-e. If 120 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 Chap, xrv he could hold it for the Convention, a career in Corsica would be at 1793 last assured. But again he was doomed to disappointment. The former garrison had been composed of French soldiers. On the failure of the Sardinian expedition most of these had been landed at Toulon, where they still were. The present one was largely made up of islanders, although some French infantry and the French gunners were still there; the new commander was a Paolist who refused to be hoodwinked, and would not act without an authorization from his general-in-chief. The value of the seizm-e depended on its promptness. In order to secure a suffi- cient number of faithful followers Buonaparte started on foot for Bastia to consult the commission. Learning that he was already a suspect at Corte and in danger of arrest, he turned on his steps only to be con- fronted at Bocognano by a band of Peraldi's followers. Two shepherds fi'om his own estate found a place of concealment for him in a house belonging to their friends, and he passed a day in hiding, escaping after nightfall to Ucciani, whence he returned to Ajaccio in safety. Thwarted in one notion, Buonaparte then proposed to the followers he already had two alternatives : to erect a barricade behind which the guns could be mounted and trained on the citadel, or, easier still, to carry one of the pieces to some spot before the main entrance and then batter in the gate. Neither scheme was considered feasible, and it was determined to secure by bribes, if possible, the cooperation of a portion of the garrison. The attempt failed through the integrity of a single man, and is interesting only as having been Napoleon's first lesson in an art which was thenceforward an unfaihng resource. Rumors of these proceedings soon reached Paoh, and Buonaparte was summoned to report immediately at Corte. Such was the intensity of popular bitter- ness against him in Ajaccio for his desertion of Paoli that he was com- pelled, after seeking in vain a safe refuge, to flee in disguise to Bastia, which he reached on May tenth, 1793. A desu-e for revenge on his Corsican persecutors would now give an additional stimulus to Buonaparte, and stUl another device to secure the passionately desired citadel of Ajaccio was proposed by him to the commissioners of the Convention, and adopted by them. The remnants of a Swiss regiment stationed near by were to be marched into the city, as if for embarkment; several French war vessels from the harbor of St. Florent, including one frigate, with troops, mimitions, and artillery on J IN THE i 1.1. LAZARE-NICOLAS-MARGUERITE CARNOT WAR MINISTER OF FRANCE 1793-qs, POPULARLY CALLED "THE ORGANIZER OF VICTORY" intUU THE PAINTING BV X-EJEUNE ^T.23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 121 board, were to appear unexpectedly before the city, land their men cirAP. xiv and guns, and then, with the help of the Switzers and such of the citi- 1793 zens as espoused the French cause, were to overawe the town and seize the citadel. Corsican affairs had now reached a crisis, for this was a vu'tual declaration of war. Paoh so understood it, and measures of mutual defiance were at once taken by both sides. The French com- missioners formally deposed the officials who sympathized with Paoli ; they, in turn, took steps to increase the gamson of Ajaccio, and to strengthen the popular sentiment in their favor. On receipt of the news that he had been summoned to Paris and the hostile commissioners sent to take his place, Paoli immediately for- warded, by the hands of two friendly representatives, a temperate letter offering to resign and leave Corsica. His messengers were seized and temporarily detained, but in the end they reached Paris, and were kindly received. On May twenty-ninth they appeared on the floor of the Con- vention, and won their cause. On June fifth the former decree was re- voked, and two days later a new and friendly commission of two members started for Corsica. But at Aix they fell into the hands of a royahst mob, and were arrested. Ignorant of these favorable events, and the untoward circumstances by which their effect was thwarted, the disheai-tened statesman had written and forwarded on May fourteenth a second letter, of the same tenor as the first. This measm'e Hkewise had failed of effect, for the messenger had been stopped at Bastia, now the focus of Salicetti's influence, and the letter had never reached its destination. It was probably in this interval that Paoh finally adopted, as a last desperate resort, the hitherto hazy idea of putting the island under Enghsh protection, in order to maintain himself in the mission to which he felt that Providence had called him. The actual departure of Napo- leon's expedition fi'om St. Florent gave the final impulse. That event so inflamed the passions of the conservative party in Ajaccio that the whole Buonaparte family was compelled to fly from their home for safety, leaving their small estates to be ravaged and their slender re- sources to be destroyed, while then' partizans were proscribed or im- prisoned. They finally foimd a temporary asylum with a relative in Calvi. The attacking flotilla had been detained nearly a week by a storm, and reached Ajaccio on May twenty-ninth, in the very height of these turmoils. It was too late for any possibility of success. The few French troops on shore were cowed, and dared not show themselves ]^22 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 Chap. XIV when a party landed from the ships. On the contrary, Napoleon and his 1793 volunteers were received with a fire of musketry, and, after spending two anxious days in an outlying tower which they had seized and held, were glad to reembark and sail away. Their leader rejoined his family at Calvi. The Jacobin commission held a meeting, and determined to send Sahcetti to justify theu' course at Paris. He earned with him a wordy paper wiitten by Buonaparte in his worst style and spelling, setting forth the military and political situation in Corsica, and con- taining a bitter tirade against Paoh, which remains to lend some color to the charge that the writer had been, since his leader's return from exile, a spy and an informer, influenced by no high principle of patriot- ism, but only by a base ambition to supplant the aged president, and then to adopt whichever plan would best further his own interest : ready either to establish a vii-tual autonomy in his fatherland, or to de- liver it entirely into the hands of France. In this painful dociunent Buonaparte sets forth in fieiy phi-ase the early enthusiasm of republicans for the retmni of Paoh, and their disil- lusionment when he sm-rounded himself with venal men like Pozzo di Borgo, with relatives like his nephew Leonetti, with his vile creatures in general. The misfortunes of the Sardinian expedition, the disgrace- ful disorders of the island, the failure of the commissioners to secure Ajaccio, are all alike attributed to Paoh. " Can perfidy like this invade the hiunan heart? . . . What fatal ambition overmasters a graybeard of sixty-eight ? . . . On his face are goodness and gentleness, in his heart hate and vengeance ; he has an oily sensibility in his eyes, and gall in his soul, but neither character nor strength." These were the sentiments proper to a radical of the times, and they found acceptance among the leaders of that class in Paris. More moderate men did what they could to avert the impending breach, but in vaia. Corsica was far, communication slow, and the misimderstanding which oc- cuiTcd was consequently unavoidable. It was not until July first that Paoh received news of the pacificatory decrees passed by the Conven- tion more than a month before, and then it was too late ; groping ia the dark, and unable to get news, he had formed his judgment from what was going on in Corsica, and had therefore committed himself to a change of poHcy. To him, as to most thinking men, the entii'e struc- ture of France, social, financial, and pohtical, seemed rotten. Civil war had broken out in Vendee ; in Brittany the wildest excesses passed ^T. 23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 123 unpunished; the great cities of Marseilles, Toulon, and Lyons were Chap. xiv in a state of anarchy; the revolutionary tribunal had been estabhshed naa in Paris; the Committee of Pubhc Safety had usurped the supreme power ; the France to wliich he had inti-usted the fortunes of Corsica was no more. Ah-eady an agent was in communication with the Eng- lish diplomats ui Italy. On July tenth SaUcetti arrived in Paris; on the seventeenth Paoli was declared a traitor and an outlaw, and his friends were indicted for trial. But the Enghsh fleet was already in the Mediterranean, and although the British protectorate over Corsica was not estabhshed until the following year, in the interval the French and their few remaining sympathizers on the island were able at best to hold only the tkree towns of Bastia, St. Florent, and Calvi. After the last fiasco before the citadel of Ajaccio, the situation of the Buonapartes was momentarily desperate. Lucien says in his memou-s that shortly before his brother had spoken longingly of India, of the Enghsh empire as destined to spread with every year, and of the career which its expansion opened to good officers of artil- lery, who were scarce among the British — scarce enough everjrwhere, he thought. " If I ever choose that career," said he, " I hope you wiU hear of me. In a few years I shaU return thence a rich nabob, and bring fine dowries for om* three sisters." But the scheme was defeiTed and then abandoned. SaUcetti had arranged for his own return to Paris, where he would be safe. Napoleon felt that fiight was the only resort for him and his. Accordingly, on June eleventh, three days ear- Her than his patron, he and Joseph, accompanied by Fesch, embarked with their mother and the rest of the family, to join Lucien, who had remained at Toulon. The Jacobins of that city had received Lu- cien, as a Corsican sympathizer, with honor. Doubtless his family, homeless and destitute for then* devotion to the republic, would find encouragement and help until some favorable turn in affairs should restore their country to France, and reinstate them not only in their old possessions, but in such new dignities as would fitly reward their long and painfid devotion. Such, at least, appears to have been Napoleon's genei*al idea. He was provided with a legal cer- tificate that his family was one of importance and the richest in the department. The Convention had promised compensation to those who had suffered losses. As had been hoped, on their arrival the Buonapartes were treated 124 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [iEx. 23 Chap, xrv with every mark of distinction, and ample provision was made for 1793 their comfort. By act of the Convention, women and old men in such circumstances received seventy-five Uvres a month, infants forty- five hvi'es. Lads received simply a present of twenty-five livres. With the prehminary payment of one hundred and fifty livres, which they promptly received, the Buonapartes were better off than they had been at home. Lucien had appropriated Napoleon's certificate of birth in order to appear older than he was, and, having now developed into a fluent demagogue, was soon earning a small salaiy in the commissary department of the army. Fesch also found a comfortable berth in the same department. Joseph calmly displayed Napoleon's commission in the national guard as his own, and received a higher place with a bet- ter salary. The sovereignty of the Convention was everywhere acknow- ledged, their revolutionary courts were estabhshed far and wide, and their legations, clothed with dictatorial power, were acknowledged in every camp of the land as supreme, superior even to the commanders- in-chief. It was not exactly a time for further militaiy irregularities, and Napoleon, ai-med with a certificate from Sahcetti that his presence in Corsica for the past six months had been necessary, betook himself to the army headquarters at Nice, where a detachment of his regiment was stationed. When he arrived, no awkward questions were asked by the authori- ties. The town had but recently been captured, men were needed to hold it, and the Corsican refugee was promptly appointed captain of the shore battery. To casual observers he appeared perfectly content in this subordinate position. He still cherished the hope, it seems, that he might find some opportunity to lead a successful expedition against the little citadel of Ajaccio. Such a scheme, at all events, oc- cupied him intermittently for nearly two years, or imtil it was ban- ished forever by visions of a control far transcending the limits of his island home. Not that the outcast Buonaparte was any longer exclusively a Cor- sican. It is impossible to conceive of a lot more pitiful or a fate more obdurate than his so far had been. There was little hereditary moral- ity in his nature, and none had been inculcated by training ; he had nothing of what is called vital piety, nor even sincere superstition. A butt and an outcast at a French school under the old regime, he had imbibed a bitter hatred for the land indelibly associated with such ^T. 23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 125 haughty privileges for the rich and such contemptuous disdain for the chap. xiv poor. He had not even the consolation of having received an educa- 1793 tion. His nature revolted at the religious foi-malism of priestcraft; his mind turned in disgust from the scholastic husks of its superficial knowledge. What he had learned came from inhom capacity, from desultory reading, and from the untutored imaginings of his garden at Brienne, his cave at Ajaccio, or his barrack cliam})ers. What more plausible than that he should first turn to the land of his birth with some hope of happiness, usefulness, or even glory ! What more morti- fying than the revelation that in manhood he was too French for Corsica, as in boyhood he had been too Corsican for France ! The story of his reception and adventures in Corsica has no fascina- tion ; it is neither heroic nor satanic, but belongs to the dull and me- diocre reahsm which makes up so much of commonplace life. It is difficult to find even a thread of continuity in it : there may be one as to pui-pose ; there is none as to either conduct or theory. There is the passionate admii-ation of a southern nature for a hero as represented by the ideal Paoh. There is the equally southern quality of quick but transient hatred. The love of dramatic effect is shown at every tui-n, in the perfervid style of his writings, in the mock dignity of an edict issued from the grotto at Milleh, in the empty honors of a lieutenant- colonel without a real command, in the paltry style of an artilleiy inspector with no artillery but a few dismantled guns. But the most prominent characteristic of the young man was his shiftiness, in both the good and bad senses of the word. He woidd perish with mortification rather than fail in devising some expedient to meet every emergency ; he felt no hesitation in changing his point of view as experience destroyed an ideal or an unforeseen chance was to be seized and improved. Moreover, repeated failure did not dis- hearten him. Detesting gan'ison life, he neglected its duties, and en- dured punishment, but he secin-ed regular promotion; defeated again and again before the citadel of Ajaccio, each time he returned im dis- mayed to make a fresh trial under new auspices or in a new way. He was no spendthiift, but he had no scruples about money. He was proud in the headship of his family, and reckless as to how he should support them, or should secure their promotion. Solitary in his boyhood, he had become in his youth a companion and leader ; but his true friendships were not with his social equals, whom he despised, but 12Q LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 Chap. XIV with the lowly, whom he understood. Finally, here was a citizen of 1793 the world, a man without a country ; his birthright was gone, for Cor- sica repelled htm; France he hated, for she had never adopted him. He was almost without a profession, for he had neglected that of a soldier, and had failed both as an author and as a politician. He was apparently, too, without a single guiding principle ; the world had been a harsh stepmother, at whose knee he had neither learned the truth nor experienced kindness. He appears consistent in nothing Init in making the best of events as they occurred. So far he was a man neither much better nor much worse than the world in which he was born. He was quite as unscrupulous as those about him, but he was far greater than they in perspicacity, adroitness, adaptability, and per- sistence. During the period before his expulsion from Corsica these quahties of leadership were scarcely recognizable, but they existed. As yet, to all outwai'd appearance, the httle captain of artillery was the same shm, ill-proportioned, and rather insignificant youth ; but at twenty-three he had had the experience of a much greater age. Uncon- scious of his powers, he had dreamed many day-dreams, and had acquired a habit of boastful conversation in the family circle ; but, fully cognizant of the dangers incident to his place, and the unsettled conditions about him, he was cautious and reserved in the outside world. CHAPTER XV "the suppeb of beaucaiee" Revolutionaey Madness — Upkising of the Girondists — Convention Forces Before Avignon — Bonaparte's First Success in Arms — Its Effect Upon his Career — His Political Pajviphlet — The Genius it Displays — Accepted and Published by Authority — Seizure of Toulon by the Allies, IT was a tempestuous time in Provence when the Buonapartes ar- chap. xv rived at Toulon. Their movements during the first few months 1793 cannot be determined ; we only know that, after a short residence there, the family fled to Marseilles. Much, too, is obscure in regard even to Napoleon, soldier as he was. It seems as if this period of then' histoiy had been wilfnlly confused to conceal how intimate their connections with the Jacobins were. But the obscurity may also be due to the character of the times. Fleeing before the storms of Corsican revolu- tion, they were caught in the whh'lwind of French anarchy. The Gi- rondists, after involving the country in a desperate foreign warfare, had shown themselves incompetent to carry it on. They had, therefore, to give way before the Jacobins, who, by the exercise of a reckless despo- tism, were able to display an imparaUeled energy in its prosecution. Against their tyranny the moderate repubhcans and the royahsts outside of Paris now made common cause, and civil war broke out in many places, including Yendee, the Rhone vaUey, and the southeast of France. Montesquieu declares that honor is the distingtiishing character- istic of aristocracy: the emigrant aristocrats had been the first in France to throw honor and patriotism to the winds ; many of their class who remained went further, displaying in Vendee and elsewhere a Sa- tanic vindictiveness. This shameful poKcy colored the entire civil war, and the bitterness in attack and retahation that was shown in Mar- ]^28 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23-24 Chap. XV seilles, Lyons, Toulon, and elsewhere would have disgraced savages in 1703 a prehistoric age. The westward slopes of the Alps were occupied by an army desig- nated by that name, under the command of Kellermann ; farther south and east lay the Army of Italy, under Brunet. Both these armies were expected to draw their supphes from the fertile country behind them, and to cooperate against the troops of Savoy and Austria, who had oc- cupied the passes of lower Piedmont, and blocked the way into Lom- bardy. By this time the law for compulsory enhstment had been en- acted, but the general excitement and topsyturvy management incident to such rapid changes in government and society, having caused the failm'e of the Sardinian expedition, had also prevented recruiting or equipment in either of these two divisions of the army. The outbreak of open hostilities in all the lands immediately to the westward momen- tarily paralyzed their operations ; and when, shortly afterward, the Gri- rondists overpowered the Jacobins in Marseilles, the defection of that city made it difficult for the so-caUed regulars, the soldiers of the Con- vention, even to obtain subsistence and hold the territory they already occupied. The next move of the insurgent Girondists of Marseilles was in the direction of Paris, and by the first week of July they had reached Avi- gnon on their way to join forces with their equally successful fiiends at Lyons. With characteristic zeal, the Convention had created an army to meet them. The new force was put under the command of Carteaux, a civihau, but a man of energy. According to directions received fi-om Paris, he quickly advanced to cut the enemy in two by occupying the strategic point of Valence. This move was successfully made, Lyons was left to fight its own battle, and by the middle of July the general of the Convention was encamped before the waUs of Avignon. A few days later. Napoleon Buonaparte entered the camp, having arrived by devious ways, and after narrow escapes fi'om the enemy's hands. This time he was absent from his post on duty. The works and guns at Nice being inadequate and worthless, he had been sent to secure supphes from the stores of Avignon when it should be conquered. Such were the straits of the needy repubhcan general at Avignon that he immediately appointed his visitor to the command of a strong body of flying artillery. In the first subsequent move of the campaign Car- teaux received a check. But the insurgents were more and more dis- ^ I H m n O z i m m -i O ■n O r r- > z D ■.ill f V* ^T. 23-24] "THE SUPPER OF BEAUCAIRE" 129 mayed by the menacing attitude of the surrounding population, and on Chap. xv the twenty-fifth, in the very hour of victory, began their retreat. The 1793 road to Marseilles was thus clear, and the commander unwisely opened his lines to occupy the evacuated towns on his front. Buonaparte, whose battery did excellent service, advanced with the main army, but was ordered back to protect the rear by reorganizing and reconstructing the artillery park which had been dismantled in the assault. This first successful feat of arms made a profound impression on Buonaparte's mind, and led to the decision which settled his career. His spirits were still low, for he was suffering from a return of his old malarial trouble. Moreover, his family had already been driven from Toulon by the uprising of the hostile party, and were now dependent on charity ; the Corsican revolt against the Convention was virtually suc- cessful, and it was said that in the island the name of Buonaparte was considered as little less execrable than that of Buttafuoco. What must he do to get a decisive share in the sm-ging, rolhng tumult about him ? The visionary boy was transformed into the practical man. Frenchmen were fighting, and winning glory eveiywhere, and among the men who were reaping laurels were some whom he had known and even despised at Brienne — Sergeant Pichegru, for instance. Ideas which he had mo- mentarily entertained, — enlistment m the Russian army,^ service vdth England, a career in the Indies, the return of the nabob, — all such vi- sions were set aside forever, and an application was sent for a transfer from the Army of Italy to that of the Rhine. The suppression of the southern revolt would soon be accomphshed, and inactivity ensue ; but on the frontier of the north there was a warfare worthy of his powers, in which, if he could only attract the attention of the authorities, long service, rapid advancement, and lasting glory might all be secured. But what must be the first step to secure notoriety here and now ? How could that end be gained? The old instinct of authorship re- tm-ned irresistibly, and in the long intervals of easy duty at Avignon, where he remained to complete the task assigned to him, Buonaparte wrote the " Supper of Beaucau*e," his first hterary work of real abihty. As if by magic his style is utterly changed, being now concise, correct, and lucid. The opinions expressed are quite as thoroughly transformed, 1 The "Archive Russe" for 1866 states that in 1788 with a Russian fleet in the Mediterranean. The Napoleon Buonaparte applied for an engagement to statement may be true, and probably is, but there Zaborowski, Potemkin's lieutenant, who was then is no corroborative evidence to sustain it. 18 130 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23-24 Chap. XV and display not only a clear political judgment, but an almost startling 1793 military insight. The setting of this notable repast is based on an ac- tual experience, and is as follows : Five wayfarers — a native of Nimes, a manufacturer from MontpeUier, two merchants of Marseilles, and a soldier from Avignon — find themselves accidentaDy thrown together as table companions at an inn of Beaucaire, a httle city round about which the civil war is raging. The conversation at supper turns on the events occurring in the neighborhood. The soldier explains the cir- ciunstances connected with the recent capture of Avignon, attributing the flight of the insurgents to the inability of any except veteran troops to endure the uncertainties of a siege. One of the travelers from Mar- seilles thinks the success but temporary, and recapitulates the resources of the moderates. The soldier retorts in a long refutation of that opin- ion. As a politician he shows how the insurgents have placed them- selves in a false position by adopting extreme measures and alienating repubhcan sympathy; as a military man he explains the strategic weak- ness of their position, and the futility of their operations, utteiing many sententious phrases : " Self-conceit is the worst adviser " ; " Good four- and eight-pound cannon are as effective for field work as pieces of larger cahber, and are in many respects preferable to them" ; " It is an axiom of mihtary science that the army which remains behind its intrench- ments is beaten : experience and theory agree on this point." The conclusion of the conversation is a triumphant demonstration that the cause of the insurgents is already lost, an argument convicting them of really desu'ing not moderation, but a counter-revolution in their own interest, and of displaying a willingness to imitate the Vendeans, and call in foreign aid if necessary. In one remarkable passage the sol- dier grants that the Girondists may have been outlawed, imprisoned, and calumniated by the Mountain in its own selfish interest, but adds that the former " were lost without a civil war by means of which they could lay down the law to their enemies. It was for them your war was reaUy useful. Had they merited their early reputation they would have throv^m. down their arms before the constitution and sacrificed their own interests to the public weKare, It is easier to cite Decius than to imitate him. To-day they have shown themselves guilty of the worst possible crimes ; have, by their behavior, justified their proscrip- tion. The blood they have caused to flow has effaced the true services they had rendered." The MontpeUier manufacturer is of opinion ^T. 23-24] "THE SUPPER OF BEAUCAIRE" 13X that, whether this be true or no, the Convention now represents the Chap. xv nation, and to refuse obedience to it is rebellion and counter-re volu- 1793 tion. History knows no plainer statement that " might makes right " than this. At last, then, the leader had shown himself in seizing the salient elements of a complicated situation, and the man of affairs had found a style in which to express his clear-cut ideas. When the tide turns it rises without interruption. Buonaparte's pamphlet was scarcely written before its value was discerned; for at that moment anived one of those legations now representing the sovereignty of the Convention in every field of operations. This one was a most influential committee of three — Escudier, Ricord, and the younger brother of Robespierre. Accom- panying them was a commission charged to renew the commissary stores in Corsica for the few troops still holding out in that island. Sahcetti was at its head; the other member was Gasparin. Buona- parte, of course, found easy access to the favor of his compatriot Sali- cetti, and " The Supper of Beaucaire " was heard by the plenipoten- tiaries with attention. Its merit was immediately recognized both by Grasparin and by the younger Robespierre ; in a few days the pamphlet was published at the expense of the state. In the interval, while Buonaparte remained at Avignon, seciu-ing artillery suppUes and writing a pohtical pamphlet in support of the Jacobins, Carteaux had, on August twenty-fifth, 1793, taken Marseilles. The capture was celebrated by one of the bloodiest orgies of that honi- ble year. The Girondists of Toulon saw in the fate of those at Mar- seilles the lot apportioned to themselves. If the high contracting powers now banded against France had shown a sincere desire to quell Jacobin bestiality, they could on the first formation of the coahtion easily have seized Paris. Instead, Austria and Prussia had shown the most selfish apathy in that respect, huckstering with each other and with Russia for their respective shares of Poland, the booty they were about to seize. The intensity of the Jacobin movement did not rouse them until the majority of the French people, vaguely grasping the ele- ments of permanent value in the Revolution, and stung by foreign in- terference, ralhed around the only standard which was firmly upheld,— that of the Convention,— and enabled that body within an incredibly short space of time to put forth tremendous energy. Then England, terrified into panic, drove Pitt to take effective measiu-es, and displayed 132 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23-24 Chap. XV her resouTces in raising subsidies for her Continental allies, in goading 1793 the German powers to activity, in scouring every sea with her fleets. One of these was cruising off the French coast in the Mediterranean, and it was easy for the Girondists of Toulon to induce its commander to seize not only their splendid arsenals, but the fleet in their harbor as ■^ell — the only effective one, in fact, which at that time the French possessed. Without delay or hesitation. Hood, the English admiral, gi-asped the easy prize, and before long war-ships of the Spaniards, Neapohtans, and Sardinians were gathered to share in the defense of the town against the Convention forces. Soon the Girondist fugitives from Marseilles anived, and were received with kindness. The place was provisioned, the gates were shut, and every preparation for desper- ate resistance was completed. CHAPTER XVI TOULON The Jacobin Power Theeatened — Bonapaete's Fate — His Ap- pointment AT Toulon — His Ability as an Artillerist — His Name Mentioned with Distinction — His Plan of Operations — The Fall of Toulon — Bonaparte a General of Brigade — Be- havior OP the Jacobin Victors — A Coesican Plot — Horrors OF THE French Revolution. COUPLED as it was with other discouraging circumstances, the chap. x^t " treason of Toulon " stmck a staggering blow at the Convention. I'os The siege of Lyons was still in progress ; the Piedmontese were enter- ing Savoy, or the department of Mont Blanc, as it had been designated after its recent capture by Prance; the great city of Bordeaux was ominously silent and inactive ; the royahsts of Vendee were temporarily victorious ; there was unrest in Normandy, and f ui'ther violence in Brit- tany; the towns of Mainz, Valenciennes, and Conde had been evacuated, and Dunkirk was besieged by the Duke of York. The loss of Toulon would put a climax to such disasters, destroy the credit of the republic abroad and at home, perhaps bring back the Bourbons. Camot had in the mean time come to the assistance of the Committee of Safety. Great as a mihtary organizer and influential as a pohtician, he had already awakened the whole land to a still higher fervor, and had con- sohdated pul^lic sentiment in favor of his plans. In Dubois de Crance he had an able lieutenant. Fourteen armies were soon to move and fight, directed by a single mind ; discipline was about to be effectively strengthened because it was to be the discipline of the people by itself ; the envoys of the Convention were to go to and fro, successfully labor- ing for common action and common enthusiasm in the executive, in both the fighting services, and in the nation. But as yet none of these 133 234 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mi. 24 Chap. XVI miracles had been wrought, and, with Toulon lost, they might he 1793 forever impossible. For a few days after the pubhcation of his httle book Buonaparte had a relapse uito his queer, restless, wandering ways. He may have been on some secret confidential mission, as has been sometimes hinted, but nothing appears to show it. During August and early September he is said to have been at Valence, at Lyons, at Auxonne, and at Paris. He had evidently been thwarted in his plan of securing a position ia the Army of the Rhine, or even of obtaining promotion in the one to which he already belonged. When finally he started to join the Army of Italy, somewhere on the road his destiny overtook him. According to the most probable account he was at Marseilles, where he had halted to visit his mother and sisters. There a compatriot, Cervoni, found him, and suggested that he should go to Toulon, whither the army of Carteaux had been ordered. With apparent hesitancy, and only after much persuasion, the disappointed suppliant consented to serve with his new-found friends for the siege. It was probably the twelfth of September when he arrived at the post where he was to lay the first solid foundation of his future renown. The city of Toulon was now formally and nominally invested — that is, according to the then accepted general rules for such operations, but with no regard to those pecuharities of its site which only master minds could mark and use to the best advantage. The large double bay is protected from the southwest by a broad peninsula joined to the mainland by a very narrow isthmus, and thus opens southeastward to the Mediterranean. The great fortified city hes far within on the east- em shore of the inner harbor. It is protected on the landward side by an amphitheater of high hiUs, which leave to the right and left a nar- row strip of roUing country between their lower slopes and the sea. The westward pass is commanded by OUioules, which Carteaux had selected for his headquarters. On August twenty -ninth his vanguard seized the place, but they were ahnost immediately attacked and driven out by the allied armies, chiefly Enghsh troops brought in from Gibral- tar. On September seventh the place was retaken. In the assault only a single French officer fell mortally wounded, but that one was a captain of artillery. Sahcetti and his colleagues had received from the Minister of War a charge to look out for the citizen Buonaparte who wanted service on the Rhine. This and their own attachment deter- l'<[.\IlN(i MIDE fOR THE CilNTI T.' [■Li\ A 00, pm;!?. BONAPARTE EXPLAINING HIS PLAN FOR THE TAKING OF TOULON, 1793. FHOM THE TALNTIKG LV AKDIlt CASTAIGNE. ^T. 24] TOULON 135 mined them in the pregnant step they now took. The visiting captain chap. xvi was appointed to the vacant place. At the same time his mother re- 1793 ceived a grant of money. Fesch and Lucien were made storekeepers in the commissary department. Barras, who was the recruiting-officer of the Convention at Toulon, claims to have heen the first to recognize Buonaparte's ability. He declares that the yoimg Corsican was daily at his table, and that it was he himself who iiregularly but efficiently secured the appointment of his new friend to active duty. But he also asserts what we know to be untrue, that Buonaparte was still lieutenant when they first met, and that he created him captain. It is likely, in view of their subsequent intimacy at Paris, that they were also intimate at Toulon, but the rest of BaiTas's story is a fabrication. It was with no trembhng hand that Buonaparte laid hold of his task. For an efficient artillery service artillery officers were essential, and there were almost none. In the ebb and flow of popular enthu- siasm many repubhcans who had fallen back before the storms of fac- tional excesses were now wiUing to come forward, and Napoleon, not pubhcly committed to the Jacobins, was able to win many capable assistants from among men of this class. His nervous restlessness found an outlet in erecting buttresses, mounting guns, and invigorat- ing the whole service until a zealous activity of the most promising kind was displayed by officers and men ahke. The only check was in the ignorant meddling of Carteaux, who, though energetic and zealous, was, after all, not a soldier, but a painter. Strange characters rose to the top in those troublous times : the painter's opponent at Avignon, the leader of the insurgents, had been a tailor. Buonaparte's ready pen stood him again in good stead, and he sent up a memorial to the minis- try, explaining the situation, and asking for the appointment of an artillery general with full powers. The commissioners transmitted the paper to Paris, and appointed the memoriahst to the higher rank of acting commander ; but his fm-ther activity was checked by lack of material. At length the artist was removed from command, and a physician was appointed in his stead. The doctor was an ardent patriot who had distinguished himseH at the siege of Lyons, which had fallen on Octo- ber ninth. But on arriving at Toulon the citizen soldier was awed by the magnitude of his new work, and was transfen-ed at his own sug- gestion to an easier station in the Pyi-enees. Dugommier, a profes- 236 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 Chap. XVI sional soldier, was finally appointed commander-in-chief, and Duteil, iras a brother of Buonaparte's old friend and commander, was made general of artillery. Abxmdant supplies arrived at the same tune from Lyons. On November twentieth the new officers took charge, two days later a general reconnaissance was made, and within a short time the invest- ment was completed. On the thirtieth there was a sally from the town directed against Buonaparte's batteries. It was successfully re- pulsed. The event was made important by the capture of General O'Hara, the Enghsh commandant. In the "Moniteur"of December seventh the name of Buona Parte is mentioned for the first time, and as among the most distinguished in the action. The councils of war before Dugommier's arrival had been numerous and turbulent, although the solitary plan of operations suggested would have been adequate only for capturing an inland town, and probably not even for that. From the beginning Buonaparte had exj)lained to his col- leagues the special featui'es of their task, but all in vain. He reasoned that Toulon depended for its resisting power on the Alhes and their fleets, and must be reduced from the side next the sea. The Enghsh themselves understood this when they seized and fortified the redoubt of Port MulgTave, known also as Little Gibraltar, on the tongue of land separating, to the westward, the inner from the outer bay. That post must be taken. From the very moment of his arrival this shnple but clever conception was urged on the new artillery general, and, with others from the same author, was adopted. At the same time it was determined that operations should also be directed against two other strong outposts, one to the north, the other to the northeast, of the town. Finally, on December seventeenth, after careful preparation, a con- certed attack was made at aU three points. It was successful in every part ; the enemy was not only driven within the interior works, but by the fall of Little Gibraltar his communication with the sea was en- dangered. Since, therefore, the supporting fleets could no longer re- main in a situation so precarious, the besieged at once made ready for departure, embarking the troops and many of the inhabitants. In a few days the city was evacuated, and the foreign war vessels sailed away. The news of this decisive victory was despatched without a moment's delay to the Convention. The names of Salicetti, Robes- pierre, Ricord, Freron, and BaiTas are mentioned in Dugommier's let- C/5 D O CD H X o I I UJ I I 7. z o o (- u. O c oa < ■X. ■X. ^T. 24] TOULON 137 ters as those of men who had won distinction in various posts ; that of chap. xvi Buonaparte does not occur. 1793 There was either jealousy of his merits, which are declared hy his enemies to have been unduly vaunted, or else his share had been more insignificant than is generally supposed. He related at St. Helena that during the operations before Toulon he had had three horses killed under him, and showed Las Cases a great scar on his thigh which he said had been received in a bayonet charge at Toidon. "Men won- dered at the fortune which kept me invulnerable ; I always concealed my dangers in mystery." The hypothesis of his insignificance appears imlikely when we examine the memoirs written by his contemporaries, and consider the precise traditions of a later generation; it becomes untenable in view of what happened on the next day, when the com- missioners nominated him for the office of general of brigade, a rank which in the exchange of prisoners with the Enghsh was reckoned as equal to that of heutenant-general. In a report written on the nine- teenth to the Minister of War, Duteil speaks in the highest terms of Buonaparte. " A great deal of science, as much intelligence, and too much bravery; such is a faint sketch of the vntues of this rare officer. It rests with you. Minister, to retain them for the glory of the Kepublic." On December twenty-fomi;h the Convention received the news of victory. It was really their reprieve, for news of disaster would have cut short their career. Jubilant over a prompt success, their joy was savage and infernal. With the eagerness of vampires they at once sent two commissioners to wipe the name of Toulon from the map, and its inhabitants from the earth. Fouche, later chief of police and Duke of Otranto under Napoleon, went down from Lyons to see the sport, and wi-ote to his friend the arch-murderer Collet d'Herbois that they were celebrating the victory in but one way. " This night we send two hun- dred and thirteen rebels into hell fire." The fact is, no one ever knew how many hundreds or thousands of the Toulon Clirondists were swept together and destroyed by the fire of cannon and musketry. Freron, one of the commissioners, desned to leave not a single rebel ahve. Dugommier would Hsten to no such proposition for a holocaust. Mar- mont declares that Buonaparte and his artillerymen pleaded for mercy, but in vain. Eunning like a thread through aU these events was a counter-plot. 19 12S LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 Chap. XVI The Corsicaus at Toulon were persons of importance, and had shown 1793 their mettle. Salicetti, Buonaparte, Arena, and Cei-voni were now men of mark ; the two latter had, like Buonaparte, been promoted, though to much lower rank. As Salicetti declared in a letter written on December twenty-eighth, they were scheming to secure vessels and arm them for an expedition to Corsica. But for the time theii- efforts came to naught ; and thenceforward Salicetti seemed to lose all inter- est in Corsican affairs, becoming more and more involved in the ever madder rush of events in France. There was nothing strange in this : a common politician could not remain insensible to the course or the consequences of the malignant anarchy now raging throughout France. The massacres at Lyons, Marseilles, and Toulon were the reply to the hon-ors of like or worse nature perpetrated in Vendee by the royahsts. Danton having used the Paris sections to overawe the Girondist majority of the Conven- tion, Marat gathered his riotous band of sansculottes, and hounded the discredited remnant of the party to death, flight, or arrest. His bloody career was ended only by Charlotte Corday's dagger. Passions were thus inflamed imtil even Danton's conduct appeared calm, moderate, and inefficient, when compared with the reckless bloodthirstiness of He- bert, now leader of the Exageres. The latter prevailed, the Vendeans were defeated, and Citizen Can-ier of Nantes in three months took fif- teen thousand human lives by his fiendishly ingenious systems of drowning and shooting. In short, France was chaos, and the Sali- cettis of the time might hope for anything, or fear everything, in the throes of her disorder. Not so a man like Buonaparte. His instiuct led him to stand in readiness at the parting of the ways. Others might choose and press forward ; he gave no sign of being moved by curi'ent events, but stood with his eye still fixed, though now in a back- ward gaze, on Corsica, ready, if interest or self-preservation required it, for another effort to seize and hold it as his own. Determined and revengeful, he was again, through the confusion in France, to secure means for his enterprise, and this time on a scale proportionate to the difficulty. CHAPTER XVII a jacobin geneeal Transformation in Bonaparte's Character — Confirmed as a French General — Conduct of his Brothers — Napoleon's Caution — His Report on Marseilles — The New French Army — Bonaparte THE Jacobin Leader — Hostilities with Austria and Sardinia — Enthusiasm of the French Troops — Bonaparte in Society — His Plan for an Italian Campaign. "TTITHERTO prudence had not been characteristic of Buonaparte : chap. xvii -^-■- his escapades and disobedience had savored rather of reckless- 1793-94 ness. The whole outlook having changed since his final flight to France, his conduct now began to reveal a definite plan — to be marked by punctihous obedience, sometimes even by an almost puerile caution. His family was homeless and penniless; then- only hope for a hveli- hood was in rising with the Jacobins, who appeared to be growing more influential every hour. Thi'ough the powerful friends that Napoleon had made among the representatives of the Convention, men like the younger Robespierre, Freron, and Barras, much had already been gained. If his nomination to the office of general of brigade were con- firmed, as it was almost certain to be, the rest would follow, since, with his innate capacity for adapting himself to circumstances, he had dm*- ing the last few weeks successfully cultivated his power of pleasing, captivating the hearts of Marmont, Junot, and many others. With such strong chances in his favoi', it appeared to Buonaparte that no stuml)ling-block of technicahty should be thrown in the path of his promotion. Accordingly, in the record of his life sent up to Paris, he puts his entrance into the service over a year earlier than it actually occiu'red, omits as unessential details some of the places in which he had Uved and some of the companies in which he had served, 140 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 Chap, xvu declares that he had commanded a battaUon at the capture of Maj^da- 1793-94: lena, and, finally, denies categorically that he was ever noble. To this paper, which minimizes nearly to the vanishing-point all mention of Corsica, and emphasizes his sei-vices as a Frenchman by its insidious omissions, the overdiiven officials in Paris took no exception ; and on February sixth, 1794, he was confirmed, receiving an appointment for service in the new and regenerated Army of Italy, which had replaced as if by magic the ragged, shoeless, Hi-equipped, and haK-starved rem- nants of troops in and about Nice that in the previous year had been dignified by the same title. This gambler had not drawn the first prize in the lottery, but what he had secured was enough to justify his coiu'se, and confirai his confidence in fate. Eight years and three months nominally in the service, out of which in reahty he had been absent foui- years and ten months either on fm-lough or without one, and ah'eady a general! Neither bhnd luck, nor the revolutionary epoch, nor the superlative ability of the man, but a compound of aU these, had brought this marvel to pass. It did not intoxicate, but still further sobered, the beneficiary. This effect was partly due to an experience which demonstrated that strong as are the chains of habit, they are more easily broken than those which his associates forge about a man. In the interval between nomination and confiimation the young as- pirant, thi'ough the fault of his fi-iends, was involved in a most serious risk. Sahcetti, and the Buonajjarte brothers, Joseph, Lucien, and Louis, went wild with exultation over the fall of Toulon, and began by reckless assumptions and untruthful representations to reap an abun- dant harvest of spoils. Joseph, by the use of his brother's Corsican commission, had posed as a lieutenant-colonel; he was now made a commissary-general of the fii-st class. Louis, without regard to his extreme youth, was promoted to be adjutant-major of artillery — a dig- nity which was short-lived, for he was soon after ordered to the school at Chalons as a cadet, but which served, like the gi*eater success of Jo- seph, to tide over a crisis. Lucien retained his post as keeper of the commissary stores in St. Maximin, where he was the leading Jacobin, styling himself Lucius Brutus, and rejoicing in the sobriquet of " the little Robespierre." The positions of Lucien and Louis were fantastic even for revolu- tionary times. Napoleon was fully aware of the danger, and was cor- i H ; > ■■■ H c ^ i ^ ', C i P : c ?3 o z ^T. 24] A JACOBIN GENERAL 141 respondingly circumspect. It was possibly at his own suggestion that chap. xvn he was appointed, on December twenty-sixth, 179;j, inspector of the 1703-04 shore fortifications, and ordered to proceed immediately on an inspec- tion of the Mediten-anean coast as far as Mentone. The expedition re- moved him from all temptation to an unfortunate display of exultation or anxiety, and gave him a new chance to display his powers. He per- formed his task with the thoroughness of an expert ; but in so doing, his zeal played him a sorry trick, echpsing the caution of the revolu- tionist by the eagerness of the sagacious general. In his report to the Minister of War he comprehensively discussed both the fortification of the coast and the strengthening of the navy, which were alike indispen- sable to the wonderful scheme of operations in Italy which he appears to have been abeady revolving in his mind. The Army of Italy, and in fact all southeastern France, depended at the moment for sustenance on the commerce of Genoa, professedly a neutral state and fiiendly to the French repubhc. This essential trade could be protected only by mak- ing interference from the Enghsh and Spaniards impossible, or at least difficult. Arrived at Marseilles, and with these ideas occupying his whole mind, Buonaparte regarded the situation as serious. The British and Spanish fleets swept the seas, and were virtually blockading all tbe Mediten-anean ports of France. At Toulon, as has been told, they ac- tually entered, and departed only after losing control of the promon- tory which fonns the harbor. There is a similar conformation of the gi'ound at the entrance to the port of Marseilles, but Buonaparte found that the fortress which occupied the point had been dis- mantled. With the instinct of a strategist, and with no other thought than that of his duties as inspector, he sat down, and on Januaiy fourth, 1794, wrote a most impohtic recommendation that the fortifica- tion should be restored in such a way as to " command the town." These words almost certainly referred both to the possible renewal by the conquered French royalists and other malcontents of then- efforts to secure Marseilles, and to a conceivable effort on the part of the Allies to seize the harbor. Now it happened that the hberals of the town had regarded this veiy stronghold as then- BastiUe, and it had been dismantled by them in emulation of then brethren of Paris. The language and motive of the report were therefore capable of misinter- pretation. A storm at once arose among the Marseilles Jacobins against 242 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt. 24 Chap. XVII both Biionaparte and his superior, General Lapoype ; they were both 1797-94 denounced to the Convention, and in due time, about the end of Febru- ary, were both summoned before the bar of that body. In the mean time Buonaparte's nomination as general of brigade had been confirmed, Ms commission arriving at Marseilles on Februaiy sixteenth. It availed nothing toward restoring him to popularity; on the contrary, the masses grew more suspicious and more menacing. He therefore returned to the protection of Salicetti and Robespierre at Toulon, whence by their advice he despatched to Paris by special messenger a poor-spuited exculi)atory letter, admitting that the only use of restoring the fort would be to " command the town," that is, control it by military power in case of revolution. Having by this language pusiHanimously acknowledged a fault which he had not committed, the writer, by the advice of Salicetti and Robespierre, refused to obey the formal sum- mons of the Convention when it came. Those powerful protectors made vigorous representations to their friends in Paris, and Buona- parte was saved. On April first, 1794, he assumed the duties of his new command, reporting himself at Nice. Lapoype went to Paris, appeared at the bar of the Convention, and was triumphantly acquitted. A single circumstance changed the French Revolution fi-om a sec- tarian dogma into a national movement. By the exertions and plans of Carnot the effective force of the French army had been raised in less than two years fi-om one hundred and twelve thousand to the astonish- ing figiu'e of over seven hundred and thirty thousand. The discipline was now rigid, and the machine was perfectly adapted to the work- man's hand, although for lack of money the equipment was still sadly defective. In the Army of Italy were nearly sixty-seven thousand men, a nmnber which included all the garrisons and reserve of the coast towns and of Corsica. Its organization, hke that of the other portions of the mihtary power, had been simphfled, and so strengthened. There were a commander-in-chief, a chief of staff, three generals of division, of whom Massena was one, and thuieen generals of brigade, of whom one, Buonaparte, was the commander and inspector of artillery. The yoimger Robespierre, with Ricord and Sahcetti, were the " rep- resentatives of the people." The first of these was, to outward appear- ance, the leading spirit of the whole organism, and to his support Buonaparte was now thoroughly committed. The young artillery commander was considered by aU at Nice to be a pronounced " Mon- ^T. 24] A JACOBIN GENERAL 143 tagnard," that is, an extreme Jacobin. Augustin Robespien'e had chai-. xvii quickly learned to see and hear with the eyes and ears of his Corsi- 1793-94 can friend, whose fidehty seemed assured by hatred of Paoli and by a desire to recover the family estates in his native island. Whatever the ties which boimd them at first, the ascendancy of Buonaparte was thorough in the end. His were the suggestions and the enter- prises, the political conceptions, the military plans, the devices to obtain ways and means. It was probably his advice which was determinative in the scheme of operations finally adopted. A select third of the troops were chosen and divided into three divisions to assume the offensive, under Massena's dii-ection, against the almost im- pregnable posts of the Austrians and Sardinians in the uj^per Apen- nines. The rest were held in garrison partly as a reserve, partly to overawe the newly conquered department of which Nice was the capital. Grenoa now stood in a peculiar relation to France. Her oligarchy, though called a republic, was in spirit the antipodes of French democ- racy. Her trade was essential to France, but Enghsh influence pre- dominated in her councils and English force worked its will in her domains. In October, 1793, a French supply-ship had been seized by an English squadi'on in the veiy harbor. Soon afterward, by way of rejoinder to this act of violence, the French minister at Genoa was offi- cially informed from Paris that as it appeared no longer possible for a French army to reach Lombardy by the direct route through the Apen- nines, it might be necessary to advance along the coast through Geno- ese territory. This announcement was no threat, but serious earnest ; the plan had been carefully considered and was before long to be put into execution. It was merely as a feint that in April, 179-1, hostilities were formally opened against Sardinia and Austria. Massena seized Ventimiglia on the sixth. Advancing by Onegha and Ormea, in the valley of the Stura, he turned the position of the alhed Austrians and Sardinians, thus compelling them to evacuate their strongholds one by one, until on May seventh the pass of Tenda, leading direct into Lombardy, was abandoned by them. The result of this movement was to infuse new enthusiasm into the army, while at the same time it set free, for offensive warfare, large numbers of the ganison troops in places now no longer in danger. Massena wrote in terms of exultation of the devotion and endtu-ance which his troops had shown in the sacred name of hberty. "They 1^44 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt.2A Chap. XVII know how to conquer and never complain. Marching barefoot, and 1793-94 often without rations, they abuse no one, but sing the loved notes of ' ^a ira ' — 'T will go, 't will go ! We '11 make the creatures that sur- round the despot at Turin dance the Carmagnole ! " Victor Amadeus, King of Sardinia, was an excellent specimen of the benevolent despot ; it was he they meant. Augustin Robespierre wrote to his brother Maximilien, in Paris, that they had found the country before them deserted: forty thousand souls had fled from the single valley of Onegha, having been tenified by the accounts of French savagery to women and children, and of their impiety in devastating the churches and religious establishments. Whether the phenomenal success of this short campaign, which lasted but a month, was expected or not, notliing was done to improve it, and the advancing battalions suddenly stopped, as if to make the impression that they could go farther only by way of Genoese territory. Buonaparte would certainly have shared in the campaign had it been a serious attack ; but, except to bring captured stores from Oneglia, he did nothing, devoting the months of May and June to the completion of his shore defenses, and living at Nice with his mother and her family. That famous and coquettish town was now the center of a gay republi- can society in which Napoleon and his pretty sisters were important persons. They were the constant companions of young Robespierre and Ricord. The former, amazed by the activity of his friend's brain, the scope of his plans, and the terrible energy which marked his prep- arations, wrote of Napoleon that he was a man of " transcendent merit." Marmont, speaking of Napoleon's charm at this time, says : "There was so much future in his mind. . . . He had acquired an ascendancy over the representatives which it is impossible to describe." He also declares, and Sahcetti too repeatedly asseverated, that Buona- parte was the " man, the plan-maker," of the Robespierres. The impression which Salicetti and Marmont expressed was doubt- less due to the conclusions of a councO of war held on May twentieth by the leaders of the two armies — of the Alps and of Italy — to concert a plan of cooperation. Naturally each group of generals desired the foremost place for the army it represented. Buonaparte overrode all objections, and compelled the acceptance of a scheme entirely his own, which with some additions and by carefid elaboration ultimately devel- oped into the famous plan of campaign in Italy. But affau's in Genoa ■c t33 1 o 1 z s. > ? -0 M, > e- H o m C f» H p- C "S. ;o F s ?o o *. H m o* O > 3 H C 1 " ^ ;3 >• > 5" 3 z t: a D E" a ^ ■^ < O B- o r S r z o o m o § -< n m iET.24] A JACOBIN GENERAL 145 were becoming so menacing that for the moment they demanded the chap. xvii exclusive attention of the French authorities. Austrian troops had 1793-94 disregarded her neutraUty and trespassed on her tenitory; the land was full of French deserters, and England, recalling her successes hx the same hne during the American Revolution, had estabhshed a press in the city for printing counterfeit French money, which was sent by secret mercantile communications to Marseilles, and there was put in cii'culation. It was consequently soon determmed to amplify greatly the plan of campaign, and likewise to send a mission to Genoa. Buona- parte was himself appointed the envoy, and thus became the pivot of both movements — that against Piedmont and that against Genoa. 20 CHAPTER XVIII VICISSITUDES m WAE AND DIPLOMACY Signs or Matueity — The Mission to Gtenoa — Course of the Fkench Republic — The " Teebor" — Theemedok — Bonaparte a Scapegoat — His Peesoience — Adventures of his Beothees — Napoleon's Defense of his Feench Pateiotism — Bloodshedding foe Amuse- ment — New Expedition against Coesica — Bonapaete's Advice foe its Conduct. Chap, xvhi TTJUONAPARTE'S plan for combining operations against both Genoa 1794 A-J and Sardinia was at first hazy. In his earhest efforts to expand and clarify it, he wrote a rambhng document, still in existence, which draws a contrast between the opposite pohcies to be adopted with reference to Italy and Spain. In it he also caUs attention to the scarcity of officers suitable for concerted action in a great enterprise, and a remark concerning the course to be piu'sued in this particular case contains the germ of his whole military system, " Combine your forces m a war, as in a siege, on one point. The breach once made, equiUbriimi is destroyed, everything else is useless, and the place is taken. Do not conceal, but concentrate, youi* attack." In the matter of pohtics he sees Germany as the main prop of opposition to democ- racy; Spain is to be dealt with on the defensive, Italy on the offensive. But, contrary to what he actually did in the foUovmig year, he advises against proceeding too far into Piedmont, lest the adversary should gain the advantage of position. This paper Robespierre the younger had in his pocket when he left for Paris, summoned to aid his brother in difficulties which were now pressing fast upon him. Ricord was left behind to direct, at least nominally, the movements both of the annies and of the embassy to Genoa. Buonaparte con- tinued to be the real power. Military operations having been sus- Mt. 24-25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 147 pended to await the result of diplomacy, his instructions from Ricord Chap. xvm were drawn so as to be loose and merely formal. On July eleventh he 1^4 started from Nice, reaching his destination thi-ee days later. Dunng the week of his stay — for he left again on the twenty-first — the envoy made his representations, and laid down his ultimatum that the repuhhc of Genoa should preserve absolute neutrality, luiithor permitting troops to pass over its territories, nor lending aid in the constniction of mih- tary roads, as she was charged with doing secretly. His success in overawing the oligarchy was complete, and a written promise of com- pliance to these demands was made by the Doge. Buonaparte anived again in Nice on the twenty-eighth. "We may imagine that as he trav- eled the romantic road between the mountains and the sea, the rising general and diplomat indulged in many rosy dreams, probably feeling already on his shoulders the insignia of a commander-in-chief. But he was retm-ning to disgrace, if not to destraction. A week after his arrival came the stupefying news that the hour-glass had once again been reversed, that on the veiy day of his own exultant retimi to Nice Robespierre's head had fallen, that the Mountain was shattered, and that the land was again staggering to gain its balance after another political earthquake. The shock had been awful, but it was directly traceable to the accumulated disorders of Jacobin rule. A rude and vigorous but eerie order of things had been inaugiu'ated on November twenty-fourth, 1793, by the so-called repubUc. There was fii'st the new calendar, in which the year I began on September twenty-second, 1792, the day on which the repubhc had been proclaimed. In it were the twelve thirty- day months, with their names of vintage, fog, and frost ; of snow, rain, and wind; of bud, flower, and meadow; of seed, heat, and harvest: the whole terminated most unpoetically by the five or six supplemen- tary days named sansculottides, — sansculottes meaning without knee- bj'eeches, a garment confined to the upper classes ; that is, with long trousers like the common people, — and these days were so named because they were to be a holiday for the long-trousered populace which was to use the new reckoning. There was next the new, strange, and imhallowed spectacle seen in histoiy for the first time, the reaUzation of a nightmare — a whole people finally turned into an army, and at war with nearly all the world. The reforming Girondists had created the situation, and the Jacobins, with grim humor, were un- 148 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24-25 Chap, xvm flinchiiigly facing the logical consequences of such audacity. Camot 1794 had given the watchword of attack in mass and with superior numbers; the times gave the fi-enzied courage of sentimental exaltation. Before the end of 1793 the foreign enemies of France, though not conquered, had been checked on the frontier ; the outbreak of civil war in Vendee had been temporarily suppressed; both Lyons and Toidon had been retaken. The Jacobins were nothing if not thorough ; and here was another new and awful thing — the "Terror" — which had broken loose with its foul fiu*ies of party against party through all the land. It seemed at last as if it were exhausting itself, though for a time it had gi"own in intensity as it spread in extent. It had created three factions in the Mountain. Early in 1794 there remained but a httle handful of avowed and still eager terrorists in the Convention — Hebert and his friends. These were the atheists who had abohshed rehgion and the past, bow- ing down before the fetish which they dubbed Reason. They were seized and put to death on March twenty-foiurth. There then remained the chques of Danton and Robespierre ; the former claiming the name of moderates, and teUing men to be cahn, the latter with no piinciple hut devotion to a person who claimed to be the regenerator of society. These hero-worshipers were for a time victorious. Danton, hke He- bert, was fouUy murdered, and Robespierre remained alone, virtually dictator. But his theatrical conduct in decreeing by law the existence of a Supreme Being and the immortality of the soul, and in organizing tawdiy festivals to supply the place of worship, utterly embittered against him both atheists and pious people. In disappointed rage at his failiu-e, he laid aside the characters of prophet and mild saiat to give vent to his natural wickedness and become a devil. Duiing the long days of June and July there raged again a carnival of hlood, known to history as the " Great Terror." In less than seven weeks upward of twelve himdred victims were immolated. The unbridled hcense of the guillotine broadened as it ran. Fu-st the aristocrats had fallen, then royalty, then then- sympathizers, then the hated rich, then the merely well-to-do, and lastly anybody not cringing to existing power. The reaction against Robespierre was one of universal fear. Its incep- tion was the work of TaUien, Fouche, Barras, Carrier, Freron, and the like, men of vile character, who knew that if Robespierre could maintain his pose of the " Incomiptible " their doom was sealed. In this sense ^T. 24-25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 149 Robespierre was what Napoleon called him at St. Helena, " the scape- cnAP. xvin goat of the Revolution." The uprising of these accomphces was, how- 1794 ever, the opportunity long desired by the better elements in Parisian so- ciety, and the two antipodal classes made common cause. Dictator as Robespierre wished to be, he was foiined of other stuff, for when the reckoning came his brutal violence was cowed. On July twenty-sev- enth (the ninth of Thermidor), the Convention turned on him in re- belhon, extreme radicals and moderate consei-vatives coml)ining for the effort. Terrible scenes were enacted. The sections of Paris were di- vided, some for the Convention, some for Robespierre. The artillerymen who were ordered by the latter to batter down the part of the Tuileries where his enemies were sitting hesitated and disobeyed ; at once all re- sistance to the decrees of the Convention died out. The dictator would have been his own executioner, but his faltering terrors stopped him midway ia his half-committed suicide. He and his brother, with their friends, were seized, and beheaded on the mon*ow. With the downfall of Robespien-e went the last vestige of social or political authority ; for the Convention was no longer trusted by the nation — the only organ- ized power with popular support which was left was the ai-my. This was the news which, traveling southward, finally reached Tou- lon, Marseilles, and Nice, cities where Robespien'e's stanchest adherents were flaunting their newly gained importance. No wonder it the brains of common men reeled. The recent so-called parties had disappeared for the moment hke wraiths. The victorious gi-oup in the Convention, now known as the Thermidorians, was compounded of elements fi'om them both, and claimed to represent the whole of France as the wretched factions who had so long controlled the government had never done. Where now should those who had been active supporters of the late ad- ministration turn for refuge ? The Corsicans who had escaped from the island at the same time with Sahcetti and the Buonapartes were nearly all vnth the Ai-my of Italy. They had been given employment, but, having failed to keep Corsica for France, were not in high favor. It had ah-eady been remarked in the Committee of Pubhc Safety that their patriotism was less manifest than their disposition to enrich themselves. This too was the opinion of many among their own countrymen, espe- cially of their own partizans shut up in Bastia or Calvi and deserted. Sahcetti, ever ready for emergencies, was not disconcerted by this one ; and with adi'oit baseness turned informer, denouncing as a suspicious J50 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24-25 Chap, xvih schemer his former protege and lieuteBant, of whose budding greatness 1794 he was now well aware. He was both jealous and alanned. Buonaparte's mission to Genoa had been openly political ; secretly it was also a military reconnaissance, and his confidential instructions, virtually dictated by himself, had unfortunately leaked out. They had du'ected him to examine the fortifications in and about both Savona and Grenoa, to investigate the state of the Genoese artillery, to infoi-m him- self as to the behavior of the French envoy to the republic, to learn as much as possible of the intentions of the oligarchy — in short, to gather all information useful for the conduct of a war " the result of which it is impossible to foresee." Buonaparte, knowing that he had trodden dangerous ground in his unauthorized and secret dealings with the younger Robespien'e, and probably foreseeing the coming storm, began to shorten sail immediately upon reaching Nice. Either he was prescient and felt the new influences in the air, or else a letter now in the war of&ce at Paris, and purporting to have been written on August seventh, to Tilly, the French agent at Genoa, is an antedated fabrication written later for Sahcetti's use. Speaking in this paper of Robespierre the younger, he said: "I was a httle touched by the catastrophe, for I loved him and thought him spotless. But were it my own father, I would stab him to the heart if he aspired to become a tyrant." If the letter he genuine, as is probable, the writer was very far-sighted. He knew that its contents would speedily reach Paris in the despatches of Tilly, so that it was virtually a pubhc renunciation of Jacohinism at the ear- liest possible date, an anchor to windward in the approaching tempest. But the ruse was of no avail ; he was first superseded in his command, then arrested on August tenth, and, fortimately for himself, imprisoned two days later in Fort Carre, near Antibes, instead of heing sent dii'ect to Paris as some of his friends were. This temporary shelter from the devastating blast he owed to Salicetti, who would, no doubt, without hesitation have destroyed a friend for his own safety, but was willing enough to spare him if not driven to extremity. As the true state of things in Corsica hegan to be known in France, there was a general disposition to blame and pmiish the influential men who had brought things to such a desperate pass and made the loss of the island probable, if not certain. Salicetti, Midtedo, and the rest quickly unloaded the whole blame on Buonaparte's shoulders, so that he had many enemies in Paris. Thus hy apparent harshness to AQU,MtEl.I.B MADE FOR THK CKSTriiY CO. BONAPARTE UNDER ARREST, AUGUST, I7Q4 KKOM THK AQUARKI-LK. I!Y KltlO 1*APE ^T. 24-25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 151 one whom he still considered a subordinate, the real culprit escaped chap. xvm suspicion. Assiu'ed of immunity from punishment himself, Salicetti n'-^ was content with his rival's hiuniliation, and felt no real rancor toward the family. This is clear from his treatment of Louis Buonaparte, who had fallen from place and favor along with his brother, but was by Sahcetti's influence soon afterward made an officer of the home guard at Nice. Joseph had rendered himseK conspicuous in the very height of the storm by a brilhant maniage ; but neither he nor Fesch was arrested, and both managed to pull through with whole skins. The noisy Lucien was also married, but to a girl who, though respectable, was poor; and in consequence he was thoroughly frightened at the thought of losing his means of support. But though menaced with arrest, he was sufficiently insignificant to escape for the time. Napoleon was kept in captivity but thirteen days. SaHcetti ap- parently foimd it easier than he had supposed to exculpate himself from the charge either of pai-ticipating in Robespierre's conspii-acy or of having brought about the Corsican insun-ection. More than this, he found himself firm in the good graces of the Thermidorians, among whom his old friends BaiTas and Freron were held in high esteem. It would therefore be a simple thing to hberate General Buonaparte, if only a proper expression of opinion could be secured from him. The clever prisoner had it ready before it was needed. To the faithful Jmiot he wrote a kindly note dechning to be rescued by a body of friends organized to storm the prison or scale its walls. Such a com-se would have compromised him further. But to the "representatives of the people " he wrote in language which finally committed him for hfe. He explained that in a revolutionary epoch there are but two classes of men, patriots and suspects. It could easily be seen to which class a man belonged who had fought both intestine and foreign foes. "I have sacrificed residence in my department, I have abandoned all my goods, I have lost all for the republic. Since then I have served at Toulon with some distinction, and I have deserved a share with the Army of Italy in the laurels it earned at the taking of Saorgio, Onegha, and Tanaro. On the discovery of Robespierre's conspiracy my con- duct was that of a man accustomed to regard nothing but principle." The letter concludes with a passionate appeal to each one sej^arately and by name for justice and restoration. "An hour later, if the wicked want my life, I will gladly give it to them, I care so little for it, I 152 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24-25 Chap. XVIII weary SO often of it ! Yes ; the idea that it may be still useful to 1794 my country is all that makes me bear the burden with courage." Sahcetti in person went through the roi-m of examining the papers offered in proof of Buonaparte's statements ; found them, as a matter of course, satisfactory ; and the commissioners restored the suppliant to partial liberty, but not to his post. He was to remain at army head- quai-ters, and the still temble Committee of Safety was to receive regular reports of his doings. This, too, was but a subterfuge. Com- missioners from the Thermidorians arrived soon after with orders that for the present all offensive operations in Italy were to be suspended in order to put the strength of the district into a maritime expedition against Rome and ultimately against Corsica, which was now in the hands of England. Buonaparte immediately sought, and by Salicetti's favor obtained, the important charge of equipping and inspecting the aiiillery destined for the enterprise. He intended to make the venture tell in his personal interest against the Enghsh party now triumphant in his home. This was the middle of September. Before beginning to prepare for the Corsican expedition, the army made a final demon- stration to secure its lines. It was during the preparatory days of this short campaign that a dreadful incident occun-ed. Buonaparte had long since learned the power of women, and had been ardently atten- tive in tiu-n both to Charlotte Robespierre and to Mme. Ricord. " It was a gi'eat advantage to please them," he said ; " for in a lawless time a representative of the people is a real power." Mme. Turreau, wife of one of the new commissioners, was now the ascendant star in his at- tentions. One day, while walking arm in arm with her near the top of the Tenda pass, Buonaparte took a sudden fi-eak to show her what war was hke, and ordered the advance-guard to charge the Austrian pickets. The attack was not only useless, but it endangered the safety of the army ; yet it was made according to command, and human blood was shed. The story was told by Napoleon bi in self, at the close of his life, in a tone of repentance, but with evident relish. Buonaparte was present at the ensuing victories, but only as a weU-informed spectator and adviser, for he was yet in nominal dis- grace. Within five days the enemies' lines were driven back so as to leave open the two most important roads into Italy — that by the vaUey of the Borinida to Alessandria, and that by the shore to Genoa. The difficidt pass of Tenda fell entu-ely into French hands. The Eng- ^T. 24-25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 153 lish could not disembark their troops to strengthen the AUies. The Chap. xviii commerce of G-enoa with Marseilles was reestabhshed by land. "We i794 have celebrated the fifth sansculottide of the year IT (September twenty-first, 1794) in a manner worthy of the repubUc and the Na- tional Convention," wi'ote the commissioners to their colleagues in Paris. On the twenty-fom'th, Greneral Buonaparte was released by them from attendance at headquarters, thus becoming once again a free man and his own master. He proceeded immediately to Toulon in order to prepare for the Corsican expedition. Once more the power of a great nation was, he hoped, to be directed against the land of his birth, and he was an important agent in the plan. To regain, if possible, some of his lost influence in the island, Buo- naparte had already renewed communication with former acquain- tances in Ajaccio. In a letter written immediately after his release in September, 1794, to the Corsican deputy Multedo, he informed his cor- respondent that his birthplace was the weakest spot on the island, and open to attack. The information was correct. Paoli had made an effort to strengthen it, but without success. " To drive the English," said the writer of the letter, " from a position which makes them mas- ters of the Mediterranean, ... to emancipate a large number of good patriots still to be foimd in that department, and to restore to their fire- sides the good republicans who have deserved the care of their country by the generous manner in which they have suffered for it, this, my friend, is the expedition which should occupy the attention of the gov- ernment." Perhaps the old vista of becoming a Corsican hero opened up once again to a sore and disappointed man, but it is not probal^le : the horizon of his hfe had expanded too far to be again contracted, and the present task was probably considered but as a bridge to cross once more the waters of bitterness. 21 CHAPTER XIX THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP The English Conquest of Coesica — Effects in Italy — The Buo- napartes AT Toulon — Napoleon Thwarted Again — Departure FOR Pabis — His Character Determined — His Capacities — Re- action from the " Terror" — Resolutions of the Convention — Parties in France — Their Lack of Experience — A New Con- stitution — Different Views of its Value. Chap. XIX f I ^HE tiu'iiioils of civil War in France had now left Corsica to her 1795 J_ pursuits for many months. Her internal affau's had gone from bad to worse, and Paoli, imable to control his people, had found himself helpless. Compelled to seek the support of some strong foreign power, he had instinctively turned to England, and the EngUsh fleet, di'iven fi'om Toulon, was finally free to help him. On February seventeenth, 1794, it entered the fine harbor of St. Florent, and captured the town without an effort. Estabhshing a depot which thus separated the two remaining centers of French influence, Calvi and Bastia, the Enghsh admiral next laid siege to the latter. The place made a gallant defense, holding out for over three months, until on May twenty-fourth Captain Nelson, who had controlled operations for eighty-eight days, — nearly the entire time, — finally directed the guns of the Agamemnon with such destructive force against the little city that it surrendered. The teims made by its captors were the easiest known to modem warfare, the conquered being granted all the honors of war. As a direct and imme- diate result, the Corsican estates met, and declared the island a consti- tutional monarchy under the protection of England. Sir Gilbert Elliot was appointed viceroy, and Paoli was recalled by George III. to Eng- land. On August first fell Calvi, the last French stronghold in the country, hitherto considered impregnable by the Corsicans. ^T. 25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 155 The presence of England so close to Italian shores immediately pro- chap. xix duced throughout Lombardy and Tuscany a reaction of feeling in favor iras of the French Revolution and its advanced ideas. The Committee of Safety meant to take advantage of this sentiment and i)unish Rome for an insult to the repubUc still unavenged — the death of the French min- ister, in 1793, at the hands of a moh ; perhaps they might also drive the British from Corsica. This explained the anival of the commis- sioners at Nice with the order to cease operations against Sardinia and Austria, for the purpose of striking at English influence in Italy, and possibly in Corsica. Every thing but one was soon in readiness. To meet the English fleet, the shipwrights at Toidon must prepare a powei-ful squadron. They did not complete their gigantic task until February nineteenth, 1795. We can imagine the intense activity of any man of great power, determined to reconquer a lost position : what Buonaparte's fire and zeal must have been we can scarcely conceive; even his fiercest de- tractors bear witness to the activity of those months. When the order to embark was given, his organization and material were both as nearly perfect as possible. His mother had brought the younger children to a charming house near by, where she entertained the influential women of the neighborhood ; and thither her busy son often withdrew for the pleasures of a society which he was now beginning thoroughly to enjoy. Thanks to the social diplomacy of this most ingenious family, everything went well for a time, even with Lucien ; and Louis, now sixteen, was made a heutenant of artillery. At the last moment came what seemed the chmax of Napoleon's good fortune, the assurance that the destination of the fleet would be Corsica. Peace was made with Tuscany, Rome could not be reached without a decisive engagement with the Enghsh ; therefore the first object of the expedition woidd be to engage the British squadron which was cruising about Corsica. Victory would of course mean entrance into Corsican harbors. On March eleventh the new fleet set sail. Its very fii'st encounter with the English ended in a disaster, and two of its fine ships were cap- tured ; the others fled to Hyeres, where the troops were disembarked from their transports, and sent back to their posts. Once more Buona- parte was the victim of uncontrollable circumstance. Destitute of em- ployment, stripped even of the little credit gained in the last half-year, he stood for the seventh time on the threshold of the world, a suppliant 156 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAi'AKTE [^t. 25 Chap. XIX at the door. In some respects he was worse equipped for success than 1795 at the beginnmg, for he now had a record to expunge. To an outsider the spring of 1795 must have appeared the most critical pei'iod of his life. He himself knew better; in fact, this ill-fated expedition was probably soon forgotten altogether. In his St. Helena reminiscences, at least, he never recalled it : at that time he was not fond of mention- ing his failm-es, little or great, being chiefly concerned to hand himself down to history as a man of lofty purposes and unsuUied motives. Be- sides, he was never in the shghtest degree responsible for the terrible waste of millions in this ill-starred maritime enterprise; all his own plans had been for the conduct of the war by land. The Corsican administration had always had in it at least one French representative. Between the latest of these, Lacombe Saint Michel, now a member of the Committee of Safety, and the Salicetti party no love was ever lost. It was a general feeling that the refugee Corsicans on the MediteiTanean shore were too near their home. They were always charged with unscrupulous planning to fill their own pockets. Now, somehow or other, inexplicably perhaps, but nevertheless certainly, a costly expedition had been sent to Corsica under the impulse of these very men, and it had failed. The unlucky adventurers had scarcely set their feet on shore before Lacombe secured Buonaparte's appointment to the Army of the West, where he would be far fi'om old influences, with orders to proceed Immediately to his post. The papers reached Marseilles, whither the Buonapartes had already betaken them- selves, during the month of April. On May second, accompanied by Louis, Junot, and Marmont, the broken general set out for Paris, where he arrived with his companions eight days later, and rented shabby lodg- ings in the Fosses-Montmartre, now Abouklr street. The style of the house was Liberty Hotel. At this point Buonaparte's apprentice years may be said to have ended: he was virtually the man he remained to the end. A Corsican by origin, he retained the national sensibility and an enormous power of endurance both physical and intellectual, together with the dogged per- sistence foimd in the medieval Corsicans. He was devoted with primi- tive virtue to his family and his people, but was willing to sacrifice the latter, at least, to his ambition. His moral sense, having never been developed by education, and, worse than that, having been befogged by the extreme sensibihty of Rousseau and by the chaos of the times which l-s TUK UnTKL UK VILLK, AJACLIO EtJffRAVKU DY MULLEH AM) SCllltiSLKB MARIE-JULIE CLARY WIFE OF JOSEPH BONAPARTE ; aUEEN OF SPAIN FROM THE PAINTINO BY AN IWliSOWN ARTIST ^T.25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 157 that prophet had brought to pass, was practically lacking. Neither the Chap, xix hostility of his father to rehgion, nor his own experiences with the i-ss Jesuits, could, however, entirely eradicate a superstition which passed in his mind for faith. Sometimes he was a scoffer, as many with weak convictions are ; but in general he preserved a f oraial and outward re- spect for the Chm-ch. He was, however, a stanch opponent of Roman centralization and papal pretensions. His theoretical education had been narrow and one-sided; but his reading and his authorship, in spite of their superficial and desultory character, had given him certain large and fairly definite conceptions of history and pohtics. But his practi- cal education ! What a polishing and sharpening he had had against the revolving world moving many times faster then than in most ages ! He was an adept in the art of civil war, for he had been not merely an interested observer, but an active participant in it during five years in two countries. Long the victim of wiles more secret than his own, he had finally grown most wily in diplomacy ; an ambitious politician, his pulpy principles were republican in their character so far as they had any tissue or firmness. His acquisitions in the science of war were substantial and definite. Neither a martinet himself nor in any way tolerant of routine, ignorant in fact of many hateful details, among others of obedience, he yet rose far above tradition or practice in his conception of strategy. He was perceptibly superior to the world about him in almost every aptitude, and particularly so in power of combination, in originahty, and in far- sightedness. He could neither write nor spell correctly, but he was skilled in all practical applications of mathematics : town and country, mountains and plains, seas and rivers, were all quantities in his equa- tions. Untrustworthy himself, he strove to arouse trust, faith, and de- votion in those about him; and concealing successfully his own purpose, he read the hearts of others hke an open book. Of pm^e-minded affec- tion for either men or women he had so far shown only a little, and had experienced in return even less ; but he had studied the arts of gallan- try, and understood the leverage of social forces. To these capacities, some embryonic, some perfectly formed, add the fact that he was now a cosmopolitan, and there will be outline, reUef, and color to his charac- ter. " I am in that frame of mind," he said of himself about this time, "in which men are when on the eve of battle, with a persistent convic- tion that since death is imminent in the end, to be uneasy is folly. 158 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 Chap. XIX Everything makes me brave death and destiny ; and if this goes on, I 1795 shall in the end, my friend, no longer turn when a carriage passes. My reason is sometimes astonished at all this ; but it is the effect produced on me by the moral spectacle of this land [ce pays-ci, not patrie], and by the habit of iiinning risks." This is the power and the temper of a man of whom an intimate and confidential friend predicted that he would never stop short until he had mounted either the thi'one or the scaffold. The ovei-throw of Robespierre was the restdt of an alliance between what may be called the radicals and the conservatives in the Conven- tion. Both were Jacobins, for the Grirondists had been discredited, and put out of doors. It was not, however, the Convention, but Paris, wliich took command of the resulting movement. The social stmcture of France has been so strong, and the nation so homogeneous, that po- litical convulsions have had much less influence there than elsewhere. But the " Terror " had struck at the heart of nearly every family of consequence in the capital, and the people were utterly weary of hor- rors. The wave of reaction began when the would-be dictator fell. A wholesome longing for safety, with its attendant pleasures, overpow- ered society, and hght-heartedness retmned. Underneath this temper lay but partly concealed a grim determination not to be thwarted, which awed the Convention. Slowly, yet surely, the Jacobins lost their power. As once the whole land had been mastered by the idea of " federation," and as a later patriotic impulse had given as a watch- word "the nation," so now another refrain was in eveiy mouth — "hu- manity." The very songs of previous stages, the " ^a ira " and the " Carmagnole," were displaced by new and milder ones. With Paris in this mood, it was clear that the proscribed might return, and the Convention, for its intemperate severity, must abdicate. This, of course, meant a new pohtical experiment ; but being, as they were, sanguine admirers of Rousseau, the French felt no appre- hension at the prospect. The present constitution of the third repub- hc in France is considered a happy chance by many who live under it. It is far from being perfectly adapted to the needs of the nation ; but what fine quahties it possesses are the outcome, not of chance, nor of theory, but of a century's experience. It should be remembered that France ui the eighteenth century had had no experience whatever of constitutional government, and the spirit of the age was all for theory in politics. Accordingly the democratic monarchy of 1791 had failed ^T. 25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 159 because, its framework having been built of empty visions, its consti- Chap. xix tution was entirely in the air. The same fate had now overtaken the 1795 Girondist experiment of 1792 and the Jacobin usurpation of the follow- ing year, which was ostensibly sanctioned by the popular adoption of a new constitution. With perfect confidence in Rousseau's idea that gov- ernment is based on a social contract between individuals, the nation had sworn its adhesion to two constitutions successively, and had ratified the act each time by appropriate solemnities. Ah'eady the flimsy bub- ble of such a conception had been punctiu-ed. Was it strange that the Convention determined to repeat the same old experiment ? Not at all. They knew nothing better than the old idea, and never doubted that the fault lay, not in the system, but in its details ; they believed they could improve on the work of their predecessors by the change and modification of particulars. Aware, therefore, that their own day had passed, they determined, before dissolving, to construct a new and improved form of government. The work was confided to a committee of eleven, most of whom were Girondists recalled for the purpose in order to hoodwink the pubhc. They now separated the executive and judiciary from each other and fi'om the legislatm'e, divided the latter into two branches, so as to cool the heat of popular sentiment before it was expressed in statutes, and, avoiding the pitfall dug for itself by the National Assembly, made members of the Convention ehgible for election under the new system. If the monarchy could have been restored at the same time, these features of the new charter would have reproduced in France some elements of the British constitution, and its adoption would probably have pacified the dynastic rulers of Europe. But the restoration of monarchy in any fonn was as yet impossible. The Bom'bons had utterly discredited royalty, and the late glorious successes had been won partly by the lavish use in the enemy's camp of money raised and granted by radical democrats, partly by the prowess of enthusiastic republicans. The compact, efficient organization of the national army was the work of the Jacobins, and while the Mountain was discredited in Paris, it was not so in the provinces ; moreover, the army which was on foot and in the field was in the main a Jacobin army. Royalty was so hated by most Frenchmen that the sad plight of the child dauphin, dying by mches in the Temple, awakened no compassion, and its next lineal representative was that hated thing, a voluntary exUe; the no- 260 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 Chap. XIX bility, who might have furnished the material for a French House of 1795 Lords, were traitors to their country, actually bearing amis in the levies of her foes. The national feeling was a passion ; Louis XVI. had been popular enough until he had outraged it fii'st by ordering the Chui'ch to remain obedient to Rome, and then by appealing to foreign powers for protection. The emigi'ant nobles had stumbled over one another in their haste to manifest their contempt for nationahty by throwing themselves into the arms of their own class in foreign lands. Moreover, the work of the Revolution in another direction could not be undone. The lands of both the emigTants and the Church had either been seized and divided among the adherents of the new order, or else appropriated to state uses. Restitution was out of the question, for the power of the new owners was sufficient to destroy any one who should propose to take away their possessions. A constitutional monarchy, therefore, was unthinkable. A presidential government on the model of that devised and used by the United States was equally impossible, because the French appear abeady to have had a premonition or an instinct that a ripe experience of liberty was essential to the working of such an institution. The student of the revolutionary times will become aware how powerful the feeUng ah-eady was among the French, that a single strong executive, elected by the masses, would speedily turn into a tyi-ant. They have now a nominal president ; but his election is indirect, his office is representative, not political, and his duties are like an impersonal, colorless reflection of those performed by the Eng- lish crown. The constitution-makers simply could not fall back on an experience of successful free government which did not exist. Abso- lute monarchy had made gradual change impossible, for oppression dies only in convulsions. Experience was in front, not behind, and must be gained through suffering. It was therefore a sad necessity which led the Thermidorians of the Convention to try another political nostrum. What should it be? There had always been a profound sense in France of her historic con- tinuity with Rome. Her system of jurispradence, her speech, her church, her very land, were Roman. Recalling this, the constitution- framers also recollected that these had been the gifts of imperial Rome. It was a curious but characteristic whim which consequently sug- gested the revival of Roman forms dating from the commonwealth. This it was which led them to commit the administration of govern- ^T. 25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 161 ment in both external and internal relations to a divided executive. Chap, xrx There, however, the resemblance to Rome ended, for instead of two 1^95 consuls there were to be five directors. These were to sit as a commit- tee, to appoint their own ministerial agents, together with all oflBcers and officials of the army, and to fill the few positions in the adminis- trative departments which were not elective, except those in the treasury, which was a separate, independent administration. All exec- utive powers except those of the treasury were Ukewise to be in their hands. They were to have no veto, and their treaties of peace must be ratified by the legislatiu*e ; but they could declare war without consult- ing any one. The judiciary was to be elected directly by the people, and the judges were to hold office for about a year. The legislature was to be separated into a senate with two hundred and fifty members, called the Council of Ancients, which had the veto power, and an assem- bly called the Council of Juniors, or, more popularly, fi-om its number, the Five Hundred, which had the initiative in legislation. The mem- bers of the former must be at least forty years old and mamed ; every aspu'ant for a seat in the latter must be twenty-five and of good character. Both these bodies were alike to be elected by universal suffrage working indirectly through secondary electors, and limited by educational and property qualifications. There were many wholesome checks and balances. The scheme was formed, as was intended, under Girondist influence, and was acceptable to the nation as a whole. In spite of many defects, it might after a Httle experience have been amended so as to work, if the people had been united and hearty in its support. But they were not. The Thermidorians, who were still Jacobins at heart, ordered that at least two thirds of the men elected to sit in the new houses should have been members of the Convention, on the plea that they alone had sufficient experience of affairs to carry on the public business, at least for the present. Perhaps this was intended as some offset to the closing of the Jacobin Club on November twelfth, 1794, before the menaces of the higher classes of Parisian society, known to history as "the gilded youth." On the other hand, the royalists saw in the new constitution an instrument ready to their hand, should public opinion, in its search for means to restore quiet and order, be carried still fur- ther away from the Revolution than the movement of Thermidor had swept it. Their conduct justified the measures of the Jacobins. 23 CHAPTER XX the antechamber to success Punishment of the Terkoeists — Dangers of the Thermidorians — Successes of Republican Arms — The Treaty of Basel — Ven- DEAN Disorders Repressed — The "White Terror" — Royalist Activity — Friction under the New Constitution — Arrival of BONAPAKTE in PaEIS — PaRIS SOCIETY — ItS PoWER — ThE PeOPLE Angry — Resurgence of Jacobinism — Bonaparte's Dejection — His Relations with Mme. Permon — His Magnanimity. 1795 Char XX i^iROM time to time after the events of Thermidor the more active A agents of the TeiTor were sentenced to transportation, and the less guilty were imprisoned. On May seventh, 1795, three days before Buonaparte's amval in Paris, Fouquier-Tinville, and fifteen other wretches who had been but tools, the execiitioners of the revolutionary tribunal, were put to death. The National Guard had been reorgan- ized, and Pichegi'U was recalled from the north to take command of the united forces in Paris under a committee of the Convention with Ban'as at its head. This was intended to overawe those citizens of Paris who were hos- tile to the Jacobins. They saw the trap set for them, and were angiy. During the years of internal disorder and foreign warfare just passed the economic conditions of the land had grown worse and worse, untU, in the winter of 1794-95, the laboring classes of Paris were again on the verge of starvation. As usual, they attributed their suffeiings to the government, and there were bread riots. Twice in the spring of 1795 — on April first and May twentieth — the unemployed and hungry rose to overthrow the Convention, but they were easily put down by the soldiers on both occasions. The whole populace, as represented by the sections of Paris, resented this use of armed force, and grew un- 163 ^T.25] THE ANTECHAMBER TO SUCCESS 163 easy. The Thermidoruins further angered it hy introducing a new chap-xx metropohtan administration, which greatly diminished the powers and nos influence of the sections, without, however, destroying their organi- zation. The people of the capital, therefore, were ready for mischief. The stonning of the Tuileries on August tenth, 1792, had been the work of the Paris mob. Why could they not overthrow the tyranny of the Jacobins as they had that of the King 1 A crisis might easily have been precipitated before Buonaparte's arrival in Paris, but it was delayed by events outside the city. The year 1794 had been a brilliant season for the republican arms and for republican diplomacy. Pichegru, with the Army of the North, had driven the invaders from French soil and had conquered the Austrian Netherlands. Jourdan, with the Army of the Sambre and Meuse, had defeated the Austrians at Fleurus in a battle decided by the bravery of Marceau, thus confirming the conquest. Other generals were likewise rising to eminence. Hoche had in 1793 beaten the Austrians under Wurmser at Weissenburg, and diiven them from Alsace. He had now further heightened his fame by his successes against the insurgents of the West. Saint-Cyi", Bernadotte, and Kleber, with many others of Buonaparte's contemporaries, had also risen to distinction in minor en- gagements. The record of military energy put forth by the liberated nation under Jacobin rule stands, as Pox declared in the House of Com- mons, absolutely unique. Twenty-seven victories, eight in pitched bat- tle; one hundred and twenty fights; ninety thousand prisoners; one hundred and sixteen towns and important places captm-ed; two hundi-ed and thirty forts or redoubts taken; three thousand eight hundi-ed pieces of ordnance, seventy thousand muskets, one thousand tons of powder, and ninety standards fallen into French hands — such is the incredible tale. Moreover, the army had been purged with as httle mercy as a mercantile corporation shows to incompetent employees. It is often claimed that the armies of repubhcan France and of Napoleon were, after all, the armies of the Bourbons. Not so. The conscription law, though very imperfect in itself, was supplemented by the general enthusiasm; a nation was now in the ranks instead of hirelings; the reorganization had remodeled the whole structure, and between Jan- uary first, 1792, and January twentieth, 1795, one himdred and ten divi- sion commanders, two hundred and sixty-three generals of brigade, and one hundred and thirty-eight adjutant-generals either resigned, 164 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 Chap. XX Were Suspended fi-om duty, or were dismissed from tlie sei-vice. The 1795 republic had new leaders and new men in its armies. The nation had apparently determined that the natural boundary of 'France and of its own revolutionary system was the Rhine. Nice and Savoy would round out then- territory to the south. This much the new government, it was understood, would conquer, administer, and keep; the Revolution in other lands, impelled but not guided by French influence, must manage its own affairs. This was, of course, an entirely new diplomatic situation. Under its pressure Holland, by the aid of Pichegru's army, became the Batavian Republic, and ceded Dutch Flanders to France ; while Prussia abandoned the coahtion, and in the treaty of Basel, signed on April fifth, 1795, agreed to the neu- trality of all north Germany, and in return for the possessions of the ecclesiastical pi'inces in central Germany, which were eventually to be secularized, yielded to France imdisputed possession of the left bank of the Rhine. Spain, Portugal, and the httle states both of south Ger- many and of Italy were all alike weary of the contest, the more so as they were honeycombed with liberal ideas. They were already prepar- ing to desert England and Austria, the great powers which still stood firm, and, with the exception of Portugal, they acceded within a few weeks to the terms of Basel. Rome, as the instigator of the unyielding ecclesiastics of Vendee, was, of course, on the side of Great Britain and the Empire. At home the miUtary success of the repubhc was for a httle while equally marked. Before the close of 1794 the Breton peasants who, under the name of Chouans, had become lawless highwaymen were en- tirely crushed; and the Enghsh expedition sent to Quiberon in the fol- lowing year to revive the disorders was a fizzle. The insurrection of Vendee had dragged stubbornly on, but it was stamped out in June, 1795, by the execution of over seven hundi'ed of the emigrants who had returned on Enghsh vessels to fan the royalist blaze which was kindling again. The royahsts, having created the panic of five years previous, were not now to be outdone even by the Terror. Charette, the Vendean leader, retahated by a holocaust of two thousand repubhcan prisoners whom he had taken. After the events of Thermidor the Convention had thrown open the prison doors, put an end to bloodshed, and pro- claimed an amnesty. The evident power of the Parisian bui'ghers, the -:s^*i I'KAWiNU MAI>K tUR THE CE.NTL'KV ' LOUIS-MARIE DE LAREVELLIERE-LEFEAUX MEMBER OF THE DIRECTORY SKETCH BT EKIC PAPE FROM THE POBTRAJT BY FRJlN(;Oia O&KARD iET.25] THE ANTECHAMBER TO SUCCESS 165 form given by the Girondists to the new constitution, the longing of chap^xx all for peace and for a return of comfort and prosperity, still fui-ther i795 emboldened the royaUsts, and enabled them to produce a wide- spread reyulsion of feehng. They rose in many parts of the South, instituting what is known from the colors they wore as the " White TeiTor," and pitilessly murdering, in the desperation of timid revenge, then* unsuspecting and unready neighbors of repuljlican opinions. The scenes enacted were more tenible, the human butchery was more bloody, than any known dui-ing the darkest days of the revolution- ary movement in Paris. The Jacobins, therefore, in view of so dangerous a situation, and not without some reason, had determined that they themselves should administer the new constitution. The royalists at the same time saw in its provisions a means to accomplish their ends; and relying upon the attitude of the capital, in which mob and burghers alike were angry, determined simultaneously to strike a blow for mastery, and to supplant the Jacobins. Evidence of their activity appeared l)oth in military and pohtical circles. Throughout the summer of 1795 there was an unaccountable languor in the army. It was behoved that Piche- gru had purposely palsied his own and Jourdan's abilities, and the needless armistice he made with Austria went far to confirm the idea. It was afterward proved that several members of the Convention had been in communication with royahsts. Among their agents was a personage of some importance — a certain Aubiy — who, having re- tm-ned after the events of Thermidor, never disavowed his real senti- ments as a royahst; and being later made chairman of the army committee, was in that position when Buonaparte's career was tempo- rarily checked by degradation from the artillery to the infantry. For this absurd reason he was long but unjustly thought to have also caused the original transfer to the West. The Convention was vaguely aware of aU that was taking place. Having abolished the powerful and terrible Committee of Safety, which had conducted its operations with such success as attends remorseless vigor, it was found necessary on August ninth to reconstruct something similar to meet the new crisis. At the same time the spuit of the hour was propitiated by forming sixteen other committees to control the action of the central one. Such a dispersion of executive power was a virtual paralysis of action. The constitution was adopted a fortnight IQQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 Chap. XX later, on August twenty-second. Immediately the sections of Paris 1795 began to display irritation at the limitations set to their choice of new representatives. They had many sympathizers in the provinces, and the extreme reactionaries from the Revolution were juljilant. For- tunately for France, Carnot was temporarily retained to control the department of war. He was not removed until the following March. When General Buonaparte reached Paris, and went to dwell in the mean and shabby lodgings which his lean purse compelled him to choose, he found the city strangely metamorphosed. Animated by a settled purpose not to accept the position assigned to him in the Army of the West, and, if necessary, to defy his mihtaiy superiors, his hu- mor put him out of all sympathy with the prevalent gaiety. Bitter experience had taught him that in civil war the consequences of victory and defeat are ahke inglorious. In the fickleness of public opinion the avenging hero of to-day may easily become the reprobated outcast of to-morrow. What reputation he had gained at Toulon was already dissipated in part; the rest might easily be squandered entirely in Vendee. He felt and said that he could wait. But how about his daily bread? The drawing-rooms of Paris had opened like magic before the "sesame" of Thermidor and the prospects of settled order under the Directory. There were visiting, dining, and dancing; dressing, flirta- tion, and intrigue; walking, driving, and riding — all the avocations of a people soured with the cruel and bloody past, and reasserting its native passion for pleasiu'e and refinement. The morality of the hour was no better than the old; for there was a strange mixture of elements in this new society; the men in power were of every class — a few of the old aristocracy, many of the wealthy burghers, a certain propor- tion of the colonial nabobs fi-om the West Indies and elsewhere, ad- venturers of every stripe, a few even of the city populace, and some country common folk. The ingredients of this queer hodgepodge had yet to learn one another's language and nature ; the niceties of speech, gesture, and mien which once had a well-imderstood significance in government circles were all to be readjusted in accordance with the ideas of the motley crowd and given new conventional currency. In such a disorderly transition vice does not requii*e the mask of hypoc- risy, virtue is helpless because unorganized, and something hke riot characterizes conduct. The sound and rugged goodness of many new- ^T. 25] THE ANTECHAMBER TO SUCCESS 167 comers, the habitual respectabihty of the veterans, were for the moment chap. xx alike inactive because not yet kneaded into the lump they had to leaven. 1795 There was, nevertheless, a marvelous exhibition of social power in this heterogeneous mass : nothing of course proportionate in extent to what had been brought forth for national defense, but still of almost, if not entu'ely, equal significance. Tliroughout the revolutionary epoch there had been much discussion concerning reforms in education. It was in 1794 that Monge finally succeeded in foimdiug the great Poly- technic School, an institution which clearly corresponded to a national characteristic, since from that day it has strengthened the natural bias of the French toward applied science, and tempted them to the undue and unfortunate neglect of many important humanizmg disciplines. The Conservatory of Music and the Institute were permanently reor- ganized soon after. The great collections of the Museum of Arts and Crafts (Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers) were begim, and pemianent lecture courses were founded in connection with the National Libraiy, the Botanical Garden, the Medical School, and other learned institu- tions. Almost immediately a philosophical Uteratm-e began to appear ; pictures were painted, and the theaters reopened with new and tolerable pieces written for the day and place. In the very midst of war, more- over, an attempt was made to emancipate the press. The effort was ill advised, and the results were so deplorable for the conduct of affairs that the newspapers were in the event more firmly muzzled than ever. When Buonaparte had made his living arrangements, and began to look about, he must have been stupefied by the hatred of the Convention so generally and openly manifested on every side. The provinces had looked upon the Revolution as accomphshed. Paris was evidently in such ill humor with the body which represented it that the repubhc was to aU appearance virtually imdone. "Reelect two thirds of the Convention members to the new legislature ! " said the angry demagogues of the Paris sections. "Never! Those men who, by their own confession, have for three years in all these hoiTors been the cowardly tools of a sentiment they could not restrain, but are now seK-styled and reformed moderates ! Impossible ! " Whether bribed by foreign gold, and working under the influence of royahsts, or by reason of the famine, or thi-ough the determination of the weU- to-do to have a radical change, or from all these influences combined, the sections were gradually organizing for resistance, and it was soon 168 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 Chap. XX clear that the National Guard was in sympathy with them. The Con- 1795 vention was equally alert, and began to arm for the conflict. They already had several hundred artillerymen and five thousand regulars who were imbued with the national rather than the local spirit ; they now began to enUst a special guard of fiiteen hundred from the desperate men who had been the trusty followers of Hebert and Robespierre. For a month or more Buonaparte was a mere onlooker, or at most an interested examiner of events, weighing and speculating in ob- scurity much as he had done thi'ee years before. The war department listened to and gi-anted his earnest request that he might remain in Paris until a general reassignment of officers, which had been determined upon, and, as his good fortune would bave it, was already in progress, should be completed. As the first weeks passed, news arrived from the south of a reaction in favor of the Jacobins. It became clearer every day that the Convention had moral support beyond the ramparts of Paris, and within the city it was possible to maintain sometliing in the natui'e of a Jacobin salon. Many of that faith who were disaf- fected with the new conditions in Paris — the Corsicans in particular — were welcomed at the home of Mme. Permon by herself and her beau- tiful daughter, afterward Mme. Junot and Duchess of Abrantes. SaU- cetti bad chosen the other child, a son now grown, as his private sec- retary, and was of course a special favorite in tbe house. The first manifestation of reviving Jacobin confidence was shown in tbe attack made on May twentieth upon the Convention by hungry rioters who sliouted for the constitution of 1793, and were assisted in creating dis- order by the radical members. The tumult was queUed by the courage and presence of mind shown by Boissy d'Anglas, a cahn and deter- mined moderate, who had been commissioned to act alone in provi- sioning Paris, and bravely accepted his responsibihty by mounting the president's chair in the midst of the tumult. The mob brandished in his face the bloody head of Feraud, a feUow-member of his whom they bad just miu'dered. The chairman uncovered his head in respect, and Ms undaunted mien cowed the leaders, who slunk away, followed by the rabble. The consequence was a total annihilation of the Mountain on May twenty-second. The Convention committees were disbanded, their artillerymen were temporarily dismissed, and the constitution of 1793 was aboUshed. The friendly home of Mme. Permon was almost the only resort of liK.VWINIl MAUK toil THl; Ct-NTUKY CO. FELICE PASQUALE BACCIOCCHI PRINCE OF LUCCA AND PIOMBINO, GRAND DUKE OF TUSCANY DRAWlSCi BY KKIC PAPK FROM THK PORTRAIT IN THE amSEUM OF AJACCIO, TORSICA 2&T.25] THE ANTECHAMBER TO SUCCESS 169 Buonapai-te, who, though disillusioned, was still a Jacobin. Something chap. xx like desperation appeared in his manner; the lack of proper food 1795 emaciated his frame, while uncertainty as to the future left its mark on his wan face and in his restless eyes. It was not astonishing, for his personal and family affairs were apparently hopeless. His brothers, hke himself, had now been deprived of profitable employment ; they, with him, might possibly and even probably soon be numbered among the suspects ; destitute of a powerful patron, and with his family once more in actual want, Napoleon was scarcely fit in either garb or humor for the society even of his friends. His hostess described him as hav- ing "sharp, angular features; small hands, long and thin; his hair long and disheveled ; without gloves ; wearing badly made, badly pol- ished shoes ; having always a sickly appearance, which was the result of his lean and yellow complexion, brightened only by two eyes glisten- ing with shi'ewdness and firmness." Bourrienne, who had now retm-ned from diplomatic service, was not edified by the appearance or temper of his acquaintance, who, he says, " was ill clad and slovenly, his char- acter cold, often inscrutable. His smile was hollow and often out of place. He had moments of fierce gaiety which made you uneasy, and indisposed to love him." No wonder the man was ill at ease. His worst fears were reahzed when the influence of the Mountain was wiped out, — Camot, the organizer of victory, as he had been styled, being the only one of all the old leaders to escape. Salicetti was too prominent a partizan to be overlooked by the angiy burghers. For a time he was concealed by Mme. Permon in her Paris home. He escaped the vengeance of his enemies in the disguise of her lackey, flying with her when she left for the south to seek refuge for herseK and children. Even the rank and flle among the members of the Moimtain either fled or were an*ested. That Buonaparte was unmolested appears to prove how cleverly he had concealed his connection with them. The story that in these days he proposed for the hand of Mme. Permon, though without any corrob- orative evidence, has an air of probabihty, partly in the consideration of a despair which might lead him to seek any support, even that of a wife as old as his mother, partly from the existence of a letter to the lady which, though enigmatical, displays an interesting mixture of woimded pride and real or pretended jealousy. The epistle is dated June eighteenth, 1795. He felt that she would think him duped, he 23 170 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 Chap. XX explains, if lie did not inform her that although she had not seen fit to 1795 give her confidence to him, he had all along known that she had Sali- cetti in liiding. Then follows an address to that countryman, evidently intended to clear the writer from all taint of Jacobinism, and couched in these terms : "I could have denounced thee, but did not, although it would have been but a just revenge so to do. Which has chosen the truer part ? Go, seek in peace an asylum where thou canst return to better thoughts of thy country. My lips shall never utter thy name. Repent, and above all, appreciate my motives. This I deserve, for they are noble and generous." In these words to the political refugee he employs the familiar repubhcan " thou " ; in the peroration, addressed, like the introduction, to the lady herself, he recurs to the polite and distant " you." " Mme. Permon, my good wishes go with you as with your child. You are two feeble creatures with no defense. May Providence and the prayers of a friend be with you. Above all, be prudent and never remain in the large cities. Adieu. Accept my friendly greetings." The meaning of this missive is recondite ; perhaps it is this : Mme. Permon, I loved you, and could have ruined the rival who is your pro- tege with a clear conscience, for he once did me foul wrong, as he will acknowledge. But farewell. I bear you no grudge. Or else it may announce another change in the pohtical weather by the veering of the cock. As a good citizen, despising the hoiTors of the past, I could have denounced you, Sahcetti. I did not, for I recalled old times and your helplessness, and wished to heap coals of fire on your head, that you might see the eiTor of your way. The latter interpretation finds sup- port in the complete renunciation of Jacobinism which the writer made soon afterward, and in liis subsequent labored explanation that in the " Supper of Beaucaire " he had not identified himself with the Jacobin soldier, but had wished only by a dispassionate presentation of facts to show the hopeless case of Marseilles, and to prevent useless bloodshed. CHAPTER XXI bonapaete the genebal of the convention Disappointments — Anothek Fuelough — Connection with B arras — OrncLAL Society in Paris — Bonaparte as a Beau — Condition of His Family — A Political General — An Opening in Turkey — Opportunities in Europe — Social Advancement — Official Deg- radation — Schemes for Restoration — Plans of the Royalists — The Hostility of Paris to the Convention — Bonaparte, General of the Convention Troops — His Strategy. THE overhauling of the aimy Hst with the subsequent reassignment chap. xxi of officers tiu-ned out ill for Buonaparte. Aubry, the head of the 1795 committee, appears to have been utterly indifferent to him, displaying no ill will, and certainly no active good will, toward the sometime Jacobin, whose name, moreover, was last on the list of artillery officers in the order of seniority. According to the regulations, when one arm of the service was overmanned, the superfluous officers were to be transfeiTed to another. This was now the case with the artillery, and Buonaparte, as a supernumerary, was on June thu'teenth again ordered to the West, but this time only as a mere infantry general of brigade. He appears to have felt throughout life more vindictiveness toward Aubry, the man whom he beheved to have been the author of this par- ticular misfortune, than toward any other person with whom he ever came in contact. In this rigid scnitiay of the army Ust, exaggerated pretensions of service and untruthful testimonials were no longer ac- cepted. For this reason Joseph also had already lost his position, and was about to settle with his family in Genoa, while Louis was actually sent back to school, being ordered to Chalons. Poor Lucien, over- whelmed in the general ruin of the radicals, and with a wife and child 171 272 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-20 Chap. XXI dependent on him, was in despair. The other members of the family 1795 were temjjorarily destitute, hut self-helpful. In this there was nothing new ; but, for all that, the monotony of the situation must have been disheartening. Napoleon's resolution was soon taken. He was either really ill fi*om privation and disap- pointment, or soon became so. Armed with a medical certificate, he applied for and received a furlough. This step having been taken, the next, according to the unchanged and familiar instincts of the man; was to apply under the law for mileage to pay his expenses on the jour- ney which he had taken as far as Paris in pursuance of the order given him on March twenty-ninth to proceed to his post in the West. Again, following the precedents of his life, he calculated mileage not fi-om Marseilles, whence he had really started, but fi-om Nice, thus largely in- creasing the amount which he asked for, and in due time received. Durmg his leave several projects occupied his busy brain. The most important were a speculation in the sequestered lands of the emigrants and monasteries, and the writing of two monographs — one a history of events from the ninth of Fructidor, year II (August twenty-sixth, 1794), to the beginning of year IV (September twenty- third, 1795), the other a memoir on the Army of Italy. The first no- tion was doubtless due to a frenzy for speciilation, then rife, which was comparable only to that which prevailed in France at the time of Law's Mississippi scheme or in England during the South Sea Bubble. It affords an insight into financial conditions to know that a gold piece of twenty francs was worth seven hundi'ed and fifty in paper. A project for pm-chasing a certain property as a good in- vestment for his wife's dowry was submitted to Joseph, but it failed by the sudden repeal of the law under which such purchases were made. The two themes were both finished, and another, " A Study in Politics : being an Inquiry into the Causes of Troubles and Discords," was sketched, but never completed. The memoir on the Army of Italy was virtually the scheme for offensive warfare which he had laid before the younger Robespierre ; it was now revised, and sent to the highest military power — the new central committee appointed as a substitute for the Committee of Safety. These occupations were aU very weU, but the furlough was rapidly expiring, and nothing had turned up. Most opportunely, the invahd had a relapse, and was able to secure an extension of leave until August fourth, the date on i Till, CUILLCTIUN Uh M' t.U.MIiNil T 1 irui..K,v\Lia: inju^-un, \ALAttoN A (.0, iv\[;is. MARIE-JOSEPHE-ROSE TASCHER DE LA PAGERIE, CALLED JOSEPHINE, EMPRESS OF THE FRENCH. FIIOM THE DESIGN ItV JEAN-RArTISTR ISADRY (rKNr.II, DIIAWINC. riF.TOLCHED IN WATEn C-OfrR) MALE IN 17P8. iET. 25-26] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OF THE CONVENTION 173 which a third of the committee on the reassigument of officers would (Jhai-. xxi retire, among them the hated Aubry. 1795 Speaking at St. Helena of these days, he said : "I hved in the Paris streets without employment. I had no social habits, going only into the set at the house of BaiTas, where I was well received. ... I was there because there was nothmg to bo had elsewhere. I attached my- self to BaiTas because I knew no one else. Robespierre was dead; Barras was playing a role : I had to attach myself to somebody and something." It will not be forgotten that Barras and Freron had been Danton- ists when they were at the siege of Toulon with Buonaparte. After the events of Thermidor they had forsworn Jacobinism altogether, and were at present in aUiance with the moderate elements of Paris society. Barras's rooms in the Luxemboiu-g were the center of all that was gay and dazzling in that corrupt and careless world. They were, as a mat- ter of course, the resort of the most beautifid and brilliant women, in- fluential, but not over-scrupulous. Mme. Talhen, who has been called " the goddess of Thermidor," was the queen of the coterie ; scarcely less beautiful and gracious were the widow Beauharnais and Mme. Recamier. BaiTas had been a noble; the instincts of his class made him a dehghtful host. What Napoleon saw and experienced he wrote to the faithful Joseph. The letters are a truthful transcript of his emotions, the key-note of which is admiration for the Paris women. " Carriages and the gay world appear, or rather suggest as after a long dream that they have ever ceased to ghtter. Readings, lectui"e courses in history, botany, astronomy, etc., follow one another. Everything is here col- lected to amuse and render life agreeable ; you are taken out of your thoughts ; how can you have the blues in this intensity of pm-pose and whu'ling tiuinoil'? The women are eveiywhere, at the play, on the promenades, in the hbraries. In the scholar's study you find very charming persons. Here only of all places in the world they deserve to hold the helm : the men are mad about them, think only of them, and hve only by means of their influence. A woman needs six months in Paris to know what is her due and what is her sphere." As yet he had not met Mme. Beauharnais. The whole tone of the correspon- dence is cheerfiil, and indicates that Buonaparte's efforts for a new alli- ance had been successful, that his fortunes were looking up, and that 174 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-20 Chap. XXI tho giddy world contained sometMng of uncommon interest. As his 1795 fortunes improved, he grew more hopeful, and appeared more in society. On occasion he even ventured upon little gallantries. Pre- sented to Mme. Tallien, he was frequently seen at her receptions. He was at first shy and reserved, but time and custom put him more at his ease. One evening, as httle groups were gradually formed for the in- terchange of jest and repartee, he seemed to lose his timidity altogether, and, assuming the mien of a fortune-teller, caught his hostess's hand, and poured out a long rigmarole of nonsense which much amused the rest of the circle. These months had also improved the situation of the family. His mother and younger sisters were somehow more comfortable in their Marseilles home. Strange doings were afterward charged against them, but it is probable that these stories are without other foundation than spite. Napoleon had received a considerable sum for mileage, nearly twenty-seven hundred francs, and, good son as he always was, it is likely that he shared the money with his family. Both Ehsa and the little Pauhne now had suitors. Fesch, described by Lucien as "ever fresh, not hke a rose, but like a good radish," was comfortably waiting at Aix in the house of old acquaintances for a chance to return to Cor- sica. Joseph's an'angements for moving to Genoa were nearly com- plete, and Louis was comfortably settled at school in Chalons. "Brutus" Lucien was the only luckless wight of the number : his fears had been realized, and, having been denounced as a Jacobin, he was now lying terror-stricken in the prison of Aix, when aU about him men of his stripe were being executed. On August fifth the members of the new Committee of Safety finally entered on theii' duties. Almost the first document pre- sented at the meeting was Buonaparte's demand for restoration to his rank in the artOleiy. It rings with indignation, and abounds with loose statements about his past services, boldly claiming the honors of the last short but successful Italian campaign. The paper was referred to the proper authorities, and, a fortnight later, its writer received per- emptory orders to join his corps in the West. What could be more amusingly characteristic of this persistent man than to read, in a letter to Joseph under date of the following day, August twentieth: "I am attached at this moment to the topographical bureau of the Committee of Safety for the du*ection of the armies in Carnot's place. If I wish, ^T. 25-26] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OF THE CONVENTION 175 I can be sent to Tui-key by the government as general of artillery, chap. xxi with a good salary and a splendid title, to organize the artillery of the nsf) Grand Turk." Then follow plans for Joseph's appointment to the consular service, for a meeting at Leghorn, and for a further land spec- ulation. At the close are these remarks, which not only exhibit great acuteness of observation, but are noteworthy as displaying a permanent quality of the man, that of always having an alternative in readiness: "It is quiet, but storms are gathering, perhaps; the primaries arc going to meet in a few days. I shall take with me five or six officers. . . . The commission and decree of the Committee of Safety, which employs me in the duty of directing the armies and plans of campaign, being most flattering to me, I fear they will no longer allow me to go to Tur- key. We shall see. I may have on hand a campaign to-day. . . . Write always as if I were going to Turkey." This was all half true. By dint of sohciting Barras and Doulcet de Pontecoulant, another well-wisher, both men of influence, and by impor- tuning Freron, then at the height of his power, but soon to display a ruinous incapacity, Buonaparte had actually been made a member of the commission of four which directed the armies, and Dutot had been sent in his stead to the West. Moreover, there was hkewise a chance for realizing those dreams of achieving glory in the Orient which had haimted him from childhood. At this moment there was a serious ten- sion in the pohtics of eastern Eui-ope, and the French saw an opportu- nity to strike Austria on the other side by an alhance with Tm-key. The latter country was of course entirely unprepared for war, and asked for the appointment of a French commission to reconstruct its gun- foundries and to improve its artilleiy service. Buonaparte, having learned the fact, had immediately prepared two memorials, one on the Turkish artillery, and another on the means of strengthening Turkish power against the encroachments of European monarchies. These he sent up with an apphcation that he should be appointed head of the commission, inclosing also laudatory certificates of his uncommon abil- ity from Doulcet and from Debry, a newly made friend. But the vista of an Eastern career temporarily vanished. The new constitution, adopted, as ah-eady stated, on August twenty-second, could not become operative until after the elections. On August thirty-fii'st Buonaparte's plan for the conduct of the coming Italian campaign was read by the Convention committee, found satisfactory, and adopted. It 176 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE L^t. 25-26 Chap. XXI remains in many respects the greatest of all Napoleon's military papers, 1795 its only fault being that no genius inferior to his own could carry it out. A few days later he became aware of the impression he had made: it seemed clear that he had a reahty in hand worth every possibihty in the Orient. He therefore wrote to Joseph that he was going to remain in Paris, explaining, as if incidentally, that he could thus be on the lookout for any desirable vacancy in the consular ser- vice, and secure it, if possible, for him. Dreams of another kind had supplanted in his mind all visions of Oriental splendor; for in subsequent letters to the same correspondent, wi'itten almost daily, he imfolds a series of rather starthng schemes, which among other things include a marriage, a town house, and a country residence, with a cabriolet and thi'ee horses. How all this was to come about we cannot entirely discover. The man-iage plan is clearly stated. Joseph had wedded one of the daughters of a com- paratively wealthy merchant. He was requested to sound his brother- in-law concerning the other, the famous Desiree Clary, who afterward became Mme. Bernadotte. Two of the horses were to be supphed by the government in place of a pair which he might be supposed to have possessed at Nice in accordance with the rank he then held, and to have sold, according to orders, when sent on the maritime expedition to Corsica. Where the third horse and the money for the houses were to come fi'om is inscrutable ; but, as a matter of fact. Napoleon had al- ready left his shabby lodgings for better ones in Mchodiere street, and was actually negotiating for the purchase of a handsome detached resi- dence near that of Bom-rienne, whose fortunes had also been retrieved. The country-seat which the speculator had in view, and for which he intended to bid as high as a million and a half of francs, was knocked down to another pui'chaser for three millions or, as the price of gold then was, about forty thousand dollars ! So great a personage must, of com'se, have a secretary, and the faithful Junot had been appointed to the office. The application for the horses turned out a serious matter, and brought the adventurer once more to the verge of ruin. The story he told was not plain, the records did not substantiate it, the hard- hearted of&cials of the war department evidently did not beheve a syllable of his representations, — which, in fact, were imtruthful, — and, the central committee having again lost a third of its members by ro- IN 'IHK Mi;sKl'M IIF V KllSAlLLKS KNUItAVEU IIY 11. *•. TJtTZK NAPOLEON BONAPARTE GENERAL-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMY OF ITALY JilUM TllK i'AlNTlNU HY JUAN-sr.BASI'II N KOl'lI.t.AKI). lAINTKI" IN 1S311 ^T. 25-26] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OP THE CONVENTION 177 tation, among them Doulcet, there was bo one now in it to plead Buo- chap. xxi naparte's cause. Accordingly there was no httle talk about the matter 1795 in very influential circles, and almost simultaneously was issued the report concerning his formal request for restoration, which had been delayed by the routine prescribed in such cases, and was only now com- pleted. It was not only adverse in itself, but contained a confidential inclosure animadverting severely on the m-egularities of the petitioner's conduct, and in particular on his stubborn refusal to obey orders and join the Army of the West. Thus it happened that on September fif- teenth the name of Buonaparte was officially struck fi'om the Hst of general officers on duty, " in view of his refusal to proceed to the post assigned him," It reaUy appeared as if the name of Napoleon might ahnost have been substituted for that of Tantalus in the fable. But it was the irony of fate that on this very day the subcommittee on foreign affairs submitted to the full meeting a proposition to send the man who was now a disgraced culprit in great state and with a full suite to take service at Constantinople in the army of the Grand Tmk ! No one had ever understood better than Buonaparte the possibih- ties of pohtical influence in a military career. Not only could he bend the bow of Achilles, but he always had ready an extra string. Thus far in his ten years of service he had been promoted only once accord- ing to routine ; the other steps of the height which he had reached had been secured by influence or chicane. He had been first Corsican and then French, first a pohtician and then a soldier. Such a veteran was not to be dismayed even by the most stimning blow ; had he not even now three powerful protectors — Barras, TaUien, and Freron"? He turned his back, therefore, with ready adaptability on the unsympa- thetic officials of the army, the mere soldiers with cool heads and merciless judgment. The evident short cut to restoration was to carry through the project of employment at Constantinople; it had been foiTaally recommended, and to secure its adoption he renewed his im- portunate soKcitations. His rank he still held ; he might hope to re- gain position by some brilhant stroke such as he could execute only without the restraint of orders and on his own initiative. His hopes grew, or seemed to, as his suit was not rejected, and he wi-ote to Joseph on September twenty-sixth that the matter of his departure was urgent ; adding, however : " But at this moment there are some ebullitions and incendiary symptoms." He was right in both surmises. Hi YjQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-26 Chap. XXI The Committee of Safety was formally consideiing tlie proposition for 1795 his transfer to the Sultan's service, while simultaneously affairs both in Paris and on the frontiers alike were "boiling." Meantime the royahsts and clericals had not been idle. They had learned nothing from the events of the Revolution, and did not even dimly understand then- own position. Their own allies repudiated both their sentiments and then- actions in the very moments when they believed themselves to be honorably fighting for self-preservation. English statesmen hke GranvOle and Harcourt now thought and said that it was impossible to impose on France a form of government distasteful to her people; but the British regent and the French pre- tender, who, on the death of his unfortunate nephew, the dauphin, had been recognized by the powers as Louis XVIII., were stubbornly united under the old Bourbon motto, "All or nothing." The change in the Convention, in Paris society, even in the country itself, which was about to desert its extreme Jacobinism and to adopt the new con- stitution by an overwhelming vote — all this deceived them, and they determined to stiike for everything they had lost. Preparations, it is now beheved, were aU ready for an inroad from the Rhine fi'ontier, for Pichegru to raise the white flag and to advance with his troops on Paris, and for a simultaneous rising of the royahsts in every French district. On October fourth an English fleet had appeared on the northern shore of France, having on board the Count of Ai-tois and a large body of emigrants, accompanied by a powerful force of Enghsh, composed in part of regulars, in part of volunteers. This completed the prehminary measures. With the first great conflict in the struggle, avowed royahsm had only an indirect connection. By this time the Paris sections were thoroughly reorganized, having purged themselves of the extreme democratic elements from the suburbs. They were weU drilled, well armed, and enthusiastic for resistance to the decree of the Con- vention requiring the compulsory reelection of a certain propor- tion of its members. The National Guard was not less embittered against that measure. There were three experienced officers then in Paris who were capable of leading an insurrection, and could be rehed on to oppose the Convention. These were Danican, Duhoux d'Haute- rive, and Laffont, all royahsts at heart; the last was an emigrant, and avowed it. The Convention had also by this time completed its yET. 25-26] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OP THE CONVENTION 179 enlistment, and had taken other measures of defense ; but it was with- chap. xxi out a tiaistworthy person to command its forces, for among the four- 1795 teen generals of the republic then present in Paris, only two were certainly loyal to the Convention, and both these were men of very indifferent character and officers of no capacity. The Convention forces were technically a part of the army known as that of the interior, of which Menou was the commander. The new constitution having been formally proclaimed on September twenty- third, the signs of open rebellion in Paris became too clear to be longer disregarded, and on that night a mass meeting of the various sections was held in the Odeon theater in order to prepare plans for open resistance. That of Lepelletier, in the heart of Paris, comprising the wealthiest and most influential of the mercantile class, afterward assembled in its hah and issued a call to rebellion. These were no contemptible foes : on the memorable tenth of August, theirs had been the battahon of the National Guard which died with the Swiss in de- fense of the Tuileries. Menou, in obedience to the command of the Convention to disarm the insurgent sections, confronted them for a moment. But the work was not to his taste. After a short parley, drn-iug which he feebly recommended them to disperse and behave like good citizens, he withdi'cw his forces to then- baiTacks, and left the armed and angry sections masters of the situation. Prompt and ener- getic measui'es were more necessary than ever. For some days aheady the Convention leaders had been discussing their plans. Camot and TaUien finally agi-eed with Ban-as that the man most hkely to do thor- oughly the active work was Buonaparte. But, apparently, they dared not altogether trust him, for Barras himself was appointed commander- in-chief. His "httle Corsican officer, who will not stand on ceremony," as he called him, was to be nominally heutenant. On October fom-th Buonaparte was summoned to a conference. The messengers sought biTTi at his lodgings and in all his haunts, but could not find him. It was nine in the evening when he appeared at headquarters in the Place du Carrousel. This delay gave Barras a chance to insinuate that his ardent republican friend, who all the previous week had been eagerly sohciting employment, was untrustworthy in the crisis, and had been negotiating with the sectionaries. Buonaparte reported himself as having come from the section of Lepelletier, but as having been recon- noitering the enemy. After a rather tart conversation Ban-as appointed 180 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-26 Chap. XXI him aide-de-camp, the position for which he had heen destined from 1795 the first. Whatever was the general's understanding of the situation, that of the aide was clear — that he was to be his own master. Not a moment was lost, and throughout the night most vigorous and incessant preparation was made. Buonaparte was as much himself in the streets of Paris as in those of Ajaccio, except that his energy was proportionately more feverish, as the defense of the Tuileries and the riding-school attached to it, in which the Convention sat, was a gi-ander task than the never-accomplished capture of the Corsican citadel. The avenues and streets of a city somewhat resemble the main and tributary valleys of a moimtain-range, and the task of campaigning in Paris was less unlike that of manoeuvering in the narrow gorges of the Apennines than might be supposed; at least Buonaparte's strategy was nearly identical for both. All his measm*es were masterly. The foe, scattered as yet throughout Paris on both sides of the river, was first cut in two by seizing and fortifying the bridges across the Seine ; then every avenue of approach was hkewise guarded, while flanking artillery was set in the narrow streets to command the main arteries. Finally a re- serve, ready for use on either side of the river, was estabUshed in what is now the Place de la Concorde, with an open hne of retreat toward St. Cloud behind it. Every order was issued in Ban-as's name, and Barras, in his memou's, claims all the honors of the day. He de- clares that his aide was afoot, while he was the man on horseback, ubiquitous and masterful. He does not even admit that Buonaparte bestrode a cab-horse, as even the vanquished were ready to acknow- ledge. The sections, of course, knew nothing of the new commander or of Buonaparte, and recalled only Menou's pusillanimity. Without cannon and without a plan, they determined to drive out the Conven- tion at once, and to overwhelm its forces by superior numbers. The quays of the left bank were therefore occupied by a large body of the National Guard, ready to rush in from behind when the main attack, made from the north through the labyrinth of streets and blind alleys then designated by the name of St. Honore, and by the short, wide passage of I'Echelle, should draw the Convention forces away in that direction to resist it. A kind of rendezvous had been appointed at the church of St. Roch, which was to be used as a depot of supplies and a retreat. Niunerous sectionaries were, in fact, posted there as auxiliaries at the crucial instant. H g W 5 H s S ? H i Z i 3 s O 3 tfl s O g O 5 ^ CHAPTER XXII the day of the paeis sections The Waefake at St. Eoch and the Pont Royal — Order Restored — Meajjing of the Conflict — Political Dangers — Bonaparte's DiLEiMiviA — His True Attitude — Sudden Wealth — The Direc- tory AND Their General — Bonaparte in Love — His Corsican Teiviperajvient — His Matrimonial Adventures. IN this general position the opposing forces confronted each other on chap. xxii the morning of October fifth, the thirteenth of Vendemiaire. Both 1795 seemed loath to begin. But at half -past four in the afternoon it was clear that the decisive moment had come. As if by instinct, but in reahty at Danican's signal, the forces of the sections from the northern portion of the capital began to pour through the naiTOw main street of St. Honore, behind the riding-school, toward the chief entrance of the Tuileries. They no doubt felt safer in the rear of the Convention hall, with the high wall of houses aU about, than they would have done in the open spaces which they would have had to cross in order to attack it from the fi'ont. When their compacted mass reached the church of St. Roch, and, taking a stand, suddenly became aware that in the side streets on the right were yawning the muzzles of hostUe cannon, the excited citizens lost their heads, and began to discharge theu" muskets. Then with a swift, sudden blast, the street was cleared by a terrible dis- charge of the shrapnel, canister, and grape-shot with which the great guns of Barras and Buonaparte were loaded. The action continued about an hour, for the people and the National Guard raUied again and again, each time to be mowed down by a like awful discharge. At last they could be ralhed no longer, and retreated. On the left bank a similar. melee ended in a simUar way. Three times Laffont gathered his forces and hurled them at the Pont Royal ; three times they were 181 182 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXII swept back by the cross-fire of artillery. The scene then changed like 1795 the vanishing of a mirage. Awe-stricken messengers appeared, huiTy- ing everywhere with the prostrating news from both sides of the river, and the entire Parisian force withdrew to shelter. Before nightfall the triumph of the Convention was complete. The dramatic effect of this achievement was heightened by the appearance on horseback here, there, and everywhere, dm-ing the short hour of battle, of an awe-inspir- ing leader ; both before and after, he was unseen. In spite of Ban-as's claims, there can be no doubt that this dramatic personage was Buona- parte. If not, for what was he so signally rewarded in the immediate sequel ? Barras was no artillerist, and this was the appearance of an expert giving masterly lessons in artillery practice to an astonished world, which little di'eaimed what he was yet to demonstrate as to the worth of his chosen arm on wider battle-fields. For the moment it suited Buonaparte to appear merely as an agent. In his reports of the affair his own name is kept in the background. It is evident that fi'om fii'st to last he intended to produce the impression that, though acting with Jacobins, he does so because they for the time represent the truth: he is not for that reason to be identified with them. There was no renewal of the reign of terror. A few conspicuous leaders were executed, among them Laffont, and harsh measures were enacted in relation to the political status of returned emigrants. But in the main an unexpected mercy controlled the Convention's pohcy. They closed the halls in which the people of the mutinous wards had met, and once more reorganized the National Guard. Order was re- stored without an effort. Beyond the walls of Paris the effect of the news was magical. Ai'tois, afterward Charles X., though he had landed three days before on lie Dieu, now reembarked, and sailed back to England, while the other royalist leaders prudently held their fol- lowers in check and their measures in abeyance. The new constitution was in a short time offered to the nation, and accepted by an over- whelming majority ; the members of the Convention were assui'ed of their ascendancy in the new legislature ; and before long the rebellion in Vendee and Brittany was so far crushed as to release eighty thou- sand troops for service abroad. For the leaders of its forces the Con- vention made a most hberal provision : the division commanders of the thii'teenth of Vendemiau'e were all promoted. Buonaparte was made second in command of the Anny of the Interior : in other words, ^T.26] THE DAY OF THE PARIS SECTIONS 183 was confimaed in an office he had both created and rendered illustiious. chap, xxii As Barras ahnost immediately resigned, this was equivalent to very i795 high promotion. This memorable "day of the sections," as it is often called, was an unhallowed day for France and French libei-ty. It was the first ap- pearance of the army since the Revolution as a support to political authority; it was the beginning of a process which made the com- mander-in-chief of the army the dictator of France. All purely politi- cal powers were gi'adually to vanish in order to make way for a military state. The temporary tyranny of the Convention rested on a measure, at least, of popular consent; but in the very midst of its preparations to perpetuate a purely civil and poUtical administration, the violence of the sections had compelled it to confide the new institutions to the keeping of soldiers. The ideahsm of the new constitution was manifest from the beginning. Every chance which the Directory had for success was dependent, not on the inherent worth of the system or its adapta- bility to present conditions, but on the support of interested men in power; among these the commanders of the army were not the least influential. After the suppression of the sections, the old Convention continued to sit under the style of the Primary Assembly, and was ostensibly occupied in selecting those of its members who were to be retmmed to the legislature under the new constitution. There being no provision for any interim government, the exercise of real power was suspended; the magistracy was a house swept and garnished, ready for the first comer to occupy it. As the army and not the people had made the coming administra- tion possible, the executive power would fi-om the fii'st be the creatiu-e of the army; and since under the constitutional provisions there was no legal means of compromise between the Directory and the legisla- ture in case of conflict, so that the stronger would necessai-ily crush the weaker, the armed power supporting the directors must therefore triumph in the end, and the man who controlled that must become the master of the Du'ectory and the ruler of the coimtry. Moreover, a people can be free only when the first and unquestioning devotion of every citizen is not to a party, but to his country and its constitution, his party allegiance being entirely secondary. This was far from being the case in France : the nation was divided into irreconcilable camps, not of constitutional parties, but of violent partizans; many even of 184 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap, xxji the moderate republicans now openly expressed a desire for some kind 1795 of monarchy. Outwardly the constitution was the freest so far de- vised. Three fatal blunders bad been made which rendered it the best possible tool for a tyrant: it could not be changed for a long period; there was no arbiter but force between a warring legislative and execu- tive ; the executive was now supported by the army. It is impossible to prove that Buonaparte" understood all this at the time. When at St. Helena he spoke as if he did ; but imf ortunately his later writings, however valuable from the psychological, are worthless fi-om the historical, standpoint. They abound in misrepresentations which are in part due to lapse of time and weakness of memoiy, in part to wilful intention. "Wishing the Robespierre-Salicetti episode of his life to be forgotten, he strives in his memoirs to create the impression that the Convention had ordered him to take charge of the artillery at Toulon, when in fact he was in Marseilles as a mere passer-by on his journey to Nice, and in Toulon as a temporary adjunct to the army of Carteaux, having been made an active participant partly through acci- dent, partly by the good will of personal friends. In the same way he also devised a fable about the " day of the sections," in order that he might not appear to have been scheming for himself in the coimcUs of the Convention, and that Barras's share in his elevation might be con- signed to oblivion. This story of Napoleon's has come down in three stages of its development, by as many different transcribers, who heard it at different times. The final one, as given by Las Cases, was cor- rected by Napoleon's own hand. It runs as follows: On the night of October third he was at the theater, but hearing that Menou had vir- tually retreated before the wards, and was to be arrested, he left and went to the meeting of the Convention, where, as he stood among the spectators, he heard his own name mentioned as Menou's successor. For half an hour he dehberated what he should do if chosen. If de- feated, he would be execrated by all coming generations, while victory would be almost odious. How could he deliberately become the scape- goat of so many crimes to which he had been an utter stranger? Why go as an avowed Jacobin and in a few hours swell the list of names ut- tered with hoiTor? " On the other hand, if the Convention be crushed, what becomes of the great truths of our Revolution 1 Our many vic- tories, our blood so often shed, are all nothing but shameful deeds. The foreigner we have so thoroughly conquered triumphs and over- C z > '~C > H n r- O in 1 m ! > » z : ? ^ o = z o r- = C 2 CO iET.26] THE DAY OF THE PARIS SECTIONS 185 whelms us with his contempt; an incapable race, an overhearing and Chap. xxu unnatural following, reappear triumphant, throw up our crime to us, i795 wi-eak their vengeance, and govern us like helots by the hand of a stranger. Thus the defeat of the Convention would crown the brow of the foreigner, and seal the disgi-ace and slavery of our native land." Such thoughts, his youth, trust in his own power and in his destiny, turned the balance. Statements made imder such circumstances are not proof; but there is this much probability of truth in them, that if we imagine the old Buonaparte in disgrace as of old, following as of old the promptings of his curiosity, indifferent as of old to the success of either principle, and by instinct a soldier as of old, — if we recall him in this character, and remember that he is no longer a youthful Corsican patriot, but a matiu-e cosmopolitan consumed with personal ambition, — we may surely con- clude that he was perfectly impartial as to the parties involved, leaned toward the support of the principles of the Revolution as he under- stood them, and saw in the comphcations of the hour a probable open- ing for his ambition. At any rate, his conduct after October fom-th seems to uphold this view. He was a changed man, ardent, hopeful, and irrepressible, as he had ever been when lucky ; but now, besides, daring, overbearing, and self-confident to a degree which those charac- teristic quaUties had never reached before. His first care was to place on a footing of efficiency the Ai-my of the Interior, scattered in many departments, undisciplined and disorgan- ized ; the next, to cow into submission all the low elements in Paris, still hungry and fierce, by reorganizing the National Guard, and forming a picked troop for the special protection of the legislature; the next, to show himseK as the powerful friend of every one in disgi-ace, as a man of the world without rancor or exaggerated partizanship. At the same time he plunged into speculation, and sent simis incredibly large to various members of his family, a single remittance of four hundred thousand francs being mentioned in his letters. Lucien was restored to the arms of his low-born but faithful and beloved wife, and sent to join his mother and sisters in Marseilles ; Louis was brought from Chalons, and made a lieutenant; Jerome was put at school in Paris ; and to Joseph a consulate was assured. Putting aside all bash- fulness. General Buonaparte became a full-fledged society man and a beau. No social rank was now strange to him ; the remnants of the 25 IgQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXII old aristocracy, the wealthy citizens of Paris, the returning Girondists, 1795 many of whom had become pronounced royalists, the new deputies, the officers who in some turn of the wheel had, like himself, lost then- posi- tions, but were now, through his favor, reinstated — all these he strove to court, flatter, and make his own. Such activity, of coiu-se, could not pass unnoticed. The new gov- ernment had been constituted without disturbance, the Directory chosen, and the legislature installed. Of the five directors — Barras, Rewbell, Camot, Letourneaux de la Manche, and Larevelhere-Lepeaux — all had voted for the death of Louis XVI., and were so-called regi- cides ; but, while varying widely in character and ability, they were all, excepting Ban-as, true to their convictions. They scarcely understood how strong the revulsion of popular feeling had been, and, utterly ignor- ing the impossibility of harmonious action among themselves, hoped to exercise their power with such moderation as to win all classes to the new constitution. They were extremely disturbed by the coiu'se of the general commanding then- araiy in seeking intimacy with men of all opinions, but were unwilling to interpret it aright. Under the Con- vention, the Army of the Interior had been a tool, its commander a mere puppet ; now the executive was confronted by an independence which threatened a reversal of roles. This situation was the more disquieting because Buonaparte was a capable and not unwilling police officer. Among many other invaluable services to the government, he closed in person the great club of the Pantheon, which was the rallying- point of the disaffected. Throughout another winter of famine there was not a single dangerous outbreak. At the same time there were frequent manifestations of jealousy in lower circles, especially among those who knew the origin and career of their new master. Toward the close of the year the bearing and behavior of the gen- eral became constrained, reserved, and awkward. Various reasons were assigned for this demeanor. Many thought it was due to a conscious- ness of social deficiency, and his detractors still declare that Paris life was too fierce for even his self-assurance, pointing to the change in his handwriting and grammar, to his alternate silence and loquacity, as a proof of mental imeasiness ; to his sullen musings and coarse threats as a theatrical affectation to hide wounded pride ; and to his coming mar- riage as a desperate shift to secure a social dignity proportionate to the career he saw opening before him in politics and war. In a common iET.26] THE DAY OP THE PARI8 SECTIONS 187 man not subjected to a microscopic examination, such conduct would chap. xxii be attributed to his being in love ; the wedding would ordinarily be 1795 regarded as the natural and beautiful consequence, of a gi-eat passion. Men have not forgotten that Buonaparte once denounced love as a hurtful passion from which God should protect his creatures; and they have, for this, among other reasons, pronounced him incapable of disinterested affection. But it is also true that he likewise de- nounced Buttafuoco for having, among other crimes committed by him, " married to extend his influence " ; and we are forced to ask which of the two sentiments is genuine and characteristic. Probably both and neither, according to the mood of the man. Outward caprice is, in great natures, often the mask of inward perseverance, especially among the unprincipled, who suit their language to their present pur- pose, in fine disdain of commonplace consistency. The primitive Cor- sican was both I'ude and gentle, easily moved to tears at one time, insensate at another; selfish at one moment, lavish at another; and yet he had a consistent character. Although dishking in later life to be called a Corsican, Napoleon was nevertheless typical of his race : he could despise love, yet render himself its willing slave ; he was fierce and dictatorial, yet, as the present object of his passion said, " tenderer and weaker than anybody dreamed." And thus it was in the matter of his com'tship; there were ele- ments in it of romantic, abandoned passion, but hkewise of shrewd, calculating selfishness. In his callow youth his relations to the other sex had been either childish, morbid, or immoral. Diu'ing his earhest manhood he had appeared like one who desired the training rather than the substance of gallantry. As a Jacobin he sought such sup- port as he could find in the good will of the women related to men in power ; as a French patriot he put forth strenuous efforts to secure an influential alliance through matrimony. He appears to have addressed Mme. Permon, whose fortune, despite her advanced age, would have been a great reUef to his destitution. Refused by her, he was in a dis- ordered and desperate emotional state until mihtary and pohtical suc- cess gave him sufficient self-confidence to try once more. With his feet firmly planted on the ladder of ambition, he was not indifferent to se- curing social props for a further rise, but was nevertheless in such a tumult of feehng as to make him particularly receptive to real passion. It is certain that he made advances for the hand of the rich and beau- 188 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap, xxu tiful Desiree Clary. The first evidence in his correspondence of a seri- nes ous intention to marry her is contained in the letter of June eighteenth, 1795, to Joseph; and for a few weeks aftei-ward he wi'ote at intei-vals with some impatience, as if she were coy. But the claim is advanced that Napoleon, visiting her long before at the request of Joseph, who was then enamoured of her, had himself become interested, and per- suading his brother to marry her sister, had entered into an tmder- standing with her which was equivalent to a betrothal ; that time and distance had cooled his ardor ; and that he virtually threw her over for Mme. Beauhamais, who dazzled and infatuated him. This claim is prob- ably founded on fact, but there is no evidence sufficient to sustain a charge of positive bad faith on the part of Napoleon. Neither he nor Mile. Clary appears to have been ardent when Joseph as intei-mediary began, according to French custom, to arrange the prehmiaaries of marriage ; and when General Buonaparte fell madly in love with Mme. Beauhamais the matter was dropped. CHAPTER XXIII a maheiage of inclination and intebest The Tascheks and Beauhaenais — Execution of Alexandre Beau- HARNAis — Adventures of His Widow — Meeting of Napoleon AND Josephine — The Lattee's Uncertainties — Hee Chaeactee AND Station — Passion and Convenience — The Beide's Dowey — Bonaparte's Philosophy of Life — The Laddee to Gloey. IN 1779, wliile the boys at Brienne were still tormenting the Uttle ceap. xxm untamed Corsican nobleman, and driving him to his garden forta- itog lice, there to seek refuge from their taimts in company with his Plu- tarch, there had arrived in Paris from Martinique a successful planter of that island, a French gentleman of good family, M. Tascher de la Pagerie, bringing back to that city for the second time his daughter Josephine. She was then a girl of sixteen, without either beauty or education, but thoroughly matured, and with a quick Creole inteUigence and a gi-aceful litheness of figiu*e which made her a most attractive woman. She had spent the years of her life fi'om ten to fom-teen in the convent of Port Royal. Having passed the interval in her native isle, she was about to contract a marriage which her relatives in France had arranged. Her betrothed was the younger son of a fam- ily friend, the Marquis de Beauhamais. The bride landed on October twentieth, and the ceremony took place on December thu-teenth. The young vicomte brought his wife home to a suitable establishment in the capital. Two childi'en were bom to them — Eugene and Hortense; but before the birth of the latter the husband quarreled with his wife, for reasons that have never been known. The court granted a separation, with alimony, to Mme. de Beauharnais, who some years later withdrew to her father's home in Martinique. Her husband sailed to America with the forces of BouiUe, and remained there until the outbreak of 189 IQQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mt.26 Chap, xxtu the Revolution, when he returned, and was elected a deputy to the 1796 States-General. Becoming an ardent republican, he was several times president of the National Assembly, and his house was an important center of influ- ence. In 1790 M. Tascher died, and his daughter, with her children, returned to France. It was jjrobably at her husband's instance, for she at once joined him at his country-seat, where they continued to' hve, as "brother and sister," until Citizen Beauhamais was made com- mander of the Army of the Rhine. As the days of the Ten-or ap- proached, every man of noble blood was more and more in danger. At last Beauhai-nais's turn came ; he too was denounced to the Commime, and imprisoned. Before long his wife was beliind the same bars. Then- childi-en were in the care of an aunt, Mme. Egle, who had been, and was again to be, a woman of distinction in the social world, but had temporarily sought the protection of an old acquaintance, a former abbe, who had become a member of the Commune. The gallant young general was not one of the four acquitted out of the batch of forty-nine among whom he was finally summoned to the bar of the revolutionaiy tribunal. He died on June twenty-third, 1794, true to his convictions, acknowledging in his fareweU letter to his wife a fraternal affection for her, and committing solemnly to her charge his own good name, which she was to restore by proving his devotion to France. The children were to be her consolation ; they were to wipe out the disgrace of his punishment by the practice of vii-tue and — civism! During her sojourn in prison Mme. Beauhamais had made a most useful fiiend. This was a feUow-sufferer of similar character, but far greater gifts, whose maiden name was Cabarrus, who was later Mme. de Fonteuay, who was afterward divorced and, having married Tallien, the Convention deputy at Bordeaux, became renowned as his wife, and who, divorced a second and married a third time, died as the Piincesse de Chimay. The ninth of Thennidor saved them both fi'om the guillotine. In the days immediately subsequent they had abundant opportunity to display their hght but clever natures. Mme. Beauhamais, as weU as her friend, unfolded her wings like a butterfly as she escaped from the bars of her cell. Being a Creole, and having matured early, her physical channs were already fading. Her spmt, too, had reached and passed its zenith; for in her letters of that time she describes herself as hstless. Nevertheless, in those very letters there is some sprightUness, and con- ^T.2G] A MARRIAGE OF INCLINATION AND INTEREST 191 siderable ability of a certain kind. A few weeks after her liberation, hav- chap. xxiii ing apprenticed Eugene and Hortense to an upholsterer and a dress- i^o maker respectively, she was on terms of intimacy with Bairas so close as to be considered suspicious, while her daily intercourse was with those who had brought her husband to a terrible end. In a luxurious and Hcentious society, she was a successful intriguer in matters both of politics and of pleasure ; versed in the arts of coquetry and dress, she became for the needy and ambitious a successful intermediary with those in power. Preferring, as she rather ostentatiously asserted, to be guided by another's will, she gave little thought to her children, or to the sad legacy of her husband's good name. She emulated, outwardly at least, the unprincipled worldliness of those about her, although her friends beheved her kind-hearted and virtuous. Whatever her true natirre was, she had a station among the foremost of that gay set which was imitating the court circles of old, and an influence which had become not altogether agreeable to the immoral Provencal noble who entertained and supported the giddy coterie. Perhaps the ex- travagance of the languid Creole was as trying to Barras as it became afterward to her second husband. The meeting of Napoleon and Josephine was an event of the fii'st importance. His own account twice relates that a beautiful and tear- ful boy presented himself, soon after the disarmament of the sections, to the commander of the city, and asked for the sword of his father. The request was granted, and next day the boy's mother, Mme. Beau- harnais, came to thank the general for his kindly act of restitution. Captivated by her grace, Buonaparte was thenceforward her slave. A cold critic must remember that in the fii*st place there was no disanna- ment of anybody after the events of October fifth, the only action of the Convention which might even be constmed into hostility being a decree making emigrants inehgible for election to the legislatm^e under the new constitution ; that in the second place this story attributes to destiny what was really due to the friendship of Ban'as, a fact which his beneficiary would like to have forgotten or concealed ; and finally, that the beneficiary left another account in which he confessed that he had first met his wife at Barras's house, this being confirmed by Lucien in his memoirs. Of the passion there is no doubt; it was a com- posite emotion, made up in part of sentiment, in part of self-interest. Those who are born to rude and simple conditions in life are often 192 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXIII (lazzled by the charmed etiquette and mysterious forms of artificial 1796 society. Napoleon never affected to have been bom to the manner, nor did he ever pretend to have adopted its exacting self-control, for he could not; although after the winter of 1795 he frequently dis- played a weak and exaggerated regard for social conventions. It was not that he had need to assume a false and superficial pohsh, or that he particularly cared to show his equality with those accustomed to polite society ; but that he probably conceived the splendid cMsplay and significant formality of that ancient nobility which had so cruelly snubbed him from the outset to be, nevertheless, the best conceivable prop to a throne. Lucien looked on with interest, and thought that during the whole winter his brother was rather courted than a suitor. In his memoirs he naively wonders what Napoleon would have done in Asia, — either in the Indian service of England, or against her in that of Russia, for in his early youth he had also thought of that, — in fact, what he would have done at all, without the protection of women, in which he so firmly beheved, if he had not, after the manner of Mohammed, found a Kadijah at least ten years older than himseK, by whose favor he was set at the opening of a gi-eat career. There are hints, too, in various contemporary documents and in the cu'cumstances themselves that BaiTas was an adroit match-maker. In a letter attributed to Jose- phine, but without addi'ess, a bright Ught seems to be thrown on the facts. She asks a female friend for advice on the question of the match. After a jocular introduction of her suitor as anxious to be- come a father to the children of Alexandre de Beauharnais and the husband of his widow, she gives a sportive but merciless dissection of her own character, and declares that while she does not love Buona- parte, she feels no repugnance. But can she meet his wishes or fulfil his desires '? " I admire the general's courage ; the extent of his infor- mation about all manner of things, concerning which he talks equally weU; the quickness of his intelhgence, which makes him catch the thought of another even before it is expressed: but I confess I am afi'aid of the power he seems anxious to wield over all about him. His piercing scrutiny has in it something strange and inexplicable, that awes even om- directors; think, then, how it frightens a woman." The wiiter is also terrified by the very ardor of her suitor's passion. Past her fii'st youth, how can she hope to keep for herself that " violent ten- AUUAKF.LLK MADK I-'OR THE CENTUBY CO. THE CIVIL MARRIAGE OF NAPOLEON AND JOSEPHINE FROM THE Agi'AREIXE BY E8IC PAPE ^T.26] A MARRIAGE OF INCLINATION AND INTEREST 193 demess " which is ahnost a frenzy ? Would he not soon cease to love chap. xxiii her, and regi'et the marriage 1 If so, her only resource would be tears i796 — a Sony one, indeed, but still the only one. " BaiTas declares that if I marry the general, he will secure for him the chief command of the Anny of Italy. Yesterday Bonaparte, speaking of this favor, which, . although not yet granted, already has set his colleagues in arms to muiTQui-ing, said: 'Do they think I need protection to succeed? Some day they will be only too happy if I give them mine. My sword is at my side, and with it I shaU go far.' What do you think of this assurance of success ? Is it not a proof of confidence arising from ex- cessive self-esteem ? A general of brigade protecting the heads of the government ! I don't know ; but sometimes this ridiculous self-reh- ance leads me to the point of beheving everything possible which this strange man would have me do ; and with his imagination, who can reckon what he would undertake ? " This letter, though often quoted, is so remarkable that, as some think, it may be a later invention. K written later, it was probably the invention of Josephine herself. The divinity who could awaken such ardor in a Napoleon was in reality six years older than her suitor, and Lucien proves by his exag- geration of four years that she certainly looked more than her real age. She had no fortune, though by the subterfuges of which a clever woman could make use she led Buonaparte to think her in affluent circumstances. She had no social station; for her drawing-room, though frequented by men of ancient name and exalted position, was not graced by the presence of then* wives. The very house she occu- pied had a doubtful reputation, having been a gift to the wife of Talma the actor from one of her lovers, and being a loan to Mme. Beauharnais from Barras. She had thin brown hair, a complexion neither fresh nor faded, expressive eyes, a small retrousse nose, a pretty mouth, and a voice that charmed aU Hsteners. She was rather undersized, but her figure was so perfectly proportioned as to give the impression of height and suppleness. Its charms were scarcely concealed by the clothing she wore, made as it was in the suggestive fashion of the day, with no support to the form but a belt, and as scanty about her shoulders as it was about her shapely feet. It appears to have been her elegance and her manners, as weU as her sensuality, which overpowered Buonaparte ; for he described her as having "the calm and dignified demeanor which belongs to the old regime." 194 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap, xxm What motives may have combined to overcome her scruples we can- 179G not tell ; perhaps a love of adventure, probably an awakened ambition for a success in other domains than the one which advancing years would soon compel her to abandon. She knew that Buonaparte had no fortune whatever, but she also knew, on the highest authority, that both favor and fortune would by her assistance soon be his. At aU events, his suit made swift advance, and by the end of January, 1796, he was secui-e of his prize. His love-letters, to judge from one which has been preserved, were as fiery as the despatches with which he soon began to electrify his soldiers and all France. "I awaken full of thee," he wrote ; " thy portrait and yester eve's in- toxicating charm have left my senses no repose. Sweet and match- less Josephine, how strange youi- influence upon my heart ! Are you angry, do I see you sad, are you uneasy, . . . my soul is moved with grief, and there is no rest for your friend ; but is there then more when, yielding to an ovennastering desire, I draw from your Hps, your heart, a flame which consumes me ? Ah, this very night, I knew your portrait was not you ! Thou leavest at noon ; three hours more, and I shall see thee again. Meantime, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses ; but give me none, for they set me all afire." What genuine and reckless passion! The "thou" and "you" may be strangely jiunbled; the grammar may be mixed and bad ; the language may even be somewhat indelicate, as it sounds in other passages than those given: but the meaning would be strong enough incense for the most exacting woman. On February ninth, 1796, their bans were proclaimed; on March second the bridegroom received his bride's dowry in his own appoint- ment, on Camot's motion, not on that of BaiTas, as chief of the Ai'my of Italy, still imder the name of Buonaparte ; on the seventh he was handed his commission ; on the ninth the marriage ceremony was performed by the civil magistrate ; and on the eleventh the husband started for his post. In the maniage certificate at Paris the groom gives his age as twenty-eight, but iu reahty he was not yet twenty-seven; the bride, who was thu'ty-three, gives hers as not quite twenty-nine. Her name is spelled Detascher, his Bonaparte. A new birth, a new baptism, a new career, a new start in a new sphere, Corsica forgotten. Jacobinism re- nounced. General and Mme. Bonaparte made their bow to the world. The ceremony attracted no pubhc attention, and was most uncere- monious, no member of the family from either side being present. ^T.26] A MARRIAGE OF INCLINATION AND INTEREST 195 Madame Mere, in fact, was very angry, and foretold that with such a chap. xxiu difference in age the union would be ban-en. i796 There was one weii-d omen which, read aright, distinguishes the otherwise commonplace occurrence. In the wedding-ring were two words — "To destiny." The words were ominous, for they were indica- tive of a pohcy long since formed and never afterward concealed, being a pretense to deceive Josephine as well as the rest of the world : the giver was about to assume a new role, — that of the "man of destiny," — to work for a time on the imagination and superstition of his age. Sometimes he forgot his pai-t, and displayed the slu-ewd, calculating, hard-working man behind the mask, who was less a fatahst than a personified fate, less a child of fortune than its maker. " Great events," he wrote a very short time later from Italy, "ever depend but upon a single hair. The adi'oit man profits by everything, neglects nothing which can increase his chances; the less adroit, by sometimes disregarding a single chance, fails in everything." Here is the whole philosophy of Bonaparte's life. He may have been sincere at times in the other profession; if so, it was because he could find no other ex- pression for what in his nature corresponded to romance in others. The general and his adjutant reached Marseilles in due season. The good news of Napoleon's successes having long preceded them, the home of the Buonapartes had become the resort of many among the best and most ambitious men in the southern land. Ehsa was now twenty, and though much sought after, was showing a marked prefer- ence for Pasquale Bacciocchi, the poor young Corsican whom she after- ward married. Pauline was sixteen, a gi'eat beauty, and deep in a serious flirtation with Freron, who, not having been elected to the Five Hundred, had been appointed to a lucrative but uninfluential office in the great provincial town — that of commissioner for the department. Caroline, the youngest sister, was blossoming with greater promise even than Pauline. Napoleon stopped a few days under his mother's roof to regulate these matrimonial proceedings as he thought most advanta- geous. On March twenty-second he reached the headquarters of the Army of Italy. The command was assumed with simple and appropri- ate ceremonial. The short despatch to the Directory announcing this momentous event was signed "Bonaparte." The Corsican nobleman di Buonaparte was now entirely transformed into the French general Bonaparte. The process had been long and difficult : loyal Corsican ; 196 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap, xxih mercenary cosmopolitan, ready as an expert artillery officer for service 1TO6 in any land or under any banner ; lastly, Frenchman, liberal, and revo- lutionary. So far he had been consistent in each character ; for years to come he remained stationary as a sincere French patriot, always of course with an eye to the main chance. As events unfolded, the trans- formation began again ; and the " adroit " man, taking advantage of every chance, became once more a cosmopolitan — this time not as a soldier, but as a statesman ; not as a servant, but as the imperator universalis, too large for a single land, determined to reunite once more all Western Christendom, and, like the great German Charles a thou- sand years before, make the imperial limits conterminous with those of orthodox Christianity. The power of this empire was, however, to rest on a Latin, not on a Teuton; not on Germany, but on France. Its splendor was not to be embodied in the Eternal City, but in Paris ; and its destiny was not to bring in a Christian millennium for the glory of God, but a scientific equihbrium of social states to the glory of Napoleon's dynasty, permanent because universally beneficent. O z J > E "O S > t ;] I O 1 ^ i i H s- g m 2 ^ - * 9 o i > ? _ D = i 2 > o z n m CHAPTER XXIV EUROPE AND THE DIEECTORY The FmsT Coalition — England and Austria — The Aeiviies of the Republic — The Treasury of the Republic — The Directory — The Abbe Sieyes — Carnot as a Model Citizen — His Capacity AS A Militaey Organizer — His Personal Character — His Pol- icy — France at the Opening of 1796. THE great European coalition against France which had been chap. xxiv formed in 1792 had in it httle centripetal force. In 1795 Prussia, irae Spain, and Tuscany withdrew for reasons ah-eady indicated in another connection, and made their peace on terms as advantageous as they could secure. Holland was conquered by France in the winter of 1794—95, and to this day the illustrated school-books recall to every child of the French Republic the haK-fabulous tale of how a Dutch fleet was captured by French hussars. The severity of the cold was long remembered as phenomenal, and the frozen harbors rendered naval resistance impossible, while cavalry manoeuvered with safety on the thick ice. The Batavian Repubhc, as the Dutch commonwealth was now called, was really an appanage of France. But England and Austria, though deserted by their strongest allies, were stiU redoubtable enemies. The poHcy of the former had been to command the seas and destroy the commerce of France on the one hand, on the other to foment disturbance in the country itself by sub- sidizing the royalists. In both plans she had been successful: her fleets were ubiquitous, the Chouan and Vendean uprisings were peren- nial, and the emigrant aristocrats menaced every frontier. Austria, on the other hand, had once been soundly thrashed. Since Frederick the Great had wi'ested SUesia from her, and thereby set Protestant Prussia among the great powers, she had felt that the balance of power was 197 198 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20 Chap. XXIV disturbed, and had sought everywhere for some territorial acquisition 1796 to restore her importance. The present emperor, Francis II., and his adroit minister, Thugut, were equally stubborn in their determination to draw something worth while from the seething caldron before the fires of war were extinguished. They thought of Bavaria, of Poland, of Turkey, and of Italy ; in the last countiy especially it seemed as if the term of Life had been reached for Venice, and that at her impending demise her fair domains on the mainland would amply replace Silesia. Russia saw her own advantage in the weakening either of Turkey or of the central European powers, and became the silent ally of Austria in this pohcy. The great armies of the French repubhc had been created by Car- not, with the aid of his able lieutenant, Dubois de Crance ; they were organized and directed by the unassisted genius of the former. Being the fu'st national armies which Europe had known, they were animated as no others had been by that form of patriotism which rests not merely on animal instinct, but on a principle. They had fought with joyous alacrity for the assertion, confirmation, and extension of the rights of man. In the march of events their patriotism had brought into promi- nence Rousseau's conception of natui'al boundaries. There was but one opinion in the entire nation concerning its frontiers, to vnt: that Nice, Savoy, and the western bank of the Rhine were aU by nature a part of France. As to what was beyond, opinion had been divided, some feeling that they should continue fighting in order to impose their own system wherever possible, while others, as has previously been ex- plained, were either indifferent, or else maintained that the nation should fight only for its natural frontier. To the support; of the latter sentiment came the general longing for peace which was gradually overpowering the whole country. No people ever made such sacrifices for hberty as the French had made. Through years of famine they had starved with grim deter- mination, and the leanness of theu" race was a byword for more than a generation. They had been for over a century the victims of a sys- tem abhoiTent to both their intelligence and their character — a system of absolutism which had subsisted on foreign wars and on successful appeals to the national vainglory. Now at last they were to aU appear- ance exhausted, their treasury was bankrupt, their paper money was worthless, their agriculture and industries were paralyzed, theu' foreign ^T.26] EUROPE AND THE DIRECTORY 199 commerce was ruined; but tlieii' liberties were secure. Their soldiers chap. xxiv were badly fed, badly armed, and badly clothed ; but they were free- nse men under such disciphne as is possible only among freemen. Wliy should not their success in the arts of peace be as great as in the glori- ous and successful wars they had can-ied on? There was, therefore, both in the country and in the government a considerable and ever growing party which demanded a general peace, but only with the " natural " frontier, and a small one which felt peace to be imperative even if the nation should be confined withm its old boundaries. But such a reasonable and moderate pohcy was impossible on two accounts. In consequence of the thirteenth of Vendemiaire, the radi- cal party still survived and controlled the machinery of government; and, in spite of the seeming supremacy of moderate ideas, the royahsts were still irreconcilable. Intestine disturbances, therefore, could be kept under some measure of control only by an aggressive foreign pohcy which should deceive the insurgent elements as to the resources of the government. Thus far, by hook or by crook, the armies, so far as they had been clothed and paid and fed at aU, had been fed and paid and clothed by the administration at Paris. If the armies should still march and fight, the nation would be impressed by the strength of the Directory. The Directory was by no means a homogeneous body. It is doubt- ful whether Barras was a sincere repubhcan, or sincere in anything except in his effort to keep himself afioat on the tide of the times. It has been believed by many that he hoped for the restoration of monarchy through the disgust of the nation with such intolerable dis- orders as they would soon associate with the name of republic. His friendship for General Bonaparte was a mixed quantity ; for while he undoubtedly wished to secure for the state in any futiu-e crisis the sup- port of so able a man, he had at the same time used him as a sort of social scapegoat. His own strength lay in several facts : he had been Danton's follower; he had been an ofiicer, and was appointed for that rea- son commanding general against the Paris sections ; he had been shrewd enough to choose Bonaparte as his agent so that he enjoyed the prestige of Bonaparte's success ; and in the new society of the capital he was magnificent, extravagant, and hcentious, the only representative in the Directory of the newly aroused passion for life and pleasure, his col- leagues being severe, unostentatious, and economical repubhcans. 200 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 26 Chap. XXIV Barras's main support in the government was Rewbell, a vigorous 1796 Alsatian and a bluff democrat, enthusiastic for the Revolution and its extension. He was no Frenchman himself, but a German, and thought that the German lands — Holland, Switzerland, Germany itself — should be brought into the great movement. Like Barras, who needed dis- order for his Orleanist schemes and for the supply of his lavish purse, Rewbell despised the new constitution ; but for a different rea- son. To him it appeared a flimsy, theoretical document, so subdividing the exercise of power as to destroy it altogether. His role was in the world of finance, and he was always suspected, though unjustly, of un- holy alhances with army contractors and stock manipulators. Lare- velliere was another doctrinaire, but, in comparison with Rewbell, a bigot. He had been a Girondist, a good citizen, and active in the formation of the new constitution; but he lacked practical common sense, and hated the Church with as much narrow bitterness as the most rancorous modem agnostic, — seeking, however, not merely its destruction, but, like Robespierre, to substitute for it a cult of reason and humanity. The fourth member of the Du-ectory, Letoumeur, was a plain soldier, an officer in the engineers. With abundant common sense and a hard head, he, too, was a sincere republican ; but he was a tolerant one, a moderate, kindly man like his friend Camot, with whom, as time passed by and there was gradually developed an irreconcil- able spHt in the Directory, he always voted in a minority of two against the other three. At first the notorious Abbe Sieyes had been chosen a member of the executive. He was both deep and dark, like Bonaparte, to whom he later rendered valuable services. His ever famous pamphlet, which in 1789 triumphantly proved that the Third Estate was neither more nor less than the French nation, had made many think him a radical. As years passed on he became the oracle of his time, and as such acquired an enormous influence even in the days of the Terror, which he was helpless to avert, and which he viewed with horror and disgust. What- ever may have been his original ideas, he appears to have been for some time after the thirteenth of Vendemiaire an Orleanist, the head of a party which desired no longer a strict hereditaiy and absolute mon- archy, but thought that in the son of Phihppe Egalite they had a use- ful prince to preside over a constitutional kingdom. Perhaps for this reason, perhaps for the one he gave, which was that the new consti- n > -0 H C ?o in O D C H O m m H c en > C/l H I m ■D m z n 3C 70 m c D3 > z c > i \ miilAt. Mt.26] EUROPE AND THE DIRECTORY 201 tution was not yet the riglit one, he flatly refused the place in the chap. xxiv Directory which was offered to him. i796 It was as a substitute for this dangerous visionaiy that Carnot was made a director. He was now in his foi-ty-third year, and at the height of his powers. In him was embodied aU that was moderate and sound, consequently all that was enduring, in the French Revolution ; he was a thorough scholar, and his treatise on the metaphysics of the calculus forms an important chapter in the history of mathematical physics. As an officer in the engineers he had attained the highest distinction, while as minister of war he had shown himself an organizer and strat- egist of the fii'st order. But his highest aim was to be a model French citizen. In his family relations as son, husband, and father, he was held by his neighbors to be a pattern ; in his pubhc Me he strove with equal sincerity of purpose to illustrate the highest ideals of the eigh- teenth century. Such was the ardor of his republicanism that no man nor party in France was so repugnant but that he would use either one or both, if necessary, for his country's welfare, although he was hke Chatham in his lofty scorn for parties. To him as a patriot, therefore, France, as against the outer world, was first, no matter what her gov- ernment might be ; but the France he yearned for was a land regener- ated by the gospel of hmnanity, awakened to the highest activity by the equahty of all before the law, refined by that self-abnegation of every man which makes all men brothers, and destroys the menace of the law. And yet he was no di-eamer. While a member of the National As- sembly he had displayed such practical common sense in his chosen field of military science, that in 1793 he was intrusted by the Com- mittee of Safety with the control of the war. The standard of rank and command was no longer birth nor seniority nor influence, but merit. The wild and ignorant hordes of men which the conscrip- tion law had brought into the field were something hitherto imknown in Eiu*ope. It was Carnot who organized, clothed, fed, and di-iUed them. It was he who devised the new tactics and evolved the new and comprehensive plans which made his national armies the power they became. It was in Carnot's administration that the yoimg gen- erals first came to the fore. It was by his favor that almost every man of that galaxy of modem warriors who so long dazzled Europe by their feats of arms fii'st appeared as a candidate for advancement. 27 202 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [-^t. 26 Chap. XXIV Moreau, Macdonald, Joui'dau, Bernadotte, Kleber, Mortier, Ney, 1796 Pichegru, Desaix, Berthier, Augereau, and Bonapai-te himself, — each one of these was the product of Carnot's system. He was the creator of the armies which fur a time made all Europe tributary to France. Thi'oughout an epoch which laid bare the meanness of most nattu'es, his character was unsmu-ched. He began life under the ancient re- gime by writing and publishing a eulogy on Vauban, who had been disgraced for his plain speaking to Louis XIV. When called to a share in the government he was the advocate of a strong nationahty, of a just administration withui, and of a fearless front to the world. While minister of war he on one occasion actually left his post and hastened to Maubeuge, where defeat was threatening Jom-dan, devised and put into operation a new plan, led in person the victorious assault, and then returned to Paris to inspire the country and the army with news of the victoiy; all this he did as if it were commonplace duty, without advertising himself l>y parade or ceremony. Even Kobespierre had trembled before his biting u-ony, and yet dared not, as he wished, include him among his victims. After the events of Thermidor, when it was proposed to execute all those who had authorized the bloody deeds of the TeiTor, excepting Camot, he prevented the sweeping measure by standing in his place to say that he too had acted with the rest, had held hke them the conviction that the cormtry could not otherwise be saved, and that therefore he must share their fate. In the milder hght of the new constitution the dark blot on his rec- ord thus fi'ankly confessed gi'ew less repulsive as the continued dignity and sincerity of his nature asserted themselves in a tolerance which he beheved to be as needfid now as ruthless severity once had been. For a year the glory of French aiTus had been echpsed : his dominant idea was first to restore their splendor, then to make peace with honor and give the new life of his country an opportimity for expansion in a mild and fiiTii administration of the new laws. If he had been dictator in the crisis, no doubt his plan, arduous as was the task, might have been reahzed ; but, with Letoiu'neiu' in a minority of two, against an unprin- cipled adventurer leading two bigots, it was impossible to secure the executive unity necessary for success. At the opening of the year 1796, therefore, the situation of France was quite as distracting as ever, and the foundation of her institutions more than ever unstable. There was hopeless division in the execu- ^T.26] EUROPE AND THE DIRECTORY 203 tive, and no coordination under the constitution between it and the Chap. xxrv other branches of the government, while the legislature did not repre- i796 sent the people. The treasury was empty, famine was as wide-spread as ever, administration vii-tually non-existent. The army was unsuc- cessful, dispirited, and unpaid. Hunger knows little discipUne, and with temporary loss of discipline the morals of the troops had been un- dermined. To save the constitution pubho opinion must be diverted from internal affairs, and conciliated. To that end the German emperor must be forced to yield the Rhine frontier, and money must be found at least for the most pressing necessities of the ai-my and of the govern- ment. If the repubhc could secm-e for France her natural borders, and command a peace by land, it might hope for eventual success in the conflict with England. CHAPTER XXV bonapaete on a great stage Bonaparte and the Ahmt of Italy — The System of Pillage — The General as a Despot — The Republican Armies and French Politics — Italy as the Focal Point — Condition of Italy — Bonaparte's Sagacity — His Plan of Action — His Army and Generals — Strength of the Army of Italy — The Napoleonic Maxims of Warfare — Advance of Military Science — Bona- parte's Achievements — His Financial Policy — Effects of his Success. Chap. XXV f | ^HE stiiiggle which was imminent was for notliing less than a new T 1796 JL lease of national life for France. It dawned on many minds that in such a combat changes of a revolutionary nature — as regarded not merely the provisioning and management of armies, as regarded not merely the grand strategy to be adopted and carried out by France, but as regarded the very structure and relations of other European nations — would be jiistifiable. But to be justifiable they must be adequate ; and to be adequate they must be unexpected and thorough. What should they be ? The Oedipus who solves this riddle for France is the man of the hoiu-. He was found in Bonaparte. What mean these ring- ing words fi'om the headquarters at Nice, which, on March twenty- seventh, 1796, fell on the ears of a hungry, eager soldiery and a startled world? "Soldiers, you are naked, badly fed. The government owes you much ; it can give you nothing. Your long-suffering, the courage you show among these crags, are splendid, but they bring you no gloiy ; not a ray is reflected upon you. I wish to lead you into the most fertile plains of the world. Rich provinces, great towns, will be in your power ; there you will find honor, glory, and riches. Soldiers of Italy, can you be found lacking in honor, courage, or constancy ? " 3M ^T. 26] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 205 Such language has but one meaning. By a previous understanding chap^xxv with the Du-ectory, the French army was to be paid, the French trea- i™^ sury to be rcijlenished, at the expense of the lands which were the seat of war. Corsicans in the French service had long been suspected of sometimes serving their own interests to the detriment of theu' adopted coTuitiy. Bonaparte was no exception, and occasionally he felt it neces- sary to justify himself. For example, he had carefully explained that his marriage boimd him to the republic by still another tie. Yet it ap- pears that his promotion, his engagement with the directors, and his devotion to the republic were all concerned primarily with personal ambition, though secondarily and incidentally with the perpetuation of a government professedly based on the Revolution. From the outset of Napoleon's independent career, something of the future dictator ap- pears. This implied promise that pillage, plim.der, and rapine should henceforth go unpmiished in order that his soldiers might hne their pockets, is the indication of a settled policy which was more definitely expressed in each successive proclamation as it issued fi-om his pen. It was repeated whenever new energy was to be inspired into faltering columns, whenever some unparalleled effort in a dark design was to be demanded from the rank and file of the army, until at last a point-blank promise was made that every man should return to France with money enough in Ms pocket to become a landowner. There was magic in the new spell, the charm never ceased to work ; with that first call from Nice began the transformation of the French army, fighting now no longer for principle, but for glory, victory, and booty. Its leader, if successful, would be in no sense a constitutional general, but a despotic conqueror. Outwardly gi-acious, and with no initating condescension ; considerate wherever mercy would strengthen his reputation ; fuUy aware of the influence a dramatic situation or a pregnant aphorism has upon the common mind, and using both with mastery; appeaUng as a chmax to the powerful motive of greed in every heart, Bonaparte was soon to be not alone the general of con- summate genius, not alone the organizing lawgiver of conquered lands and peoples, but, what was essential to his whole career, the idol of an army which was not, as of old, the servant of a great nation, but, as the new era had transfonned it, the nation itself. The pecuhar relation of Bonaparte to Italy, to Corsica, and to the Convention had made him, as early as 1794, while yet but chief of artil- 206 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXV leiy, the real dii-ector of the Araiy of Italy. He had no personal share 1796 in the victorious campaign of that year, but its victories, as he justly claimed, were due to his plans. During the unsuccessful Corsican ex- pedition of the following winter, for which he was but indirectly re- sponsible, the Austro-Sardinians in Piedmont had taken advantage of the absence of so many French troops to undo all that had so far been accomplished. During the summer of 1795 Spain and Prussia had made peace with France. In consequence all northern Eui'ope had been de- clared neutral, and the field of operations on the Rhine had been con- fined to the central zone of Germany, while at the same time the French soldiers which had formed the Army of the Pyrenees had been ti'ansfeiTed to the Maritime Alps. In 1796, therefore, the great ques- tion was whether the Army of the Rhine or that of Italy was to be the chief weapon of offense against Austria. Divided interests and warped convictions quickly created two opin- ions in the French nation, each of which was held with intensity and bitterness by its supporters. So far the Army of the Rhine was much the stronger, and the Emperor had concentrated his strength to oppose it. But the wisest heads saw that Austria might be flanked by way of Italy. The gate to Lombardy was guarded by the sturdy Uttle army of Victor Amadeus, assisted by a small Austrian force. If the house of Savoy, which was said to wear at its girdle the keys of the Alps, coiild be conquered and brought to make a separate peace, the Austrian army could be overwhelmed, and a highway to Vienna opened fii'st thi'ough the plains of Lombardy, then by the Austrian Tyrol, or else by the Venetian Alps. Strangely enough, the plainest and most forcible exposition of this plan was made by an emigi-ant in London, a certain Dutheil, for the benefit of England and Austria. But the ADies were deaf to his warnings, while in the mean time Bonaparte enforced the same idea iipon the French authorities, and secured theii" acceptance of it. Both he and they were the more in- clined to the scheme because once already it had been successfully initiated, because the general, having studied Italy and its people, thoroughly imderstood what contributions might be levied on them, because the Amiy of the Rhine was radically republican and knew its own strength, because therefore the personal ambitions of Bona- parte, and in fact the very existence of the Directory, ahke depended on success elsewhere than in central Europe. ^T.2G] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 207 Having been for centuries the battle-field of lival dynasties, Italy, chap, xxv though a geographical unit with natural fi'ontiers more marked than i796 those of any other land, and with inhabitants faMy homogeneous in birth, speech, and institutions, was neither a nation nor a family of kindi-ed nations, but a congeries of heterogeneous states. Some of these, hke Venice and Genoa, boasted the proud title of republics; they were in reality narrow, commercial, even piratical oligarchies, destitute of any vigorous political hfe. The Pope, hke other petty rulers, was but a temporal priuce, despotic, and not even eiihghtciied, as was the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Naples and the Milanese both groaned under the yoke of foreign rulers, and the only passable gov- ernment in the length and breadth of the land was that of the house of Savoy in Piedmont and Sardinia, lands where the revolutionary spirit of hberty was most extended and active. The petty courts, like those of Parma and Modena, were nests of intrigue and coiTuption. There was, of coui'se, in every place that saving remnant of high-minded men which is always providentially left as a seed ; but the people as a whole were ignorant and enervated. The accunmlations of ages, gained by an extensive and lucrative commerce, or by the tilling of a generous soil, had not been altogether dissipated by misrale, and there was even yet rich store of money in many of the venerable and still splendid cities. Nowhere in the ancient seats of the Roman commonwealth, whose mem- ory was now the cherished fashion in France, could anything more than a reflection of French revolutionary principles be discerned; the rights of man and repubhcan doctrine were attractive subjects of de- bate in many cities throiighout the peninsula, but there was httle of that fierce devotion to then* reahzation so prevalent beyond the Alps. The sagacity of Bonaparte saw his account in these conditions. "Being a professed repubhcan, he could announce himself as the regen- erator of society, and the liberator of a people. If, as has been sup- posed, he ah'eady dreamed of a throne, where could one be so easily founded with the certainty of its endurance ? As a conqueror he would have a divided, helpless, and wealthy people at his feet. If the old flame of Corsican ambition were not yet extinguished, he felt perhaps that he could wreak the vengeance of a defeated and angry people upon Genoa, their oppressor for ages. His preparations began as early as the autimm of 1795, when, with Camot's assistance, the united Pyrenean and Itahan armies were di- 208 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 chai'. XXV reeled to the old task of opening the roads through the mountains and 1796 by the sea-shore into Lombardy and central Italy. They won the battle of Loano, which secured the Maritime Alps once more ; but a long winter amid these inclement peaks had left the army wretched and destitute of every necessity. It had been difficult throughout that winter to maintain even the Army of the Interior in the heart of France ; the only chance for that of Italy was movement. A com- pleted i^lan of action was forwarded from Paris in January. But Scherer, the commanding general, and his staff were outraged, refusing to consider its suggestions, either those for supplying theu' necessities in Lombardy, or those for the daring and ventui-esome operations necessary to reach that goal. Bonaparte, who could invent such schemes, alone could reahze them ; and the task was intrusted to him. For the next ten weeks no sort of preparation was neglected. The nearly empty chest of the Direc- tory was swept clean ; from that source the new commander received forty-seven thousand five hundred francs in cash, and di'afts for twenty thousand more ; forced loans for considerable smns were made in Tou- lon and Marseilles; and Salicetti levied contributions of grain and forage in Genoa according to the plan which had been preconcerted be- tween him and the general in their Jacobui days. The army which Bonaparte finally set in motion was therefore a fine engine of war. Its immediate necessities relieved, the veterans warmed to their work, and that notable promise of booty worked them to the pitch of genuine enthusiasm. The young commander, moreover, was as cu'cumspect as a man of the fii'st abihty alone coiild be when about to make the ven- tm*e of his life and play for the stake of a world. His generals of division were themselves men of mark — personages no less than Mas- sena, Augereau, Laharpe, and Serurier. But what the commander-in- chief had to do was done with such smoothness and skill that even they could find no ground for carping; and though at first cold and reticent, before long they yielded to the influences which fiUed with excitement the very air they breathed. At this moment, besides the National Gruard, France had an army and navy the effective fighting force of which numbered upward of half a miUion. Divided into nine armies instead of fourteen as first planned, there were in reality but seven ; of these, foui- were of minor importance: a smaU, skeleton Army of the Interior, a force in the Qi k X UU c Q S^ L Z ■S \f UU ^ Qi 1 ai i II O s = a: =^ tu >. > *■? m s? z _ = ? A 3 B ■Ct= !- < K = 5 o ^ - 3 i?7 g ■7 £ X Id 2 S H tf Is « o C 3" < gl z 2 1 i ■^ E *.s < £ i: ^ i- £ 5 51 ;1 ii; s -Z 5 'o r^ "~^ -5 "3 V s o m II 'j^ ^ ^ ~ O- _- ^ S < " ai S: ^T, 26] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 209 West under Hoche twice as large and with ranks better filled, a fairly Chap. xxv strong army in the North under Macdonald, and a similar one in the i796 Alps imder Kellermann, with Berthier and Vaubois as heutenants, which soon became a part of Bonaparte's force. These were, if possi- ble, to preserve internal order and to watch England, while three great active organizations were to combine for the overthrow of Austria. On the Rhine were two of the active armies — one near Diisseldorf under Jom-dan, another near Strasburg under Moreau. At the portals of Italy was Bonaparte, with a third, soon to be the most active of all. At the outset he had, all told, about forty-five thousand men ; but the campaign which he conducted had before its close assumed such dimen- sions that ia spite of its losses the Army of Italy contained nearly double that number of men ready for the field, besides the ganison troops and iavahds. The figiu-es on the records of the war department were invariably much greater ; but an enormous percentage, sometimes as high as a thii'd, was always ia the hospitals, whOe often as many as twenty thousand were left behind to hold various fortresses. Bona- parte, for evident reasons, uniformly represented his effective as smaller than it was, and stunned the ears of the Directory with ever reiterated demands for reinforcement. A dispassionate estimate would fix the number of his troops in the field at any one time during these opera- tions as not lower than thirty-five thousand nor much higher than eighty thousand. Another element of the utmost importance entered into the coming campaign. The old vicious system by which a vigilant democracy had jealously prescribed to its generals every step to be taken was swept away by Bonaparte, who as RobespieiTe's " man " had been thoroughly famdiar with its workings from the other end. He was now com- mander-in-chief, and he insisted on the absolute unity of command as essential to the economy of time. This being granted, his equipment was complete. It wiU be remembered that in 1794 he had explained to his patrons how warfare in the field was Hke a siege : by directing all one's force to a single point a breach might be made, and the equihb- rium of opposition destroyed. To this conception of concentration for attack he had, in concert with the Directory, added another, that of expansion in a given temtory for sustenance. He had stiU a third, that war must be made as intense and awful as possible in order to make it short, and thus to diminish its hoiTors. Trite and simple as 2io LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 26 Chap. XXV these apboiisuis now Jipisear, they were all original and aljsolutely new, 1796 at least in the quick, fierce application of them made by Bonaparte. The traditions of chivalry, the incessant warfare of two centuries and a half, the himiane conceptions of the Church, the regard for human life, the difficulty of communications, the scarcity of munitions and arms, — all these and other elements had combined to make war under mediocre generals a stately ceremonial, and to diminish the number of actual bat- tles, which took place, when they did, only after careful preparation, as an unpleasant necessity, by a sort of common agreement, and with the ceremony of a duel. Turenne, Marlborough, and Frederick, all men of cold-blooded tem- perament, had been the greatest generals of their respective ages, and were successful much in proportion to their lack of sentiment and disregard of conventiouahties. Their notions and their conduct dis- played the same instincts as those of Bonapai-te, and their minds were enlarged by a study of great campaigns like that which had fed his inchoate genius and had made possible his consummate achievement. He had much the same apparatus for warfare as they. The men of Em'ope had not materially changed in stature, weight, education, or morals since the closing years of the Thu-ty Years' War. The roads were somewhat better, the conformation of mountains, hills, and valleys was better known, and hke his great predecessors, though unlike his con- temporaries, Bonaparte knew the use of a map ; but in the main little was changed in the conditions for moving and manoeuvering troops. News traveled slowly, for the fastest couriers rode fiom Nice to Paris or fi'om Paris to Berlin in seven days. Muskets and small fia'carms of every description were httle improved. Prassia actually claimed that she had been forced to negotiate for peace because France controlled the production of gun-flints. There had been some improvement in the forging of cannon, and the artOlery arm was on the whole more effi- cient. In France there had been considerable change for the better in the manual and in tactics; the rest of Eiirope followed the old and more formal ways. Outside the repubhc, ceremony still held sway in coTui; and camp ; youthful energy was stifled in routine ; and the gen- erals opposed to Bonaparte were for the most part men advanced in years, wedded to tradition, and incapable of quickly adapting their ideas to meet advances and attacks based on conceptions radically dif- ferent fi'om then own. It was at times a positive misery to the new ^T. 26] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 211 conqueror that his opponents were such inefficient fossils. Young and chap. xxv at the same time capable ; using the natural advantages of his territory i796 to support the braveiy of his troops ; with a mind which was not only accurate and decisive, but comprehensive in its observations ; unham- pered by control or by principle ; opposed to generals who could not think of a boy of twenty-six as their equal ; with the best army and the finest theater of war in Europe; finally, with a genius indepen- dently developed, and with conceptions of his profession which smnmar- ized the experience of his greatest predecessors, Bonaparte perfonned feats that seemed mu'aculous even when compared with those of Hoche, Jourdan, or Moreau, which had already so astounded the world. Within eleven days the Austrians and Sardinians were separated, the latter having been defeated and forced to sign an armistice. After a rest of two days, a foi-tnight saw him victorious in Lombardy, and entering Milan as a conqueror. Two weeks elapsed, and again he set forth to reduce to his sway in less than a month the most of central Italy. Against an enemy now desperate and at bay his operations fell into fom* divisions, each resulting in an advance — the first, of nine days, against Wm-mser and Quasdanowich ; the second, of sixteen days, against Wm'mser; the third, of twelve days, against Alvinczy; and the fom'th, of thirty days, until he captured Mantua and opened the moun- tain passes to his army. Within fifteen days after beginning hostilities against the Pope, he forced him to sign the treaty of Tolentino ; and within thirty-six days of their setting foot on the road from Man- tua to Vienna, the French were at Leoben, distant only ninety miles from the Austrian capital, and dictating terms to the empu'e. In the year between March twenty-seventh, 1796, and April seventh, 1797, Bonaparte humbled the most haughty dynasty in Europe, top- pled the central Em-opean state system, and initiated the process which has given a predommance apparently final to Prussia, then considered but as a parvenu. It is impossible to estimate the enormous sums of money which he exacted for the conduct of a war that he chose to say was carried on to emancipate Italy. The soldiers of his army were well dressed, well fed, and well equipped from the day of their entry into Milan ; the arrears of their pay were not only settled, but they were given license to prey on the country until a point was reached which seemed to jeopardize success, when common piUage was promptly stopped by the severest 212 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXV examples. The treasuiy of the Directory was not filled as were those of 1796 the conquering officers, but it was no longer empty. In short, France reached the apex of her revolutionary greatness ; and as she was now the foremost power on the Continent, the shaky monarchies in neigh- boring lands were forced to consider again questions which in 1795 they had hoped were settled. As Bonaparte foresaw, the destinies of Europe had indeed hung on the fate of Italy. Europe had gi-own accustomed to mihtary surprises in the few pre- ceding years. The armies of the French repubUc, fired by devotion to theu' principles and their nation, had accomphshed marvels. But nothing in the least foreshadowing this had been wrought even by them. Then, as now, curiosity was inflamed, and the most careful study was expended in analyzing the process by which such miracles had been performed. The investigators and their readers were so over- powered by the spectacle and its results that they were prevented by a sort of awe-stricken credulity from recognizing the truth ; and even yet the notion of a supematiu-al influence fighting on Bonaparte's side has not entu-ely disappeared. But the facts as we know them reveal cleverness deahng with incapacity, energy such as had not yet been seen fighting with languor, an embodied principle of gi-eat vitahty warring with a lifeless, vanishing system. The consequences were startling, but logical ; the details sound like a romance from the land of Ebbs. ri^ii|iiriirii[;,i,i.mii|r|Fi;HiiriM-MMiiiM,|n|iri.- IN TiiK. i^>llei:ti'->n' uf muukai' ciiAbi. KMiRAVKO BY R. U. TlhTTZR MARSHAL ANDRE MASSENA UUKR OF RlVOLl, PRINCE OF ESSLING FROM THK PAINTiNU BV 4NT0INE-JKAN OROS CHAPTER XXVI the conquest of piedmont and the milanese The Aemies of Austeia and Sardinia — Montenotte and Millesimo — MONDOVI AND ChEEASCO — CONSEQUENCES OF THE CAMPAIGN — The Plains of Lombaedy — The Ceossing of the Po — Advance TOWARD Milan — Lodi — Reteeat of the Austeians — Moeal Ef- fects OF Lodi. VICTOR AMADEUS of Sardinia was not nnaccnstomed to the chap.^xxvi loss of territory in tlie north, because from immemorial times his i796 house had relinquished picturesque but luifruitful lands beyond the Alps to gain fertile fields below them. It was a hard blow, to be sure, that Savoy, which gave name to his family, and Nice, with its beautifid and commanding site, should have been lost to his crown. But so far, in every general European convulsion some substantial morsels had faUen to the lot of his predecessors, who had looked on Italy "as an artichoke to be eaten leaf by leaf " ; and it was probable that a shce of Lombardy would be his own prize at the next pacification. He had spent his reign in strengthening his army, and as the foremost military power in Italy his young and vigorous people, with the help of Aus- tria, were defending the passes into their territoiy. The road fi'om their capital to Savona on the sea wound by Ceva and Millesimo over the main ridge of the Apennines, at the summit of which it was joined by the highway through Dego and Cairo leading southwestward from Milan through Alessandria. The Piedmontese, under CoUi, were guard- ing the approach to their own capital ; the Austrians, under Beaulieu, that to MUan. Collectively their numbers were about equal to those of the French ; but the two armies were separated. Beauheu began operations on April tenth by ordering an attack on the French division of Laharpe, which had been thrown foi^ward to 39 313 ^T. 20] THE CONQUEST OF TIEDMONT AND THE MILANESE 215 Voltri. The Austrians under Argenteau were to fall on its rear from chap. xxvi Montenotte, a village to the north of Savona, with the idea of driving i796 that wing of Bonaparte's army back along the shore road, on which it was hoped they would fall under the fire of Nelson's guns. Laharpo, however, retreated to Savona in perfect safety, for the EngHsh fleet was not near. Thereupon Bonaparte, suddenly reveahng the new for- mation of his army in the north and south line, assumed the offensive. Ai-genteau, having been held temporarily in check by the desperate re- sistance of a handful of French soldiers under Colonel Rampon, was surprised and overwhelmed at Montenotte on the twelfth by a force much larger than his own. Next day Massena and Augereau drove back toward Dego an Austrian divisioii which had reached Millesimo on its way to join Colli ; and on the fifteenth, at that place, Bonaparte himseK destroyed the remnant of Argenteau's corps. On the sixteenth Beaulieu abandoned the mountains to make a stand at Acqui in the plain. Thus the whole Austrian force was not only diiven back, but was entu'ely separated from the Piedmontese. Bonaparte had a foohsh plan in his pocket, which had been fur- nished by the Directory in a temporary reversion to official tradition, ordering him to advance into Lombardy, leaving behind the hostile Piedmontese on Ms left, and the uncertain Genoese on his right. He disregarded it, apparently without hesitation, and throwing his force northwestward toward Ceva, where the Piedmontese were posted, ter- rified them into a retreat. They were overtaken, however, at Mondovi on April twenty-second, and utterly routed, losing not only their best troops, but their field-pieces and baggage -train. Three days later Bona- parte pushed onward and occupied Cherasco, which was distant fi'om Turin, the Piedmontese capital, but twenty -five miles by a short, easy, and now open road. On the twenty-seve'^th the Sardinians, isolated in a mountain amphitheater, and with no prospect of relief from their discomfited ally, made overtures for an armistice preliminary to peace. These were readily accepted by Bonaparte, without a thought of pos- sible displeasure on the part of the French government ; and although he had no aiithorization from them to perform such functions, he was defiantly careless of instructions in this as in every subsequent step he took. The negotiation — during which the French stipulated for the sun-ender to them of Coni and Tortona, the famous "keys of the Alps," with other strongholds of minor importance, demanding also the right 216 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JEt. 26 Chap. XXVI to cross and recross Piedmontese territory at will — was completed on 1796 the twenty-eightli. Victor Amadeus, being checkmated, Bonai)arte was free to deal with Beaulieu. This short campaign was in some respects insignificant, especially when compared as to numbers and results with what was to follow. But the names of Montenotte, Millesimo, Dego, Mondovi, and Cherasco were ever dear to Bonaparte, and stand in a high place on his greatest monument. The King of Sardinia was the father-in-law of Louis XVIII. , and Ms comi; had been a nest of plotting emigi'ants. The loss of his fortresses robbed him of his power. By the terms of the treaty he was to banish the French royaUsts from his lands. Stripped thus of both force and prestige, he did. not long survive the disgrace, and died, leaving to Charles Emmanuel, his son, no real dominion but that over the island of Sardinia. Moreover, for Bonaparte, a military and pohti- cal aspirant in his first independence, everything, absolutely every- thing, was at stake in those earhest engagements ; on the event hung his career. They passed, those spring days, like a transformation scene. Success was in the air, not the success of accident, but the resultant of forethought and careful combination. The generals, in- fected by then* leader's spirit, vied with each other in daring and gallantry. For happy desperation Rampon's famous stand remains un- surpassed in the annals of war. From the heights of Ceva the leader of conquering and now devoted soldiers could show to them and their equally enthusiastic officers the fertile and well- watered land into which he had promised to lead them, the historic fields of Lombardy. Nothing comparable to that inex- haustible storehouse of nature can be found in France, generous as is her soil. Walled in on the north and west by the majestic masses of the Alps, and to the south by the smaller but stiU mighty bastions of the Apennines, these plains owe to the mountains not only their fer- tihty and prosperity, but their very existence. Numberless rills which rise amid the icy summits of the great chain, or the lower peaks of the minor one, combine into ever growing streams of pleasant waters which finally unite in the sluggish but impressive Po. Melting snows and torrential rains fill these watercourses with the rich detritus of the hiUs, which renews from year to year the soil it originally created. A genial chmate and a grateful soil return to the industrious inhabitants an ample reward for their labors. In the fiercest heats of summer the t -i ^T. 26] THE CONQUEST OF PIEDMONT AND THE MILANESE 217 passing traveler will hear if he pauses the soft sounds of slow-running chap. xxvi waters in the irrigation sluices which on every side supply any lack of i796 rain. Wheat, barley, and rice, maize, fruit, and wine, are but a few of the staples. Great farmsteads, with bams whose mighty lofts and groaning mows attest the importance of Lombard agriculture, are gi-ouped into the hamlets which abound at the shortest intervals. And to the vision of one who sees them first from a mountain-top thi'ough the dim haze of a sunny day, towns and cities seem strewn as if they were grain from the hand of a sower. The measure of be- wilderment is full when memory recalls that this garden of Italy has been the prize for which from remotest antiquity the nations of Eu- rope have fought, and that the record of the ages is indehbly written in the walls and ornaments of the myriad structures — theaters, pal- aces, and churches — which lie so quietly below. Surely the dullest sansculotte in Bonaparte's army must have been aroused to new sen- sations by the sight. What rosy visions took shape in the mind of their leader we can only imagine. Piedmont having submitted, the promised descent into these rich plains was not an instant defeiTcd. " Hannibal," said the command- ing general to his staff, "took the Alps by storm. We have tm-ned their flank." Pausing only to announce his feats to the Directory in modest phrase, and to recommend for preferment those who, like Lannes and Lanusse, had earned distinction, he set forth on May thir- tieth. Neither Genoa, Tuscany, nor Venice was to be given time for anning ; Beauheu must be met while his men were still dispirited, and before the arrival of reinforcements : for a great army of thirty thou- sand men was immediately to be despatched under Wiu'mser to main- tain the power of Austria in Italy. Beauheu was a typical Austrian general, seventy-one years old, but still hale, a stickler for precedent, and looking to experience as his only guide. Relying on the principles of strategy as he had learned them, he had taken up what he consid- ered a strong position for the defense of Milan, his line stretching northeasterly beyond the Ticino from Valenza, the spot where rumors, chhgently spread by Bonaparte, declared that the French would at- tempt to force a passage. Confirmed in his own judgment by these reports, the old and wary Austrian commander stood brave and expectant, while the young and daring adventm'er opposed to him marched swiftly by on the right bank fifty miles onwai'd to Piacenza, 218 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXVI and made his crossing on May seventh in common ferry-boats and by a 1796 pontoon bridge, meeting with httle or no resistance from the few Aus- trian cavalry who had been sent out merely to reconnoiter the hne. The outwitted army was virtually outflanked, and in the gi'eatest dan- ger. Beaulieu had barely tune to break camp and march in hot haste northeasterly to Lodi, where, behind the swift cmT:'ent of the Adda, he made a final stand for the defense of Milan, the seat of Austrian gov- ernment. In fact, his movements were so huiTied that the advance- guards of both armies met by accident at Fombio on May eighth, where a shai^p engagement resulted in a victory for the French. La- harpe, who had shown his usual courage in this fight, was kiUed a few hours later, through a mistake of his own soldiers, in a melee with the pickets of a second Austrian corps. On the ninth the dukes of Parma and of Piacenza both made then- submission in treaties dictated by the French commander, and simultaneously the reigning archduke quitted Milan. Next day the pursuing army was at Lodi. Bonaparte wrote to the Directory that he had expected the passage of the Po would prove the most bold and difficult manceuver of the campaign. But it was no sooner accomphshed than he again showed a perfect mastery of his art by so manoeuvering as to avoid an engage- ment while the great river was still immediately in his rear. He was then summoned to meet a third emergency of equal consequence. The Adda is fordable in some places at certain times, but not easily ; and at Lodi a wooden bridge about two hundred yards in length then occupied the site of the present solid structiu'e of masomy and iron. The ap- proach to this bridge Beaulieu had seized and fortified. Northwestward was Milan ; to the east lay the ahnost impregnable fortress of Mantua. Beaten at Lodi, the Austrians might still retreat, and make a stand under the walls of either town with some hope of victory: it was Bonaparte's intention so to disorganize his enemy's army that neither would be possible. Accordingly on May tenth the French forces were concentrated for the advance. They started immediately and marched so swiftly that they overtook the Austrian rear-guard before it could withdraw behind the old Grothic walls of the town, and close the gates. Driving them onward, the French fought as they marched. A deci- sive conflict cleared the streets; and after a stubborn resistance the brave defenders retreated over the bridge to the eastern bank of what was now then* last rampart, the river. With cool and desperate courage nilAWINO U\UE K(1H THE CENTURT CO, ESGRAVED BY J, W. EVANS BONAPARTE, SURPRISED AT LONATO WITH HIS STAFF AND 1200 MEN, COMPELS 4OOO AUSTRIANS TO SURRENDER KHOM THK IIKAWINU BY EUOENB COUKBOIN ^T. 26] THE CONQUEST OF PIEDMONT AND THE MILANESE 219 Beaulieu then brought into action the Austrian artillery, and swept the chap. xxvi wooden roadway. 1796 In a short time the bridge would no doubt have been in flames ; it was uncertain whether the shifting and gi-avelly bottom of the stream above or below would either yield a ford or permit a crossing by any other means. Under Bonaparte's personal supervision, and therefore with mu-aculous speed, the French batteries were placed and began an answering thunder. In an access of personal zeal, the commander even threw himself for an instant into the whu'ling hail of shot and shrap- nel, in order the better to aim two guns which in the hm-ry had been misdirected. Under this ten-ible fire and coTinterfire it was unpossible for the Austrians to apply a torch to any portion of the sti-ucture. Be- hind the Trench guns were three thousand gi^enadiers waitmg for a signal. Soon the crisis came. A troop of Bonaparte's cavalry had found the nearest ford a few hundi-ed yards above the bridge, and were seen, amid the smoke, tiuniing the right flank of the Austrian infantry, which had been posted a safe distance behind the artillery on the op- posite shore. Quick as thought, in the very nick of opportunity, the general issued his command, and the grenadiers dashed for the bridge. Eye-witnesses declared that the fire of the Austrian artillery was now redoubled, while from houses on the opposite side soldiers hitherto con- cealed poured s^oUey after voUey of musket-balls upon the advancing column. For one single fateful moment it faltered. Berthier and Mas- sena, with others equally devoted, rushed to its head and rallied the fines. In a few moments the deed was accomplished, the bridge was won, the batteries were silenced, and the enemy was in full retreat. Scattered, stunned, and terrified, the disheartened Austrians felt that no human power could prevail against such a foe. Beaulieu could make no further stand behind the Adda ; but, retreating beyond the OgUo to the Mincio, a parallel tributary of the Po, he violated Vene- tian neutrality by seizing Peschiera, at the head of that stream, and spread his line behind the river from the Venetian town on the north as far as Mantua, the farthest southern outpost of Austria, thus thwarting one, and that not the least important, of Bonaparte's plans. As to the Italians, they seemed bereft of sense, and for the most part yielded dumbly to what was required. There were occasional outbui'sts of resistance to the fierce pohcy of levying contributions. One was threatened in Milan itseK, but they were 220 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 Chap. XXVI all put down with a high hand. Pavia, which rebelled outright, 1796 and unbolted its gates only under compulsion, was dehvered to the soldiery as their booty. The moral effect of the action at Lodi was incalculable, Bona- parte's reputation as a strategist had already been estabhshed, but his personal coiu-age had never been tested. The actual battle-field is some- thing quite different from the great theater of war, and men wondered whether he had the same mastery of the former as of the latter. Hith- erto he had been untried either as to his tactics or his intrepidity. In both respects Lodi elevated him hterally to the stars. No doubt the risk he took was awful, and the loss of life ten-ible. Critics, too, have pointed out safer ways which they beheve would have led to the same result ; be that as it may, in no other way could the same dramatic effect have been produced. France went wild with joy. The peoples of Italy bowed before the prodigy which thus both paralyzed and fas- cinated them all. Austria was dispirited, and her armies were awe- stricken. When, five days later, amid silent but friendly throngs of wondering men, Bonaparte entered Milan as the liberator of Lom- bardy, at the head of his veteran columns, there was already about his brows a mild effulgence of supematiu*al hght, which presaged to the growing band of his followers the full glory in which he was later to shine on the imagination of millions. It was after Lodi that his ador- ing soldiers gave him the name of " Little Corporal," by which they ever after knew him. He himself confessed that after Lodi some con- ception of his high destiny arose in his mind for the first time. ni.i.KrTioN r. CBASE: the OKIGINAI. nSiiRAVJNU UV G. KIKSINOEK, AKTKK a MIMATTKK liV JI:kKIX, deposited in THK national LIBKAKY. I'ABIS. 17011 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE !< imrtiait. witli u profile drawing eugruved by Caiiu, publiehcd in Milan in 17!Ki, evidently founded on the Puntommi portiait and the Bonaparte at Lodi, shows, according to Larousee, the true Bonaparte CHAPTER XXVn an insubordinate conqueror and diplomatist Bonaparte's Assertion of Independence — Helplessness of the Di- rectory — Threats and Proclamations — The Gteneral and His Officers — Bonaparte's Comprehensive Genius — The Devotion of France — The Position of the Austrians — Bonaparte's Strat- egy — His Conception of the Problem in Italy — Justification of His Foresight — Modena, Paema, and the Papacy — The French Radicals and the Pope — Bonaparte's Policy — His Ambition. WHEN the news of the successes in Piedmont reached Paris, pub- chap.xxvh he festivals were decreed and celebrated ; but the democratic i796 spirit of the directors could brook neither the contemptuous disregard of their plan which Bonaparte had shown, nor his arrogant assumption of diplomatic pleuipotence. Knowing how thoroughly then- doctrine had permeated Piedmont, they had intended to make it a republic. It was exasperating, therefore, that through Bonaparte's meddhng they found themselves still compelled to carry on negotiations with a monarchy. The treaty with the King of Sardinia was unwihingly signed by them on May fifteenth, but previous to the act they determined to chp the wings of then' dangerous falcon. This they thought to accomphsh by assigning Kellermann to share with Bonaparte the command of the victorious anny, and by confii-ming Sahcetti as their diplomatic pleni- potentiary to accompany it. The news reached the conqueror at Lodi on the eve of his triumphant entry into Milan. "As things now are," he promptly rephed to the Du-ectory, " you must have a general who pos- sesses your entu*e confidence. If I must refer every step to govern- ment commissioners, if they have the right to change my movements, to withdraw or send troops, expect nothing good hereafter." To Car- 30 231 222 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mr. 26 ch. xxvii not lie wrote at the same time : "I believe one bad general to be worth 1796 two good ones. . . . War is like government, a matter of tact. ... I do not wish to be hampered. I have begun with some glory ; I wish to continue worthy of you." Aware probably that his own republican vii'tue could not long withstand the temptations opening before him, he began the latter missive, as if to excuse himself and anticipate pos- sible accusations : "I swear I have nothing in view but the country. You will always find me on the straight road. I owe to the republic the sacrifice of all my own notions. If people seek to set me wrong in your esteem, my answer is in my heart and in my conscience." It is of course needless to add that the Directory yielded, not only as to the unity of command, but also in the fatal and vital matter of intrusting aU diplomatic negotiations to his hands. In taking this last step the executive virtually smrendered its iden- tity. Such, however, was the exultation of the Parisian populace and of the soldiery, that the degi-adation or even the forced resignation of the conquering dictator would have at once assured the fall of the di- rectors. They could not even protest when, soon after, there came from Bonaparte a despatch announcing that the articles of " the glori- ous peace which you have concluded with the King of Sardinia " had reached " us," and significantly adding in a later paragraph that the troops were content, having received half their pay in coin. Voices in Paris declared that for such language the writer shoTild be shot. Per- haps those who put the worst interpretation on the apparently harmless words were correct in their instinct. In reahty the Directory had been wholly dependent on the army since the previous October ; and while such an offensive iusiuuation of the fact would be, if iutentional, most impalatable, yet those who had profited by the fact dared not resent a remote reference to it. The farce was continued for some time longer, Bonaparte placing his part with singular ability. He sent to Kellermann, in Savoy, without the form of transmitting it through government channels, a subsidy of one milUon two hundred thousand francs. As long as he was unhampered, his despatches to Paris were soldierly and straightforward, although after the passage of the Po they began to be somewhat bombastic, and to abound in his old-fashioned, curious, and sometimes incorrect classi- cal or hterary allusions. But if he were crossed in the least, if rein- forcements did not arrive, or if there were any sign of independence in ^T.26] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 223 Paris, they became petulant, talking of ill health, threatening resigna- cu. xxvii tion, and requesting that numbers of men be sent out to replace him in nue the multiform functions which in his single person he was performing. Of course these tirades often failed of immediate effect, but at least no effort was made to put an effective check on the writer's career. Read a century later in a cold and critical hght, Bonapai-te's proclamations of the same period seem stilted, jerky, and theatrical. In them, however, there may still be found a sort of interstitial sentimentality, and in an age of romantic devotion to ideals the quality of vague suggestiveness passed for genuine coin. Whatever else was lacking in those composi- tions, they had the one supreme merit of accomplishing their end, for they roused the French soldiers to frenzied enthusiasm. In fact, if the Directory stood on the army, the army belonged hence- forth to Bonaparte. On the veiy day that Milan was entered, Mar- mont heard fi-om his leader's lips the memorable words, " Fortune is a woman; the more she does for me, the more I shall exact fi'om her. ... In our day no one has conceived anything gi-eat ; it falls to me to give the example." This is the language that soldiers Kke to hear from their leader, and it was no doubt repeated thi-oughout the army. "From this moment," wrote the same chronicler, a few months later, " the chief part of the pay and salaries was in coin. This led to a great change in the situation of the officers, and to a certain extent in their habits." Bonaparte was incorruptible. Sahcetti announced one day that the brother of the Duke of Modena was waiting outside with four chests containing a million of francs in gold, and urged the general, as a fi-iend and compatriot, to accept them. " Thank you," was the cabn and sig- nificant answer, " I shall not put myself in the hands of the Duke of Modena for such a sum." But similar propositions were made by the commander-in-chief to his subordinates, and they with less prudence feU into the trap, taking all they could lay hands upon, and thus be- coming the bond-slaves of their virtuous leader. There were stories at the time that some of the generals, not daring to send their iU-gotten money to France, and having no opportunity for investmg it elsewhere, actually carried hundreds of thousands of francs in then- baggage. This prostitution of his subordinates was part of a system. Twenty million francs was approximately the sum total of all contributions announced to the Directory, and in theu' destitution it seemed enormous. They also accepted with pleasm*e a himdred of the finest horses in Lombardy 224 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mr. 26 ch. xxvn to replace, as Bonaparte wrote on sending his present, the ordinary 1796 ones which drew their carriages. Was this paltry four million dollars the whole of what was derived from the sequestrations of princely do- mains and the secularization of ecclesiastical estates ? By no means. The army chest, of which none knew the contents but Bonaparte, was as inexhaustible as the widow's ci-use. At the opening of the campaign in Piedmont, empty wagons had been ostentatiously displayed as repre- senting the miUtary funds at the commander's disposal: these same vehicles now groaned under a weight of treasure, and were kept in a safe obscurityo Well might he say, as he did in June to Miot, that the commissioners of the Directory would soon leave and not be replaced, since they counted for nothing in his pohcy. With the entry into Milan, therefore, begins a new epoch in the remarkable development we are seeking to outline. The mihtary genius of him who had been the Corsican patriot and the Jacobin re- pubUcan had finally asserted dominion over all his other quahties. In the inconsistency of human nature, those foraier characters now and then showed themselves as still existent, but they were henceforth subordinate. The conquered Milanese was by a magical touch pro- vided with a provisional government, ready, after the tardy assent of the Directory, to be changed into the Transpadane Eepubhc and put imder French protection. Every detail of administration, every offi- cial and his fimctions, came under Bonaparte's direction. He knew the land and its resources, the people and their capacities, the mutual relations of the suiTounding states, and the idiosyncrasies of their rulers. Such laborious analysis as his despatches display, such grasp both of outline and detaO, such absence of confusion and clearness of vision, such lack of hesitance and such definition of plan, seem to prove that either a hero or a demon is again on earth. All the capacity this man had hitherto shown, great as it was, sinks into insignificance when compared with the Olympian powers he now displays, and will continue to display for years to come. His sinews are iron, his nerves are steel, his eyes need no sleep, and his brain no rest. WTiat a cap- tured Hungarian veteran said of him at Lodi is as true of his pohtical activity as of his mihtary restlessness : "He knows nothing of the regu- lar rules of war : he is sometimes on oui' front, sometimes on the flank, sometimes in the rear. There is no supporting such a gross violation of rules." His senses and his reason were indeed uutrammeled by hu- 5^ H ^T.26] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 225 man limitations ; they worked on front, rear, and flank, often simulta- cn. xxvii neously, and always without confusion. im Was it astonishing that the French nation, just recovering from a debauch of ii-rehgion and anarchy, should begin insensibly to yield to the charms of a wooer so seductive ? For some time past the soldiers, as the Milan newspapers declared, had been a pack of tatterdemahons ever flying before the arms of his Majesty the Emperor; now they were victors, led by a second Csesar or Alexander, clothed, fed, and paid at the cost of the conquered. To ardent French repubhcans, and to the peoples of Italy, this phenomenal personage proclaimed that he had come to break the chains of captives, while almost in the same hour he wrote to the Directory that he was levying twenty million francs on the country, which, though exhausted by five years of war, was then the richest in the civihzed universe. Nor was the self-esteem of France and the Parisian passion for adornment forgotten. There began a course of plimder, it not in a direction at least in a measure hitherto miknown to the modern world — the plimder of scientific speci- mens, of manuscripts, of pictures, statues, and other works of art. It is difficult to fix the responsibihty for this policy. In the previous year a few art works had been taken from HoUand and Belgium, and formal orders were given again and again by the Directory for strip- ping the Pope's galleries ; but there is a persistent behef , founded, no doubt, in an inherent probability, that the whole scheme of art spolia- tion had been suggested in the first place by Bonaparte, and prear- ranged between himself and the executive before his departm'e. At any rate, he asked and easily obtained from the government a com- mission of scholars and experts to scour the Itahan cities; and soon untold treasures of art, letters, and science began to poui" into the gal- leries, cabinets, and libraries of Paris. A few brave voices among the artists of the capital protested against the desecration ; the nation at large was tipsy with delight, and would not hsten. Eaphael, Leo- nardo, and Michelangelo, Correggio, Giorgione, and Paul Veronese, with aU the lesser masters, were stowed in the holds of frigates and de- spatched by way of Toulon toward the new Rome ; while Monge and Berthollet ransacked the scientific collections of Milan and Parma for their rarest specimens. Science, in fact, was to flourish on the banks of the Seine as never before or elsewhere ; and the gi*eat investigators of Italy, forgetful of then' native land, were to find a new citizen- 226 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [tEt. 26 ch. XXVII ship in the world of knowledge at the capital of European libertie^s. 1796 Words like these, addressed to the astronomer Oriani, indicate that on Bonaparte's mind had dawned the notion of a universal federated state, to which national republics would be subordinate. ItaUan rebellion having been subdued, the French nation roused to enthusiasm, independent funds provided, and the Directory put in its place, Bonaparte was free to unfold and consummate his further plans. Before him was the temtory of Venice, a state once vigorous and terri- ble, but now, as far as the country populations were concerned, an en- feebled and gentle ruler. With quick decision a French corps of ob- servation was sent to seize Brescia and watch the Tyrolean passes. It was, of course, to the advantage of Austria that Venetian neutrahty should not be violated, except by her own troops. But the French, having made a bold beginning of formal defiance, were quick to go fur- ther. Beaulieu had not hesitated on false pretenses to seize Peschiera, another Venetian town, which, by its situation at the outlet of Lake Garda, was of the utmost strategic value. He now stood confronting his pursuers on a strong Hne established, without reference to tenuto- rial boundaries, behind the whole course of the Mincio. Such was the situation to the north and east of the French army. Southeastward, on the swampy banks of the same river, near its junction with the Po, was Mantua. This city, which even under ordinary circumstances was an almost impregnable fortress, had been strengthened by an ex- traordinary gaiTison, while the surrounding lowlands were artificially inundated as a supreme measure of safety. Bonaparte intended to hmi Beaulieu back, and seize the line of the Adige, far stronger than that of the Mincio for repelling an Aus- trian invasion fi-om the north. What to him was the neutrahty of a weak government, and what were the precepts of international law with no force behind it but a moral one ? Austria, according to treaty, had the right to move her troops over two great mihtary roads within Vene- tian jiu-isdiction, and her defeated armies had just used one of them for retreat. The victorious commander could scarcely be expected to pause in his pursuit for lack of a few hnes of wiiting on a piece of stamped paper. Accordingly, by a simple feint, the Austrians were led to be- heve that his object was the seizm*e of Peschiera and the passes above Lake Garda; consequently, defying international law and violating then- treaties, they massed themselves at that place to meet his attack. Then ^T. 26] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 227 with a swift, forced march the French were concentrated not on the ch. xxvii enemy's strong right, but on his weak center at Borghetto. Bona- i796 parte's cavalry, hitherto badly mounted and timid, but now reorganized, were thrown forward for theii- easy task. Under Mm-at's command they dashed through, and, encouraged by their own brilUant successes, were thenceforward famous for efficiency. Bonaparte, with the main army, then hiirried past Mantua as it lay behind its bulwarks of swamp- fever, and the Austrian force was cut in two. The right wing fled to the mountains ; the left was virtually in a trap. Without any decla- ration of war against Venice, the French immediately occupied Verona, and Legnago a few days later ; Peschiera was fortified, and Pizzighet- tone occupied as Brescia had been, while contributions of every sort were levied more ruthlessly even than on the Milanese. The mastery of these new positions isolated Mantua more completely than a formal investment woidd have done ; but it was, nevertheless, considered wise to leave no loophole, and a few weeks later an army of eight thousand Frenchmen sat down in force before its gates. It was certain that within a short time a powerful Austrian force would pour out from the Alpine passes to the north. Further advance into Venetian lands would therefore be niin for the French. There was nothing left but the slow houi-s of a siege, for Mantua had become the decisive point. In the heats of smumer this interval might well have been devoted to ease; but it was ahnost the busiest period of Bona- parte's nfe. According to the Directory's rejected plan for a division of command in Italy, the mission assigned to Kellermann had been to organize republics in Piedmont and in the Milanese, and then to defend the Tyrolean passes against an Austrian advance from the north. Bona- parte was to have moved southward along the shore to revolutionize Genoa, Tuscany, the Papal States, and Naples successively. The whole idea having been scornfully rejected by Bonaparte, the Directory had been forced by the brilliant successes of their general not merely to condone his disobedience, but actually to approve Ms poHcy. He now had the opportunity of justifying his foresight. Understanding, as the government did not, that Austria was their only redoubtable foe by land, the real bulwark of the whole Italian system, he had fii'st shattered her power, at least for the time. The prop having been removed, the structure was toppling, and during this interval of waiting, it fell. His opportiuiity was made, his resolution ripe. 228 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JEt. 26 ch. xxvn In front, Venice was at his mercy; behind him, guerrilla bands of so- 1796 called Barbets, formed in Genoese ten-itory and equipped by disaffected fugitives, were threatening the lately conquered gateway from France where the Ligurian Alps and the Apennines meet. Bonaparte's first step was to impose a new arrangement upon the submissive Piedmont, whereby, to make assurance double sure, Alessandria was added to the Ust of fortresses in French hands ; then, as his second measure, Murat and Lannes appeared before Genoa at the head of an armed force, with instructions fli-st to seize and shoot the many offenders who had taken refuge in her tenitory after the risings in Lombardy, and then to thi'eaten the Senate with further retaUatory measures, and command the instant dismissal of the imperial Austrian plenipotentiary. From Paris came orders to drive the Enghsh fleet out of the harbor of Leg- horn, where, in spite of the treaty between Tuscany and France, there still were hostile arsenals and ships. It was done. Naples did not wait to see her territories invaded, but sued for mercy and was humbled, being forced to withdraw her navy from that of the coahtion, and her cavahy from the Austrian army. For the moment the city of Rome was left in peace. The strength of papal dominion lay in Bologna, and the other legations beyond the Apennines, comprising many of the finest districts in Italy ; and there a master-stroke was to be made. On the thi-one of Modena was an Austrian archduke : his govern- ment was remorselessly shattered and virtually destroyed, the ransom being fixed at the ruinous sum of ten million fi'ancs with twenty of the best pictures in the principahty. But on that of Parma was a Spanish prince with whose house France had made one treaty and hoped to make a much better one. The duke, therefore, was graciously allowed to purchase an armistice by an enormous but yet possible contribution of two million fi'ancs in money, together with provisions and horses in quantity. The famous St. Jerome of Correggio was among the twenty paintings seized in Modena. The archduke repeatedly offered to ran- som it for one milhon fi'ancs, the amount at which its value was esti- mated, but his request was not granted. Next came Bologna and its sm-rounding teri'itoiy. Such had been the tyranny of ecclesiastical con- trol that the subjects of the Pope in that most ancient and famous seat of learning welcomed the French with unfeigned joy; and the fairest portion of the Papal States passed by its own desire from under the old yoke. The successor of St. Peter was glad to ransom his capital by a m-WmiW^ o ON < < P < Z o ^T. 20] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 229 payment nominally of twenty-one million francs. In reality he had Ch. xxvn to surrender far more; for his galleries, Uke those of Modena, were irao stripped of then- gems, while the funds seized in government offices, and levied in irregular ways, raised the total value forwarded to Paris to nearly double the nominal contribution. All this, Bonaparte ex- plained, was but a beginning, the idleness of summer heats. " This armistice," he wrote to Paris on Juno twenty-first, 1796, "being con- cluded with the dog-star rather than with the papal ai-my, my oi)inion is that you should be in no haste to make peace, so that in September, if all goes well in Germany and northern Italy, we can take possession of Rome." In fact, this ingenious man was really practising moderation, as both he and the terrified Italians, considering their relative situations, under- stood it. Whatever had been the original arrangement with the du'ec- tors, there was nothing they did not now expect and demand from Italy : they wrote requiring, in addition to aU that had hitherto been mentioned, plunder of every kind from Leghorn ; masts, cordage, and ship supplies fi'om Genoa ; horses, provisions, and forage from MUan ; and contributions of jewels and precious stones fi"om the reigning princes. As for the papal power, the French radicals would gladly have destroyed it. They had not forgotten that a diplomatic agent of the repubhc had been killed in the streets of Rome, and that no repara- tion had been made either by the punishment of the assassin or other- wise. The Pope, they declared, had been the real author of the terrible civil war fomented by the unyielding clergy, and waged with such fmy in France. Moreover, the whole sentimental and philosophical move- ment of the century in France and elsewhere considered the ecclesiasti- cal centrahzation and hierarchical tyi'anny of the papacy as a dangerous survival of absolutism. But Bonaparte was wise in his generation. The contributions he levied thi'oughout Italy were terrible ; but they were such as she could bear, and stiU recuperate for further service in the same direction. The liberalism of Italy was, moreover, not the radicalism of France ; and a submissive papacy was of incalculably greater value both there and else- where in Europe than an irreconcilable and fugitive one. The Pope, too, though weakened and humiliated as a temporal prince, was spared for further usefulness to his conqueror as a spmtual dignitary. Be- yond all this was the enormous moral influence of a temperate and 31 230 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mr. 2fi ch. xxvn apparently impersonal policy. Bonaparte, thougli personally and }>y 1796 natiu-e a passionate and wilful man, felt bound, as the representative of a great movement, to exercise self-restraint, taking pains to live simply, dress plainly, almost shabbily, and continuing by calm calculation to refuse the enormous bribes which began and continued to be offered to hun personally by the rulers of Italy. His generals and the fiscal agents of the nation were all in his power, because it was by his con- nivance that they had grown enormously rich, he himself remaining comparatively poor, and for his station almost destitute. The army was his devoted servant ; Italy and the world should see how different was his moderation from the rapacity of the repubUc and its tools, vandals hke the commissioners Gareau and Sahcetti. Such was the "leisure" of one who to all outward appearance was but a man, and a very ordinary one. In the medals struck to com- memorate this first portion of the Itahan campaign, he is still the same shm youth, with lanky hak, that he was on his amval in Paris the year previous. It was observed, however, that the old indifferent man- ner was somewhat emphasized, and consequently artificial; that the gaze was at least as direct and the eye as penetrating as ever; and that there was, half intentionally, half unconsciously, disseminated all about an atmosphere of peremptory command — but that was all. The incar- nation of ambition was long since complete; its attendant imperious manner was suffered to develop but slowly. In Bonapai-te was per- ceptible, as Victor Hugo says, the shadowy outline of Napoleon. CHAPTER XXVIII mantua and arcole The Austrian System — The Austrian Strategy — Castiglione — French Gtains — Bassano — The French m the Tyrol — The French Defeated in Germany — Bonaparte and Alvinczy — Aus- trian Successes — Caldiero — First Battle of Arcole — Second Battle of Arcole. MEANTIME the end of July had come. Wurmser, considered by cn. xxviii Austria her greatest general, had been recalled to Vienna from i796 the Rhine, and sent at the head of thirty thousand fi*esh troops to col- lect the coliunns of Beaulieu's army, which was scattered in the Tyi-oL This done, he was to assiune the chief command, and advance to the rehef of Mantua. The first part of his task was successfully completed, and already, according to the direction of the Auhc Council of the em- pire, and in pursuance of the same hitherto universal but vicious system of cabinet campaigning which Bonaparte had just repudiated, he was moving down fi'om the Alps in thi-ee columns with a total force of about fifty-three thousand men. There were about fifteen thousand in the garrison of Mantua. Bonaparte was much weaker, having only forty-two thousand, and of these some eight thousand were occupied in the siege of that place. Wuimser was a master of the old school, working like an automaton under the hand of his government, and commanding according to well-worn precept his well-equipped bat- taUons, every soldier of which was a recruit so costly that destrac- tive battles were made as infrequent as possible, because to fight many meant financial ruin. In consequence, like all the best generals of his class, he made war as far as possible a series of manoeuvers. Opposed to him was an emancipated genius with neither directors nor public council to hamper him. In the tradition of the Revolution, as in the 231 232 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20-27 ch. xxvm mind of Frederick the Great, war was no game, but a bloody decision, 1796 and the quicker the conclusion was tried the better. The national con- scription, under the hands of Dubois de Crance, had secured men in unlimited numbers at the least expense ; while Camot's organization had made possible the quick handling of troops in large mass by simi)li- fying the machinery. Bonaparte was about to show what could be done in the way of using the weapon which had been put into his hands. The possession of Mantua was decisive of ItaUan destiny, for its holder could command a kind of overlordship in every Httle Italian state. If Bonaparte should take and keep it, Austria would be virtu- ally banished from Italy, and her prestige destroyed. She must, there- fore, relieve it, or lose not only her power in the peninsula, but her rank in Europe. To this end, and according to the established rules of strategy, the Austrians advanced fi-om the mountains in tkree divi- sions against the French Une, which stretched fi'om Brescia past Pes- chiera, at the head of the Mincio, and thi'ough Verona to Legnago on the Adige. Two of these armies were to march respectively down the east and west banks of Lake Grarda, and, flanking the inferior forces of the French on both sides, surround and capture them. The other di- vision was on the Adige in front of Verona, ready to relieve Mantua. Between that river and the lake rises the stately mass of Monte Baldo, abrupt on its eastern, more gentle on its western slope. This latter, as affording some space for manoeuvers, was reaUy the key to the passage. Such was the fii-st onset of the Austrians down this Une that the French outposts at Lonato and RivoH were driven in, and for a time it seemed as if there would be a general rout. But the French stood fii-m, and checked any fui-ther advance. For a day Bonaparte and Wm'mser stood confronting each other. In the mean time, however, the left Austrian column was pouring down toward Verona, while the right, imder Quasdanowich, had ah-eady captiu-ed Brescia, seized the highway to Milan, and cut off the French retreat. This move in Wm'mser's plan was so far entu'ely successful, and for a moment it seemed as if the sequel would be equally so. The situation of his opponents was desperate. In this crisis occiured the first of those cui-ious scenes which recur at intervals in Bonaparte's life. Some, and those eye-witnesses, have attributed them to genuine panic. Having ordered the siege of Man- tua to be raised, and his own siege-guns to be spiked, he at once de- ^T. 26-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 233 spatched the division thus rendered available for field operations toward Cn. xxvin Brescia. But its numbers were so few as scarcely to relieve the situa- i796 tion. Accordingly a council of war was summoned to decide whether the army should stand and fight, or retreat. The commander-in-chief was apparently much excited, and advised the latter course. The en- emy being between the French and the Adda, no other Une was open but that southward through the low country, over the Po ; and to fol- low that imphed something akin to a disorderly rout. Nevei-theless, all the generals were in favor of this suggestion except one, Augereau, who disdained the notion of retreat on any line, and flung out of the room in scorn. Bonaparte walked the floor until late in the small hours; finally he appeared to have accepted Augereau's advice, and gave orders for battle. But the opening movements were badly exe- cuted. Bonaparte seemed to feel that the omens were unfavorable, and again the generals were summoned. Augereau opened the meet- ing with a theatrical and declamatory but earnest speech, encom-aging his comrades and virging the expediency of a battle. This time it was Bonaparte who fled, apparently in despair, leaving the chief command, and with it the responsibihty, to the daring Augereau, by whose enthu- siasm, as he no doubt saw, the other generals had been affected. The hazardous enterprise succeeded, and on the very plan already adopted. Augereau gave the orders, and with swift concentration every available man was hurled against Quasdanowich at Lonato. The result was an easy victory, the enemy was driven back to a safe distance, and Brescia was evacuated on August fourth, the de- feated columns retreating behind Lake Garda to join Wurmser on the other side. Like the regular retm-n of the pendulmn, the French moved back again, and confi-onted the Austrian center that very night, but now with every company in line and Bonaparte at their head. A portion of the enemy, about twenty-five thousand in number, had reached Lonato, hastening to the support of Quasdanowich. Wiu-mser had lost a day before Mantua. A second time the hmTying French engaged their foe almost on the same field. A second time they were easily victorious. In fact so terrible was this second defeat that the scattered bands of Austrians wandered aimlessly about in ignorance of their way. One of them, four thousand strong, reaching Lonato, found it almost abandoned by the French, Bonaparte and his staff with but twelve hundi-ed men being left behind. A herald, bhndfolded, as 234 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26-27 Ch. xxvin was then the custom, was at once despatched to summon the French 1790 commander to suxrender to the superior Austrian force. The availahle remnant of the victorious army quickly gathered, and the messenger was introduced in the midst of them. As the bandage was taken from his eyes, dazzled by the hght falhng on hundreds of hiilhant unifoi-ms, the imperious voice of his great enemy was heard commanding him to return and say to his leader that it was a personal insult to speak of surrender to the French army, and that it was he who must imme- diately yield himseK and his division. The bold scheme was success- ful, and to the ten thousand previously killed, wounded, and captured by the conquerors four thousand prisoners were added. Next morning Wm-mser advanced, and with his right resting on Lake Garda offered battle. The decisive fight occuiTed in the center of his long, weak line at Castiglione. Before evening the desperate struggle was over, and the Austrians were in full retreat toward the Tyrol. Had the great risks of these few days been determined against the French, who would have been to blame but the madcap Augereau ? As things turned out, whose was the glory but Bonaparte's ? This panic, at least, appears to have been carefully calculated and cleverly feigned. A week later the French Unes were again closed before Mantua, which, though not in- vested, was at least blockaded. The fortress had been revlctualed and regarrisoned, while the besiegers had been compelled to destroy their own train to prevent its capture by the enemy. But France was mis- tress of the Mincio and the Adige, with a total loss of about ten thou- sand men; while Austria had lost forty thousand, and was standing by a forlorn hope. Both ai-mies were exhausted; as yet the gi'eat stake was not won. In the shortest possible period new troops were under way both from Vienna and fi-om Paris. With those fi-om the Austrian capital came positive instructions to Wurmser that in any case he should again advance toward Mantua. In obedience to this command of the Em- peror, a division of the army, twenty thousand strong, imder Da^ddo- wich, was left in the Austrian Tyi'ol at Roveredo, near Trent, to stop the advance of the French, who, with their reinforcements, were press- ing forward through the pass as if to join Moreau in Munich. The main Austrian army, under Wunnser, moved over into the valley of the Brenta, and advanced toward Mantua. If he should decide to turn west- ward against the French, the reserve could descend the vaUey of the ^T. 26-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 235 Adige to his assistance. But Bonaparte did not intend either to pass Ch. xxvm by and leave open the way southward, or to be shut up in the valleys i796 of the Tyrol. With a quick surge Davidowich was first defeated at Roveredo, and then diiven far behind Trent into the higher vaUeys. The victor delayed only to issue a proclamation giving autonomy to the Tyi'olese, under French protection ; but the ungrateful peasantry prefeiTcd the autonomy they already enjoyed, and fortified then- pre- cipitous passes for resistance. Tiu'uing quickly into the Brenta valley, Bonaparte, by a forced march of two days, overtook Wurmser's advance- guard unawares at Prhnolano, and captiu-ed it ; the next day, September eighth, he cut in two and completely defeated the main army at Bas- sano. Part of those who escaped retreated into Friuh, toward Vienna. There was nothing left for the men under Wurmser's personal command but to throw themselves, if possible, into Mantua. With these, some sixteen thousand men in all, the veteran general forced a way, by a series of most brilhant movements, past the flank of the blockading French fines, and found a refuge in the famous fortress. The hghtning-like rapidity of these operations completed the de- morafization of the Austrian troops. The fortified defiles and chffs of the Tyrol fell before the French attacks as easily as their breast- works in the plains. Wurmser had twenty-six thousand men in Mantua ; but from fear and fever half of them were in the hospitals. Meanwhile, disaster had overtaken the French arms in the North. Jourdan had crossed the Rhine at Diisseldorf, as Moreau had at Kehl. They had each about seventy-five thousand men, while the army of Charles had been reduced by Wui-mser's departure for Italy to a num- ber far less. According to the plan of the Directory, these two French armies were to advance on parallel lines south of the neutral zone through Germany, and to join Bonaparte across the Tyrol for the advance to Vienna. Moreau defeated the Austrians, and reached Mu- nich without a check. Wurtemberg and Baden made peace with the French republic on its own terms, and Saxony, recalling its forces fi'om the coahtion, declared itself neutral, as Prussia had done. But Joui*- dan, having seized Wih'zbm-g and won the battle of Altenkirchen, was met on his way to Ratisbon and Nenmarkt, and thoroughly beaten, by the same young Ai-chduke Charles, who had acquired experience and learned wisdom in his defeat by Moreau. Both French ai-mies were thus thrown back upon the Rhine, and there could be no fui-ther hope 236 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26-27 ch. xxvni of caiTying out the original plan. In this way the attention of the 1796 world was concentrated on the victorious Army of Italy and its young commander, whose importance was further enhanced by the fulfihnent of his own prophecy that the fate of Europe hung on the decision of his campaign in Italy. The glory of the imperial arms having been brilhantly vindicated in the North, the government at Vienna natui-ally thought it not impos- sible to reheve Mantua, and restore Austrian prestige in the South. Every effort was to be made. The Tyrolese sharp-shooters were called out, large numbers of raw recruits were gathered in lUp'ia and Croatia, while a few veterans were taken from the forces of the Archduke Charles. When these were collected, Quasdanowich found himself in Friuli with upward of thh'ty-five thousand men, while Davidowich in the Tyrol had eighteen thousand. The chief command of both armies was assigned to Alvinczy, an experienced but aged general, one of the same stock as that to which Wiu-mser belonged. About October first, the two forces moved simultaneously, one down the Adige, the other down the Piave, to unite before Vicenza, and proceed to the relief of Mantua. For the fom-th time Bonaparte was to fight the same battle, on the same field, for the same object, with the same inferiority of numbers. His situation, however, was a trifle better than it had been, for several veteran battahons which were no longer needed in Vendee had arrived fi*om the Ai-my of the West ; his own soldiers were also well equipped and enthusiastic. He wrote to the Dii'ectory, on October first, that he had thirty thousand effectives ; but he probably had more, for it is scarcely possible that, as he said, eighteen thousand were in the hospitals. The populations around and behind him were, moreover, losing faith in Austria, and growing well disposed toward France. Many of his garrisons were, therefore, called in ; and deducting eight thousand men destined for the siege of Mantua, he still had an army of nearly forty thousand men wherewith to meet the Austrians. And yet this foiu'th division of the campaign opened with disaster to the French. In order to prevent the imion of his enemy's two ar- mies, Bonaparte ordered Vaubois, who had been left above Trent to guard the French conquests in the Tyrol, to attack Davidowich. The result was a rout, and Vaubois was compelled to abandon one strong position after another, — first Trent, then Roveredo, — until finally he felt able to make a stand on the right bank of the Adige at RivoH, DEAWl>u MAUh ruil TUL Ct-NTUtiy W. tMjBAVFJ) U\ M. UAIDbR BONAPARTE AT ARCOLE FROM THE DRAWING BY H. CHABTIKR ^T. 26-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 237 which commands the southeni slopes of Monte Baldo. The other hank ch. xxviii was in Austrian hands, and Davidowich could have dehouchcd safely 1790 into the plain. This result was largely due to the clever mountain war- fare of the Tyrolese militia. Meantime Massena had advanced from Bassano up the Piave to observe Alvinczy. Augereau was at Verona. On November foui-th, Alvinczy advanced and occupied Bassano, com- pelling Massena to retreat before his superior force. Bonapai-te, deter- mined not to permit a junction of the two Austrian armies, moved with Augereau's division to reinforce Massena and drive Alvinczy back into the valley of the Piave. Augereau fought all day on the sixth at Bas- sano, Massena at Citadella. This fii'st encounter was indecisive ; but news of Vaubois's defeat having arrived, the French thought it best to retreat on the following day. There was not now a single obstacle to the imion of the two Austrian armies ; and on November ninth, Al- vinczy started for Verona, where the French had halted on the eighth. It looked as if Bonaparte would be attacked on both ilanks at once, and thus overwhelmed. Verona lies on both banks of the river Adige, which is spanned by several bridges; but the heart of the town is on the right. The remains of Vaubois's army having been ralhed at Rivoh, some miles further up on that bank, Bonaparte made all possible use of the stream as a natural fortification, and concentrated the remainder of his forces on the same side. Alvinczy came up and occupied Caldiero, situated on a gentle rise of the other shore to the south of east ; but Davidowich, checked by the French division at Eivoh, which had been made by Bonaparte to feel thoroughly ashamed, and was now thirsty for re- venge, remained some distance farther back to the north, where it was expected he would cross and come down on the left banlv. To prevent this a fierce onslaught was made against Alvinczy's position on Novem- ber twelfth by Massena's corps. It was entirely unsuccessful, and the French were repulsed with the serious loss of three thousand men, Bonaparte's position was now even more critical than it had been at Castighone ; he had to contend with two new Austrian armies, one on each flank, and Wui-mser with a third stood ready to saUy out of Man- tua in his rear. If there should be even partial cooperation between the Austrian leaders, he must retreat. But he felt siu-e there would be no cooperation whatsoever. From the force in Verona and that before Mantua twenty thousand men were gathered to descend the course of 238 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26-27 Ch. XXVIII the Adige into the swampy lands about Konco, where a crossing was 1796 to be made and Alvinczy caught, if possible, at Villanova, on his left flank. The manoeuver, though highly dangerous, was fairly successful, and is considered by critics among the finest in this or any other of Bonaparte's campaigns. Amid these swamps, ditches, and dikes the methodical Austrians, aiming to carry strong positions by one fierce onset, were brought into the greatest disadvantage before the new tactics of swift movement in open columns, which were difficult to as- sail. By a feint of retreat to the westward the French ai-my had left Verona without attracting attention, but by a swift countennarch it reached Ronco on the morning of November fifteenth, crossed in safety, and turned back to flank the Austrian position. The first stand of the enemy was made at Arcole, where a short, narrow bridge connects the high dikes which regulate the sluggish stream of the httle river Alpon, a tributaiy of the Adige on its left bank. This bridge was defended by two battalions of Croatian recruits, whose commander. Colonel Brigido, had placed a pair of field-pieces so as to enfilade it. The French had been advancing in three columns by as many causeways, the central one of which led to the bridge. The first attempt to cross was repulsed by the deadly fire which the Croats poured in from their sheltered position. Augereau, with his picked corps, fared no better in a second charge led by himself bearing the standard ; and, in a third disastrous rush, Bonaparte, who had caught up the standard and planted it on the bridge with his own hand, was himself swept back into a quagmire, where he would have perished but for a fourth return of the grenadiers, who drove back the pursuing Austrians, and pulled their commander from the swamp. Fu*ed by his undaunted courage, the gallant lines were formed once more. At that moment another French corps passed over lower down by a ferry, and the Austrians becoming disorganized, in spite of the large reinforce- ments which had come up under Alvinczy, the last charge on the bridge was successful. With the capture of Arcole the French turned their enemy's rear, and cut off not only his artillery, but his reserves in the valley of the Brenta. The advantage, however, was completely de- stroyed by the masterly retreat of Alvinczy from his position at Cal- diero, effected by other causeways and another bridge further north, wliich the French had not been able to secure in time. Bonaparte quickly vidthdrew to Ronco, and recrossed the Adige to BONAPARTE AT ARCOLE. FtlOM Tlir: PAINTINr, rN THK LOUVRE UY ANTlllNl-.-JEAN GnOS. THIS rollTFtAIT WAS PAINTED r.V CROS IN ITALY IN I'Oi . AT TIIF. ^OtV IT^TroX Ot JOt-EPHlNE, HONArARTE SAT FOR IT. IT W\S I'RKSE.NTED TO THE LOUVRE IN ISS3 BV M«" MILLIET. IT IS NOT THE PAINTING ITIOM WHICH THE LgNJIH ENiiRAVINii WAS MADE, HUT MOST PROBAULV THE SKETCH >1AJ)E KHO-U LIKE FOR THE PAINTING. iET. 26-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 239 meet an attack which he supposed Davidowich, having possibly forced cn. xxviii Vauhois's position, would then certainly make. But that general was rm still in his old place, and gave no signs of activity. This movement misled Alvinczy, who, thinking the French had started from Mantua, returned by way of Arcole to pursue them. Again the French com- mander led his forces across the Adige into the swampy lowlands. His enemy had not forgotten the desperate fight at the bridge, and was timid; and besides, in his close formation, he was on such gi-ound no match for the open ranks of the French. Retiring without any real re- sistance as far as Ai-cole, the Austrians made then- stand a second time in that red-walled burg. Bonaparte could not well afford another di- rect attack, with its attendant losses, and strove to turn the position by fording the Alpon where it flows into the Adige. He failed, and with- drew once more to Ronco, the second day remaining indecisive. On the morning of the seventeenth, however, with undiminished fei-tility of resource, a new plan was adopted and successfully carried out. One of the pontoons on the Adige sank, and a body of Austrians charged the small division stationed on the left bank to guard it, in the hope of destroying the remainder of the bridge. They were repulsed and driven back toward the marshes with which they meant to cover their flank. The ganisons of both Arcole and Porcil, a neighboring hamlet, were seriously weakened by the detention of this force. Two French divisions were promptly despatched to make use of that advantage, while at the same time an ambuscade was laid among the pollard wil- lows which lined the ditches beyond the retreating Austrians. At an opportune moment the ambuscade unmasked, and by a tenible fire drove thi'ee thousand of the Croatian recruits into the marsh, where most of them were drowned or shot. Advancing then beyond the Al- pon by a bridge built dm'ing the previous night, Bonaparte gave battle on the high ground to an enemy whose numbers were now, as he cal- culated, reduced to a comparative equahty with his own. The Aus- trians made a vigorous resistance ; but such was theit' credulity as to anything their enemy might do, that a sunple stratagem of the French made them beheve that their left was turned by a di\dsion, when in reality but twenty-five men had been sent to ride around behind the swamps and blow their bugles. Being simultaneously attacked on the front of the same wing by Augereau, they di-ew off at last in good or- der toward MontebeUo. Thence Alvinczy slowly retreated into the 240 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26-27 ch. xxvni valley of the Brenta. The French returned to Verona. Davidowlch, 1796 ignorant of all that had occurred, now finally dislodged Vaubois ; but, finding before him Massena with his division where he had expected Alvinczy and a great Austrian army, he discreetly withdrew into the Tyrol. It was not until November twenty -third, long after the depart- ure of both his colleagues, that Wurmser made a brilliant but of course ineffectual sally from Mantua. The French were so exhausted, and the Austrians so decimated and scattered, that by tacit consent hostilities were intermitted for nearly two months. i CHAPTER XXIX bonapakte's imperious spirit Bonaparte's Transformation — Military Genius — Powers and Prin- ciples — Theory and Conduct — Political Activity — Purposes FOR Italy — Private Correspondence — Treatment of the Ital- ian Powers — Antagonism to the Directory — The Task be- fore Him. DURING- the two months between the middle of November, 1796, ch. xxix and the middle of January, 1797, there was a marked change in i'^^ Bonaparte's character and conduct. After Arcole he appeared as a man very different' from the novice he had been before Montenotte. Twice his fortunes had hung by a smgle hair, having been rescued by the desperate bravery of Rampon and his soldiers at Monte Legino, and again by Augereau's daring at Louato ; twice he had barely es- caped being a prisoner, once at Valeggio, once at Lonato; twice his life had been spared in the heat of battle as if by a mu-acle, once at Lodi, once again at Ai-cole. These facts had apparently left a deep impression on his mind, for they were tirmed to the best account in making good a new step in social advancement. So far he had been as adventurous as the greatest daredevil among the subalterns, stakuig his life in every new ventui'e ; hereafter he seemed to appreciate his own value, and to calculate not only the unperihng of his life, but the intimacy of his conversation, with nice adaptation to some great re- sult. Gradually and informally a kind of body-guard was organized, which, as the idea grew familiar, was skilfully developed into a picked corps, the best officers and finest soldiers being made to feel honored in its membership. The constant attendance of such men necessarily se- cluded the general-in-chief fi'om those colleagues who had hitherto been familiar comrades. Something in the nature of formal etiquette 242 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. XXIX once established, it was easy to extend its mles and confinn them. 1796 The generals were thus separated further and further from their supe- rior, and before the new year they had insensibly adopted habits of ad- dress which displayed a high outward respect, and vii*tually terminated all comradeship with one who had so recently been merely the first among equals. Bonaparte's innate tendency to command was under such circumstances hardened into a habit of imperious dictation. In view of what had been accomplished, it would have been impossible, even for the most stubborn democrat, to check the process. Not one of Bonaparte's principles had failed to secm-e triumphant vindication. In later years Napoleon hiinseK beheved, and subsequent criticism has confirmed his opinion, that the Italian campaign, taken as a whole, was his greatest. The revolution of any public system, social, poHtical, or military, is always a gigantic task. It was nothing less than this which Bonaparte had wrought, not in one, but in all three spheres, during the summer and autumn of 1796. The changes, like those of most revolutions, were changes of emphasis and degree in the applica- tion of principles already divined. " Divide and conquer " was an old maxim ; it was a novelty to see it applied in warfare and pohtics as Bonaparte appHed it in Italy. It has been remarked that the essential difference between Napoleon and Frederick the Great was that the lat- ter had not ten thousand men a month to kill. The notion that war should be short and terrible had, indeed, been clear to the great Prus- sian ; Carnot and the times afforded the opportunity for its conclusive demonstration by the genius of the greater Corsican. Concentration of besiegers to breach the walls of a town was nothing new ; but the triumphant application of the same principle to an opposing line of troops, though well known to Julius Caesar, had been forgotten, and its revival was Napoleon's masterpiece. The martinets of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries had so exaggerated the formahties of war that the relation of armies to the fighting-ground had been httle studied and well-nigh forgotten ; the use of the map and the compass, the study of rehefs and profiles in topography, produced in Bonaparte's hands results that seemed to duller minds nothing short of miraculous. One of these was to oppose the old-school rigid formation of troops by any forma- tion more or less open and irregular according to circumstances, but always the kind best suited to the character of the seat of war. The fii'st two days ,at Arcole were the triumphant vindication of this con- ^T. 27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 243 cept. Finally, there was a fascination for the French soldiers in the Ch. xxix primitive savagery of their general, which, though partly concealed, and noe somewhat held in by training, nevertheless was willing that the spoils of their conquest should be devoted to making the victorious con- testants opulent; which scorned the hmitations of human powers in himself and them, and thus accompUshed feats of strength and strat- agem which gratified to satiety that love for the uncommon, the ideal, and the great which is inherent in the spirit of theu* nation. In the successful combination and evolution of all these elements there was a gi'andeur which Bonaparte and every soldier of his army appreciated at its full value. The military side of Bonapai-te's genius is ordinarily considered the strongest. Judged by what is easily visible in the way of immediate consequences and permanent results, this appears to be trae ; and yet it was only one of many sides. Next in impoi'tance, if not equal to it, was his activity in politics and diplomacy. It is easy to call names, to stigmatize the peoples of Italy, all the nations even of western Europe, as corrupt and enervated, to laugh at theh politics as antiquated, and to brand their rulers as incapable fools. An ordinary man can, by the assistance of the knowledge, education, and insight acqiiired by the ex- perience of his race through an additional century, tm-n and show how commonplace was the person who toppled over such an old rotten structure. This is the method of Napoleon's detractors, except when, in addition, they first magnify his wickedness, and then further distort the proportion by viewing his fine powers thi'ough the other end of the glass. We all know how easy great things are when once they have been accomphshed, how simple the key to a mystery when once it has been revealed. Morally considered, Bonaparte was a child of nature, born to a mean estate, buffeted by a cruel and remorseless society, driven in youth to every shift for self-preservation, compelled to fight an unregenerate world with its own weapons. He had not been changed in the flash of a gun. Elevation to reputation and power did not di- minish the duplicity of his character; on the contrary, it possibly inten- sified it. Certainly the fierce Hght which began to beat upon him brought it into greater prominence. Truth, honor, unselfishness are theoretically the vii'tues of all philosophy ; practically they are the vii-- tues of Christian men in Christian society. Where should the scion of a Corsican stock, ignorant of moral or rehgious sentiment, thi'own into 244 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE L^t. 27 ch. XXIX the atmosphere and surroundings of the French Revokition, leani to 1796 practise them"? Such considerations are indispensable in the observation of Bona- parte's progress as a politician. His first settlement with the various peoples of central Italy was, as he had declared, only provisional. The uncertain status created by it was momentarily not unwelcome to the Directory. Their policy was to destroy existing institutions, and leave order to evolve itself fi*om the chaos as best it could. Doctrinaires as they were, they meant to destroy absolute monarchy in Italy, as every- where else, if possible, and then to stop, leaving the hberated peoples to their own devices. Some fondly beheved that out of anarchy would arise, in accordance with " the law of nature," a pure democracy ; while others had the same faith that the result woidd be constitutional mon- archy. Moreover, things appear simpler in the perspective of distance than they do near at hand. The sincerity of Bonapai-te's republicanism was like the sincerity of his conduct — an affair of time and place, a consistency with conditions and not with abstractions. He knew the Itahan mob, and faithfully described it in his letters as dull, ignorant, and unreliable, without preparation or fitness for seK-government. He was willing to estabhsh the fonns of constitutional administration; but in spite of hearty support from many disciples of the Revolution, he found those forms Hkely, if not certain, to crumble under their own weight, and was convinced that the real sovereignty must for years to come reside in a strong protectorate of some kmd. It appeared to him a necessity of war that these peoples should reheve the destitution of the French treasury and army, a necessity of circumstances that France should be restored to vigor and health by laying tribute on their trea- sures of art and science, as on those of all the world, and a necessity of political science that artificial boundaries should be destroyed, as they had been in France, to produce the homogeneity of condition essential to national or admioistrative unity. The Italians themselves understood neither the policy of the French executive nor that of their conqueror. The transitional position in which the latter had left them produced great uneasiaess. The terri- fied local authorities asked nothing better than to be left as they were, with a view to profiting by the event, whatever it might be. After every Austrian success there were numerous local revolts, which the French garrison commanders suppressed with severity. Provisional IN TUE LUUVKIC ENGIUVrD BY J'ETEU AITKEN A GRENADIER FBOU THE PAINTLNO BT MCOLAS TOUSSACiT CHAIU.ET Mt.27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 245 Sfovernments soon come to the end of their usef uhiess, and the enemies ch. xxix of France began to take advantage of the disorder in order to undo i796 what had been done. The Enghsh, for example, had seized Porto Fer- rajo in place of Leghorn ; the Pope had gone fui-ther, and, in spite of the armistice, was assembling an army for the recovery of Bologna, Fer- rara, and his other lost legations. Thus it happened that in the inter- vals of the most laborious military operations, a political activity, both comprehensive and feverish, kept pace in Bonaparte's mind with that which was needed to regulate his campaigning. At the very outset there was developed an antagonism between the notions of the Directory and Bonaparte's interests. The latter observed all the forms of consulting his superiors, but acted without the shghtest reference to their instructions, often even before they could receive his despatches. Both he and they knew the weakness of the French government, and the inherent absmxlity of the situation. The story of French conquest in Italy might be told exactly as if the invading general were acting solely on his own responsibility. In his proclamations to the Italians was one language; in his letters to the executive, another; in a few confidential family communications, stiU another; in his own heart, the same old idea of using each day as it came to advance his own fortunes. As far as he had any love of coun- try, it was expended on France, and what we may call his principles were conceptions derived from the Revolution ; but somehow the best interests of France and the safety of revolutionary doctrine were every day more involved in the pacification of Italy, in the humiliation of Austria, and in the supremacy of the army. There was only one man who could secui'e aU three ; could give consistency to the flabby, vi- sionary policy of the Du-ectory ; could repress the frightful robberies of its civil agents in Italy ; could with any show of reason humble Italy with one hand, and then with the other rouse her to wholesome en- ergy ; could enrich and glorify France while crushing out, as no royal dynasty had ever been able to do, the haughty rivahy of the Hapsbiu-gs. These purposes made Bonaparte the most gentle and concihatory of men in some directions ; in others they developed and hardened his imperiousness. His correspondence muTors both his mildness and his arbitrariness. His letters to the Directory abound in praise of his officers and men, accompanied by demands for the promotion of those who had performed distinguished services. Writing to General Clarke 33 246 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t.27 ch. XXIX on November nineteenth, 179G, from Verona, he says, in words full of 1796 pathos : " Your nephew Elliot was killed on the battle-field of Arcole. This youth had made himself famihar with arms ; several times he had marched at the head of colimins ; he would one day have been an es- timable officer. He died with glory, in the face of the foe ; he did not suffer for a moment. What reasonable man would not envy such a death? Who is he that in the vicissitudes of Hfe would not agree to leave in such a way a world so often worthy of contempt "? What one of us has not a hundred times regretted that he could not thus be withdrawn from the powerful effects of calumny, of envy, and of all the hateful passions that seem ahnost entirely to control human conduct ? " Perhaps these few words to the widow of one of his late officers are even finer : " Mmi-on died at my side on the late battle- field of Arcole. You have lost a husband that was dear to you ; I, a friend to whom I have long been attached : but the country loses more than us both in the death of an officer distinguished no less by his talents than by his rare courage. If I can be of service in anything to you or his child, I pray you count altogether upon me." That was all; but it was enough. With the ripening of character, and under the responsibihties of life, an individual style had come at last. It is martial and terse almost to affectation, defying translation, and perfectly reflecting the character of its writer. But the houi's when the general-in-chief was war-worn, weary, ten- der, and subject to human regrets like other men, were not those which he revealed to the world. He was peremptory, and sometimes even peevish, with the French executive after he had them in his hand; with Italy he assumed a parental role, meting out chastisement and reward as best suited his purpose. A definite treaty of peace had been made with Sardinia, and that power, though weak and maimed, was going its own way. The Transpadane Repubhc, which he had begun to organize as soon as he entered Milan, was carefully cherished and guided in its artificial existence ; but the people, whether or not they were fit, had no chance to exercise any real independence under the shadow of such a power. It was, moreover, not the power of France ; for, by special order of Bonaparte, the civil agents of the Directory were subordinated to the military commanders, ostensibly because the former were so rapacious. Lombardy in this way became his veiy own. Rome had made the armistice of Bologna merely to gain time, ^T.27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 247 aud in the hope of eventual disaster to French ai-ms. A pretext for ch. xxix the resumption of hostilities was easily found by her in a foolish com- i796 mand, issued from Paris, that the Pope should at length recognize as regular those of the clergy who had sworn allegiance to the successive constitutions adopted under the repubhc, and withdraw all his procla- mations against those who had observed their oaths and confonned. The Pontiff, relying on the final success of Austria, had virtually bro- ken off negotiations. Bonaparte informed the French agent in Rome that he must do anything to gain time, anything to deceive the " old fox " ; in a favorable moment he expected to pounce upon Rome, and avenge the national honor. Diu-ing the intei-val Naples also had become refractory; refusing a tribute demanded by the Directory, she was not only collecting soldiers, like the Pope, but actually had some regiments in marching order. Venice, assei-ting her neutrahty, was gi-owing more and more bitter at the constant violations of her territory. Mantua was still a defiant fortress, and in this crisis nothing was left but to re- vive French credit where the peoples were best disposed and their old rulers weakest. Accordingly, Bonaparte went through the form of consulting the Directory as to a plan of procedure, and then, without waiting for an answer from them, and without the consent of those most deeply inter- ested, broke the armistice with Modena on the pretext that five himdred thousand francs of ransom money were yet unpaid, and drove the duke from his throne. This duchy was the nucleus about which was to be constituted the Cispadane Repubhc : in conjunction with its inhabi- tants, those of Reggio, Bologna, and Ferrara were invited to form a free government under that name. There had at least been a pretext for erecting the Milanese into the Transpadane Repubhc — that of diiving an invader from its soil. This time there was no pretext of that kind, and the Directory opposed so bold an act regarding these lands, being uneasy about public opinion in regard to it. They hoped the war would soon be ended, and were verging to the opinion that their armies must before long leave the Itahans to their own devices. The conduct of their general pointed, however, in the opposite direction ; he forced the native liberals of the district to take the necessary steps toward organiz- ing the new state so rapidly that the Directory found itself compelled to yield. It is possible, but not hkely, that, as has been charged, Bona- parte really intended to bring about what actually happened, the con- 248 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. XXIX tinned dependence on the French repubhc of a lot of ai-tificial govem- 179G ments. The uninterrupted meddhng of France in the affairs of the Italians destroyed in the end all her influence, and made them hate her dominion, which masqueraded as liberaUsm, even more than they had hated the open but mild tyranny of those royal scions of foreign stocks recently dismissed from their thrones. During these months there is in Bonaparte's correspondence a somewhat theatrical iteration of devotion to France and repubUcan principles, but his first care was for his army and the success of his campaign. He behaved as any general soUcitous for the strength of his positions on foreign soil would have done, his ruses taking the form of constantly repeating the pohtical shibboleths then used in France. Soon aftei-ward Naples made her peace ; an in- surrection in Corsica against English rule enabled France to seize that island once more ; and Genoa entered into a formal alhance with the Directory. Thenceforward there appears in Bonaparte's natiu'e no trace of the Corsican patriot. The one faint spark of remaining interest seems to have been extinguished in an order that Pozzo di Borgo and his friends, if they had not escaped, should be brought to judgment. His other measures with reference to the once loved island were as calciilating and dispassionate as any he took concerning the most indifferent prin- cipality of the mainland, and even extended to enunciating the prin- ciple that no Corsican should be employed in Corsica. It is a citizen not of Corsica, nor of France even, but of Europe, who on October second demands peace from the Emperor in a threat that if it is not yielded on favorable terms Triest and the Adriatic will be seized. At the same time the Directory received from him another reminder of its position, which hkewise indicates an interesting development of his own policy. " Diminish the number of yoiu' enemies. The influ- ence of Rome is incalculable; it was ill advised to break with that power ; it gives the advantage to her. If I had been consulted, I would have delayed the negotiations with Rome as with Genoa and Venice. Whenever your general in Italy is not the pivot of everything, you ran great risks. This language will not be attributed to ambition ; I have but too many honors, and my health is so broken that I believe I must ask you for a successor. I can no longer mount a horse ; I have no- thing left but corn-age, which is not enough in a post hke this." Before this masked dictator were two tasks as difficult in theu* way as any ^T. 27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 249 even he would ever undertake, each calling for the exercise of faculties ch. xxix antipodal in quahty, but quite as fine as any in the human mind. rm Mantua was yet to be captured; Rome and the Pope were to be handled so as to render the highest service to himself, to France, and to Europe. In both these labors he meant to be strengthened and yet imhampered. The habit of compliance was now strong upon the Directory, and they continued to yield as before. CHAPTER XXX eivoli aot) the capitulation of mantua Austbia's Strategic Plan — Renewal of Hostilities — The Aus- TKIANS at RiVOLI AND NOGAEA — BoNAPAETE'S NiGHT MaECH TO RivoLi — Monte Baldo and the Beenee Klause — The Battle OF Rivoli — The Battle of La Favoeita — Feats of the Feench Aebiy — Bonapaete's Achievement — The Fall of Manttta, cn.xsx J I "^HE fifth division of the ItaUan campaign vs'as the fourth attempt 1797 JL of Austria to retrieve her position in Italy, a position on which her rulers beheved that all her destinies hung. Once more Alvinczy, despairing of success, but obedient to his orders, made ready to move down the Adige from Trent. Great zeal had been shown in Austria. The Vienna volunteer battahons abandoned the work of home protec- tion for which they had enhsted, and, with a banner embroidered by the Empress's own hand, joined the active forces. The Tyrolese, in de- fiance of an atrocious proclamation in which Bonaparte, claiming to be their conqueror, had threatened death to any one taking up arms against France, flocked again to the support of their Emperor. By a recurrence to the old fatal plan, Alvinczy was to attack the main French army ; his colleague Provera was to follow the Brenta into the lower reaches of the Adige, where he could effect a crossing, and reheve Mantua. The latter was to deceive the enemy by making a parade of greater strength than he really had, and thus draw away Bonaparte's main army toward Legnago on the lower Adige. A messenger was despatched to Wurmser with letters over the Emperor's own signature, ordering him, if Provera should fail, to desert Mantua, retreat into the Romagna, and under his own command unite the garrison and the papal troops. This order never reached its destination, for its bearer was intercepted, and ^T. 27] RIVOLI AND THE CAPITULATION OF MANTUA 251 was compelled by the use of an emetic to render up the despatches ch. xxx which he had swallowed. 1797 On January seventh, 1797, Bonaparte gave orders to strengthen the communications along his hne, massing two thousand men at Bologna in order to repress certain hostile demonstrations lately made in hehaLE of the Pope. On the following day an Austrian division which had been lying at Padua made a short attack on Augereau's division, and on the ninth drove it into Porto Legnago, the extreme right of the French hne. This could mean nothing else than a renewal of hostilities by Austria, although it was impossible to teU where the main attack would be made. On the eleventh Bonaparte was at Bologna, concluding an advantageous treaty with Tuscany ; in order to be ready for any event, he started the same evening, hastened across the Adige with his troops, and pressed on to Verona. On the twelfth, at six in the morning, the enemy attacked Massena's advance-guard at St. Michel, a suburb of that city. They were re- pulsed with loss. Early on the same day Joubert, who had been sta- tioned with a corps of observation farther up in the old and tried posi- tion at the foot of Monte Baldo, became aware of hostile movements, and occupied Rivoh. During the day two Austrian columns tried to tmTi his position by seizing his outpost at Corona, but they were re- pulsed. On the thirteenth he became aware that the main body of the Austrians was before him, and that their intention was to siu*round him by the left. Accordingly he informed Bonaparte, abandoned Corona, and made ready to retreat from Rivoli. That evening Provera threw a pontoon bridge across the Adige at Anghiari, below Legnago, and crossed with a portion of his army. Next day he started for Man- tua, but was so harassed by Guieu and Augereau that the move was ineffectual, and he got no farther than Nogara. The heights of Rivoh command the movements of any force passing out of the Alps through the valley of the Adige. They are abrupt on all sides but one, where fi-om the greatest elevation the chapel of St. Mark overlooked a winding road, steep, but available for cavahy and artillery. Rising from the general level of the table-land, this hillock is in itself a kind of natural citadel. Late on the thirteenth, Joubert, in reply to the message he had sent, received orders to fortify the plateau, and to hold it at all hazards ; for Bonaparte now divined that the main attack was to be made there in order to divert all opposition 252 I^IFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. XXX fi'om Provera, and that if it were successful the two Austrian annies 1797 would meet at Mantua. By ten that evening the repoi-ts brouglit in from Joubert and by scouts left this conclusion no longer doubtful. That very night, therefore, being in perfect readiness for either event, Bonaparte moved toward RivoU with a force numbering about twenty thousand. It was composed of every available French soldier between Desenzano and Verona, including Massena's division. By strenuous exertions they reached the heights of Rivoh about two in the mormiig of the fom'teenth. Alvinczy, ignorant of what had happened, was waiting for dayhght in order to caiTy out his original design of inclos- ing and capturing the comparatively small force of Joubert and the strong place which it had been set to hold, a spot long since recognized by Northern peoples as the key to the portal of Italy. Bonaparte, on his arrival, perceived in the moonhght five divisions encamped in a semicu'cle below ; their bivouac fires made clear that they were sepa- rated from one another by considerable distances. He knew then that his instinct had been correct, that this was the main army, and that the decisive battle would be fought next day. The following hom's were spent in disposing his forces to meet the attack in any form it might take. Not a man was wasted, but the region was occupied with pick- ets, outposts, and reserves so ingeniously stationed that the study of that field, and of Bonaparte's disposition of his forces, has become a classic example in mihtary science. The gorge by which the Adige breaks through the lowest foot-hills of the Alps to enter the lowlands has been famous since dim antiquity. The Romans considered it the entrance to Cimmeria ; it was sung in German myths as the Bemer Klause, the majestic gateway fi*om their inclement clime into the land of the stranger, the warm, bright land for the luxurious and orderly life of which their hearts were ever yearning. Around its precipices and isolated, fi'owning bastions song and fable had clustered, and the effect of mystery was enhanced by the awful grandeur of the scene. Overlooking all stands Monte Baldo, frown- ing with its dark precipices on the cold simamits of the Grerman high- land, smiling with its simny slopes on the blue waters of Lake Garda and the fertile valley of the Po. In the change of strategy incident to the introduction of gunpowder the spot of greatest resistance was no longer in the gorge, but at its mouth, where Rivoli on one side, and Ceraino on the other, command respectively the gentle slopes which fall a. < < O > O f < X ^T. 27] RIVOLI AND THE CAPITULATION OF MANTUA 253 eastward and westward toward the plains. The Alps were indeed look- ch. xxx ing down on the " little corporal," who, having flanked their defenses 1797 at one end, was now about to force their center, and later to pass by their eastward end into the hereditary dominions of the German empe- rors on the Danube. At early da\^al began the conflict which was to settle the fate of Mantua. The first fierce contest was between the Austrian left and the French right at St. Mark ; but it quickly spread along the whole line as far as Caprino. For some time the Austrians had the advantage, and the result was in suspense, since the French left, at Caprino, yielded for an instant before the onslaught of the main Austrian army made in accordance with Alvinczy's first plan, and, as he supposed, upon an in- ferior force by one vastly superior in numbers. Berthier, who by his calm courage was fast rising high in his commander's favor, came to the rescue, and Massena, foUowing with a judgment which has inseparably linked his name with that famous spot, finally restored order to the French ranks. Every successive charge of the Austrians was repulsed with a violence which threw their right and center back toward Monte Baldo in ever growing confusion. The battle waged for nearly three hours before Alvinczy understood that it was not Joubert's division, but Bonaparte's army, which was before him. A fifth Austrian column then pressed forward from the bank of the Adige to scale the height of Eivoli, and Joubert, whose left at St. Mark was hard beset, could not check the movement. For an instant he left the road improtected. The Austrians charged up the hill and seized the commanding posi- tion ; but simultaneously there rushed from the opposite side three French battaUons, clambering up to retrieve the loss. The nervous activity of the latter brought them quickly to the top, where at once they were reinforced by a portion of the cavalry reserve, and the storm- ing columns were thrown back in disorder. At that instant appeared in Bonaparte's rear an Austrian corps which had been destined to take the French at Rivoli in then- rear. Had it arrived sooner, the position would, as the French declared, have been lost to them. As it was, in- stead of making an attack, the Austrians had to await one. Bonaparte directed a galling artillery fire against them, and threw them back to- ward Lake Garda. He thus gained time to reform his own ranks and enabled Massena to hold in check still another of the Austrian colimins, which was striving to outflank him on his left. Thereupon the French 34 254 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. XXX reserve under Rey, coming in from the westward, cut the turning col- 1797 umn entirely off, and compelled it to surrender. The rest of Alvinczy's force being already in full retreat, this ended the worst defeat and most complete rout which the Austrian arms had so far sustained. Such was the utter demorahzation of the flying and disintegrated columns that a young French officer named Rene, who was in conmiand of fifty men at a hamlet on Lake Garda, successfully imitated Bonaparte's ruse at Lonato, and displayed such an imposing confidence to a flying troop of fifteen himdred Austrians that they surrendered to what appeared to be a force superior to their own. Next morning at dawn, Murat, who had marched all night to gain the point, appeared on the slopes of Monte Baldo above Corona, and united with Joubert to drive the Austrians from their last foothold. The pursuit was continued as far as Trent. Thirteen thousand prisoners were captured in those two days. While Murat was straining vip the slopes of Monte Baldo, Bonaparte, giving no rest to the weary feet of Massena's division, — the same men who two days before had marched by night from Verona, — was retracing his steps on that well-worn road past the city of Catullus and the Capulets onward toward Mantua. Provera had crossed the Adige at Anghiari with ten thousand men. Twice he had been attacked: once in the front by Guieu, once in the rear by Augereau. On both occasions his losses had been severe, but nevertheless, on the same morning which saw Al- vinczy's flight into the Tyrol, he finally appeared with six thousand men in the subui-b of St. George, before Mantua. He succeeded in commu- nicating with Wm-mser, but was held in check by the blockading French army throughout the day and night until Bonaparte arrived with his reinforcements. Next morning there was a general engagement, Pro- vera attacking in front, and Wimnser, by preconcerted an-angement, sallying out from behind at the head of a strong force. The latter was thrown back into the town by Sermier, who conmianded the besiegers, but only after a fierce and deadly conflict on the causeway. This was the road from Mantua to a country-seat of its dukes known as " La Fa- vorita," and was chosen for the sortie as having an independent citadel. Victor, with some of the troops brought in fi'om Rivoli, the " tenible fifty-seventh demi-brigade," as Bonaparte designated them, attacked Provera at the same time, and threw his ranks into such disorder that he was glad to surrender his entire force. This conflict of January six- teenth, before Mantua, is known as the battle of La Favorita, from the 256 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JE'v.27 ch. XXX stand made by Serurier on the road to that residence. Its results were 1797 six thousand prisoners, among them the Vienna volunteers with the Empress's banner, and many guns. Bonaparte" estimated that the army of the republic had fought within foxu" days two pitched battles, and had besides been six times engaged ; that they had taken, all told, nearly twenty-five thousand prisoners, including a heutenant-general, two generals, and fifteen col- onels, had captm-ed twenty standards, with sixty pieces of artillery, and had killed or wounded six thousand men. This short campaign of RivoU was the tm-ning-point of the war, and may be said to have shaped the history of Europe for twenty years. Chroniclers dwell upon those few moments at St. Mark and the plateau of Rivoh, wondering what the result would have been if the Austrian corps which came to turn the rear of Rivoli had arrived five minutes sooner. But an accurate and dispassionate criti- cism must decide that every step in Bonaparte's success was won by careful forethought, and by the most effective disposition of the forces at his command. So sure was he of success that even in the crisis when Massena seemed to save the day on the left, and when the Aus- trians seemed destined to wrest victory fi-om defeat on the right, he was self-reliant and cheerful. The new system of field operations had a triumphant vindication at the hands of its author. The conquering general meted out unstinted praise to his invincible squadrons and their leaders, but said nothing of himself, lea^dng the world to judge whether this were man or demon who, still a youth, and within a pub- lic career of but one season, had humiliated the proudest empire on the Continent, had subdued Italy, and on her soil had erected states im- known before, without the consent of any great power, not excepting France. It is not wonderful that this personage should sometimes have said of himseK, " Say that my life began at Rivoh," as at other times he dated his militaiy career from Toulon. Wm*mser's retreat to Mantua in September had been successful be- cause of the strong cavahy force which accompanied it. He had been able to hold out for four months only by means of the flesh of their horses, five thousand in number, which had been killed and salted to in- crease the garrison stores. Even this resource was now exhausted, and after a few days of delay the gallant old man sent a messenger with the usual conventional declarations as to his ability for fm'ther resistance, OF VlillSAILLES MARSHAL JEAN-MATTHIEU-PHILIBERT, COUNT SERURIER FROM TtIK TAINTINO BY JFAN-I.ill IS I.AXF.L'VILLK Mt.27] RIVOLI and THE CAPITULATION OF MANTUA 257 in order, of course, to secm-e the most favorable terms of surrender, ch. xxx There is a fine anecdote in connection with the arrival of this messen- 1797 ger at the French headquarters, which, though perhaps not literally, is probably ideally, true. When the Austrian envoy entered Serurier's presence, another person wi'apped in a cloak was sitting at a table ap- parently engaged in writing. After the envoy had finished the usual enumeration of the elements of strength still remaining to his com- mander, the unknown man came forward, and, holding a written sheet in his hand, said : " Here are my conditions. If Wurmser really had pro- visions for twenty-five days, and spoke of surrender, he would not de- serve an honorable capitulation. But I respect the age, the gallantry, and the misfortunes of the marshal ; and whether he opens his gates to-morrow, or whether he waits fifteen days, a month, or three months, he shall still have the same conditions ; he may wait until his last mor- sel of bread has been eaten." The messenger was a clever man who afterward rendered his own name, that of Klenau, illustrious. He rec- ognized Bonaparte, and, glancing at the terms, foimd them so generous that he at once admitted the desperate straits of the garrison. This is substantially the accoimt of Napoleon's memoirs. In a contemporary despatch to the Directory there is nothing of it, for he never indulged in such details to them ; but he does say in two other despatches what at fii'st blush mihtates against its literal truth. On February first, wait- ing from Bologna, he declared that he would withdraw his conditions unless Wurmser acceded before the third: yet, in a letter of that very date, he indulges in a long and high-minded eulogium of the aged field- marshal, and declares his wish to show true French generosity to such a foe. The simple explanation is that, having sent the terms, Bona- parte immediately withdrew from Mantua to leave Serurier in command at the surrender, a glory he had so well deserved, and then returned to Bologna to begin his final preparations against Rome. In the inter- val Wm'mser made a proposition even more favorable to himself. Bo- naparte petulantly rejected it, but with the return of his generous feel- ing, he determined that at least he would not withdi"aw his first offer. Captious critics are never content, and they even charge that when, on the tenth, Wurmser and his garrison finally did march out, Bonaparte's absence was a breach of courtesy. It requires no great ardor in his de- fense to assert, on the contrary, that in circiunstances so unprecedented the disparity of age between the respective representatives of the old 258 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mr.27 ch. XXX and the new military system would have made Bonaparte's presence an- 1797 other drop in the hitter cup of the former. The magnanimity of the young conqueror in connection with the fall of Mantua was genuine, and highly honorable to him. So at least thought Wurmser himself, who wrote a most kindly letter to Bonaparte, forewammg him that a plot had been formed in Bologna to poison him with that noted, but never seen, compound so famous in Itahan history — aqua tofana. CHAPTER XXXI HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OP VENICE Rome Threatened — Pius VI. Suekendees — The Peace of Tolen- TINO — BoNAPAETE and THE PaPACY — DESIGNS FOE THE OrIENT — The Policy of Austeia — The Archduke Chaeles — Bonapaete Hampeeed by the Dieectoky — His Teeatment of Venice — Con- dition OF Venetia — The Commonwealth Waened. BONAPARTE seems after Rivoli to have reached the conviction Ch. xxxi that a man who had brought such glory to the arms of Prance 1797 was at least as firm in the affections of her people as was the Directoiy, which had no hold on them whatever, except in its claim to represent the Revolution. It had had httle right to this distinction from the be- ginning, and even that was daily disputed by ever increasing numbers : the most visible and dazzhng representative of the Revolution was now the Ai'my of Italy. It was not for " those rascally lawyers," as Bona- parte soon afterward called the directors, that Rivoh had been fought. With this fact in view, the short ensuing campaign against Pius VI., and its consequences, are easily understood. It was true, as the French general proclaimed, that Rome had kept the stipulations of the armis- tice neither in a pacific behavior nor in the payment of her indemnity, and was fomenting resistance to the French arms throughout the pen- insula. To the Directory, which desired the entire overthrow of the papacy, Bonaparte proposed that with this in view Rome should be handed over to Spain. Behind these pretexts he gathered at Bologna an indifferent force of eleven thousand soldiers, composed haK of his own men, the other half of Itahans fired with revolutionary zeal, and of Poles, a people who, since the recent dismemberment of their country, were wooing France as a possible ally in its reconstruction. The main 269 260 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPAKTE [^t. 27 ch. XXXI division marched against Ancona ; a smaller one of two thousand men 1797 directed its course through Tuscany into the valley of the Tiber. The position of the Pope was utterly desperate. The Spaniards had once been masters of Italy ; they were now the natm'al allies of France against Austria, and Bonaparte's leniency to Parma and Naples had strengthened the bond. The reigning king at Naples, Ferdinand IV. of the Two Sicihes, was one of the Spanish Bourbons ; but his very able and masterful wife was the daughter of Maria Theresa. His posi- tion was therefore peculiar: if he had dared, he would have sent an army to the Pope's support, for thus far his consort had shaped his policy in the interest of Austria; but knowing full well that defeat would mean the limitation of his domain to the island of Sicily, he pre- ferred to remain neutral, and pick up what crmnbs he could get from Bonaparte's table. For this there were excellent reasons. The Eng- lish fleet had been more or less unfortunate since the spring of 1796 : Bonaparte's victories, being supplemented by the activity of the French cruisers, had made it difficult for it to remain in the Mediterranean; Corsica was abandoned in September; and in October the squadron of Admiral Mann was hteraUy chased into the Atlantic by the Span- iards. Ferdinand, therefore, could expect no help from the British. As to the papal mercenaries, they had long been the laughing-stock of Europe. They did not now belie their character. Not a single serious engagement was fought ; at Ancona and Loretto twelve himdred pris- oners, vrith a treasure valued at seven million francs, were taken with- out a blow ; and on February nineteenth Bonaparte dictated the terms of peace at Tolentino. The teinns were not such as either the Pope or the Directory ex- pected. Far from it. To be sm-e, there was, over and above the first ransom, a new money indemnity of fifteen million francs, making, when added to what had been exacted in the previous summer, a total of thii'ty-six. Further stipulations were the siuTcnder of the legations of Bologna and FeiTara, together with the Romagna ; consent to the in- corporation iuto France of Avignon and the Venaissin, the two papal possessions in the Rhone vaUey which had already been annexed ; and the temporary delivery of Ancona as a pledge for the fulfilment of these engagements; further still, the dispersion of the papal ai-my, with satisfaction for the kilhng in a street row of BasseviUe, the French plenipotentiary. This, however, was far short of the annihi- ru'N iV Ci- PAIU-. BULLETIN OF VICTORY FROM THE ARMIES OF ITALY, 171)7 li'.uM IHL I'ALMI-NO BV OKOKf.tS lAl.N. ^T.27] HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 261 lation of the papacy as a temporal power. More than that, the vital cn. xxxi question of ecclesiastical authority was not mentioned except to guar- 1797 antee it in the surrendered legations. To the Directory Bonaparte ex- plained that with such mutilations the Roman editice would fall of its own weight ; and yet he gave his powerful protection to the French priests who had refused the oaths to the civil constitution required by the republic, and who, having renounced their allegiance, had found an asylum in the Papal States. This latter step was taken in the role of humanitarian. In reahty, this first open and radical departure from the poHcy of the Directory assured to Bonaparte the most unbounded personal popularity with faithful Roman Cathohcs everywhere, and was a step preliminary to his further alliance with the papacy. The unthinking masses began to compare the captivity of the Roman Church in France, which was the work of her government, with the widely different fate of her faithful adherents at Rome under the hu- mane control of Bonaparte. Moreover, it was the French citizen collectors, and not the army, who continued to scour every town for art plunder. It was believed that Italy had finally given up "all that was cm-ious and valuable ex- cept some few objects at Turin and Naples," including the famous won- der-working image of the Lady of Loretto. The words quoted were used by Bonaparte in a despatch to the Directory, which inclosed a curious document of very different character. Such had been the grati- tude of Pius for his preservation that he despatched a legate with his apostohc blessmg for the " dear son" who had snatched the papal power from the very jaws of destruction. "Dear son" was merely a formal phrase, and a gracious answer was returned from the French headquarters. This equally formal letter of Bonaparte's was forwarded to Paris, where, as he knew would be the case, it was regarded as a good joke by the Directoiy, who were supposed to consider their gen- eral's diplomacy as altogether patriotic. But, as no doubt the writer foresaw, it had an altogether different effect on the public. From that instant every pious Roman Catholic, not only in France, but through- out Europe, whatever his attitude toward the Directory, was either an avowed ally of Bonaparte or at least willing to await events in a neutral spirit. As for the papacy, henceforward it was a tool in the con- queror's hand. One of the cardinals gave the gracious preserver of his order a bust of Alexander the Great : it was a common piece of flattery 2(32 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. XXXI after the peace to say that Bonaparte was, Hke Alexander, a Greek in 1797 statm'e, and, hke Caesar, a Roman in power. While at Ancona Bonaparte had a temporaiy relapse into his yearn- ing for Oriental power. He wrote describing the harbor as the only good one on the Adi'iatic south of Venice, and explaining how in- valuable it was for the influence of France on Turkey, since it con- trolled commimication with Constantinople, and Macedonia was but ' twenty-four hours distant. With this despatch he inclosed letters from the Czar to the Grand Master of Malta which had been seized on the person of a cornier. It was by an easy association of ideas that not long afterward Bonaparte began to make suggestions for the seizure of Malta and for a descent into Egypt. These were old schemes of French foreign poHcy, and by no means original with him ; but having long been kept in the background, they were easily recalled, the more so because in a short time both the new dictator and the Directory seemed to find in them a remedy for their strained relations. Meantime the foreign affairs of Austria had fallen into a most pre- carious condition. Not only had the departure of the English fleet from the Mediterranean fm'thered Bonaparte's success in Italy, but Russia had given notice of an altered pohcy. If the modern state system of Europe had rested on any one doctrine more flrmly than on another, it was on the theory of territorial boundaries, and the inviolabihty of na- tional existence. Yet, in defiance of aU right and all international law, Prussia, Russia, and Austria had in 1772 swooped down like vultures on Poland, and parted large portions of her still hving body among themselves. The operation was so much to their liking that it had been repeated in 1792, and completed in 1795. The last division had been made with the understanding that, in return for the lion's share which she received, Russia would give active assistance to Austria in her designs on northern Italy. Not content with the Milanese and a protectorate over Modena, Francis had already cast his eyes on the Ve- netian mainland. But on November seventeenth, 1796, the great Cath- erine died, and her successor, Paul, refused to be bound by his mother's engagements. Prussia was consohdating herseK into a great power hkely in the end to destroy Austrian influence in the Germanic Diet, which controlled the affairs of the empire. The horn' was dark indeed for Austria ; and in the crisis Thugut, the able minister of the Emperor, made up his mind at last to throw all ^T. 27] HUMILIATION OP THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 263 his master's military strength into Italy. The youthful Archduke ch. xxxi Charles, who had won great glory as the conqueror of Jourdan, was 1797 accordingly summoned from Germany with the strength of his army to break through the Tyrol, and prevent the French from taking the now open road to Vienna. This brother of the Emperor, though but twenty- five years old, was in his day second only to Bonaparte as a general. The splendid persistence with which Austria raised one great army after another to oppose France was worthy of her traditions. Even when these armies were commanded by veterans of the old school, they were terrible : it seemed to the cabinet at Vienna that if Charles were left to lead them in accordance with his own designs they would sm-ely be victorious. Had he and his Army of the Rhine been in Italy from the outset, they thought, the result might have been different. Per- haps they were right ; but his tardy arrival at the eleventh hour was destined to avail nothing. The Auhc Coimcil ordered him into FriuU, a district of the Italian Alps on the borders of Venice, where another army — the sixth within a year — was to assemble for the protection of the Austrian frontier and await the anival of the veterans from Ger- many. This force, unhke the other five, was composed of heterogene- ous elements, and, until further strengthened, inferior in numbers to the French, who had finally been reinforced by fifteen thousand men, under Bernadotte, from the Army of the Sambre and Meuse. When Bonaparte started from Mantua for the Alps, his position was the strongest he had so far secured. The Directory had until then shown their uneasy jealousy of him by refusing the reinforcements which he was constantly demanding. It had become evident that the approach- ing elections would result in destroying then* ascendancy in the Five Hundred, and that more than ever they must depend for support on the army. Accordingly they had swallowed their pride, and made Bona- parte strong. This change in the pohcy of the government hkewise affected the south and east of France most favorably for his piu'poses. The personal pique of the generals commanding in those districts had subjected him to many inconveniences as to communications with Paris, as well as in the passage of troops, stores, and the hke. They now recognized that in the approaching pohtical crisis the fate of the repubhc would hang on the army, and for that reason they must needs be complaisant with its foremost figiu-e, whose exploits had dimmed even those of Hoche in the Netherlands and western France. Italy 264 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [AIt.27 Ch. XXXI was altogether subdued, and there was not a hostile power in the rear 1797 of the great conqueror. Among many of the conquered his name was even beloved : for the people of Milan his life and surroundings had the same interest as if he were their own sovereign prince. In front, however, the case was different; for the position of the Ai'chduke Charles left the ten'itory of Venice directly between the hostile armies in such a way as apparently to force Bonaparte into adopting a definite poUcy for the treatment of that power. For the moment, however, there was no declaration of his decision by the French commander-in-chief; not even a formal proposal to treat with the Venetian ohgarchy, which, to all outward appearance, had re- mained as haughty as ever, as dark and inscrutable in its dealings, as doubtful in the matter of good faith. And yet a method in Bonaparte's deahng with it was soon apparent, which, though unlike any he had used toward other ItaUan powers, was perfectly adapted to the ends he had in view. He had already violated Venetian neutrahty, and in- tended to disregard it entirely. As a foretaste of what that republic might expect, French soldiers were let loose to pillage her towns un- til the inhabitants were so exasperated that they retahated by kilhng a few of their spoilers. Then began a persistent and exasperating pro- cess of charges and complaints and admonitions, until the origins of the respective offenses were forgotten in the intervening recriminations. Then, as a warning to all who sought to endanger the " fi'iendly rela- tions" between the countries, a troop of French soldiers would be thrown first into one town, then into another. This process went on without an interval, and with merciless vigor, until the Venetian offi- cials were literally distracted. Remonstrance was in vain : Bonaparte laughed at forms. Finally, when protest had proved unavailing, the harried oligarchy began at last to arm, and it was not long before forty thousand men, mostly Slavonic mercenaries, were enhsted under its banner. With his usual concihatory blandness, Bonaparte next pro- posed to the senate a treaty of alhance, offensive and defensive. This was not a mere diplomatic move. Certain considerations might well incline the ohgarchy to accept the plan. There was no love lost between the towns of the Venetian mainland and the city itself; for the aristocracy of the latter would write no names in its Grolden Book except those of its own houses. The revolutionary movement had, moreover, already so heightened the discontent which had spread east- L\ TUi jjilTKiAL ■.OaTEai" uf i.AXKvnrr.i ^ acstrik tl.M.RAVEb UY .M. UAIDES ARCHDUKE CHARLES OF AUSTRIA FBOM THE P-UNTDJO BT LKOFOLD KITELWIESEB JET. 27] HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 265 ward from the Milanese, and was now prevalent in Brescia, Bergamo, ch. xxxi and Peschiera, that these cities really favored Bonaparte, and longed 1797 to separate from Venice. Further than this, the Venetian senate had early in January been informed hj its agents in Paris of a rumor that at the conclusion of peace Austria would indemnify herself with Vene- tian territory for the loss of the Milauese. The disquiet of the outly- ing cities on the borders of Lombardy was due to a desu-e for union with the Transpadane Republic. They little knew for what a different fate Bonaparte destined them. He was really holding that portion of the mainland in which they were situated as an indemnity for Austria. Venice was almost sure to lose them in any case, and he felt that if she refused the French alUance he could then, with less show of injustice, tender them and their territories to Francis, in exchange for Belgium. He offered, however, if the republic should accept his proposition, to assure the loyalty of its cities, provided only the Venetians would in- scribe the chief famihes of the mainland in the Golden Book. But in spite of such a suggestive warning, the senate of the com- monwealth adhered to its pohcy of perfect neutrality. Bonaparte con- sented to this decision, but ordered it to disaim, agreeing in that event to control the liberals on the mainland, and to guarantee the Venetian territories, leaving behind troops enough both to secure those ends and to guard his own connnunications. If these should be tampered with, he warned the senate that the knell of Venetian independence would toll forthwith. No one can tell what would have been in store for the proud city if she had chosen the alternative, not of neutrahty, but of an alliance with France, Bonaparte always made his plan in two ways, and it is probable that her ultimate fate would have been identi- cal in either case. CHAPTER XXXII the peeliminaiiies of leoben Austrian Plans for the Last Italian Cajipaign — The Battle on THE TaGLIAMENTO — ReTKEAT OF THE AUCHDUKE ChAELES — BONA- PARTE'S PeGCLAIVIATION to THE CaRINTHIANS — JOUBERT WITHDRAWS FROM THE Tyrol — Bonaparte's "Philosophical" Letter — His Sit- uation AT Leoben — The Negotiations for Peace — Character of THE Treaty — Bonaparte's Rude Diplomacy — French Successes on the Rhine — Plots of the Directory — The Uprising of Venetia — War with Venice. ch. xxxn rriHE Aulic Council at Vienna prepared for the Ai'chduke Charles 1797 J_ a modification of the same old plan, only this time the approach was down the Piave and the Taghamento, rivers which rise among the grotesque Dolomites and in the Camic Alps. They flow south like the Adige and the Brenta, but their valleys are wider where they open into the lowlands, and easier of access. The auxihary force, under Lusi- gnan, was now to the westward on the Piave, while the main force, under Charles, was waiting for reinforcements in the broad intervales on the upper reaches of the Taghamento, through which ran the direct road to Vienna. This time the order of attack was exactly reversed, because Bonaparte, with his strengthened army of about seventy-five thousand men, resolved to take the offensive before the expected levies from the Austrian army of the Rhine should reach the camp of his foe. The campaign was not long, for there was no resistance from the inhabi- tants, as there woxild have been in the German Alps, among the Tyi'o- lese, Bonaparte's embittered enemies ; and the united force of Austria was far inferior to that of France. Joubert, with eighteen thousand men, was left to repress the Tyrol. Two smaU forces under Kihnaine and Victor were detailed to watch Venice and Rome respectively ; but 266 ^T. 27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 2G7 the general good order of Italy was intrusted to the native legions ch. xxxii which Bonaparte had organized. 1797 Massena advanced up the Piave against Lusignan, captured his rear-guard, and drove him away northward beyond Belluno, while the Archduke, thus separated from his right, withdrew to guard the road into Carniola. Bonaparte, with his old celerity, reached the banks of the Tagliamento opposite the Austrian position on March sixteenth, long before he was expected. His troops had marched all night, but almost immediately they made a feint as if to force a crossing in the face of their enemy. The Austrians on the left bank awaited the onset in perfect order, and in dispositions of cavalry, artillery, and infantry admirably adapted to the gi'ound. It seemed as if the first meeting of the two young generals would fall out to the advantage of Charles. But he was neither as wily nor as indefatigable as his enemy. The French drew back, apparently exhausted, and bivouacked as if for the night. The Austrians, expecting nothing fm*ther that day, and stand- ing on the defensive, followed the example of then- opponents. Two hours elapsed, when suddenly the whole French army rose like one man, and, falhng into line without an instant's delay, mshed for the stream, which at that spot was swift but fordable, flowing between wide, low banks of gravel. The surprise was complete; the stream was crossed, and the Austrians had barely time to form when the French were upon them. They fought with gallantry for three hours until their flank was turned. They then drew off in an orderly retreat, abandoning many guns and losing some prisoners. Massena, waiting behind the intervening ridge for the signal, ad- vanced at the first sound of cannon into the upper vaUey of the same stream, crossed it, and beset the passes of the Italian Alps, by which communication with the Austrian capital was quickest. Charles had nothing left, therefore, but to withdraw due eastward across the gi-eat divide of the Alps, where they bow toward the Adiiatic, and pass into the valley of the Isonzo, behind that full and rashing stream, which he fondly hoped would stop the French pursuit. The frost, however, had bridged it in several places, and these were quickly found. Bemadotte and Serurier stormed the fortress of Gradisca, and captured two thou- sand five hmidred men, while Massena seized the fort at the Chiusa Veneta, and, scattering a whole division of flying Austrians, captured five thousand with their stores and equipments. He then attacked and 268 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [AiT.'27 ch. XXXII routed the enemy's guard on the Pontebba pass, captured Tarvis, and 1797 thus cut off their communication with the Puster valley, by which the Austrian detachment from the Rhine was to amve. Bonaparte wooed the stupefied Carinthians with his softly worded proclamations, and his advancing columns were imharassed by the peas- antry while he pushed farther on, captui-ing Klagenfurt, and seizing both Triest and Fiume, the only harbors on the Austrian shore. He then returned with the main body of his troops, and, crossing the pass of Tarvis, entered Germany at Villach. " We are come," he said to the inhabitants, " not as enemies, but as friends, to end a terrible war im- posed by England on a ministry bought with her gold." And the populace, hstening to his siren voice, beheved him. AH this was ac- compHshed before the end of March ; and Charles, his army reduced to less than three fourths, was resting northward on the road to Vienna, beyond the river Mur, exhausted, and expecting daily that he would be compelled to a further retreat. Joubert had not been so successful. According to instructions, he had pushed up the Adige as far as Brixen, into the heart of the hostile Tyrol. The Austrians had again called the moimtaineers to arms, and a considerable force under Laudon was gathered to resist the invaders. It had been a general but most indefinite understanding between Bona- parte and the Directory that Moreau was again to cross the Rhine and advance once more, this time for a junction with Joubert to march against Vienna, But the directors, in an access of suspicion, had broken then- word, and pleading then* penury, had not taken a step toward fitting out the Army of the North. Moreau was therefore not within reach ; he had not even crossed the Rhine. Consequently Jou- bert was in straits, for the whole country had now risen against him. It was with difficulty that he had advanced, and with serious loss that he fought one terrible battle after another ; finally, however, he forced his way into the vaUey of the Drave, and marched down that river to join Bonaparte. This was regarded by the Austrians as a vu-tual re- pulse ; both the Tyrol and Venice were jubilant, and the effects spread as far eastward as the Austrian provinces of the Adriatic. Triest and Fiume had not been garrisoned, and the Austrians occupied them once more ; the Venetian senate organized a secret insurrection, which broke out simultaneously in many places, and was suppressed only after many of the French, some of them invaUds in the hospitals, had been mm'dered. FRANCIS 1., EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA KKUM THK PAINTINU BY l.KOl'OLn BI'CELWIKSKK ^T. 27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 269 On March thirty-first, Bonaparte, having received definite and offi- Ch. xxxii cial information that he could expect no immediate support from the 1797 Army of the Rhine, addressed from Klagenfurt to the Archduke what he called a " philosophical " letter, calling attention to the fact that it was England which had embroiled France and Austria, powers which had really no grievance one against the other. Would a prince, so far removed by lofty birth from the petty weaknesses of ministers and governments, not intervene as the savior of Gei-many to end the miseries of a useless war"? "As far as I myself am concerned, if the commu- nication I have the honor to be making should save the life of a single man, I should be prouder of that civic crown than of the sad renown which results from mihtary success." At the same time Massena was pressing forward into the valley of the Mur, across the passes of Neu- markt ; and before the end of the week his seizure of St. Michael and Leoben had cut off the last hope of a junction between the forces of Charles and his expected reinforcements fi'om the Rhine. Austria was carrying on her preparations for war with the same proud determi- nation she had always shown, and Charles continued his disastrous hostihties with Massena. But when Thugut received the "philosophi- cal " letter from Bonaparte, which Charles had promptly forwarded to Vienna, the imperial cabinet did not hesitate, and plenipotentiaries were soon on their way to Leoben. The situation of Bonaparte at Leoben was by no means what the position of the French forces within ninety miles of Vienna would seem to indicate. The revolutionary movement in Venetia, silently but effectually fostered by the French garrisons, had been successful in Ber- gamo, Brescia, and Salo. The senate, in despair, sent envoys to Bona- parte at Goritz. His reply was concihatory, but he declared that he would do nothing imless the city of Venice should make the long-desii-ed concession about inscriptions in the Golden Book. At the same time he demanded a monthly payment of a milhon francs in lieu of all requi- sitions on its territory. At Paris the Venetian ambassador had no better success, and with the news of Joubert's withdrawal from the Tyrol a terrible insurrection broke out, which sacrificed many French lives at Verona and elsewhere. Bonaparte's suggestions for the prehmi- naries of peace with Austria had been di-awn up before the news of that event reached him : but with the Tyrol and Venice all aflame in his rear, and threatening his connections ; with no prospect of assistance 270 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. xxxu from Moreau in enforcing his demands ; and with a growing hostiUty 1797 showing itself among the populations of the hereditary states of Austria into which he had penetrated, it was not wonderful that his original design was confirmed. "At Leoben," he once said, "I was playing twenty-one, and I had only twenty." When, therefore, Merveldt and Gallo, the duly accredited plenipo- tentiaries of Austria, and General Bonaparte, representing the French republic but with no formal powers from its government, met in the castle of Goss at Leoben, they all knew that the situation of the French was very precarious indeed, and that the terms to be made could not be those dictated by a triumphant conqueror in the full tide of victory. Neither party had any scruples about violating the pubhc law of Europe by the destruction of another nationality ; but they needed some pre- text. While they were in the opening stages of negotiation the pretext came ; for on April ninth Bonaparte received news of the murders to which reference has been made, and of an engagement at Salo, provoked by the French, in which the Bergamask mountaineers had captured three hundred of the garrison, mostly Poles. This affair was only a little more serious than nimierous other conflicts incident to partizan warfare which were daily occurring ; but it was enough. With a feigned fury the French general addressed the Venetian senate as if their land were utterly uTeconcilable, and demanded from them impossible acts of reparation. Junot was despatched to Venice with the message, and de- livered it fi'om the floor of the senate on April fifteenth, the veiy day on which his chief was concluding negotiations for the dehvery of the Venetian mainland to Austria. So strong had the peace party in Vienna become, and such was the terror of its inhabitants at seeing the court hide its treasui-es and prepare to fly into Himgary, that the plenipotentiaries could only ac- cept the offer of Bonaparte, which they did with ill-concealed dehght. There was but one point of difference, the grand duchy of Modena, which Francis for the honor of his house was determined to keep, if possible. With Tuscany, Modena, and the Venetian mainland aU in their hands, the Austrian authorities felt that time would surely restore to them the lost Milanese. But Bonaparte was obdurate. On the eigh- teenth the preliminaries were closed and adopted. The Austrians sol- emnly declared at the time that, when the papers were to be exchanged formally, Bonaparte presented a copy which pui'ported to be a counter- ^T. 27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 271 part of what had been mutually arranged. Essential differences were, ch. xxxn however, almost immediately marked by the recipients, and when they 1^97 announced their discovery with violent clamor, the cool, sarcastic gen- eral produced without remark another copy, which was found to be a correct reproduction of the preliminary terms agi-eed upon. According to these France was to have Belgium, with the " hmits of France " as decreed by the laws of the republic, a purposely ambiguous expression. Austria obtained the longed-for mainland of Venice as far as the river Ogho, together with Istria and Dalmatia, the Venetian dependencies beyond the Adriatic, while Venice herself was to be nominally indem- nified by the receipt of the three papal legations, Bologna, Ferrara, and the Romagna. Modena was to be united with Mantua, Reggio, and the Milanese into a great central repubhc, which would always be dependent on France, and was to be connected with her tenitory by way of Grenoa. Some of the articles were secret, and all were sub- ject to immaterial changes in the final negotiations for definitive peace, which were to be carried on later at Bern, chosen for the pm'pose as being a neutral city. Bonaparte explained, in a letter to the Directory, that whatever oc- curred, the Papal States could never become an integral part of Venice, and would always be imder French influences. His sincerity was no greater, as the event showed, concerning the very existence of Venice herself. The terms he had made were considered at Vienna most favor- able, and there was great rejoicing in that capital. But it was signifi- cant that in the routine negotiations the old-school diplomatists had been sadly shocked by the behavior of their mihtary antagonist, who, though a mere tyro in their art, was very hard to deal with. At the outset, for instance, they had proposed to incorporate, as the first arti- cle in the preliminaries, that for which the Directory had long been ne- gotiating with Austria, a recognition of the French repubhc. " Strike that out," said Bonaparte. " The Repubhc is like the sun on the hori- zon — all the worse for him who will not see it." This was but a fore- taste of ruder dealings which followed, and of still more violent breaches with tradition in the long negotiations which were to ensue over the definitive treaty. The very day on which the signatures were affixed at Leoben, the Austrian arms were humbled by Hoche on the Rhine. Moreau had not been able to move for lack of a paltry sum which he was begging for, 272 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE \.Mt.27 ch. XXXII but could not obtain, from the Dii-ectory Hoche, chafing at similar de- 1797 lays, and anxious to atone for Jourdan's conduct of the previous year, finally set forth, and, crossing at Neu^ded, advanced to Heddersdorf, where he attacked the Austrians, who had been weakened to strengthen the Archduke Charles. They were routed with a loss of six thousand prisoners. Another considerable force was nearly suiTounded when a sudden stop was put to Hoche's career by the anival of a cornier from Leoben. In the Black Forest Desaix, having crossed the Rhine with Moreau's army below Strasburg, was Ukewise driving the Austrians be- fore him. He too was similarly checked, and these brilliant achieve- ments came all too late. No advantage was gained by them in the terms of peace, and the glory of humihating Austria remained to Bonaparte. Throughout all France there was considerable dissatisfaction with Bonaparte's moderation, and a feeUng among extreme repubUcans, especially in the Directory, that he should have destroyed the Austrian monarchy. Larevelliere and Rewbell were altogether of this opinion, and the corrupt Barras to a certain extent, for he had taken a bribe of six hundred thousand francs from the Venetian ambassador at Paris, to compel the repression by Bonaparte of the rebels on the mainland. The correspondence of various emissaries connected with this affair fell into the general's hands at Milan, and put the Directory more com- pletely at his mercy than ever. On April nineteenth, however, he wrote as if in reply to such strictures as might be made : "If at the be- ginning of the campaign I had persisted in going to Turin, I never should have passed the Po; if I had persisted in going to Rome, I should have lost Milan ; if I had persisted in going to Vienna, perhaps I should have overthrown the Repubhc." He weU understood that fear would yield what despair might refuse. It was a matter of course that when the terms of Leoben reached Paris the Directory ratified them : even though they had been irregularly negotiated by an unau- thorized agent, they separated England from Austria, and crushed the coahtion. One thing, however, the directors notified Bonaparte he must not do ; that was, to interfere fiui;her in the affairs of Venice. This order reached him on May eighth; but just a week before, Venice, as an independent state, had ceased to exist. Accident and crafty preaiTangement had combined to bring the affairs of that ancient commonwealth to such a crisis. The general in- surrection and the fight at Salo had given a pretext for disposing of the y^ 'SrtU DRAWING MADE FOR THE ri:\TritY CAPTURE OF THE PASS OF TARVIS FRUM THE DRAWISO BY H. CH.UITIER ^T. 27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 273 Venetian mainland; soon after, the inevitable results of French occupa- ca.xxxii tion afforded the opportunity for destroying the ohgarchy altogether. 1797 The evacuation of Verona by the garrison of its former masters had been ordered as a part of the general disarmament of Italy. TJie Veronese were intensely, fiercely indignant on learning that they were to be transferred to a hated allegiance ; and on April seventeenth, when a party appeared to reinforce the French troops already there, the citizens rose in a frenzy of indignation, and di'ove the hated invaders mto the citadel. During the following days, three hundred of the French civil- ians in the town, all who had not been able to find refuge, were massa- cred; old and young, sick and well. At the same time a detachment of Austrians under Laudon came in from the Tyrol to join Fioravente, the Venetian general, and his Slavs. This of coui'se increased the tumult, for the French began to bombard the city from the citadel. For a moment the combined besiegers, exaggerating the accoimts of Jou- bert's withdi-awal and of Moreau's failure to advance, hoped for ultimate success, and the overthrow of the French. But rumors from Leoben caused the Austrians to withdraw up the Adige, and a Lombard regi- ment came to the assistance of the French. The Venetian forces were captured, and the city was disarmed; so also were Peschiera, Castel- nuovo, and many others which had made no resistance. Two days after this furious outbreak of Veronese resentment, — an event which is known to the French as the Veronese Vespers, — occui'red another, of vastly less importance in itself, but having perhaps even more value as cumulative evidence that the wound ah-eady inflicted by Bonaparte on the Venetian state was mortal. A French vessel, flying before two Austrian cruisers, appeared off the Lido, and anchored un- der the arsenal. It was contrary to immemorial custom for an armed vessel to enter the harbor of Venice, and the captain was ordered to weigh anchor. He refused. Thereupon, in stupid zeal, the guns of the Venetian forts opened on the ship. Many of the crew were killed, and the rest were thrown into prison. This was the final stroke, all that was necessary for the justification of Bonaparte's plans. An embassy from the senate had been with him at Gratz when the awful news fi'om Verona came to his headquarters. He had then treated them harshly, demanding not only the liberation of every man confined for pohtical reasons within their prison walls, but the surrender of their inquisitors as weU. " I will have no more Inquisition, no more Senate ; I shall be 274 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JSt. 27 ch. XXXII au Attila to Venice ! . . . I want not your alliance nor your schemes ; 1797 I mean to lay down the law." They left his presence with gloomy and accui'ate forebodings as to what was in those secret articles which had been executed at Leoben. When, two days later, came this news of fiu'ther conflict with the French in Venice itself, the envoys were dis- missed, without another audience, by a note which declared that its writer " could not receive them, dripping as they were with French blood." On May third, having advanced to Palma, Bonaparte declared war against Venice. In accordance with the general license of the age, hostilities had, however, already begun ; for as early as April thu'tieth the French and their Italian helpers had fortified the lowlands between the Venetian lagoons, and on May first the main army appeared at Fusina, the nearest point on the mainland to the city. CHAPTER XXXIII THE FALL OF VENICE Feebleness of the Venetian Oligakchy — Its Overthrow — Bona- parte's Duplicity — Letters op Opposite Purport — Montebello — The Republican Court — England's Proposition for Peace — Plans of the Directory — General Clarke's Diplomatic Career — Conduct of Mme. Bonaparte — Bonaparte's Jealous Tender- ness — His Wife's Social Conquests. SINCE the days of Carthage no government Uke that of the Vene- ch. xxxhi tian ohgarchy had existed on the earth. At its best it was dark i'^'^^ and remorseless ; with the disappearance of its vigor its despotism had become somewhat milder, but even yet no common man might draw the veil from its mysterious, irresponsible councils and hve. A few hundred families administered the country as they did their private estates. All intelligence, aU hberty, aU personal independence, were repressed by such a system. The more enlightened Venetians of the mainland, many even in the city, feehng the influences of the time, had long been uneasy under their government, smoothly as it seemed to rim in time of peace. Now that the earth was quaking imder the march of Bonaparte's troops, that government was not only helpless, but in its panic it actually grew contemptible, displaying by its conduct how ur- gent was the necessity for a change. The senate had a powerful fleet, three thousand native troops, and eleven thousand mercenaries; but they struck only a single futile blow on their own account, permitting a rash captain to open flre from the gunboats against the French van- guard when it appeared. But immediately, as if in fear of theb own temerity, they despatched an embassy to learn the will of the approach- ing general. That his dealings might be merciful, they tried the plan of Modena, and offered him a bribe of seven million francs ; but, 276 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 27 ch. XXXIII as in the case of Modena, lie refused. Next day the Grand Council 1797 having been summoned, it was determined by a nearly unanimous vote of the patricians — six hundred and ninety to twenty-one — that they would remodel their institutions on democratic hues. The pale and terrified Doge thought that in such a smTender lay the last hope of safety. Not for a moment did LaUemant and ViUetard, the two French agents, intermit their revolutionary agitation in the town. Disorders gi'ew more frequent, while uncertainty both paralyzed and disintegi-ated the patrician party. A week later the government virtually abdicated. Two utter strangers appeared in a theatrical way at its doors, and sug- gested in writing to the Great Council that to appease the spirit of the times they should plant the liberty -tree on the Place of St. Mark, and speedily accede to aU the propositions for liberaUzing Venice which the popular temper seemed to demand. Such were the terror and disor- ganization of the aristocracy that instead of punishing the inti"usion of the unknown reformers by death, according to the traditions of their merciless procedure, they took measures to cany out the suggestions made in a way as dark and significant as any of their own. The fleet was dismantled, and the army disbanded. By the end of the month the revolution was virtually accomphshed ; a rising of their supporters having been mistaken by the Great Council, in its pusillanimous terror, for a rebelUon of their antagonists, they decreed the abohtion of aU ex- isting institutions, and, after hastily organizing a provisional govern- ment, disbanded. Four thousand French soldiers occupied the town, and an ostensible treaty was made between the new repubhc of Venice and that of France. This treaty was reaUy nothing but a pronunciamento of Bonaparte. He decreed a general amnesty to aU offenders except the commanders of Fort Luco, who had recently fired on the French vessel. He also guaranteed the pubUc debt, and promised to occupy the city only as long as the pubhc order required it. By a series of secret articles Venice was to accept the stipulations of Leoben in regard to territory, pay an in- demnity of six miUion francs, and furnish three ships of the line and two frigates, while, in pursuance of the general policy of the French republic, experts were to select twenty pictures fi-om her galleries, and five hundred manuscripts from her Hbraries. Whatever was the under- standing of those who signed these crushing conditions, the city was H X tn Z n -n O m H n > > > n tn < •z r. tr. ^T.27] THE FALL OF VENICE 277 never again treated by any European power as an independent state, ch. xxxiii Soon afterward a French expedition was despatched to occupy her isl- 1797 and possessions in the Levant. The arrangements had been carefully prepared during the very time when the provisional government be- Ueved itself to be paying the price of its new hberties. And earUer still, on May twenty-seventh, three days before the abdication of the aristocracy, Bonaparte had already offered to Austria the entire repub- lic in its proposed form as an exchange for the German lands on the left bank of the Rhine. Writing to the Directory on that day, he declared that Venice, which had been in a decline ever since the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope and the rise of Triest and Ancona, could with difficulty survive the blows just given her. " This miserable, cowardly people, unfit for hb- erty, and without land or water — it seems natm'al to me that we should hand them over to those who have received their mainland from us. We shall take all their ships, we shall despoil their arsenal, we shall remove all their cannon, we shall wi'eck their bank, we shall keep Corfu and Ancona for ourselves." On the twenty-sixth, only the day previous, a letter to his "friends" of the Venetian provisional govern- ment had assured them that he would do all in his power to confirm their liberties, and that he earnestly desired that Italy, " now covered with glory, and free from every foreign influence, should again appear on the world's stage, and assert among the gi*eat powers that station to which by nature, position, and destiny it was entitled." Ordinary minds cannot gi'asp the guile and daring which seem to have foreseen and pre- arranged all the conditions necessary to plans which for double-dealing transcended the conceptions of men even in that age of duplicity and selfishness. Not far fi'om Milan, on a gentle rise, stands the famous villa, or country-seat, of Montebello. Its windows command a scene of rare beauty : on one side, in the distance, the mighty Alps, with their peaks of never-melting ice and snow ; on the other three, the almost voluptu- ous beauty of the fertile plains ; while in the near foreground lies the great capital of Lombardy, with its splendid industries, its stores of art, and its crowded spires hoary with antiquity. Within easy reach are the exquisite scenes of an enchanted region — that of the Italian lakes. To this lordly residence Bonaparte withdrew. His summer's task was to be the pacification of Etu'ope, and the consohdation of his own power 38 278 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JEt. 27 ch. xxxui in Italy, in France, and northward beyond the Alps. The two objects 1797 went hand in hand. From Austria, fi-om Rome, from Naples, from Turin, from Parma, from Switzerland, and even from the minor Ger- man principahties whose fate hung on the rearrangement of German lands to be made by the Diet of the Empire, agents of every kind, both military and diplomatic, both secret and accredited, flocked to the seat of power. Expresses came and went in all directions, while humble suitors vied with one another in homage to the risen sun. The uses of rigid etiquette were well understood by Bonaparte. He appreciated the dazzling power of ceremony, the fascination of conde- scension, and the influence of woman in the conduct of affairs. All such influences he lavished with a profusion which could have been conceived only by an Oriental imagination. As if to overpower the senses by an impressive contrast, and symbolize the triumph of that dominant Third Estate of which he claimed to be the champion against aristocrats, princes, kings, and emperors, the simphcity of the Revolu- tion was personified and emphasized in his own person. His ostenta- tious frugality, his disdain for dress, his contempt for personal wealth and its outward signs, were all heightened by the setting which inclosed them, as a frame of biilliants often heightens the character in the por- trait of a homely face. Meantime England was not a passive spectator of events in Italy. At the close of 1796 Pitt's administration was in great straits, for the Tories who supported him were angered by his lack of success, while the Whig opposition was correspondingly jubilant and daily gi'owing stronger. The navy had been able to preserve appearances, but that was aU. There was urgent need for reform in tactics, in administra- tion, and in equipment. France had made some progress in aU these directions, and, in spite of Enghsh assistance, both the Vendean and the Chouan insurrections had, to aU appearance, been utterly crushed. Subsequently a powerful expedition under Hoche was equipped and held in readiness to sail for Ireland, there to organize rebellion, and give England a draught from her own cup. It was clear that the Whigs would score a triumph at the coming elections if something were not done. Accordingly Pitt determined to open negotiations for peace with the Directory. As his agent he unwisely chose Malmesbury, a representative aristocrat, who had distinguished himself as a diplo- matist in Holland by organizing the Orange party to sustain the Prus- ^T. 27] THE FALL OF VENICE 279 sian arms against the rising democracy of that country. Moreover, the ch. xxxm envoy was an ultra-conservative in his views of the French Revolution, 1797 and, believing that there was no room in western Europe for his own country and her great rival, thought there could be no peace until France was destroyed. Burke sneered that he had gone to Paris on his knees. He was received of course with distrust, and many beheved his real er- rand to be the reorganization of a royalist party in France. Moreover, Delacroix, minister of foreign affau"s, was a narrow, shallow, and con- ceited man, unable either to meet an adroit and experienced negotiator on his own ground, or to prepare new forms of diplomatic combat, as Bonaparte had done. The English proposition was that Great Britain would give up all the French colonial possessions she had seized during the war, provided the republic would abandon Belgium. It is well to recall in this connection that the navigation of the Scheldt has ever been an object of the highest importance to England : the estab- Ushment of a strong, hostile maritime power in harbors hke those of the Netherlands would menace, if not destroy, the British carrying-trade with central and northern Eiu-ope. The reply of the Directory was that their fundamental law forbade the consideration of such a point ; and when Malmesbury persisted in his offer, he was given foriy-eight hours to leave the country. Hoche was at once despatched to Ireland ; but wind and waves were adverse, and he returned to replace Jourdan in command of one of the Rhine armies, the latter having been dis- graced for his failiu'es in Grermany. The Directory, with an eye single to the consolidation of the repub- lic, cared little for Lombardy, and much for Belgium with the Rhine frontier. The Austrian minister cared little for the distant provinces of the empire, and everything for a compact temtorial consolidation. The successes of 1796 had secured to France treaties with Prussia, Ba- varia, Wiirtemberg, Baden, and the two circles of Swabia and Franco- nia, whereby these powers consented to abandon the control of all lands on the left bank of the Rhine hitherto belonging to them or to the Ger- manic body. As a consequence the goal of the Dii-ectory could be reached by Austria's consent, and Austria appeared to be willing. The only question was, Would France restore the Milanese? Carnot was emphatic in the expression of his opinion that she must, and his col- leagues assented. Accordingly, Bonaparie was warned that no expec- tations of emancipation must be awakened in the Itahan peoples. But 280 LIFF, OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 ch. XXXIII such a warning was absurd. The directors, having been able neither to 1797 support their general with adequate reinforcements, nor to pay his troops, it had been only in the role of a liberator that Bonaparte was successful in cajoling and conquering Italy, in sustaining and arming his men, and in pouring treasures into Paris. It was for this reason that he saw himself compelled to overthrow Venice, and hold it as a substi- tute for Lombardy in the coming trade with Austria. But the directors either could not or would not at that time enter into his plans, and re- fused to comprehend the situation. With doubtful good sense they therefore determined in November, 1796, to send an agent of their own direct to Vienna. They chose Gen- eral Clarke, a man of honest purpose, but very moderate abihty. He must of course have a previous understanding with Bonaparte, and to that end he journeyed by way of Italy. Being kindly welcomed, he was entirely befooled by his subtle host, who detained him with idle suggestions until after the fall of Mantua, when to his amazement he received instructions from Paris to make no proposition of any kind without Bonaparte's consent. Then followed the death of the Czarina Catherine, which left Austria with no ally, and aU the subsequent events to the eve of Leoben. Thugut wanted no Jacobin agitator at Vienna, and informed Clarke that he must not come thither, but might reach a diplomatic understanding with the Austrian minister at Turin, if he could. He was thus comfortably banished from the seat of war during the closing scenes of the campaign, and to Bonaparte's satisfac- tion could not of course reach Leoben in time to conclude the prehmi- naries as the accredited agent of the repubhc. But he was henceforth to be associated with Bonaparte in arranging the final terms of peace ; and to that end he came of course to Milan. The coui-t at MontebeUo was not a mere levee of men. There was as well an assemblage of brilliant women, of whom the presiding genius was Mme. Bonaparte. Love, doubt, decision, marriage, separation, had been the rapidly succeeding incidents of her connection with Bonaparte in Paris. Though she had made ardent professions of devotion to her husband, the marriage vow sat but lightly on her in the early days of their separation. Her husband appears to have been for a short time more constant, but, convinced of her fickleness, to have become as un- faithful as she. And yet the complexity of emotions — ambition, self- interest, and physical attraction — which seems to have been present in IN TlIK RirSEUM UF VLlltiAlLLES ENOUAVEU BV K. <>. TIKTZK EUGENIE-BERNARDINE-DESIREE CLARY MME. BERNADOTTE ; ClUEEN OF SWEDEN FROM THE PAINTIXO BY FllASfOIfi OfeBABP ^T. 27] THE FALL OF VENICE 281 both, although in widely different degree, sustained something like ch. xxxm genuine ardor in him, and an affection sincere enough often to awaken 1797 jealousy in her. The news of Bonaparte's successive victories in Italy made his wife a heroine in Paris. In all the salons of the capital, from that of the directors at the Luxembom'g downward through those of her more aristocratic but less powerful acquaintances, she was feted and caressed. As early as April, 1796, came the first summons of her hus- band to join him in Italy. Friends explained to her wiUing ears that it was not a French custom for the wives of generals to join the camp- train, and she refused. Resistance but served to rouse the passions of the young conqueror, and his fiery love-letters reached Paris by every courier. Josephine, however, remained unmoved ; for the traditions of her admirers, to whom she showed them, made hght of a conjugal affection such as that. She was flattered, but, as during the courtship, shghtly frightened by such addresses. In due time there were symptoms which appeared to be those of pregnancy. On receipt of this news the prospective father could not contain himself for joy. The letter which he sent has been preserved. It was written from Tortona, on June fifteenth, 1796. Life is but a vain show because at such an hoiu- he is absent fi'om her. His passion had clouded his faculties, but if she is in pain he will leave at any hazard for her side. Without appetite, and sleepless; without thought of friends, gloiy, or country, aU the world is annihilated for him except herself. "I care for honor because you do, for victory because it gratifies you, otherwise I would have left aU else to throw myself at your feet.. Dear friend, be sure and say you are persuaded that I love you above all that can be imagined — persuaded that eveiy moment of my time is consecrated to you ; that never an horn' passes without thought of you; that it never occurred to me to think of another woman ; that they are aU in my eyes without gi*ace, without beauty, without wit ; that you — you alone as I see you, as you are — could please and absorb all the fac- ulties of my soul; that you have fathomed all its depths; that my heart has no fold unopened to you, no thoughts which are not attendant upon you ; that my strength, my arms, my mind, are aU yours ; that my soul is in your form, and that the day you change, or the day you cease to Live, win be that of my death ; that nature, the earth, is lovely in my eyes only because you dwell within it. If you do not believe all this, if your soul is not persuaded, satm'ated, you distress me, you do not love 282 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [JEt.27 ch. XXXIII me. Between those wlio love is a magnetic bond. You know that I 1797 could never see you with a lover, much less endure your having one : to see him and to tear out his heart would for me be one and the same thing ; and then, could I, I would lay violent hands on your sacred yjer- son. . . . No, I would never dare, but I would leave a world where that which is most virtuous had deceived me. I am confident and proud of youi* love. Misfortunes are trials which mutually develop the strength of our passion. A child lovely as its mother is to see the light in your arms. Wretched man that I am, a single day would satisfy me ! A thousand kisses on your eyes, on your hps. Adorable woman ! what a power you have ! I am sick with your disease : besides, I have a burning fever. Keep the courier but six hours, and let him return at , once, bringing to me the darling letter of my queen." At length, in June, when the first gi-eat victories had been won, when the symptoms of motherhood proved to be spurious and disap- peared, when honors like those of a sovereign were awaiting her in Italy, Mme. Bonaparte decided to tear herself away from the circle of her friends in Paris, and to yield to the ever more urgent pleadings of her husband. Traveling under Junot's care, she reached Milan early in July, to find the general no longer an adventm-er, but the success- ful dictator of a people, courted by princes and kings, adored by the masses, and the arbiter of nations. Rising, apparently without an ef- fort, to the height of the occasion, she began and continued through- out the year to rival in her social conquests the victories of her hus- band in the field. Where he was Caius, she was Caia. High-bom dames sought her favor, and nobles bowed low to win her support. At times she actually braved the dangers of insurrection and the battle-field. Her presence in their capital was used to soothe the exasperated Vene- tians. To gratify her spouse's ardor, she journeyed to many cities, and by a mild sympathy moderated somewhat the wild ambitions which the scenes and character of his successes awakened in his mind. The heroes and poets of Rome had moved upon that same stage. To his consort the new Csesar unveiled the visions of his heated imagination, explained the sensations aroused in him by their shadowy presence, and imfolded his schemes of emulation. Of such purposes the com't held during the summer at Montebello was but the natural outcome. Its historic influence was incalculable : on one hand, by the prestige it gave in negotiation to the central figure, and by the chance it afforded ^T. 27] THE FALL OF VENICE 283 to fix and crystallize the indefinite visions of the hour; on the other, ch. xxxin by rendering memorable the celebration of the national fete on July i7'j7 fourteenth, 1797, an event arranged for political purposes, and so daz- zling as to fix in the army the intense and complete devotion to their leader which made possible the next epoch in his career. The siunmer was a season of enforced idleness, outwardly and as far as international relations were concerned, but in reahty Bonaparte was never more active nor more successful. In February the Bank of England had suspended specie payments, and in March the price of Enghsh consols was fifty-one, the lowest it ever reached. The bat- tle of Cape St. Vincent, fought on February fourteenth, destroyed the Spanish naval power, and freed Great Biitain from the fear of a combination between the French and Spanish fleets for an invasion. The effect on the Enghsh people was magical. Left without an ally by the preliminaries of Leoben, their government made overtures for peace, but when the effort failed they were not dismayed. It required the utmost dihgence in the use of personal influence, on the part both of the French general and of his wife, to thwart the prestige of Eng- hsh naval victory among the Em-opean diplomats assembled at Monte- bello. But they succeeded, and the evidence was ultimately given not merely in great matters like the success of Fructidor or the peace of Campo Formio, but in small ones — such, for example, as the speedy hberation of Lafayette from his Austrian prison. 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