ra TH5 COLLECTtOS OF THE bi'C DE MoR^ 
 
 TVPOCRAVURE BODSSOD, VALADON * CO, PARIS. 
 
 meissonier's " 1814". 
 
 REPRODUCED BV MlRiSCEMENT W,r„ THE DOC DE MOB.VV, OWNER Of THE ORIG.NiL PAINTIMG,
 
 LIFE OF 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM MILLIGAN SLOANE, 
 
 Ph. D., L. H. D. 
 PROFESSOB OF HISTORY IN PRINCETON UNIVERSITT 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 .VMV,£e^ ^^.>iii**>5.*^ 
 
 NEW YOEK 
 
 C!)e Centurg Co. 
 
 1906
 
 Copyinght, 1894, 1895, 1896, 
 By The Centuby Co. 
 
 The DeVinne Press.
 
 UNIVEESITATI PKINCETONIENSI 
 MATKI STUDIOKUM 
 
 HIC LIBEE 
 OPTIME DEBETUB
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In the closing years of the eighteenth century European society 
 began its effort to get rid of benevolent despotism, so called, and to 
 secure its hberties 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 intelHgence, 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 liberty 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 stratum, variously designated as the middle class, the burghers 
 or bourgeoisie, and the third estate, a body of men as little wilhng 
 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 sufirage 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 change 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
 
 Yj PREFACE 
 
 and characters which rank among the great of all time, and having 
 exliibited to succeeding generations the most important lessons in the 
 most vivid lio-ht. 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 
 viciim of circumstances which his soaring ambition used but which 
 his unrivaled prowess could not control. Gigantic jn 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 within 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 was 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 estabhsh 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 technjcal 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 VJi 
 
 seems highly desirable that they should be made so, and this has 
 been the effort 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 IJonaparte's boyhood and 
 youth which the author has read, and of the portions of the French and 
 Enghsh 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 RECTIUS ISTIS, 
 CANDIDUS mPEBTI: SI NON, HIS UTEBE MECUM. 
 
 HORACE.
 
 TABLE OP CONTENTS 
 
 Volume I 
 Introduction ' p^^j, 
 
 The Revolutionary Epoch in Europe — 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 
 
 Chapter 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 Rainolino — Their Marriage and Natur- 
 alization as French Subjects — Their Fortunes — Their Children 8 
 
 Chapter II. Napoleon's Birth and Ineancy 
 
 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 IV. 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 Fhre — Demoralization of the French Army — The Men 
 in the Ranks — Napoleon as a Beau — Return to Study — His Profession and 
 Vocation 31
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter V. Private Study and Garrison Life page 
 
 Napoleon as a Studeut of Politics— Nature of Rousseau's Political Teachings — 
 The Abb6 Raynal — Napoleon Aspires to be the Historian of Corsica — Napo- 
 leon's First Love — nis 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 Stoi-ies —Visit to Paris — Secures Extension of His Leave 
 — The Family 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 Irre-jularities as a French Officer — 
 His Vain Appeal to Paoli — The History Dedicated to Necker 43 
 
 Chapter VII. The Eevolution in France 
 
 The French Ai-istocracy — 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 Transactions 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
 
 11 
 
 a 
 
 
 8" 
 
 ""■s.?j:-'_a 
 
 ■g. S :^ , 
 
 r» -3- SB 
 
 D 5 a —i? o 
 
 SO n 2 
 • - — s* o a, 
 
 go 5-= =5::t 
 
 ?< 
 
 ?3 ?> 5 .X 
 
 si:;-?! 
 
 ■.C-'< i « ts 
 
 'a' 
 
 a 
 
 W5-* 
 
 o P 
 
 
 £| " B cj 
 
 ? g°- 
 
 5 < s 2 
 g I" 
 
 s. ; s § 
 
 ^ p cr o" 
 
 — 5 ^ ^ 
 
 F ® -« 5> 
 
 » I I 
 
 ir s 
 
 2-B W 
 
 ffooO 
 
 •» a 
 
 
 
 
 
 Ills" 
 
 « 3 t/: _ 
 
 -g-2 ft 
 l>- © 
 
 §■3 © 
 
 to 
 
 = O 00,2 ao oS^So COM 
 
 ^D 
 
 S5;:2i""r°-= 
 
 • •OS 
 
 ^"Js^ 
 
 s? 
 
 
 
 -1 l> .- "o f" a a 
 *D' 
 
 S5 5 
 ,5 So gr„°»a3ia'< = 
 
 £=6 0=1"^ 
 
 p o a* 
 .2.1-." 
 
 »^B 0."2 ••^0'<« a E ^ =■_ 
 
 Str-So-?St 
 
 • • « « M-^H
 
 TABLE OP CONTENTS xi 
 
 Chaptee XI. The Revolution in the Rhone Valley p^oe 
 
 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 
 
 Chapteb XII. Bonaparte the Coksican 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 — Appointed Adjutant-General — His Attitude toward 
 France — His New Ambitions — Use of Violence — Lieutenant-Colonel of Volun- 
 teers — Politics in Ajaccio — Bonaparte's First Experience of Street Warfare — 
 His Manifesto — Dismissed to Paris — 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 Prance 
 
 — His Presence at the Scenes of August Tenth — State of Paris 93 
 
 Chaptee XIII. Bonapabte 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 Hejiea 
 
 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 Bonaparte 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 Beaucaire" 
 
 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 Pall of Toulon — Bonaparte a General of Bri- 
 gade — Behavior of the Jacobin Victors — A Corsican Plot — Horroi-s of the 
 French Revolution 133
 
 ^ TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Chapter XVII. A Jacobin Geneeal p^gb 
 
 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 m War and Diplomacy 
 
 Signs of Maturity — The Mission to Genoa — Course of the French Republic — 
 The " Terror " — 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- 
 pEirte'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 — Different Views of its Value 154 
 
 Chapter XX. The Antechamber to Success 
 
 Punishment of the Terrorists — Dangers of the Thermidorians — Successes of 
 Republican Arms — The Treaty of Basel — Vendean 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. Permon — His Magnanimity 162 
 
 Chapter XXI. Bonaparte the General of the Convention 
 
 Disappointments — Another Furlough — Connection with Barras — Official So- 
 ciety in Paris — Bonaparte as a Beau — Condition of His Family — A Political 
 General— An Opening in Turkey— Opportunities in Europe — Social Advance- 
 ment — OfBcial 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 — Order 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 XXHI. 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- 
 certamties — Her Character and Station — Passion and Convenience — The 
 Bride's Dowry- Bonaparte's Philosophy of Life — The Ladder to Glory 189
 
 TABLE OP CONTENTS ^iii 
 
 ChAPTEB XXrV. EUEOPE AND THE DiEECTOKY 
 
 PAQB 
 
 The First Coalition — England and Austria — The Armies of the Republic — The 
 Treasury of the Republic^ The Directory — The Abb6 Sieves — 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 Geeat Stage 
 
 Bonaparte and the Army of Italy — The System of Pillage — The General as a 
 Despot — The Republican Armies and French Polities — 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 XXYII. 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 XXVin. Mantua and Arcole 
 
 The Austrian System — The Austrian Strategy — Castiglione — French Gains 
 — Bassano — The French in the Tyrol — 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 Directory — 
 The Task before Him 241 
 
 Chapter XXX. Kivoli 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 ^aqe 
 
 Rome Threatened — Pius VI. Surrenders — The Peace of Toleutino — 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 PRELiMrNAEiES of Leoben 
 
 Austrian Plans for the Last Italian Campaign — The Battle on the Tagliamento 
 
 — Retreat of the Archduke Charles — Bonapai-te's Proclamation to the Carin- 
 thians — Joubert Withdraws from the Tyrol — Bonaparte's "Philosophical" 
 Letter — His Situation 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 .... 266 
 
 Chapter XXXIII. The Fall of Venice 
 
 Feebleness of the Venetian Oligarchy — 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 
 
 Volume I 
 
 Meissonter's " 1814 " Frontispiece 
 
 TACtSQ PAGE 
 
 House m the Place Letizia, Ajaccio, Corsica, in which Napoleon 
 
 Bonaparte was born 1 
 
 Room m 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 Eamolino 24 
 
 Bonaparte, the Nouveau, at the School op Brienne 28 
 
 Bonaparte attacking Snow Forts at the School of Brienne 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 op 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 Tou^g Napoleon 101 
 
 La Causerie — Life in Paris in 1793 104 
 
 XV
 
 _.^ LIST OP ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 i-Vl FACING PAGE 
 
 jEANNE-MARIE-lGNACE-TH^RilSE DE CaBAREUS 108 
 
 The Battle op Jemmapes, near Mons, Belgtom, November 6, 1792 114 
 
 The Drltumeks op the Republic 116 
 
 Lazare-Nicolas-Marguerite Carnot 121 
 
 The Supper op Beaucaire 127 
 
 The Conquest op Holland 128 
 
 Bonaparte explaining his Plan for the Taking of Toulon, 1793 134 
 
 The Harbor op Toulon, from the Heights of Six-fours 137 
 
 The Battle op Quiberon 140 
 
 Bonaparte, Tubreau, and Volney at Nice in 1793 144 
 
 Bonaparte under Arrest, August, 1794 151 
 
 Maeie-Julie Clary 157 
 
 The Siege op Pavla 161 
 
 Louis-Marie de LAREVELLiiiRE-LfePEAUX 165 
 
 Felice Pasquale Bacciocchi 169 
 
 Marie-Josephe-Rose Tascher de la Pagerie, 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 op Napoleon and Josephine 193 
 
 Bonaparte on the Road prom Paris to Nice 196 
 
 Capture op a Dutch Fleet by Hussars op the French Republic, 
 
 January, 1795 200 
 
 Rampon's Soldiers taking the Oath never to Surrender 209 
 
 Marshal Andr]S 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 Arcole 238 
 
 A Grenadier 245 
 
 The Battle op Rivoli, January 14, 1797 253 
 
 Marshal Jean-Matthieu-Philibert, Count Sbrubieb 256 
 
 Bulletin of Victory prom the Armies op Italy, 1797 260 
 
 Archduke Charles op Austria 265 
 
 Francis I., Emperor of Austria 268 
 
 Capture op the Pass op Tarvis 272 
 
 The French before the Ducal Palace, Venice 276 
 
 Eugenie-Bernardine-Desiree Clary 280
 
 DaAWl>0 MADE I'WB THE CE.NXLBY CO. 
 
 HOUSE IN THE PLACE LETIZIA, AJACCIO, CORSICA, IN WHICH 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE WAS BORN 
 
 FROM THE DRAWING BY ERIC PAPE 
 
 The bouse is now owned by E.\-Empress Eugenie
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The Revolutionaby Epoch m Europe — Corsica as a Center of 
 Interest — Its Geography — The People and their Rulers — Sam- 
 piero — Paoli — His Success as a Liberator — His Plan for Alli- 
 ance WITH France — The Policy of Choiseul — Paoli's Reputa- 
 tion — Napoleon's Account of Corsica and of Paoli — Rousseau 
 AND Corsica. 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE was the representative man of the 
 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 air. 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 with equa- 
 nimity, with a buoyancy and hopefulness bom of large knowledge. 
 The movement of civihzation in Europe during 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 tinith 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 considei'ation 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 little is known, in spite of 
 the fullness of our information. The abundant facts of his career are 
 not facts at all unless considered in the hght 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- 
 tury an obscure family by the name of Buonaparte. No land and no 
 family could to all outward appearance be fm-ther 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 smaU and 
 remote, but it came near to being an actual exemphfication 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-dfama seemed complete in minia- 
 ture, and, in the closing quarter of the eighteenth centmy, 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 resoiu-ces than
 
 INTRODUCTION 3 
 
 the other part, it was more open to outside influences, and for this 
 reason freer in its institutions. The rugged western division had come 
 more completely under the yoke of feudalism, having 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 administration 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 tenitory. 
 
 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 then' 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 agriculture. 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 
 Califate, of the German-Roman emperors, and of the repubhc of Pisa. 
 Their latest ruler was Genoa, which had now degenerated into an 
 imtrustworthy 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, natural-minded, 
 and primitive people, they had little by httle been left a prey to their 
 own faults in order that their unworthy mistress might plead their dis- 
 
 j orders as an excuse for her tyranny. Agiicultm^e languished, and the 
 
 I 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 carry- 
 ing of arms was winked at, quarrels became rife, and often family con- 
 
 I federations, embracing a considerable part of the country, were arrayed 
 
 one against the other in lawless violence. The feudal nobility, few in 
 
 j number, were unrecognized, and failed to cultivate the industrial arts 
 
 in the security of costly strongholds as their class did elsewhere, while 
 the fau-est portions of land not held by them were gradually absorbed
 
 A LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 by the monasteries, which Genoa favored as hkely to render easier 
 the government of a tui-bulent people. The human animal, however, 
 throve. Of medimn stature and powerful mold, with black hair and 
 piercing eyes, with well-formed, agile, and sinewy limbs, endowed with 
 courao-e and other primitive virtues, the Corsican was everywhere 
 sou«-ht as a soldier, and could be found in aU 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, one of these, had in the sixteenth century incorporated Corsica 
 for a brief horn* with the dominions of the French crown, and was 
 regarded as the typical Corsican. Dark, warhke, and revengeful, he 
 had displayed a keen inteUect and fine judgment. Simple in his dress 
 and habits, imtainted 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- 
 seK and child into the hands of his enemies to betray him. Hospitable 
 and generous, but untamed and terrible ; brusk, 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 Paoh. 
 Fitted for his task by birth, by capacity, by superior training, this 
 youth was in 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 thi^ee harbor towns. 
 
 Through skilful diplomacy Paoh created a temporary breach be-
 
 C Q 
 
 w < 
 
 I- 7. 
 
 7. W 
 
 O C 
 
 Z 0. 
 
 o ? 
 
 S a 
 
 J £ •< 
 
 o d 
 
 cc"dx-.a)« 
 
 — 
 
 « i: 
 
 •^ n 
 
 
 
 tu) = 
 
 c 5 
 
 * l^ 
 
 t 
 
 2 "o 
 
 
 *J 4, C O 
 
 £ 2 " « 
 
 = E 
 
 S l- 
 
 e 4> rt 
 
 O C », 
 
 a. _o a 
 
 ■O 4) o 
 
 C J3 XI 
 
 rt rt 
 
 C rt rt 
 o :£ E 
 
 c -o ju o 
 
 a- -a 
 
 :.d&s I 
 
 s > - 
 
 
 = as -iS 
 
 " z t^ S- 
 
 ^ E 
 
 n tl *^ >< 
 
 I £ E TJ 
 
 I o •- 
 
 k. ^^ O 
 
 I- o rt rt 
 
 ' « o O i 
 
 a. xi . ~ 
 
 4> « n +- ^ 
 
 SH E .£ 
 
 - rt .o 
 
 « Z -^ c -o -a T) 
 
 rt rt 
 2 O 
 
 
 4) O. "> 
 — m ' — 
 
 
 E I -£ 
 
 J= rt « .- cfl *** 
 
 s 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 c 
 
 3 
 
 O 
 
 J 
 
 E 
 o 
 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 
 
 C 
 
 X. 
 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 V 
 
 E 
 
 ^ 
 
 < 
 
 > 
 
 ? 
 
 "rt 
 
 o 
 
 rt 
 F 
 
 J3 
 
 rt 
 
 CQ 
 
 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 c 
 
 
 
 (/) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 09 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 (A 
 
 
 <D 
 
 <u 
 
 60 
 
 c 
 
 
 
 -1 
 
 U) 
 
 C 
 
 O 
 
 j: 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 >; 
 
 X3 
 
 H 
 
 Zt 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 03 
 
 4) 
 
 "rt 
 
 
 
 c 
 c 
 
 u 
 
 OQ 
 
 
 "o 
 
 3 
 13 
 
 c: 
 rt 
 
 1 
 
 rt 
 
 > 
 
 c 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 O 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 -5 
 
 C 
 
 TI 
 
 ^ 
 
 £ 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 a> 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 4> 
 
 T 
 
 j: 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 H 
 
 
 
 Ifi 
 
 T3 
 
 ■o 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 <f 
 
 ^ 
 
 rt 
 
 j£ 
 
 4) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 b£ 
 
 *n 
 
 % 
 
 
 b£ 
 
 
 3 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 
 
 
 
 4) 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 W 
 
 
 E 
 
 j= 
 
 TS 
 
 O 
 
 h 
 
 e 
 
 > 
 
 
 Qi 
 
 
 V 
 
 X 
 
 
 
 -C 
 
 
 rt 
 
 
 rt 
 o 
 
 C 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 t> 
 
 o 
 
 E 
 
 m 
 
 Q 
 
 E r 
 
 •£ -^ ^ J
 
 o->a)?5" = 3-! 
 
 3 i 
 
 
 E 8 3 s 
 
 MM -« 
 
 ^ » « 
 
 " - i 
 
 8 : ^ 1 H- s- 
 
 3 = 
 
 3 O 
 
 c o 
 
 3 cr 
 
 en O 3 
 
 
 3 3 
 
 3 „ 3 
 
 li" 
 
 D cr 
 
 < 3- 
 
 3 3 
 
 = 31 
 
 o 2. 
 
 3 -< 
 
 « 9- 
 
 * " a ° 
 
 ■2.= 
 
 € 
 
 <» o 
 
 3- 
 
 r> 
 
 3 » 
 
 •a 3 
 
 » c 3 - 
 
 3 » 
 
 ■^3^ = 9- 
 
 c: ■< 
 
 ° 6 
 
 
 2 o. 
 
 » I 
 
 3 » 
 
 o. a. 
 
 ~i H" 
 
 < 
 
 O* 3" » » 
 
 _ <» 2 t/1 
 
 S ■" ■2 o 
 
 = ° = 3 3 Z 
 
 C « n -1 
 
 g S o »> 
 
 5 3 » 5- 
 
 cr « 3- • , 
 
 3 o- 
 
 _ » » 
 
 O 3 "I 
 
 — ' 3 Q. 
 
 « < 3 
 
 y -I w 
 
 J- ^ "-^ 
 
 » D 
 
 II 
 f ^ 
 
 u ft) 
 
 _ - 3 
 
 a a- 3 
 
 3 o- 
 
 " 3 
 
 Si. 
 
 &> — 
 
 3 3 
 
 2. ^ 
 
 ■— > M 3 
 
 ||.3 
 
 
 •^^ 2 I 00 " -^ 
 
 .5.S I i .g 
 
 H S o- 
 
 - 3 O " 
 
 O" _ -■ 3- 
 
 O 3 
 
 3 9: 
 
 S? 3 
 
 5.S-^ 8 § I 
 
 H« 
 
 3 » ° _ 
 a* yi 
 
 ct 3- !? r 
 
 <■ - cr » 
 
 — 11 
 
 
 s ^ 
 
 2
 
 INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 tween Ms oppressors and the Vatican, whicli, though soon healed, nev- 
 ertheless enabled him to recover important domains for the state, and 
 prevented the Roman hierarchy from using its enormous influence over 
 the superstitious peasantry utterly to crush the movement for their 
 emancipation. His extreme and enlightened hberahsm is admirably 
 shown by his invitation to the Jews, with their industry and steady 
 habits, to settle in Corsica, and to hve there in the fuUest enjoyment of 
 civil rights, according to the traditions of their faith and the precepts 
 of their 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 their very 
 nature for a season, began to labor with then- hands by the side of 
 their wives and hired assistants ; to agriculture, industry, and the arts 
 was given an impulse which promised to be lasting. 
 
 The rule of Paoh was not entirely without disturbance. From time 
 to time there occurred rebelhoiis 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 munnur 
 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 foi-mulated. PaoK's idea was an offensive and defensive aUi- 
 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 coidd no longer be held by its old masters. He had found 
 a facile instrument for the measures necessary to his contemplated 
 seizure of it in the son of a Corsican refugee, that later notorious But- 
 tafuoco, who, carrying water on both shoulders, had ingratiated him-
 
 g 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 official. Corsica was to he seized by 
 France as a sop to the national pride, a sUght compensation for the 
 loss of Canada, and he was willing to be the agent. On August sixth, 
 17G4, was signed a provisional agreement between Genoa and France 
 by which the former was to cede for fom- years all her rights of sover- 
 eignty, and the few places she still held in the island, in rettuii for the 
 latter's intervention. 
 
 By this time the renown of Paoh had filled all Europe. As a states- 
 man he had skilfvdly used the European entanglements both of the 
 Bom*bon-Hapsbm-g aDiance made in 1756, and of the alliances 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, fortitiide, 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. Full of sympathy 
 for his backward compatriots, he knew their weaknesses, and could 
 avoid the consequences, while he recognized at the same time their 
 viiiiues, and made the fullest use of them. Above aU, he had the wide 
 homon of a philosopher, ujiderstanding 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 gracious, so influential, 
 so far-seeing, so aU-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 acqumng either personal 
 independence or self-reUance. 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, pm-sued by an irresistible fatahty, fall again into intolerable 
 disgi-ace. For twenty-four centuries these are the scenes which recur 
 again and again; the same changes, the same misfortune, but also the 
 same courage, the same resolution, the same boldness. ... If she 
 trembled for an instant before the feudal hydi'a, it was only long enough 
 to recognize and destroy it. If, led by a natural feeling, she kissed, 
 like a slave, the chains of Rome, she was not long in breaking them. 
 If, finally, she bowed her head before the Ligurian aristocracy, if iiTe- 
 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 lines he 
 had not only shown in the constitution he framed for Corsica a his- 
 toric intuition, but also had found " m 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 enhghten- 
 ment " was so interested. Montesqiueu had used its history to illustrate 
 the loss and recovery of privilege and rights; Rousseau had thought the 
 httle 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 incoi-porated with France, 
 and not merely come under her protection, had a few months previously 
 also invited the Genevan pi'ophet to visit the island, and outline a con- 
 stitution for its people. But the snare was spread in vain. In the let- 
 ter which with pohshed phrase declined the task, on the gi'ound of its 
 writer's iU-health, stood the words : " I believe that under then- present 
 leader the Corsicans have nothing to fear from Genoa. I beheve, more- 
 over, that they have nothing to fear from the troops which France is 
 said to be transporting to their shores. What confiims 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." Paoh was 
 of the same opinion, and remained so until his rude awakening in 1768.
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 the bonapabtes in corsica 
 
 The French Occupy Corsica — Paoli Deceived — Conquest of Cor- 
 sica BY France — English Intervention Vain — Paoli in England 
 — Introduction of the French Administrative System — Paoli's 
 Policy — Origin of the Bonapartes — Carlo Maria di Buona- 
 parte — Maria Letizia Ramolino — Their Marriage and Natural- 
 ization AS French Subjects — Their Fortunes — Their Children. 
 
 Chap. I T MHE preliminary occupation of Corsica by tho French was osten- 
 1764-72 JL sibly formal. The process was contiaued, however, until the 
 formahty became a reahty, untO the fortifications of the seaport towns 
 ceded by Genoa were filled with troops. Then, for the first time, the 
 text of the convention between the two powers was commtmicated to 
 PaoU. Choiseul explained through his agent that by its first section 
 the King guaranteed the safety and hberty 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 retiim to take " aU 
 right and proper measures dictated by their sense of justice and natural 
 moderation to seciire the glory and interest of the republic of Genoa," 
 wMle in the French form they were "to yield to the Genoese aU 
 * 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 
 intei-pretation the language employed for one form put upon that in 
 which the other was written. Combining the two translations, Itahan 
 and French, of the second section, and interpreting one by the other, 
 the Genoese were still the arbiters of Corsican conduct and the prom- 
 ise of Uberty contained in the first section was worthless.
 
 O 
 O 
 
 z 
 
 ! n 
 
 i z 
 
 "u 
 
 5 O 
 .- r 
 
 1 O 
 
 > 
 
 w 
 O 
 
 z
 
 4
 
 1767] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA , 
 
 Fom- years passed : apparently they were uneventful, but in reality chap.i 
 Choisenl made good use of his time. Thi'ough Buttafuoco he was in 1764-72 
 regular communication with that minority among the Corsicans which 
 desired incorporation. By the sskilful 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. Paoli rephed 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 affau's without 
 some advantage for himself. To gain time Paoh 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 should 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 parhamentary 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 welfare, while the 
 Bourbon courts 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 empire was lost ; 
 Catherine's brilliant 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 Enghsh : 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. I cise of Sovereignty to France, and Corsica passed finally from her 
 nolii hands. Paoh appealed to the gi-eat 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 kinsfolk. . 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 then* brethren. The French troops already in the island were at 
 once reinforced, but dming 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 intei*vention, especially that 
 of England, whose hberal feeling 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 ministiy was 
 afterward recalled by France as a precedent for rendering aid to the 
 Americans in then* 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 conihct 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 from the ever more necessary defense of then' 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 life, 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 
 affau- known as the battle of Ponte-Nuovo, finally gave up the des- 
 perate cause. Exhausted, and without resources, he would have been 
 an easy prey to the French ; but they were too wise to take him 
 prisoner. On Jime thirteenth, 1769, by theii' connivance he escaped, 
 with three hundred and forty of his most devoted supporters, on 
 two Enghsh vessels, to the mamland. His goal was England. The 
 journey was a long, triumphant procession from Leghorn through 
 Gei-many and Holland; the honors showered on him by the hberals 
 in the towns through which he passed were such as are generally 
 paid to victorj', not to defeat. Kindly received and entertaiaed, he
 
 >. JZ ^ JZ 
 
 » £ 
 
 E - 
 ° M 
 
 ■>- T' X £ 
 
 3 
 
 c V X 
 
 3 O V 
 
 a c i 
 
 •S HI XI 5 
 In — J3 
 
 = E 
 
 c0 a> 
 Z J: 
 
 IS 
 
 
 ^ XI 
 
 t> ;=: 
 
 ^ £ 
 
 o to 
 
 5< 
 
 s . 
 
 rt rt c "O o 
 
 — S u. " 
 
 " S 2 « ■= 
 
 •S I . * 1 
 
 o o 
 
 C S -a X) 
 
 - « s 
 
 o. aa *^ - 
 
 fl) in n) 
 
 S u "3 
 
 "3 £>- 
 
 „ a| . 
 
 c £ rt 
 
 ■« "> ^ 
 E 
 
 E 
 UJ 
 
 E S 
 
 *- XI 
 
 
 
 o .2 .a 
 
 - E S 
 ~ u. 
 
 •S -S _^ S 0^ S ■?, 
 
 > j= 
 1/) 
 
 •i E 
 
 >, S .- _ 
 
 3 X3 ■" 
 
 E 
 
 2 ■" 
 
 o > 
 
 Si 
 
 M 4> U 
 
 S .£ O X ■ 
 
 x: £ - 
 
 ; - x: 
 
 ? w *- 
 
 ^ > 
 
 o E 
 
 into French hands, while the seat of government was moved fi-om 
 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, imtU finally the flames bm'st 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 friendly to the French. 
 Those who professed such a feeling were held in no great esteem. 
 
 It was perhaps an error that Paoli did not recognize the indissolu-
 
 23 '^- 
 
 H t « 
 
 * S. 3 — 
 
 115 5- 
 
 r ie o 
 
 I ■ a- 
 
 r'_ s 
 
 I- 3- 
 
 2 2" 
 
 ~ o c 
 
 12 2.^; 
 
 o 
 B 
 n 
 
 ■ < o 
 
 5 c 
 
 ■3 3 
 
 ft; ii. (T 
 
 = e 
 
 
 a 2. 
 
 
 5 
 
 JO — 
 
 2 = 
 
 X 
 
 ST ^ 3" 
 
 s-g- •§ 
 
 - i"^ 
 
 E -. ? ? 
 
 5P <0 S) W 
 
 3 =r 
 
 3 
 
 u 
 
 C (D 
 
 a 
 en 
 
 •? i 
 
 2. 3 
 
 c as.? 
 
 — -*' CL -- X f: 
 
 t' 3 rr. •-»■ 
 
 c a. ^ rr I 
 
 S 3 S "= ■ 
 
 O 3- 
 
 ri X ft 
 
 St =■ 
 
 - . ft; ^' ^ 
 
 5 5 '^ 
 
 — TO — N X 
 
 1^ 
 
 fl 
 
 _S sr 
 
 o c 
 
 o 
 
 ^ ff. » — 
 
 c X « 
 
 3 
 Q. 
 
 ,; ;i N S M 
 — ? n O C 
 ,„ S " <« •^ 
 
 '^ * 2 o ^ 
 
 r S.I '^ *" 
 
 a a' ° 
 3 g w 
 
 ■op" 
 
 C 0) 
 
 S. 3 
 a o 
 
 3 I7Q 
 
 ft; :t- 
 
 DO). 
 
 r^ti- °,- 
 
 •a 
 •o 
 
 1 ftj 
 
 - n < 
 
 (A rt- (S > 
 
 3- 
 O 
 
 3 S 
 
 O 
 
 3 ** 
 
 ; =■ < o « 
 
 ' S " 2 3 
 !• c «■ 2. 
 
 ; 2.'-: c 3 
 
 ~ J! S 
 
 ft; 3! ^ ^ 
 
 
 £3' = 
 
 o 
 
 v; »■ 
 
 3" 3- 
 
 2 o- 
 
 5 a- 
 
 eg = 
 S'" - 
 
 2- Pi 
 
 o; 
 
 3 ' 
 
 S s 3 
 
 , fcj. CO o 
 
 •g.: 
 
 o "B 
 
 3 
 P 3 
 
 O 7Q 
 
 TO 3 i J 
 
 5: a _ 
 
 n 70 o. 
 
 T3 3- 
 
 I 70 ^ 
 
 S- S; > ^. I" 
 
 "^.^--f ^ s- 
 
 5 70 ft; c 
 
 = ■ E. - a- 
 
 ?■ pT ft; 
 
 « 2. Si S 
 
 ^ ft 
 
 ° 3 
 
 o c 
 3 
 
 2 3 
 
 ft; ? 
 3 S- 
 
 1 
 
 3 5 
 
 : « S 
 
 2. 3 
 
 < "2. 
 
 W 3 
 
 %. o 
 
 l/i 3 
 
 O -I 
 
 3- «• 
 
 B) 
 W 
 
 C/) N 
 
 a-.? 
 
 ?. o 3 
 to X n 
 
 > 3 
 
 a 
 
 c o 
 
 Eg 
 
 o 
 
 — ■ w 
 
 ' 3^ re 
 
 ■ rt 3 
 
 a 3 
 
 3- > 
 
 ag. 
 
 < 
 
 ft; 
 
 K' =• 2 S =• C 
 
 3- St 
 
 
 p' ^ V '•< 
 
 . c 
 
 5^ 3 
 
 3 
 
 rt- P 
 
 a 3 
 c 
 
 rt-&t^Utre«*<3aO 
 
 "I" 
 
 (B O » 
 
 O O -; 
 
 =• » 3* 
 
 TO P 
 
 3 -n ts 
 
 re re 
 
 C 3 
 
 ■" = i 
 
 5:3 2 
 
 * a 
 
 2 p 
 
 M n H Hr- 54^ 
 
 P 3- 
 
 cr r. 
 
 
 «■ 2: ' 
 3- re^ . 
 
 P '■< re - 
 
 3 _. "= 
 
 5 3- ■' ^ 
 
 .< = ° 
 
 O re 3."C.' 
 
 •<" p 
 
 3 3 r* 
 
 re — - 
 
 -. — 3- i 
 
 ^ tn re 
 
 p " 
 , p _. 
 
 ■^ ^_ W) 
 
 i 2". p 
 
 ? 2 o 
 
 ^ .- o ^ 
 
 d re ai El; 
 O C P c ? 
 
 3 S 2.-0 
 
 -, 'I "3 
 O 
 
 3 " a"< 
 
 ■ ,» 2" 3- ? 
 ■1 ^ p re 
 
 . p 2 
 
 z s S s 
 
 . O rt- 
 
 "3—0! 
 
 "2. P 31 
 
 re 
 
 3 2.?a 
 
 r^ re 
 
 3- y 
 
 ^= s 
 
 re ri S Sf-: 
 
 :, n 
 
 3 a. ; 
 
 p .-' 3 
 
 = 05 
 -» _. 3 
 3 — 
 
 '?! a 
 
 re ^ 
 
 3- 
 
 re o 
 
 a* re 
 re r? 
 
 IS"" 
 
 3- S ? 
 
 re S '^ 
 -" 3 = 
 
 3 g to' 
 
 o w 
 
 en X 
 ■< » 
 
 !!! IS 
 
 s; i' 
 
 p D. 
 3 
 
 o. q- 
 
 re « 
 3 
 
 '^ „ O 
 a 3- "^ 
 = 55- = 
 re 
 
 p" X 
 
 _ S- p 
 
 3^ r^ 3 
 
 p re 3 
 
 ^ n re 
 
 3. si 
 
 rt 
 
 P 
 
 ^^ S fti (is "^ 
 
 rt 2: "" ^ "-^ 
 
 O 2 
 
 v: 3- 
 
 (/; p re 
 * 3 "" 
 
 = --e X' 
 
 p 
 
 re 
 
 I V -a 
 
 re 
 
 3 3- 
 
 re re 2) 
 
 •^ 2. £: 
 
 g re 
 
 p re 
 
 =S Si =. 
 
 2R 
 
 re a- - e 
 
 > p 
 
 3 3- 
 
 § ^' 
 P 
 
 3- j» ft, I 
 3^ -i i 
 
 are* 
 
 ►J § p 
 
 ^^ re ■" 
 O-S P 
 
 re 
 
 an' 
 
 c P -1 
 
 N (A VI 
 
 3 X, 
 
 » p -, 
 
 re {/I p 
 
 O oT 3 
 
 <^70 
 
 § 5- 
 
 S -= 
 3-5. 
 
 "la 
 
 I' i 
 » • w 
 
 - 5 S' 
 
 o » E. 
 
 CO _^ ^^ 
 
 £ m 5- 
 
 ^ C 3 
 
 « 3 'S 
 
 5 a 
 
 ° z 
 
 2 ° 
 
 heroic resistance. It was only after months of devastating, heart- 
 rending, hopeless warfare, that their leader, utterly routed in the 
 affau- known as the hattle of Ponte-Nuovo, finally gave up the des- 
 perate cause. Exhausted, and without resources, he would have been 
 an easy prey to the French; but they were too wise to take him 
 prisoner. On June tbirteenth, 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 
 journey was a long, triumphant procession from Leghorn through 
 Gennany and Hohand; the honors showered on bim by the hberals 
 in the towns through wbich he passed were such as are generally 
 paid to victory, not to defeat. Kindly received and entertained, he
 
 1770] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA 
 
 11 
 
 lived for the next thirty years in London, the recipient from the Chap.i 
 government of twelve hundi'ed pounds a year as a pension. i7W^72 
 
 The year 1770 saw the King of France apparently in peaceful pos- 
 session of that Corsican sovereignty which he claimed to have bouglit 
 from Genoa. His administration was soon and easily inaugui'ated, and 
 there was nowhere any interference from foreign powers. Philan- 
 thropic England had provided for Paoh, but would do no more, for she 
 was busy at home with a transfoi-mation of her parties. The old 
 Whig party was disintegrating ; the new Toryism was steadily assert- 
 ing itself in the passage of contemptuous measm-es for oppressing the 
 American colonies. She was, moreover, soon to be so absorbed in her 
 great struggle on both sides of the globe that interest in Corsica and 
 the MediteiTanean 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, fi-om 
 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 fi-om 
 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 ra the subsequent agitations the patriots won over by 
 France either lost influence with their followers, or ceased to sup- 
 port the government. Old animosities were everywhere revived and 
 strengthened, imtd finally the flames burst forth in open robeUion. 
 They were, of course, suppressed, but the work was done with a savage 
 thoroughness the memoiy of which long survived to prevent the for- 
 mation in the island of a natm-al sentiment friendly to the French. 
 Those who professed such a feeling were held in no gi'eat esteem. 
 
 It was perhaps an eiTor that Paoli did not recognize the indissolu-
 
 12 
 
 Chap. 1 
 
 1764-72 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [1769 
 
 ble bonds of race and speech as powerfully di-awing Corsica to Italy, 
 tlisregard 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 
 Itahans and those of the continent. When we regard Sardinia, how- 
 ever, time seems to have justified him. There is little 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 PaoU's 
 coimtry 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 fi-om the course of gTcat 
 events, from the number of the mighty agents in history. Curiously 
 longing in his exile for a second Sampiero to have wielded the physical 
 power while he himself should have become a Lycurgus, Paoh's wish 
 was to be half-way fulfilled in that a wanior greater than Sampiero 
 was about to be born in Corsica, one who should, by the very union 
 so long resisted, come, as the master of France, to wield a power 
 strong enough to shatter both tyi-annies 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 
 XTV., thought to be the Iron Mask, nor imperial from 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 ia then- substantial possessions of land, and 
 partly thi-ough the ofl&cial positions which they held m the city of 
 Ajaccio. Their sympathies as lowlanders and tovraspeople were with
 
 1771] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA 
 
 13 
 
 the country of their origin and with Genoa. Dm-ing the last years chap. i 
 of the sixteenth centuiy that repubhc authorized Jerome, then head 116^12 
 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 
 imtil 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 nobihty. It 
 was Joseph, the grandsire of Napoleon, who received them ; soon 
 afterward he annoimced that the coat-armor of the family was "la 
 com-onne de compte, I'ecusson fendu par deux barres et deux etoilles, 
 avec les lettres B. P. qui signifient Buona Parte, le fond des armes 
 rougeatres, les barres et les etoilles bleu, les ombrements et la couronne 
 jaime ! " Translated as UteraUy 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 yeUow ! " In heraldic parlance this would be : 
 Gules, two bends sinister between two estoiles azure 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 Ai-ch- 
 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 hues of such a 
 nan'ative, 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 all the strength they could 
 from a bygone grandeiu", easily forgotten by their neighbors in theii' 
 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 pm-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 according to a custom common among Corsicans of his class, de- 
 n6i-T2 termuied to take his degi-ee at Pisa, and in November, 1769, he was 
 made doctor of laws by that university. Many pleasant and probably 
 ti-ue anecdotes have been told to illustrate the good-fellowship of the 
 yoimg advocate among his corm'ades while a student. There are like- 
 wise narratives of his persuasive eloquence and of his influence as a 
 patriot, but these sound mythical. In short, an organized effort of 
 sycophantic admirers, who would, if possible, illuminate the whole 
 family m 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 Ramolino. 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 weU born, she was of 
 peasant nature to the last day of her long life — hardy, imsentimental, 
 frugal, and sometimes unscrupulous. Yet for all that, the hospitahty 
 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 first army of occupation. There was long 
 afterward a mahcious tradition that the French general was Napo- 
 leon's father. The morals of Letizia di Buonaparte, hke 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 sufficiently 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 Juno 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 pan- resided in Corte, waiting
 
 1772] THE BONAPARTES IN CORSICA 15 
 
 until events should permit tbeii" retiu'n to Ajaccio. Naturally of an Chap, i 
 indolent temperament, the husband, though he had at first been di-avm 1704-72 
 into the daring enterprises of Paoh, 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 fm'ther 
 resistance, they were anxious to accept the new government, to return 
 to theii- homes, and to resimie the peaceful conduct of their affau'S. 
 It was this precipitate natiirahzation 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 born in Ajaccio. 
 
 The resources of the Buonapartes, as they stiU wrote themselves, 
 were small, although theii* 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 secm-e 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 wiU, the bequest was void, for the fortime was to fall in 
 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 fortime 
 in weary litigation to recover the property. Nothing daimted, Charles 
 settled down to pursue the same phantom, virtually depending for a 
 livelihood 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 sturdy mother was most prohfic. Her eldest chUd, born in 
 1765, was a son who died in infancy; in 1767 was bom a daughter,
 
 16 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [1772 
 
 Chap. I Maria- Anna, destined to the same fate; in 1768 a son, known later 
 i7M^7-' as Joseph, but baptized as Nabuhone; in 1769 the great son, Napo- 
 leone. Nine other childi'en were the fruit of the same wedlock, and 
 six of them — three sons, Lucien, Louis, and Jerome, and three daugh- 
 ters, EUsa, Pauhne, and CaroUne — survived to share their brother's 
 greatness. Charles himself, like his short-hved ancestors, — of whom 
 five had died \\dthin a century, — scarcely reached middle age, dying ia 
 his thirty-ninth year. Lsetitia, hke the stout Corsican that she was, 
 lived to the ripe age of eighty-six ia the fuU enjoyment of her facul- 
 ties, known to the world as Madame Mere, a sobriquet devised by her 
 great son to distiaguish her as the mother of the Napoleons.
 
 IN uEtIX 1/t. \lLLt., AJAUCiU, UUKKIUA 
 
 ENGRAVED BY R. A, MULLER 
 
 CARLO BUONAPARTE 
 
 FATHER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 FROM THK TAINTINQ 1!V filRODKT
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 napoleon's berth and infanct 
 
 Birth of Nabulione or Joseph — Date of Napoleon's Birth — The 
 Name Napoleon — Corsican Conditions as Influencing Napo- 
 leon's Chaeacter — His Early Education — Influenced by Tra- 
 ditions Concerning Paoli — Charles de Buonaparte as a Suitor 
 FOR Court Favor — Napoleon Appointed to Brienne — His Ef- 
 forts TO Leaen 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 adroit chap. n 
 that suspicions of shiftiness in small matters were developed later n^n 
 on, and these led to an over-close scrutiny of their acts. The opinion 
 has not yet disappeared among reputable authorities that Nabulione 
 and Napoleone were one and the same, born on January seventh, 1768, 
 Joseph being really the younger, born on the date assigned to his dis- 
 tinguished brother. The earhest 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 NabuUone on January seventh, 1768, and to his baptism on Januaiy 
 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 bu-th as Febniary eighth, 1768. 
 Moreover, in the marriage contract of Joseph, witnesses testify to his 
 having been bom at Ajaccio, not at Corte.
 
 18 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 1-10 
 
 Chat, n But there are facts of greater weight on the other side. In the first 
 
 17(5^79 place, the dociunentary CA-idence 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 Napoleone'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 coiTCct date. This explodes the story 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 
 during Napoleon's lifetime. 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 like 
 opinion; Napoleon himself, in an autograph paper still existing, and 
 written in the handwi'iting of his youth, thrice gives the date of his 
 birth as August fifteenth, 1769. If the substitution occuiTed, 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 called 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 Nabulione, Nabuhon, 
 Napoleone, Napoleon. Contemporary documents give also the form 
 Napoloeone, and his marriage certificate uses Napohone. On the Ven- 
 dome Cohmm stands Napoho. Imp., which might be read either Na- 
 pohoni Imperatori or Napoho Imperatori. In either case we have
 
 ^T. 1-10] NAPOLEON'S BIRTH AND INFANCY 19 
 
 indications of a new form, Napolion or Napolius. The latter, which chap. n 
 was more probably intended, would seem to be an attempt to recall iies-ia 
 Neopolus, a recognized saint's name. The absence of the name Napo- 
 leon from the calendar of the Latin Chm"ch was considered a serious 
 reproach to its bearer by those who hated him, and then* 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 vii-tues of the holy man for whom it was 
 named. The irreverent school-boys of Autun and Brienne gave the 
 nickname "straw nose" — paille-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 repubUcan and patriot was Napoleone 
 Buonaparte; the French repubhcan. Napoleon Buonaparte; the vic- 
 torious general, Bonaparte ; the emperor. Napoleon. There was like- 
 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, 
 constd, and emperor abandoned the faii'ly 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 countiy. 
 
 Stormy indeed were his nation and his birthtime. He himself 
 said: "I was born while my country was dying. Thirty thousand 
 French, vomited on our shores, drowning the throne of hberty in 
 waves of blood — such was the horrid sight which first met my view. 
 The cries of the dying, the gi'oans of the oppressed, tears of despair, 
 suiTounded my cradle at my bu'th." 
 
 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 truthfully pictm-e the circumstances under 
 which he was conceived. There is a late myth which recalls in de- 
 tail that when the pains of partmition 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 AchiUes, the prodigy
 
 20 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^T. 1-10 
 
 Chap, n biiTsting SO impetuously into the world. By the man hunself his na- 
 176^-79 tm-e was always represented as the product of his hour, 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 cu-cumstances of his childhood in conversations with the 
 attendant physician, a Corsican like himself: "Nothing 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 telling tales about him almost 
 before he could collect his wits. I had to be quick : my mama Letizia 
 would have restrained my warlike 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 fi'iend 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 Giacominetta 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 som-ces it is substantially Napoleon's own account of him- 
 self in that last period of self-examination when, to him, as to other 
 men, consistency seems the highest virtue. He was, doubtless, striving
 
 TYruOIIAMlUJ itOI fSOli, \ArAliuN A CO, i'API? 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE IN 178=), AGED SIXTEEN. 
 
 FHOM SSETCH MADE 8V \ COMflAOE , FOKMERr.V IN TUt ML'SEE DES SOl'VER Vl.\?, NJW (N THE I.OI'VUE.
 
 ^T, 1-10] NAPOJLiEON'S BIRTH AND INFANCY 21 
 
 to compound with his conscience by emphasizing the adage that the Chap. n 
 child is father to the man — that he was bom what he had always been. n^79 
 
 In 1775 Corsica had been for six years ia the possession of France, 
 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 distm*bance, even so shght a one as 
 lay in the disaffection of the few scattered nationahsts, and ia the 
 unconcealed distrust which these felt for their conforming fellow-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 
 exile was not to be moved. From time to time, therefore, there was 
 thi-oughout 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 
 PaoU and his struggles for hberty which were still told among the 
 people. 
 
 As to Charles de Buonaparte, some things he had hoped for from 
 annexation were secured. His nobility and ofl&cial rank were safe ; he 
 was in a fair way to reach even higher distinction. But what were 
 honors without wealth"? The domestic meaus were constantly grow- 
 ing smaller, while expenditures increased with the accumulating digni- 
 ties and ever-growing family. He had made his humble 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 disgraced and banished, but the propei"ty 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 secured 
 from the Kingl His friends, Greneral Marbeuf in particular, were of 
 the opinion that he could profit to a certain extent at least by securing 
 for his children an education at the expense of the state. The fii'st 
 steps were soon taken, and in 1776 the formal supplication for the two 
 eldest boys was forwarded to Paris. Immediately the proof of foiu* 
 noble descents was demanded. The movement of letters was slow, 
 that of officials even slower, and the delays in secm'ing copies and 
 authentications of the various documerts were long and vexatious.
 
 22 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 1-10 
 
 Chap, h Meantime Choiseiil had been disgraced, and on May tenth, 1774, the 
 
 nesl-D old King had died ; Louis XVI. now reigned. The inertia which marked 
 the briUiaut 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 reahty 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 from each of the three estates, — 
 nobles, ecclesiastics, and burgesses, — 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 life that during their sojoiu-n 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 joimiey is probably imtrue. It was really to Marbeuf's in- 
 fluence that the final partial success of Chai'les 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 conciliate 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 Brieune, 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,
 
 ^T.l-lOJ , NAPOLEON'S BIRTH AND INFANCY 23 
 
 and for three months the young Napoleone had been trained in the use chap. n 
 of French. Prodigy as he was, his progress had been slow, the diffi- itcs^to 
 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 futiu'e schoolmates at Brienne. There were one 
 hundred and fifty of them, although the arrangement and theory of 
 the institution had contemplated only one himdred and twenty, of 
 whom half were to be foundationers. The instructors were Minim 
 priests, and the life was as severe as it could be made with such a 
 clientage 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 nobility was im.known and unrecognized in France, and whose 
 means were of the scantiest. 
 
 It appears that the journey from Corsica through Florence and 
 Marseilles had abeady wrought 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, thoughtful 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 aU inhabitants of Corsica, in order to exasperate him. 
 " If they [the French] had been but four to one," was the cahn, 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 hke to emulate him." The description of the 
 imtamed faun as he then appeared is not flattering: his complexion 
 sallow, his hair stiff, his figm-e shght, his expression lusterless, his 
 manner insignificant. Moreover, he spoke broken French with an 
 Italian accent. 
 
 During his son's preparatory studies at Autim the father had been 
 busy at Versailles with further suppHcations— among them one for
 
 24 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 [^T. 1-10 
 
 Chap, n a supplement from the royal purse to his scanty pay as delegate, and 
 17^79 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 arrived, 
 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.^TITIA RAMOLINO 
 
 WIFE OF CARLO BUONAPARTE ; MOTHER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 KJtOM THK VOHTHAIT IIANOIMCI IS TIIK ItOOSI ill.- HIS IIIKTII AT AJAICKJ
 
 CHAPTER in 
 
 napoleon's school-days 
 
 Mtt.t taky Schools in Fkance — Napoleon's Initiation into the Lite 
 or Bkienne — His Powerful Friends — His Reading and Other 
 Avocations — His Studies — His Conduct and Scholarship — The 
 Change in His Lite Plan — His Influence in His Family — His 
 Choice of the Artillery Service. 
 
 IT was an old charge that the sons of poor gentlemen destined to be chap. in 
 artillery officers were bred like princes. Brienne, with nine other 1779-84 
 similar academies, had been bnt 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 afterward reopened as a finishing- 
 school. Various rehgious orders were put in charge of the new col- 
 leges, with instructions to secure simphcity 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 courtliness and 
 conventional behavior flomished as never before. Money and pohshcd 
 manners, therefore, were the things most needed to secure kind treat- 
 ment for an entering boy. These were exactly what the yoimg foim- 
 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 • [^t. 10-15 
 
 Chap, ra of liis mild and unemotional brother, whose easy-going nature could 
 1779^4 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 firmly, their inexphcable 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 bm-st into bitter revihags; for this he was compelled to undergo 
 chastisement. Brienne was a nm*sery for the qualities first developed 
 at Autun. Dark, soUtary, and untamed, the new scholar assumed the 
 indifference of wounded vanity, despised all pastimes, and found de- 
 light either in books or in scornful exasperation of his comrades when 
 compelled to associate mth them. There were quarrels and bitter 
 fights, in which the Ishmaelite's hand was against every other. Some- 
 times in a kind of frenzy he inflicted serious wounds on his fellow- 
 students. At length even the teachers mocked him, and deprived him 
 of his position as captain in the school battahon. 
 
 The climax of the miserable business was reached when to a taunt 
 that his ancestry was nothing, "his father a wretched tipstaff," Napo- 
 leon rephed by challenging his tormentor to fight a duel. For this 
 offense he was put in confinement while the instigator went unpun- 
 ished. It was by the intervention of Marbeuf that his young friend 
 was at length released. Bruised and wounded in spirit, the boy would 
 gladly have shaken the dust of Brienne from his feet, but necessity 
 forbade. Either from some direct communication Napoleon had with 
 his protector, or through a dramatic but unauthenticated letter purport- 
 ing to have been wiitten by him to his friends in Corsica and still in 
 existence, Marbeuf learned that the chiefest cause of all the bitterness 
 was the inequality between the pocket allowances of the young French 
 nobles and that of the young Corsican. The kindly general displayed 
 the hberahty of a family friend, and gladly increased the boy's gratu- 
 ity, administering at the same time a smart rebuke to him for his 
 readiness to take offense. He is hkewise thought to have introduced 
 his yoimg charge to Mme. Lomenie de Brienne, whose mansion was 
 near by. This noble woman, it is asserted, became a second mother to 
 the lonely child: his vacations and hohdays were passed with her; her
 
 ^T.10-15] NAPOLEON'S SCHOOL-DAYS 27 
 
 tenderness softened Ms rude natm-e, the more so as she knew the vahie of Cuap. hi 
 tips to a school-boy, and administered them hberally though judiciously. i779-»4 
 
 Nor was this the only Ught among the shadows in the pietiu-e 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 himself a retreat, the solitude of which was 
 insm-ed 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 retu'e in the fan- weather of all seasons, with whatever 
 books he could secure. 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 France. "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 degi-adation 
 by the school authorities at once created a sentiment in his favor 
 among his companions, which not only coimteracted the effect of the 
 punishment, but gave him a sort of compensating leadership in their 
 games. The weU-known episode of the snow forts illustrates the bent 
 of his natui'e. When driven by storms to abandon his garden haunt, and 
 to associate in the public hall with the other boys, he often instituted 
 sports in which opposing camps of Grreeks 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 th^ aptitude, such the resources, 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 polished only by diamond
 
 28 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 10-15 
 
 Chap, ui dust. Whatever the iiide processes were to which this rude nature was 
 1779^ subjected, the result was remarkablCo Latin he dishked, and treated 
 with disdaioful neglect. His particular aptitudes were for mathemat- 
 ics and for histoiy, iu which he made fair progress. In all du-ections, 
 however, he was quick ia his perceptions; the rapid maturrag 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 
 foimd in a letter wiitten, probably in 178-i, when he was fifteen years 
 old, to an uncle, — possibly Pesch, — 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 children 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 httle 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 hving 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 
 origui 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 speUed; 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-
 
 o 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 3: 
 
 W 
 
 z 
 
 o 
 
 G 
 
 < 
 
 > 
 G 
 
 > 
 H 
 
 H 
 
 m 
 en 
 
 n 
 a 
 o 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 2 
 
 :?^ 
 
 tT)
 
 ^T. 10-15] NAPOLEON'S SCHOOL-DAYS 
 
 29 
 
 guished, wrote an emphatic recommendation of the lad, couched iu the Chap. iii 
 following terms: "M. de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born August fifteenth, ni^si 
 1769. Height fom- feet, ten inches, ten lines [about five feet three 
 inches EngUsh]. Constitution: excellent health, docile disposition, 
 mild, straightforward, thoughtful. Conduct most satisfactory; has 
 always been distinguished for his apphcation in mathematics. He is 
 fauiy well acquainted with history and geography. He is weak in all 
 accomplishments — drawing, dancing, music, and the Uke. 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 KeraUo, who was a powerful friend, died almost immediately. 
 
 By means of fm-ther genuflections, supphcations, and wearisome 
 persistency, Charles de Buonapai-te 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 pursuit of the ambitious 
 schemes rendered necessary by that wrong, the poor diplomatist was 
 now near the end of his resom-ces and his energy. Napoleon had 
 been destined for the navy. Thi'ough 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, imsparing 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 friends. But the most
 
 OQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 10-15 
 
 CB..P. m striking fact, in view of subsequent developments, is a request for 
 1779^ Boswell's "History of Corsica," and any other histories or memou-s 
 relating to the island. "I will bring them back when I return, 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 
 pluming 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 Ub- 
 erty, 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. 
 
 Four days after writing he passed his examination a second time 
 before the new inspector, announced his choice of the artillery 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 artillery seems to have been reached by a 
 simple process of exclusion; the infantry was too unintellectual and 
 indolent, the cavalry too expensive and aristocratic; between the 
 engineers and the artillery there was little 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 first 
 in the fatal letter he had received announcing the family straits, and 
 the necessary renunciation of the navy. On the certificate which was 
 sent up with Napoleon from Brienne was the note: "Character master- 
 ful, imperious, and headstrong."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 in pakis and valence 
 
 Inteoduction to Pakis — Death of Chaeles de Buonapakte — Napo- 
 leon's PovEKTY — His Chakactek at the Close of His School 
 Yeaes — Appointed Lieutenant in the Regiment of La Feee — 
 Demoealization of the Feench Army — The Men in the Ranks 
 — Napoleon as a Beau — Retuen to Study — His Peofession and 
 Vocation. 
 
 IT was on October thirtietli, 1784, that Napoleon went to Paris, He chap. iv 
 was in the sixteenth year of his age, entirely ignorant of what were 1784-86 
 then called the "humanities," but well trained in histoiy, geogi-aphy, 
 and the mathematical sciences. His knowledge, Kke 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 history than about its philosophy. His defiant scom 
 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 walls of the schooh 
 even as is claimed, for revision by a former teacher, Berton. Never- 
 theless he found almost, if not altogether, for the first time a real fi-iend 
 in the person of Des Mazis, a youth noble by birth and nature, who 
 was assigned to him as a pupH-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, fv Although bom in Corsica, she belonged to a branch of the noble Greek 
 1784^6 family of the Comneni. In view of the stringent regulations both of 
 the mihtary 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 fortunes, for it seemed as if 
 with the father must go all the family expectations. The circum- 
 stances were a fit close to the hfe thus ended. Feehng his health some- 
 what restored, and despamng of further progress in the settlement of 
 his weU-wom claim by legal methods, he had determined on stiU 
 another joiumey of solicitation 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 vam,* and, after some weeks, 
 on Febiniary twenty-fourth the heartbroken father breathed his last. 
 Having learned to hate the Jesuits, he had become indifferent to all 
 rehgion, and is said by some to have repelled with his last exertions the 
 kindly services of Fesch, who was now a fi'ocked priest, and had has- 
 tened to his brother-in-law's bedside to offer the final consolations of 
 the Chm'ch to a dying man. Others declare that he turned again to the 
 solace of rehgion, 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 untiring 
 energy in their behalf, and truly loved him. He left them penniless 
 and ia debt, but he died in their sei'vice, and they sincerely mourned 
 for him. Napoleon's letter to his mother is dignified and affectionate, 
 refening in a becoming spu-it to the support her children owed her. 
 As if to show what a thorough child he still 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 aU the 
 correspondence of the young men. 
 
 Some time before, General Marbeuf had man-ied, and the pecimiary 
 supphes to his boy friend seem after that event to have stopped. 
 Mme. de Buonaparte was left with four infant children, the youngest,
 
 DBAWIHO MADE FOB THE CESOTIBY CO. 
 
 ZNOBArrD liT M, H.UDEB 
 
 BONAPARTE ATTACKING SNOW FORTS AT THE SCHOOL OF BRIENNE 
 
 KROM THK l>BAWINO BY LOl'lS I,OKB
 
 ^T. 15-17] IN PARIS AND VALENCE 33 
 
 Jerome, but three months old. Their gi-eat-imcle, Lucien, the arch- chap. rv 
 deacon, was kind, and Joseph, abandoning all his ambitious, returned iim-bo 
 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 himseK with passionate industry to examining 
 the works of Rousseau, the poison of whose pohtical doctrines instilled 
 itself with fiery and grateful stings into the thin, cold blood of the 
 unhappy cadet. In many respects the instruction he received was ad- 
 mirable, and there is a traditional anecdote that he was the best mathe- 
 matician in the school. But on the whole he profited httlc 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 ah his comrades he 
 made but one friend, while two of them became in later hfe his embit- 
 tered foes. Phehppeaux thwarted him at Acre and Picot de Peccadeuc 
 became Schwarzenberg's most trusted 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 quenilous and exasper- 
 ating inmate, the authorities of the miUtary 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 friend Des 
 Mazis, who was fifty-sixth. His appointment, therefore, was due to an 
 entire absence of rivahy, the yoimg 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-porting to 
 be an official certificate given to the young officer on leavuig, he is 
 characterized as reserved and industrious, preferring study to any kind 
 of amusement, dehghting in good authors, dihgent in the abstract sci- 
 ences, caring little for the others, thoroughly trained in mathematics 
 and geography ; quiet, fond of sohtude, capricious, haughty, extremely 
 inclined to egotism, speaking little, energetic in his repUes, prompt and 
 severe in repartee ; having much seK-esteem ; ambitious and aspiring
 
 34 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 15-17 
 
 Chap. TV to any height : " the youth is worthy of protection," There is, un- 
 n&i-s6 foi-tunately, no doeiunentary evidence to sustain the genuineness of 
 this report ; but whatever its origin, it is so nearly contemporary that 
 it probably contains some tiiith. 
 
 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 yoimg Corsican would be nearer his 
 native land, and might, perhaps, be detached for service 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 resom-ce being the two hundred 
 hvres provided by the funds of the school for each of its pupils imtil 
 they reached the gi-ade of captain. It was probably, and according to 
 the generally received account, at his comrade's expense, and in his 
 company, that he traveled. Their slender funds were exhausted by 
 boyish dissipation at Lyons, and they measured the long leagues thence 
 to their destination on foot, arriving at Valence early in November. 
 
 The gi'owth of absolutism in Europe had been due at the outset to 
 the employment of standing armies by the kings, and the consequent 
 alliance between the crown, which was the paymaster, and the people, 
 who furnished the soldiery. There was constant conflict between the 
 crown and the nobOity concerning privilege, constant friction between 
 the nobility and the people in the survivals of feudal relation. This 
 stiu'dy 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 virtues 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 consoUdation of classes in an 
 old monarchical society, it had come to pass that, under the prevaOing 
 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 
 refonn — "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 already had a glimpse at the character of the officers.
 
 ^T. 15-17] IN PARIS AND VALENCE 
 
 35 
 
 Their fii'st thought was position and pleasure, duty and the practice Chap. iv 
 of theii- profession being considerations of almost vanishing inipoi-- ithT-so 
 tance. Things were quite as bad in the central administration. Neither 
 the organization, nor the equipment, nor the commissaiiat, was in con- 
 dition to insure 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 recmits, "rackets 
 tAvice, and the rest of the time skittles, prisoners' base, and drill. 
 Pleasiu^es reign, every man has the highest pay, and all are well 
 treated." Buonaparte's pay was eleven hundred and twenty livi-es a 
 year; his necessary expenses for board and lodging were seven hun- 
 dred and twenty, leaving less than thirty-five Uatcs, 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 officer in a like situation. 
 
 During the first months of his garrison service, Buonaparte, as an 
 apprentice, saw arduous service in matters of detail, but he threw off 
 entirely the darkness and reserve of his character, taking a full 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 compai'ative emancipation from the arrogance and 
 slights to which he had hitherto been subject, good news from the family 
 in Corsica, whose hopes as to the inheritance were once more high — aU 
 these elements combined to intoxicate for a time the boy of sixteen. 
 The strongest wiU cannot forever repress the exuberance of budding 
 manhood. There were balls, and with them the first experience of 
 gallantry. The young officer even took dancing-lessons. Moreover, in 
 the drawing-rooms of the Abbe of Saint-Ruff and his fi-iends, 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 
 Monseigneur de Marbeuf, the bishop of Autun, that he owed his 
 wai-m reception. The acquaintances there made were with persons of 
 local consequence, who in later years reaped a rich harvest for then* 
 condescension to the young stranger. Of his feUow-officers 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 comrades had 
 grown strong upon him.
 
 36 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 15-17 
 
 Chap. IV The period of pleasure was not long. It is impossible to judge 
 
 n&T-se 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 return 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 
 iiTegtdar 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 carried 
 through with unbending rigor to the end. Whether Buonaparte con- 
 sciously ordered the course of his study and reading or not, there is 
 imity in it from first to last. 
 
 After the first loide beginnings there were two nearly parallel hnes 
 in his work. The fii-st 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 learn. 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 spell 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 accomplishments 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 ia the schools — the art of politics.
 
 ..^..,r....r..m-I^^^g»/vnllk,/M 
 
 ^^ tmm/////////y^y/^^''< 
 
 III r I n 
 
 DUAWINU MAUK KnK THK • t - 
 
 ICNtiaAVKn BT U. HAIMKH 
 
 BONAPARTE AT THE MILITARY SCHOOL, PARIS, 1 784 
 
 THK DRAWINU HV ANI»K* CAKTAIONK
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 pkivate study and gaerison lite 
 
 Napoleon as a Student of Politics — Nature of Rousseau's Po- 
 litical Teachings — The Abbe Raynal — Napoleon Aspires to 
 BE the Historian of Corsica — Napoleon's First Loye — 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 1786^7 
 have been, the child of his surroundings and of his time. The study of 
 pohtics was his own notion; the matter and method of the study were 
 conditioned hy his relations to the thought of Europe in the last cen- 
 tury. He evidently hoped that his military and pohtical attainments 
 would one day meet in the culmination of a grand career. Those years 
 of his life which appear like a reahzati©n of the plan were, in fact, the 
 least successful. The unsoundness of his political instnictors, and the 
 temper of the age, combined to thwart this ambitious piu'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 he doubly drawn to him 
 by his interest in that romantic island. Sitting at the feet of such 
 a teacher, a yoimg scholar would learn through 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 would see theii* disastrous uiflu- 
 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. AU these lessons would have 
 
 37
 
 38 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 17-18 
 
 Chap. V a value not to be exaggerated. On the other hand, when it came to the 
 i78&^- 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 pohtical structm^e a fiction of the most dangerous 
 kind. Buonaparte in his notes, written as he read, shows his contempt 
 for it in an admu-able refutation of the fundamental error of Eousseau 
 as to the state of natm-e 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 from 
 the people, not because of their natm-e and their historical organization 
 into famihes and commimities, but because of an agi'eement 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 doctidnaire 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 History of the EstabHshments 
 and Commerce of the Em'opeans in the Two Indies " is a miscellany of 
 extracts fi-om many sources, and of short essays by Raynal's briUiant 
 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 
 thu'd 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 exUe.
 
 ^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 friendship of Mine, du Colombier, a patroness of the 1786-87 
 young heutenant, communication was opened between the great man 
 and his aspmng 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 learn. 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. I inclose chapters one and two of a history of Cor- 
 sica, with an outhne of the rest. K you approve, I will go on ; if you 
 advise me to stop, I will go no fiu'ther." The young historian's letter 
 teems with bad spelling and bad gi-ammar, but it is saturated with 
 the spmt 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 monumental their author's assui'ance was. The abbe's reply was 
 kindly, but he advised the novice to complete his researches, and then 
 to rewi'ite 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 
 memou's of Mme. de Warens and her servant 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 Chui'ch 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 inide and incomplete, but it shows whence he 
 derived his poUcy of dealing with the Pope and the Roman Church in 
 France. It has very unjustly been called an attempted refutation of 
 Chi'istianity : it is nothing of the sort. Ecclesiasticism and Chi'istian- 
 ity being hopelessly confused in his mind, he uses the teims inter- 
 changeably in an academic and polemic discussion to prove that the 
 theory of the social contract must destroy aU ecclesiastical assumption 
 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 tlu-ough. 
 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 [^t. 17-18 
 
 Chap. V Many entertain a shrewd suspicion that amid the gaieties of the winter 
 1786^87 he lost his heart, or thonglit 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 hnes, to decry the sentiment as 
 harmful to mankind, a something from which God would do weU to 
 emancipate it. There seems to have been in the interval no oppor- 
 tunity for philandering so good as the one he had enjoyed during his 
 boyish acquaintance with MUe. 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- 
 voming 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 every 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 memoir, 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 probably unparalleled. Having read Plutarch in his child- 
 hood, he now devom-ed Herodotus, Strabo, and Diodorus; China, 
 Arabia, 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 examiniug the minutest particulars of 
 French history. It was, moreover, the science of history, and not 
 its hterature, which occupied him — dry details of revenue, resources, 
 and institutions ; the Sorbonne, the buU Unigenitus, and church his- 
 tory in general ; the character of peoples, the origin of institutions, the 
 philosophy of legislation — aU 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
 
 5. ~ (y 
 
 ^>r 
 
 sf''«''->^ «^': 
 
 
 > 
 
 o 
 
 v 
 m 
 
 O 
 z 
 
 -i en 
 
 ' O 
 5 n 
 
 => H 
 
 I > 
 I -i 
 
 E < 
 
 i > 
 
 I ^ 
 » en 
 
 Z 
 
 n 
 m 
 
 oo 
 
 •it 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 " lUj^j iMiiiiiiiiiiii I'ini'iiiiiuiiiiiiii 
 
 lllli;ilulll;lllllllllll||IIIHIillllNlllllim"l,
 
 ^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 Hfe at Valence was soon ended. Early 
 in August, 1786, a httle rebeUion, 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 fimiish their respective quotas 
 for its suppression. Buonaparte's company was sent among others, 
 but the disturbance 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 northward 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 regularly 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 effort, and seek per- 
 sonally at the Tuscan capital employment of any kind that might offer. 
 Lucien, the archdeacon, was seriously ill, and General Marbeur, 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 affau's 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 sUght malarial fever which for the next six or seven years never 
 entirely relaxed its hold on him. Among his papers has recently been 
 found a long, wild, pessimistic rhapsody, in which there is talk of 
 suicide. The plaint is of the degeneracy among men, of the destruc- 
 tion of primitive simphcity in Corsica by the French occupation, of his
 
 42 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 17-18 
 
 Chap. V own isolation, and of his yearning to see Ms friends once more. Life 
 1786^7 is no longer worth while; his country gone, a patriot has naught to hve 
 for, especially when he has no pleasiu-e and all is pain — when the char- 
 acter of those ahout him is to his own as moonhght is to suiilight. If 
 there were but a single life in his way, he would bury the avenging 
 blade of his coimtry and her violated laws in the bosom of the tyrant. 
 Some of his complaining was even less coherent than this. It is absurd 
 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 century had degen- 
 erated, and to suggest that possibly if he had not been Napoleon he 
 might have been a Werther. Though dated May third, no year is 
 given, and it may well describe the writer's feelings in the despondency 
 of this 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. Travehng by way of Valence and Marseilles, he visited in the 
 former city his old friend the Abbe of Saint-Ruff, to sohcit his favor 
 for Lucien, who, though at Brienne, would study nothing 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 requesting advice, and seeking further encourage- 
 ment in his historical labors. Thence he sailed to Ajaccio, aniving, if 
 the ordinary time had been consumed in the joimiey, toward the close 
 of the month. Such appears to be the likehest account of this 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 his own hand, and entitled " Epochs of My Life," he wrote 
 that he left Valence on September first, 1786, for Ajaccio, arriving 
 on the fifteenth. Weighing the probabihties, it seems likely that the 
 latter was untrue, since there is but the slenderest possibility of his 
 having been at Douay in the following year, the only other hypothesis, 
 and no record of his activities in Corsica before the spring of 1787.
 
 1 
 
 la THE COU-KCTION iff M. C. MAKgUW 1>K LAS CAS. 
 
 ENOItAVriJ llV T, JOUNSON 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 LIEUTENANT OF ARTILLERY 
 
 rKoM TIIK I'AIXTINU BV JKAN-HAPTISTE ORRtTZB
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 rUKTHEK 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 Family Fortunes Des- 
 perate — The History of Corsica Completed — Its Style, Opin- 
 ions, AND Value — Failure to Find a Publisher — Sentevients 
 Expressed in His Short Stories — Napoleon's Irregularities as 
 a French Officer — His Vain Appeal to Paoli — The History 
 Dedicated to Necker. 
 
 WHEN Napoleon arrived at Ajaccio, and, after an absence of eight chap. vi 
 years, found himself again with his family, their affaii's were in a 1787-89 
 serious condition. Not one of the old French officials remained; the dip- 
 lomatic leniency of the first occupation was giving place to the official 
 stringency of a firmer administration ; proportionately the disaifection 
 of the patriot remnant among the people was slowly developing into 
 a wide-spread discontent. Joseph, the hereditary head of a family 
 which had been thoroughly French in conduct, and was supposed to be 
 so in sentiment, which at least looked to the King for further favors, 
 was stiU a stanch royahst. Having been unsuccessful in every other 
 dh'ection, he was now seeking to estabhsh a mercantile connection with 
 Florence which would enable him to engage in the oil-trade. The 
 modest beginning was, he hoped, about to be made. It was high time, 
 for the only support of his mother and her children, in the failm'e of 
 her mulberry plantations, was the income of the old archdeacon, who 
 was now confined to his room, and growing feebler every day under 
 attacks of gout. Unfortunately, Joseph's well-meant efforts again 
 came to naught. 
 
 The behavior of the pale, feverish, masterful young lieutenant was
 
 44 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 [^T. 18-20 
 
 Chap. VI 
 
 1787-89 
 
 far fi'om praiseworthy. He filled the house with his new-fangled phi- 
 losophy, and assumed a self-important air. Among the letters which 
 he wrote was one dated April fii'st, 1787, to the renowned Dr. Tissot of 
 Lausanne, refemng to his con-espondent's interest in Paoli, and asking 
 ad\dce concerning the treatment of the canon's gout. The physician 
 never rephed, and the epistle was found among his papers marked "un- 
 answered and of httle interest." The old ecclesiastic hstened to his 
 nephew's patriotic tirades, and even approved; Mme. de Buonaparte 
 coldly disapproved. She would have preferred calmer, more efficient 
 common sense. Not that her son was inactive in her behalf; on the 
 contrary, he began a series of busy representations to the provincial 
 officials which secured some good will and even trifling favor to the 
 family. But the results were not conclusive, for the mulberry money 
 was not paid. 
 
 As the time for return to service drew near, he apphed, on the 
 groimd of ill health, for a renewal of leave to last five and a half 
 months. It was granted, and the regular round of family cares went 
 on ; but the days and weeks brought no rehef . Ill health there was, 
 and perhaps sufficient to justify that plea, but the physical fever was 
 intensified by the checks which want set upon ambition. The passion 
 for authorship reasserted itself with undiminished violence. The his- 
 tory of Corsica was resumed, recast, and vigorously continued, while at 
 the same time the writer completed a short story entitled "The Count 
 of Essex," — with an English setting, of course, — and wrote a Corsican 
 novel. The latter abounds in bitterness against France, the most 
 potent force in the development of the plot being the dagger. The 
 author's use of French, though easier, is stiU very imperfect. A sHght 
 essay, or rather story, in the style of Voltaire, entitled "The Masked 
 Prophet," was also completed. 
 
 It was reported early in the autumn that many regiments were to be 
 mobihzed for special service, among them that of La Fere. This gave 
 Napoleon exactly the opening he desired, and he left Corsica at once, 
 without reference to the end of his furlough. He reached Paris in Oc- 
 tober, a fortnight before he was due, to find his regiment near by at St. 
 Denis, on its way to the west, where incipient tumults were presaging 
 the coming storm. The Estates-General of France were about to meet 
 for the first time in one hundred and seventy-five years; they had last 
 met in 1614, and had broken up in disorder. They were now called as
 
 td 
 O 
 Z 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 H 
 
 m 
 
 > 
 H 
 
 > 
 
 >< 
 o 
 z 
 
 w 
 
 GO
 
 ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 45 
 
 a last remedy, not understood, but at least untried, for ever-increasing chap. vi 
 embarrassments; and the government, fearing still greater disorders, i787-«9 
 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 assimied his 
 father's role of supphant. Now for a second time he sent in a petition. 
 It was written 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 unlike his father's humble and almost cringing papers, bemg 
 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 haK 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 faihng daily, and, although known to have means, declared
 
 4G 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 
 
 Chap. VI Mmself 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 uncertain quantity, probably 
 insutficient for the needs of such a family. The mulberry money was 
 still impaid; all hope of wresting the ancestral estates fi-om the govern- 
 ment authorities was buried; Joseph was without employment, and, as 
 a last expechent, was studjang 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 saturated with the romantic sentimentaUsm 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 Em-ope. A patriotic Corsican, he 
 was the servant of his country's oppressor. Conscious of great abihty, 
 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 
 requiiing room for experiment, he saw himself doomed to a fixed, 
 inglorious career, and caged in a fi-amework of unpropitious cii'cum- 
 stance. Whatever the moral obhquity in his feeble expedients, there is 
 the pathos of human limitations in theu* character. 
 
 Whether the resolution had long bef oi-e 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 from inclination, but with the regular drudgery of a 
 craftsman. The amusements of his leisure hours would have been suf- 
 ficient occupation for most men. Regulating, as far as possible, his 
 mother's comphcated affaks, he jommeyed frequently to Bastia, proba- 
 bly to collect money due for young miilberry-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 Mortilla, 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.
 
 I 
 
 « 
 
 1>RAW1N0 Made KoK tub century CO. FROU a portrait in the chateau COLOStBIER 
 
 MLLE. DU COLOMBIER 
 napoleon's first love 
 
 FROM TBR DIU.V1NU BT ERIC PAFE
 
 ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 47 
 
 This was his play ; his work was the histoiy of Corsica. It was com- Chai-. 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 
 secure its pubhcation. Although dedicated at first to a powerful 
 patron, Monseigneui" Marbeuf, then bishop of Sens, Hke many works 
 fi'om 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 fbrst 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 writings, 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 outhned in perhaps 
 the most effective passage the career of Sampiero, and sketched his 
 diplomatic failures at all the Eiu'opean courts except that of Constanti- 
 nople, where at last he had secured sjTnpathy 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 disgi'ace, there is no other resort but death." Van- 
 Tiina at fii'st 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 wife of Sam- 
 piero, but that he himself 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. Vannuia 
 died. She died by the hands of Sampiero." 
 
 Neither the pubKshers of Valence, nor those of Dole, nor those of 
 Auxonne, would accept the work. At Paris one was finally foimd 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 
 consideriag 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 Paoli. The Uterary aspu-ant must have
 
 48 
 
 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 hherator, and perhaps the master, of his native land. At any 
 rate, he abandoned the idea of immediate pubhcation, possibly in the 
 dawning hope that as PaoU's heutenant he could make Corsican his- 
 tory better than he could vmte it. It is this copy which has been 
 preserved ; the original was probably destroyed. 
 
 The other literary 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 fuU of surprises ; the scene and characters are Oriental ; the plot is 
 a feeble invention. An ambitious and rebelhous ameer is struck with 
 blindness, and has recourse to a sUver 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 behevers 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 mihtary duty. The sub- 
 sequent ones seem simply inexphcable, even in a service so lax as that 
 of the crumbling Bourbon dynasty. He did not reach Auxonne, where 
 the artillery 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 from 
 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
 
 r THE COLLI. (.Tl (J.N uh :i. 1, L.il.i 
 
 E.VGBAVED BY K. C. TIETZE 
 
 MARIE-ANNE-ELISA BONAPARTE 
 
 WIFE OF FELICE PASQ.UALE BACCIOCCHI ; PRINCESS OF LUCCA AND PIOMBINO, 
 GRAND DUCHESS OF TUSCANY, COUNTESS OF COMPIGNANO 
 
 PAINTED ET PIERRE PR CD HON
 
 ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 49 
 
 science. In the former line of work he made the acquaintance of chap. vi 
 Duteil, a brother of whom befriended him at Toulon; in the latter he 1787^» 
 read Plato and examined the constitutions of antiquity, devouring with 
 avidity what hteratui'e he could find concerning Venice, Turkey, Ta- 
 tary, and Ai'abia. At the same time he carefully read the histoiy of 
 England, and made some accurate observations on the condition of con- 
 temporaneous pontics in France. His last disappointment had ren- 
 dered him more taciturn and misanthropic than ever; it seems clear 
 that he was working 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, imsuccessful. 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 sohcitation. 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 Semre, 
 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 purchases 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 Paoh, to which reference has abeady 
 been made, is dated Jiine tweKth. It is a justification of his cher- 
 ished work as the only means open to a poor man, the slave of cu-cum- 
 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 writer asks for documentary materials and for moral sup-
 
 50 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 
 
 ciiAP. VI port, ending with ardent assurances of devotion fi'om 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 hetrayed 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 then* children, in France. The "enthusiasm" of 
 Napoleon was a cold, unsentimental determination to push then- for- 
 tunes, which, with opposite principles, would have been honorable 
 enough. In later years Lucien said that he had made two copies of 
 the histoiy. It was probably one of these which has been preserved. 
 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 encourage 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 entei*prise slowly. Patiently collect 
 your anecdotes and facts. Accept the opinions of other writers with 
 reserve." As if to soften the severity of his advice, there follows 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 hve 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 
 imdignified 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 first 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 sei-vant hke Necker, and to 
 the inappropriateness of putting his own metaphysical generahzations 
 
 \
 
 ^T. 18-20] FURTHER ATTEMPTS AT AUTHORSHIP 51 
 
 and captious criticism of French royalty into the mouth of a peasant cnxp. vi 
 mountaineer. Before the correspondence ended, Napoleon's student 1787-89 
 life was over. Necker had fled, the French Revolution was rushing on 
 with ever-increasing speed, and the young adventurer, despairing of 
 success as a writer, seized the proifered opening to become a man 
 of action.
 
 CHAPTER Vn 
 
 THE EEVOLUTION IN FBANCE 
 
 The French Aeistoceacy — 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, vh AT last the ideas of the century had declared open war on its insti- 
 1787-89 jL\. tutions ; their 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 found not through the most down-trodden, but through 
 the freest and the best-instructed, nation on the Continent. Both the 
 clergy and the nobihty of France had become accustomed to the ab- 
 sorption in the crown of then* ancient feudal power. They were con- 
 tent with the great of&ces in the chui-ch, in the army, and in the civil 
 administration, with exemption from the payment of taxes ; they were 
 happy in the deUghts of literature and the fine arts, in the joys of 
 a pohte, self-indulgent, and spendthrift 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 familiar with prevalent phi- 
 losophies, and f uU 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 Louis XVI. 
 is but a reflection of the piety, moderation, and earnestness of many of 
 the nobles. His rule was mild; there were no excessive indignities 
 
 62
 
 H 
 X 
 
 w 
 
 O 
 > 
 
 O 
 m 
 Z 
 
 o 
 
 •n 
 
 H 
 K 
 rn 
 
 H 
 G 
 
 t- 
 
 m
 
 ^T. 18-20] THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE 53 
 
 practised in the name of royal power except in cases like that of the chap. vn 
 " Bargain of Famine," where he believed himself helpless. The lower i787-8t» 
 clergy, as a whole, were faithful in the performance of their duties. 
 This was not true of the hierarchy. They were great landowners, and 
 their interests coincided with those of the upper nobihty. The doubt 
 of the centmy 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 their Uvelihood 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 thii-d estate, they were in reahty 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 bm'ghers ; they man-ied the fortunes 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 
 ahke divided in character and interests, this was still more true of the 
 bui'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 
 thh'd, 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 improfitable, and these very men" were the tax- 
 payers. The change had been still 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 then- 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 growing ever larger with the 
 increase in population — inteUigent and unintelligent artisans, half- 
 educated employees in workshops, mills, and trading-houses, ever 
 recruited from the country population, seeking such intermittent occu- 
 pation as the towns afforded. The very lowest stratum of this society
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 54 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 
 
 Chap. VII was tbcii, as iiow, 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 
 thh'ty-two milhons of doUars. This was all due to the extravagance of 
 the coui-t 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 an,d honest ones, be- 
 heved to be their legitimate income was not really such. Two thirds 
 of the land was in their hands; the other third paid the entire land- 
 tax. They were therefore regarding as their ovsoi two thirds of what 
 was in reahty taken altogether from the pockets of the small proprie- 
 tors. Small 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 grain trade, and to 
 abohsh the road-work, a task more hateful to the people than any tax, 
 because it brought them into direct contact with the exasperating su- 
 perciliousness of petty officials, Biit in aU these proposed reforms 
 Necker, Calonne, and Lomenie de Brienne, each approaching the nobles 
 from a separate standpoint, had ahke failed. The nobihty could see in 
 such retrenchment and change nothing but ruin for themselves. An 
 assembly of notables, called in 1781, would not hsten to propositions 
 which seemed suicidal. The King began to ahenate the affection of his 
 natural allies, the people, by yielding to the clamor of the court party. 
 From the nobihty he could wring nothing. The royal treasury was 
 therefore actually bankrupt, the nobles beheved that they were threat- 
 ened with bankruptcy, and the people knew that they themselves were 
 not only banknipt, but also hungry and oppressed. 
 
 At last the King, aware of the nation's extremity, began to under- 
 take refoi-ms 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 miwilling 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 tlien banished it fi'om the capital because it would not. chap. \ti 
 That coui't had been the last remaining cheek on absolutism in the itst-so 
 country, and, as such, an ally of the people; so that altliough the 
 motives and the measures of Louis were just, the high-handed means 
 to which he resorted in order to carry them ahenated him still fui-ther 
 fi'oni the affections of the nation. The parhament, m justifying its 
 opi^osition, had declared that taxes in France could be laid only by the 
 Estates-Greneral. The people had almost forgotten the very name, and 
 were entirely ignorant of what that body was, vaguely supposing that, 
 like the Enghsh Parhament or the American Congress, it was in some 
 sense a legislative assembly. They therefore made their voice heard in 
 no imcertaiu sound, demanding that the Estates should meet. Louis 
 abandoned his attitude of independence, and recalled the parliament 
 from Troyes, but only to exasperate its members still fiu'ther 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 parhament 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 all 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 fi'om 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 century 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 wou^ld be hke that of the seventeenth. He could then, by 
 the coahtion of the nobles and the clergy against the biu'ghers, or by 
 any "other an-angement 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 OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 18-20 
 
 Chap, vn whole couiitry 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 ? " 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 should 
 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, imder the shadow of the coui-t. It 
 was immediately evident that the hands of the clock could not be put 
 back two centui'ies, 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 thu-d 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-court 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 thwarted by the eloquence and 
 courage of Mirabeau. On June twenty-seventh a majority of the 
 delegates from the two upper estates gave way, and joined those of the 
 third estate as representatives of the people. 
 
 At this juncture the com't party began the disastrous poUcy which 
 in the end was responsible for most of the terrible excesses of the 
 French Revolution, by insisting that troops should be called to restrain 
 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 twelfth 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-
 
 AQUABELLF. MAUli FuU Till^ CENXUKf Cu, 
 
 NAPOLEON ON HIS WAY TO CORSICA WITH HIS SISTER ELISA 
 
 FBOM THE AQUABEXLK BY EBIC PAPK 
 
 They were met at Valence by hia former landlady, who brought him a present of fruit
 
 k 
 
 • I 
 
 I
 
 iET. 18-20] THE REVOLUTION IN FRANCE 57 
 
 man oppressions known to despotism, was razed to tlie ground. As if Chap. vn 
 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 blue — the recognized 
 colors of hberty — as national. The insignia of a djTiasty were ex- 
 changed for the badge of a principle. A similar transformation took 
 place thi'oughout 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 emigration in- 
 creased, and continued in a steady stream. The moderate nobles, honest 
 patriots to whom hfe 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 sui-rendered 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 
 life, and accept the absolute equahty of citizenship. Liberty and fra- 
 ternity were the two springers of the new arch ; its keystone was to be 
 equality. On August twenty-third the Assembly decreed freedom of 
 religious opinion ; on the next day freedom of the press.
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 bonapaete and kevolution in coksica 
 
 Napoleon's Studies Continued at Auxonne — Another Illness and 
 A FuELOUGH — 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, vm ^J^UCH were tlie events taking place in the great world while Bnona- 
 178^-90 ^^ parte was at Auxonne. That town, as had been expected, was 
 most uneasy, and on July nineteenth, 1789, there was an actual out- 
 break of violence, directed 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 hfe was not dis- 
 turbed except as his poverty made his asceticism more rigorous. " I 
 have no other resource but work," he wrote to his mother ; " I dress but 
 once in eight days [Sunday parade ?] ; I sleep but httle since my illness ; 
 it is incredible. I retire 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 fell 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 irregularities, he was this year entitled to such
 
 ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 59 
 
 a vacation, but not before October. His plea that the winter was unfa- chap. vni 
 vorable for the voyage to Corsica was characteristic, for it was neither ngo^oo 
 altogether true nor altogether false. He was feverish and ill, excited by 
 news of tui-moils at home, and wished to be on the scene of action ; 
 this would have been a true and sufficient ground for his request. It 
 was Ukewise true, however, that his chance for a smooth passage was 
 better in Augaist than in October, and this evident fact, though probably 
 irrelevant, 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 fi'om the vai-ious regimental gi-ants, and which 
 was managed by the officers for the benefit of their own mess. The 
 officers were compelled to yield, so far had revolutionaiy license sup- 
 planted royal and mihtaiy authority. Of course a general orgy fol- 
 lowed. It seems to have been dming these days that the scheme of 
 Corsican hberation which brought him finally into the field of poUtics 
 took shape in Napoleon's mind. Fesch had returned 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 
 hau* — lanky as we may suppose from his own account of his personal 
 habits — fell in stiff, flat locks over his lean cheeks. His eyes were 
 large, and in their steel-blue irises, liu'king 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 fuU and 
 sensuous, although the powerful projecting chin diminished somewhat 
 the true effect of the lower one. His complexion was sallow. The 
 fi-ame of his body was in general smaU and fine, particularly his hands 
 and feet ; but his deep chest and short neck were gigantic. This lack 
 of proportion did not, however, interfere with his gait, which was finn 
 and steady. The student of character would have declared the strip- 
 ling to be self-rehant and secretive; ambitious and calculating; mas-
 
 60 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20-21 
 
 Chap, vhi terful, but kindly. In an age when plirenology was a mania, its mas- 
 
 17^90 ters found in his cranium the organs of what they called imagination 
 
 and causaUty, of individuahty, comparison, and locahty — 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 ofiicer had thus far been so commonplace as 
 to awaken httle expectation for his futm'e. Poor as he was, and care- 
 ful of his slim resources, he had, like the men of his class, mdulged 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 outline drawn in fair 
 proportion and powerful strokes. His philosophy was meager, but he 
 knew the principles of Rousseau and Raynal thoroughly. His concep- 
 tion of pohtics 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 great 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 great minds have grasped, 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 further indulgence in dazzhng generalizations, 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 matured, 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 him a solicitor of favors, 
 and, but for the tvmx in pubhc affairs, he might have continued to be
 
 IN TUli UOTtL JJE VlLLfc, AJACCIO 
 
 t..sGltAVhb ilV 1. t, iLU-UlJluWN 
 
 JOSEPH BONAPARTE 
 
 KING OF NAPLES, KING OF SPAIN, COMTE DE SURVILLIERS 
 
 FROM A PAISTINa BY AN UNKNOWN ABTIST 
 
 As Comte Je SurviUiera, resident of Bordentown. X. J.
 
 4
 
 JET. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 61 
 
 one. His own inclinations had made liim both a good student and a chap. vm 
 poor officer ; without a field for larger duties he might liave remained nsoloo 
 as he was. In Corsica his line of conduct was not changed abruptly : 
 the possibihties of greater things dawning gradually, the appUcation of 
 great conceptions already formed came with the march of events, not 
 like the sun biu-stiug out from behind a cloud. 
 
 Travehng 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 pubUshed memou's, 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 di-iving him homeward, and the two who in after days 
 were agaiu to be separated were now, for almost the only time in their 
 Uves, comjjanions for a considerable period. Their intercourse made 
 them no more harmonious iu feeling. The only incident of the jour- 
 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 stiU hving, and for the moment all 
 except Elisa were at home. On the whole, they were more needy than 
 ever. The death of their patron, Marbeuf , had been followed by the 
 final rejection of their long-urged suit, and this fact, combiaed 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 foiTner 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 
 all aristocrats and royahst 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-time patriot Gafi'ori, the father-in-law
 
 62 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20-21 
 
 Chap, vid of Buttafnoco. The overwlielming majority of the natives were little 
 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 yoimger men, who wanted a protec- 
 torate that they might enjoy virtual independence and secm-e 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, warlike spirit. Corte was the center of PaoU'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 representatives 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 Buonapai-tes, and destined later to influence deeply the 
 com'se of their affau-s. He and his colleague Colonna were ui-ging 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 
 theu" barbarous juiisprudence, and, Hke all other French subjects, a 
 free press, free trade, the abolition of all privilege, equality 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 fiuid. Paoh himself had come to beheve that independence could 
 more easily be seciu-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, 
 son of a patriot fine, Pozzo di Borgo, Peraldi, Cuneo, Ramolini, and 
 others less influential. The only Corsican with French military train- 
 ing, he was, in view of uncertainties and probabilities ah-eady 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 militia for the support of that central com- 
 mittee which his friends so ardently desired. The plan was promptly 
 adopted by the associates, the radicals seeing in it a means to put arms 
 once more into the hands of the people, the others no doubt having in
 
 ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 63 
 
 mind the storming of the Bastille and the possibility of similar move- chap. viii 
 ments in Ajaccio and elsewhere. Buonaparte, the only trained officer i78y-9o 
 among them, may have dreamed of abandoning the French service, and 
 of a supreme command in Corsica. Many of the people who appeared 
 well disposed toward France had from time to time received permission 
 from the authorities to caiTy arms, many carried them secretly and 
 without a hcenso ; 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 regu^lated 
 by Buttafuoco, and was of coiu'se hostile to the insidious scheme of a 
 local miUtia. 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. Paoli's agents were again most active. In many towns the 
 people rose to attack the citadels or ban-acks, and to seize the authority. 
 In Ajaccio Napoleon de Buonaparte promptly asserted himself as the 
 natui'al leader. The ah-eady 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 mountaineers to aid the unwarlike 
 burghers, as there had been in Bastia. Graffori 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 in 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 martial 
 law. Nothing remained for the agitators but to protest and disperse. 
 They held a final meeting therefore on October thh'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 hollowness of the pretexts imder which their request had
 
 g^ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 20-21 
 
 Chap, vm been refused, the demand that the troops be withdrawn and redress 
 17^ granted — all these are crudely but forcibly presented. The document 
 presages revolution. Under a well-constituted and regular authority, 
 its writer and signatories would of com-se have been punished for in- 
 subordination. Even as things were, an ofl&cer of the King was run- 
 ning serious risks by his prominence in connection with it. 
 
 Discouraging as was the outcome of this movement in Ajaccio, sim- 
 ilar agitations elsewhere were more successful. The men of Isola 
 Rossa, under Arena, who had just returned from a consultation with 
 Paoh 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- 
 cessfully directed the revolt m that place, but there is no corroborative 
 evidence to this doiibtful story. 
 
 Simultaneously with these events the National Assembly had been 
 debating how the position of the Eang under the new constitution was 
 to be expressed by his title. Absolutism being ended, he could no 
 longer be king 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 consiunmate diplomacy, 
 had ah-eady 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 their 
 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, Vohiey presented a number 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.
 
 
 ITNr.RAVED BY R. O. TIETZE 
 
 PASCAL PAOLI 
 
 FROM THE PAINTING BY DBELLINO, UADE IN PABIS, 1791
 
 ^T. 20-21] BONAPARTE AND REVOLUTION IN CORSICA 65 
 
 " If the Navarrese are not French, what have we to do wath them, or chap. viii 
 they with us ? " said Mirabeau. The argument was as unanswerable i789-9o 
 for one land as for the other, and both were ineoi"porated in the realm : 
 Corsica on November thirtieth, by a proposition of Sahcetti's, who was 
 apparently unwilling, but who posed as one under imperative necessity. 
 In reality he had reached the goal foi" which he had long been striving. 
 Dmnom-iez, later so renowned as a general, and Mirabeau, the gi-eat 
 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 all 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 Deiuns were sung in the churches. Paoli 
 to rejoin his own again ! What more could disinterested patriots de- 
 sire ? Corsica a province of France ! How could 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 fi-om Ajaccio ; the ascendancy of the 
 hberals was complete. 
 
 Then feeble Genoa 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, occmred 
 an animated debate ia which the matter was fuUy considered. The 
 discussion was notable, as indicating the temper of parties and the na- 
 ture of their action at that stage of the Revolution. Mirabeau as ever 
 was the leader. He and his fi-iends 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 bmding 
 where principles of pubHc 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
 
 66 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 20-21 
 
 Chap, viii the matter was the adoption of a cimning 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 hght of Napoleon's 
 
 futm-e dealings with the Itahan commonwealth. 
 
 The situation was now most diehcate, as far as Buonaparte was con- 
 cerned. His suggestion of a local mihtia 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 establish local authority, to form a 
 National Guard, and to tmfurl the red, white, and blue. There was 
 nothing in it about the incorporation 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- 
 hcetti. A httle later Buonaparte took pains to set forth how much 
 better, under his plan, would have been the situation of Corsican affairs 
 if, with their guard organized and their colors mounted, they coidd 
 have recalled Paoh, 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 
 opportunity 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 Paoh's Sampiero. The reservations of his Ajaccio 
 document, and the bitterness of his feehngs, are not, however, suffi- 
 cient proof of such a presumption. But the incorporation had taken 
 place, Corsica was a portion of France, and everybody was wild with 
 dehght.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION 
 
 Feench Soldier and Coesican Patriot — Paoli's Hesitancy — His 
 Return to Corsica — Cross Purposes in France — A New Fur- 
 lough — Money Transactions of Napoleon and Joseph — Open 
 Hostilities against France — Thwarted a Second Time — Reor- 
 ganization OF CoRsicAN Administration — Meeting of Bonaparte 
 
 AND PaOLI — CORSICAN POLITICS — STUDIES IN SOCIETY. 
 
 WHAT was to be the futui-e of one whose f eehngs were so hostile Chap. es 
 to the nation with the fortunes of which he now seemed uTev- 1790 
 ocably identified"? There is no evidence that Buonaparte ever asked 
 himseK such disquieting questions. To judge from his conduct, he was 
 not in the least troubled. Fully aware of the disorganization, both 
 social and mihtary, which was well-nigh imiversal in France, with two 
 months more of his furlough yet unexpired, he awaited developments, 
 not hastening to meet difficrdties before they presented themselves. 
 What the young democrats could do, they did. The town government 
 was entirely reorganized, with a friend of the Buonapartes as mayor, 
 and Joseph — employed at last ! — as his secretary. A local guard was 
 also raised and equipped. Being French, however, and not Corsican, 
 Napoleon could not accept a command in it, for he was ah'eady an offi- 
 cer in the French army. But he served in the I'auks 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 coUabora- 
 tion with Fesch, Buonaparte also drew up a memoir on the oath which 
 was required from priests. 
 
 When Paoh first received news of the amnesty granted at the
 
 68 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. IX instance of Mirabeau, and of the action taken by the French Assembly, 
 iTOO which had made Corsica a French department, he was deUghted 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 his country would eventually 
 reach a more perfect autonomy under 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 retimi 
 to Corsica would endanger the success of this pohcy : the ardent moun- 
 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 com-se more bitter. 
 
 But the National Assembly, with less insight, desired nothing so 
 much as his presence in the new French department. He was growing 
 old, and yielded against his better judgment to the united sohcitation 
 of French interest and of Corsican impohcy. 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 populace crowded the streets to cheer him, 
 and delegations from the chief towns of his native island met bim 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 wiUing 
 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 entirely clear where Buonaparte was diu-ing this time. 
 It is said that he was seen in Valence during the latter part of Janu- 
 ary, and the fact is adduced to show how deep and secret were his
 
 r- 
 > 
 z 
 
 D 
 
 Z 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 •D 
 
 -0 
 
 > 
 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 z 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 n 
 > 
 z 
 
 O
 
 «
 
 ^T. 21] FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION 69 
 
 plans for preserving the double cliance of an opening in either France crap. ix 
 or Corsica, as matters might tm-n out. The love-affair to which he mo 
 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 circumstance which occmTed in 
 March. On the eighteenth a French flotilla imexpectedly appeared 
 off St. Florent. It was commanded by Rully, an ardent royaUst, who 
 had long been employed in Corsica. His secret instructions were to 
 embark the French troops, and to leave the island to its fate. This 
 was an adroit stab at the republicans 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 
 Enghsh help, and diminish the number of democratic departments 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 angry 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 collision 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 Paoh, since now only thi'ough 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 fui'lough until the following October, on the plea of 
 continued ill health, that he might di*ink 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 service with his regiment ; it did not disable him 
 from piu-suing his occupations in writing and political agitation. His 
 request was granted on May twentieth. The history of Corsica was
 
 70 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. IX now finally revised, and a new dedication completed. This, with a 
 1790 letter and some chapters of the book, was forwarded to Kaynal, 
 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 more a biographical record than a connected nari'ative. 
 The dedication, however, is a new step in the painful progress of more 
 accurate thinking and better expression ; the additions to the volume 
 contam, amid many immatmities and platitudes, some ripe and clever 
 thought. Buonaparte'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 piu'se. 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 unhkely 
 that the legacy was a grateful souvenir 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 Paoh home fi'om France. To meet its expenses, the municipahty 
 had forced the authorities of the priests' seminary to open their strong 
 box and to hand over upward of two thousand francs. Napoleon may 
 have shared Joseph's portion. We should be reminded m 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 Eepubhc were led into the 
 fat plains of Lombardy. 
 
 The contemptuous attitude of the Ajaccio hberals toward the re- 
 hgion of Rome seriously ahenated the superstitious populace fi'om 
 them. Buonaparte was once attacked in the public square by a pro- 
 cession organized to deprecate the pohcy 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 feehngs plainly as to the acts of the same body. He was 
 arrested, tried in Ajaccio, and acquitted by a sympathetic judge. At
 
 > 
 
 o 
 
 > 
 O 
 
 n 
 
 tr. 
 
 5 

 
 ^T. 21] FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION 
 
 71 
 
 once the liberals took alai-m ; theii- club and the officials first pro- chap. ix 
 tested, and then on Jime twenty-fifth assumed the offensive in the iv9o 
 name of the Assembly. At last the oi^poi-tunity to emulate the French 
 cities seemed assui-ed. It was determined to organize a local indepen- 
 dent government, seize the citadel with the help of the home guard, 
 and thi-ow the hated royalists into prison. But the preparations were 
 too open : the governor and most of his friends fled in season to their 
 stronghold, and raised the di-awbridge ; the agitators could lay hands 
 on but fom' of their enemies, among whom were the judge, the of- 
 fender, and an officer of the gamson. So great was the disappoint- 
 ment of the radicals that they would have vented then* 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 retirni for this forbearance the regtdar 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 
 tumult subsided ; but the French officials now had strong support, not 
 only from the hierarchy, as before, but fi*om the plain pious people and 
 their 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 secxn-e a possible tem- 
 porary independence for Corsica and a mihtaiy command for himself 
 was absolutely naught. Little perturbed by failm-e, he took up the 
 pen to wi*ite a proclamation justifying the action of the municipal 
 authorities. The paper was fearlessly signed by himseK and the other 
 leaders, including the mayor. It execrates the sympathizers with the 
 old order in France, and lauds the Assembly, with all its works ; de- 
 nounces those who sold the land to France, which could offer nothing 
 but an end of the chaiu that boimd herself ; and warns the enemies of 
 ,the new constitution that then- 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 
 carry out the piinciples 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 [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. IX two elements, that of the eighteenth-centmy metaphysics and that of 
 1790 his own uncultured force, combine in the composition. Naturally 
 enough, the uni-est of the town was not diminished ; there was even a 
 sHght collision between the garrison and the civil authorities. 
 
 Buonaparte was of coiu'se suspected and hated by Catholics and 
 mihtary 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 the 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 like those of the adoptive mother. It was high 
 time, for the pubhc order was seriously endangered in this transi- 
 tion period. The disturbances at Ajaccio were trifling compared with 
 the revolutionary procedure inaugurated and carried to extremes in 
 Bastia. Two letters of Napoleon's written in August display a fever- 
 ish spuit 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 wotdd be determinative 
 of Corsica's futiire, 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 
 healing waters wliich Napoleon wished to quaff at Orezza were the in- 
 fluence of the debates. Although he could not be a member of the 
 assembly on account 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 Paoh 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
 
 ',' i' I ' ' A" 
 '7,1/;,,. /
 
 ^T. 21] FIRST LESSONS IN REVOLUTION 73 
 
 man of action. No doubt Paoli was anxious to win a family so im- Chap. rx 
 portant and a patriot so ardent. In any case, he invited the three 1790 
 young men to accompany him 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 all prob- 
 abihty, be fully organized, it is very likely 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 PaoU had pointed out the disposition of his troops 
 for the fatal conflict Napoleon diyly remarked, " The resiilt 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, hke 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, inspirited 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 occiuiing. Both parties were represented in the pro- 
 ceedings and conclusions of the convention. Corsica was to constitute 
 but a single department. Paoh was elected president of its directory 
 and commander-in-chief of its National Guard, a combination of offices 
 which again made him virtual dictator. He accepted them unwillingly, 
 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 GentiU as members of the directory. Colonna, one of the delegates 
 to the National Assembly, was a member of the same group. The 
 younger patriots, or Young Corsica, as we should say now, perhaps, 
 were represented by their delegate and leader Salicetti, who was chosen 
 as plenipotentiary in Buttafiioco's place, and by Multedo, GentUi, and 
 Pompei as members of the directory. For the moment, however, Paoli 
 
 was Corsica, and such petty politics was significant only as indicating 
 
 10
 
 74 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. IX tlie siu'vival of counter-curreiits. There was some dissent to a vote of 
 1790 censure passed upon the conduct of Buttafuoco and Peretti, but it was 
 insignificant. Pozzo di Borgo and Gentih were chosen to declare at 
 the bar of the National Assembly the devotion of Corsica to its pur- 
 poses, and to the com-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 arm 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 directory. Whether to work off his ill hiunor, 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 virtual canvass of the neighborhood. The 
 houses of the poorest were his resort. ; partly by his inborn power of 
 pleasing, partly by diplomacy, he won their hearts and learned then.' in- 
 most feelings. His purse, 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 aims. Liberty having returned, Napoleon reorganized many of the 
 old i-ui-al festivals in which contests of that nature had been the chief 
 featm-e, offering prizes from his own means for the best >- marksmen 
 among the youth. His success in feeling the pulse 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 bim popularity, while at the 
 same time it enabled him to obtain the most valuable indications of the 
 general temper.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 TKAITS OF CHABACTER 
 
 LiTERAEY Work — Essay on Happiness — Thwarted Ambition — The 
 CoRsiCAN Patriots — The Brothers Napoleon and Louis — 
 Studies in Politics — Reorganization of the Arjiy — 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 retiim 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 inflamed the young poHticians still more 
 against the renegade. TMs effect was fui'ther heightened when it was 
 known that, at the reception of their delegates by the National Assem- 
 bly, the greater council had, under Mii'abeau's leadership, virtually 
 taken the same position regarding both him and Ms 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 
 night 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." TMs was a retreat on one of the httle family 
 properties, some miles from the town, where in the rocks was a grotto 
 known familiarly as Milleh; Napoleon had improved and beautified 
 the spot, using 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 ia wi-iting, 
 much emphasis should not be laid on it except in noting the better 
 power to express tumultuous feeling, and ia marking the implications 
 wMch show an expansion of character. Insubordinate to France it
 
 76 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. X Certainly is, and intemperate ; tiu'gid, too, as any youth of twenty 
 1791 could weU make it. No doubt, also, it was intended to secure notori- 
 ety for the wi'iter. It makes clear the thorough 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 moraUty 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 personahty 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 January; Buona- 
 parte's leave had expired on October fifteenth. On November sixteenth, 
 after loitering a whole month beyond his time, he had secured a docu- 
 ment from the Ajaccio officials certifying that both he and Louis were 
 devoted to the new repubhcan 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 hterary, one political. Besides the successful "Letter" 
 he had been occupied with a second composition, the notion of which 
 had probably occupied him as his purse grew leaner. The juiy before 
 which this was to be laid was to be, however, not a heated 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 ? "
 
 W TUB MUSEUM Of VEBaAlLLiiS 
 
 I.KAVLD liV T. JOli>'BON 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 LIEUTENANT-COLONEL OF THE FIRST BATTALION OF CORSICA 
 
 FROM THK CAINTINO BT H. K, ¥ PHILIPPOTEAUX
 
 ^T. 21] TRAITS OF CHARAOTER 
 
 77 
 
 Napoleon's astounding paper on this remarkable theme was finished chap, x 
 ia December. It bears the marks of carelessness, haste, and over-con- irai 
 fidence ia every direction — in style, in content, and in lack of accuracy, 
 "Illustrious Raynal," writes the author, "the question I am about to 
 discuss is worthy of your graver, but without assuming to be steel of 
 the same temper, I have taken courage, saying to myself with CoiTeggio, 
 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 sufiicient 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. Our 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 hke the effusion of a boyish 
 rhapsodist. "At the sound of your [reason's] voice let the enemies 
 of nature 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 figures to 
 distortion. And yet in 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 prophetic sentence which de- 
 serves to be quoted. " A disordered imagination ! there hes the cause 
 and source of human misfortune. It sends us wandering fi'om 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 foimd among the 
 papers confided by Napoleon to Fesch. The proofs of authenticity are
 
 rjg LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. 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 be- 
 came the complement of his deeds. 
 
 The second cause for Buonaparte's delay in returning to France on 
 the expiration of his fvu'lough was his political and military ambition. 
 This was suddenly quenched by the receipt of news that the Assembly 
 at Paris would not create the longed-for National Guard, nor the min- 
 istry lend itself to any plan for circumventing the law. It was, there- 
 fore, evident that every chance of becoming PaoU's Ueutenant was 
 finally gone. By the advice of the president himself, therefore, Buona- 
 parte determined 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 Itahan," he says, "acquiesces, 
 but does not forgive ; an ambitious man keeps no faith, and estimates 
 his hfcby his power." The agent fm'ther describes the Corsicans as so 
 accustomed to Tinrest 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 with 
 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 Paoli and his 
 friends, considering the som"ce fi-om which these words emanated. They 
 were aU 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 garrisons 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 feelings, and, by the instinct of then- 
 tradition and discipline, devoted to the still powerful official bureaus 
 not yet destroyed by the Revolution. To replace these by a well-or- 
 ganized and equipped National Guard was now the most ardent wish 
 of aU 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 crushed a common man. 
 
 But the young author had his manuscripts in Ms pocket ; one of
 
 ^T.21] TRAITS OF CHARACTER 79 
 
 them he had means and anthority to pubhsh. Perfectly aware, more- chap, x 
 over, of the disorganization in the nation and the anny, careless of the 1791 
 order fulminated on December second, 1790, against absent officers, 
 which he knew to be aimed especially at the young nobles who were 
 deserting in troops, with his spmt undaunted, and his brain full of 
 resoxu'ces, he left Ajaccio on February first, 1791, having secru'ed 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 siu'e, 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 liim fi'om his own slender means whatever precarious 
 education the times and circiunstances could afford. We can under- 
 stand the untroubled confidence of the boy ; we must admire the trust, 
 determination, and self-rehance of the elder brother. 
 
 Not only was there no pimishment 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 short time 
 at Marseilles, and then at Aix to visit friends, and wandering several 
 days in a leisurely way through the parts of Dauphiny round about 
 Valence. Associating again with the country people, and forming 
 opinions as to the coiu'se of affairs, Buonaparte reopened his corre- 
 spondence with Fesch on February eighth fi"om 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 aU 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 countiy, civil and even mihtary 
 authorities, together. Napoleon's presence in the time and place of its 
 beginning explains much that followed. It was February thirteenth 
 when he rejoined his regiment. 
 
 Comparatively short as had been the time of Buonaparte's absence, 
 everything in France, even the army, had changed and was still chang-
 
 V 
 
 80 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. X hx^. Step by step the most wliolesome reforms were introduced as 
 1791 each in turn showed itself essential: promotion exclusively according 
 to sei"vlce among the lower ofi&cers ; the same, with room for royal dis- 
 cretion, among the higher gi^ades ; division of the forces into regulars, 
 resei-ves, and national guards, the two former to be still recruited by 
 voluntary enlistment. The ancient and privileged constabulaiy, and 
 many other formerly existing but inefficient armed bodies, were swept 
 away, and the present system of gendaimerie was created. The mih- 
 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 m-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, under the new system, king or 
 people should wield the military power. They could find no satisfac- 
 toiy solution, and finally adopted a weak compromise which went far 
 to destroy the power of Mirabeau, because carried 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 Europe was awakened against 
 France ; but a mere handful of enhghtened men in England, and still 
 fewer elsewhere, were in sympathy with her efforts. The stohd com- 
 mon sense of the rest saw only ruin ahead, and viewed askance the 
 idealism of her uni-eal 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 in theii- schemes. 
 On every border agencies for the encouragement of desertion were es- 
 tablished, and by the opening of 1791 the effective fighting force was 
 more than decimated. There was no longer any question of disciphne ; 
 it was enough if any person worthy to command or sei-ve could be re- 
 tained. But 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 
 foimd the peasants firm in their stirrups [steadfast in their opinions],
 
 THE LODGING OF BONAPARTE AT VALENCE 
 
 FROM AN OLD LITHOGRAPH 
 
 Tl.P i,»iUWw,Tm' -l^ , ."^ ' ^- ■****"' *^ ^^^ lour^ory building with heart-shaped *avern-sigii to the left uf the picture, 
 
 lue imilding to the nght (now known as the Maison des T^tes) was the printing-house and reading-room much frequented by Bonaparte 
 m 1(91 when writing his comnetitive essav for the Lvohr ArnHpmv
 
 ^T. 21] TRAITS OF CHARACTER 
 
 81 
 
 especially ia DaupMny. They are all disposed to perish in support of chap. x 
 the constitution. I saw at Valence a resolute people, patriotic soldiers, im 
 and aristocratic officers. There are, however, some exceptions, for the 
 president of the club is a captain named Du Cei'beau. He is captain in 
 the regiment of Forez in garrison at Valence. . . . The women ai-e 
 everywhere royahst. It is not amazing ; Liberty is a prettier woman 
 than they, and eclipses them. All the parish priests of Dauphiny have 
 taken the civic oath; they make sport of the bishop's outcry. . . . 
 What is called good society is three fom-ths aristocratic — that is, they 
 disgiuse themselves as admirers of the Enghsh constitution." 
 
 What a concise, terse sketch of that rising tide of national feeling 
 which was soon to make good aR defects and to fill all gaps in the new 
 militaiy system, put the anny as pai-t 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 
 his statement, or the genuineness of his certificates. But both were 
 loose perversions of a half-truth, shifts paUiated by the uncertainties 
 of a revolutionary epoch. A habitual casuistry is further shown in 
 an interesting letter written 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 deputy, would visit 
 his fi'iend 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 June four- 
 teenth. With these four months his total service was five years and 
 nine months ; but he had been absent, with or without leave, something 
 more than haH the time ! His old fi-iends in Auxonne were few in 
 number, if there were any. No doubt his fellow-officers were tired of
 
 82 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21 
 
 Chap. X performing the absentee's duties, and of good-fellowship there could be 
 1791 in any case but little, with such difference of taste, pohtics, 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. 
 His own baii-ack-room was fiu-nished with a wretched uncm-tained 
 couch, a table, and two chau'S. Louis slept on a pallet in a closet near 
 by. All pleasm-es but those of hope were utterly banished from those 
 plucky lives, whUe 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 
 pohtical club. One single pleasure he allowed himself — the occasional 
 pm"chase of some long-coveted volume from the shelves of a town 
 bookseller. 
 
 Of course 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," from 
 both of which quotations have already 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 hiu'tful 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 pubhsher in the neighborhood, at Dole. The much-revised 
 history was refused; the other — whether by moneys furnished 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 pubhshed 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- 
 mont in Dijon, and he made what he called at St. Helena his " Sen- 
 timental Jom'ney to Nuits " in Burgundy. The account he gave Las 
 Cases of the aristocracy in the latter city, and its assembhes at the
 
 ^T.21] TRAITS OF CHAEACTER 83 
 
 mansion of a wine-merchant's widow, is most entertaining. To his host chap. x 
 Gassendi and to the worthy mayor he aired his radical doctrines with nui 
 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 friend must have been asleep and dreaming. 
 Several traditions which throw some hght on Buonaparte's attitude 
 toward rehgion 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 Fu-st 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 rehgion and its 
 professors.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE EEVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY 
 
 A Daek Period — Bonaparte, First Lieutenant — Second Sojourn 
 IN Valence — Books and Eeading — The National Assembly of 
 France — The King Returns from Versailles — Administrative 
 Reforms in France — Passing of the Old Order — Flight of 
 THE King — Bonaparte's Oath to Sustain the Constitution — 
 His View of the Situation — His Revolutionary Zeal — A Se- 
 rious Blunder Avoided — Return to Corsica. 
 
 Chap. XI T I IHE tortuous course of Napoleon's life for the years from 1791 to 
 1791 -L 1795 has been 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 pubhc 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 life 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 reahty, his craft was weU under 
 control, and his chart correct. Whether we attribute his conduct to 
 accident or to design, from an adventm-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 
 
 81
 
 ^T. 21-22] THE REVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY 85 
 
 jfirst of June, 1791, Buonaparte was promoted to the rank of first lieu- chap. xi 
 tenant, with a salary of thirteen hundred liAa-es, and transfeiTed to the im 
 Fourth Regiment, which was in Valence. He heard the news with 
 mingled feelings : promotion was, of com-se, welcome, but he shrank 
 from retm-ning 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 regiment, 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 authorities were inexorable, and on 
 June fourteenth 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 livres. This sum 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. du 
 Colombier had withdrawn with her daughter to her country-seat. The 
 brothers were able, therefore, to take up theii- lives just where they 
 had made the break at Auxonne : Louis pm-suing the studies necessary 
 for entrance to the corps of officers. Napoleon teaching him, and fre- 
 quenting the political club ; both destitute and probably suffering, for 
 the officer's pay was soon far in arrears. In such desperate straits it 
 was a rehef for the elder brother that the allurements 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 hst of books which he read is significant : Coxe's " Travels in 
 Switzerland," Duclos's "Memoirs of the Reigns of Louis XTV. and 
 Louis XV.," MachiavelK's "History of Florence," Voltaire's "Essay 
 on Manners," Duvemet's "History of the Sorbonne," Le Noble's 
 " Spirit of Gerson," and Dulaui-e's " History of the Nobihty." There 
 exist among his papers outhnes more or less complete of all 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 httle 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 GaUican 
 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 cxuious onlooker at the successive phases of the political and 
 social transmutation already 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 
 France 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 outhned. 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 vohtion, and the latter gave its orders through a single 
 chamber, responsive to the levity of the masses, and controlled neither 
 by an absolute veto power, nor by any feeling of responsibility to a calm 
 pubhc opinion. This was the urgent problem which had to be solved 
 under conditions the most unfavorable that could be conceived. 
 
 During the autumn of 1789 famine was actually stalking abroad. 
 The Parisian populace grew gaimt 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 " Egahte," who sought 
 to stir up the basest dregs of society, that in the ferment he might rise 
 to the top ; hungry Paris, stung 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 retm'ned to Paris, politics grew hotter and more 
 bitter, the fickleness of the mob became a stronger power. Soon the
 
 Mt.21-22] the revolution IN THE RHONE VALLEY 87 
 
 Jacobin Club began to wield the mightiest single influence, and as it Chap, xi 
 did so it gi'ew more and more radical. 1791 - 
 
 Throughout the long and trying winter the masses remained, never- 
 theless, quietly expectant. There was much tiunultuous talk, but ac- 
 tion was suspended while the Assembly sat and struggled to solve 
 its problem, elaborating a really fine paper constitution. Unfoi-tu- 
 nately, the provisions of the document had no relation to the pohtical 
 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 rearranged into administrative departments, with 
 geogi'aphical in place of historical boimdaries. 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 all initiative, being granted merely a suspensive veto, and 
 in the reform of the judicial system the prestige of the lawyers was 
 also destroyed. Royalty was tiu-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 centuries 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 Grerman 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 ia Dauphiny ; this was but a sample of the whole. 
 When, on July f om-teenth, 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 aU 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 futUe ; the disaffection of
 
 gg LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21-22 
 
 Chap. XI officials and lawyers became more intense. In Paris alone the changes 
 iTOi were introduced with some success, the municipahty being rearranged 
 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 iato opponents and adherents of monarchy. As if to 
 insure the disasters of such an antagonism, the Assembly, which rmm- 
 bered among its members every man in France of ripe pohtical expe- 
 rience, committed the incredible folly of seK-effacement, voting that 
 not one of its members should be eligible 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 
 occm-red diu-ing Buonaparte's second residence in the city, and that it 
 was he who superintended the draping of the chou* in the principal 
 church. It is said that the hangings were arranged to represent a fu- 
 nerary ura, and that beneath, in conspicuous letters, ran the legend: 
 "Behold what remains of the French Lyciirgus." Mirabeau had in- 
 deed displayed a genius for pohtics, his scheme for a strong ministry, 
 chosen from the Assembly, standing in bold rehef 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 hour so critical for France, the King and the moderates alike 
 lost courage. 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 captured, and brought back to act the impossible 
 role of a democratic prince, the patriots who had wished to advance with
 
 DRAWING MADE FOB THK CK^NTURY CO. 
 
 BONAPARTE PAWNING HIS WATCH 
 
 FROM THE DRAWING BT ERIC PAPB 
 
 Bourrienne, hi. early friend and companion in Paria, relate, thi. incident
 
 ^T. 21-22] THE REVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY 89 
 
 experience and tradition as giiides 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 then- mind that, real or nominal, the 
 institution was not only useless, but dangerous. This feehug 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 suitable place for a convention of twenty- 
 two similar associations from 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 occuiTed on the 
 fourteenth. Before a vast altar erected on the drill-ground, in the pres- 
 ence of all the dignitaries, with cannon booming and the au* 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 occuiTed 
 all over France. They appealed powerfully to the imagination of the 
 nation, and profoundly influenced public opinion. " Until then," said 
 Buonaparte, referring 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 all was exultation ; in the houses of the hitherto privileged 
 classes aU 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 [^t. 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 military hureau at 
 Auxonne : "Will there be war? No; Europe is divided between sover- 
 eigns who rule over men and those who rule over cattle and horses. 
 The foiTaer understand the Revolution, and are terrified ; they would 
 gladly make personal sacrifices to annihilate it, but they dare not hft 
 the mask for fear the fire should break out in their 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 crimes committed against kings." The news contained in 
 this letter is most interesting. There are accounts of the zeal and spirit 
 everywhere 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 purposes during 
 the months of July and August are veiy imcertain in the absence of 
 documentaiy evidence sufficient to determine them. But his earliest 
 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 Wo 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 would ere long be organized, awakened in him a 
 purpose to be off once more, and accordingly he applied for leave of 
 absence. His colonel, a veiy 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 artil-
 
 ^T. 21-22] THE REVOLUTION IN THE RHONE VALLEY gj 
 
 leiy in the department and not unfavorable. Something, however, Chap, xi 
 must have occmTed to cause delay, for weeks passed and the desired mi 
 leave was not gi'anted. 
 
 While awaiting a decision the appUcant was very uneasy. To 
 friends he said that he would soon be in Paris ; to his great-uncle he 
 wrote, "Send me three hundi-ed hvres; 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 '? " And again : " I am waiting impatiently 
 for the six crowns my mother owes me ; 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 theii- 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 secm'ed. 
 
 It was rare good fortune that the young hotspui* 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 legislature 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 further pulverizing ; cohesion would begin only under pressure 
 from without — a pressure apphed by the threats of erratic 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 first 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 OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 21-22 
 
 Chap. 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. Still fm^ther, 
 the man was as um-eady as the time ; for it was, in aU probability, not 
 as a Frenchman but as an ever tnie Corsican patriot that Buonaparte 
 wished to " show himself, overcome obstacles " at this conjuncture. 
 
 On August fom-th, 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 enUst- 
 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 certainly have done much in Paris to secure office in a 
 French-Corsican national guard, and with this in mind he immediately 
 wrote 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 thirtieth, 1791, a leave of absence 
 arrived, to which he was entitled in the course of routine, and which 
 was not granted by the favor of any one, he had abandoned all idea of 
 service under France in the Corsican guard. The disorder of the times 
 was such that while retaining office in the French army he could test 
 in an independent Corsican command the possibihty of chmbing to 
 leadership there before abandoning his present subordinate place in 
 France. In view, apparently, of this new ventm'e, he had for some 
 time been taking advances from the regimental paymaster, until he 
 had now in hand a considerable sum — two hundi'ed and ninety livres. 
 A formal announcement to the authorities might have ehcited embar- 
 rassing questions from 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 
 military force.
 
 r'(, *** 
 
 J ^^ 
 
 V vif^ 
 
 '■4\^-l 
 
 
 n 5 
 
 ^ ! 
 
 /^I 
 
 < 
 
 O 
 u 
 
 CO 
 
 U 
 
 z 
 5 
 o 
 o 
 < 
 
 :^^ •'^ 
 
 ■sf 
 
 \ ! 
 
 a 
 z 
 
 Do 
 
 Q 
 
 Q 
 
 < 
 
 H 
 Qi 
 
 < 
 
 < 
 
 
 •f'\ 
 
 
 ^-a 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 v-- ^S.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 
 
 Bonaparte's Coesican Patriotism — His Position in His Family — 
 CoRsicAN Politics — His Position m the Jacobin Club of Ajac- 
 cio — His Failure as a Contestant for Literary Honors — 
 Appointed Adjutant-General — His Attitude toward France 
 — His New Ambitions — Use op Violence — Lieutenant-Colonel 
 of Volunteers — Politics in Ajaccio — Bonaparte's First Ex- 
 perience OF Street Warfare — His Manifesto — Dismissed to 
 Paris — His Plans — The Position of Louis XVI. — Bonaparte's 
 Delinquencies — Disorganization in the Army — Petition for 
 Reinstatement — The Marseillais — Bonaparte a Spectator — 
 His Estemate of France — His Presence at the Scenes of Au- 
 gust Tenth — State of Paris, 
 
 THIS was the third 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 in-egularities 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. 2; 
 
 Chap, xh Diuing Napoleon's absence from Corsica the condition of his family 
 1797-92 had not materially changed. Soon after his arrival the old archdeacon 
 died, and his httle fortune fell to the Buonapartes. Joseph, faihng 
 shortly afterward in his plan of being elected deputy to the French 
 legislatm-e, was chosen a member of the Corsican directory. He was, 
 therefore, forced to occupy himself entirely with his new duties and to 
 live at Corte. Fesch, as the eldest male, the mother's brother, and a 
 priest at that, expected to assume the direction of the family affaii^s. 
 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. Rendered thus more self- 
 important, he talked much in the home circle concerning the greatness 
 of classical antiquity, and wondered "who would not wiUingly have 
 been stabbed, if only he could have been Cgesar? One feeble ray of his 
 glory would be an ample recompense for sudden death." Such chances 
 for Csesarism as the island of Corsica afforded were very rapidly 
 becoming better. 
 
 During the last few months religious 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 
 sworn to uphold the constitution. Amid the disorders of administra- 
 tion the people in ever larger numbers had secured arms ; as of yore, 
 they appeared at their assembhes under the guidance of theii* chiefs, 
 ready to fight at a moment's notice. It was but a step to violence, and 
 without any other provocation than reUgious exasperation the towns- 
 folk of Bastia had lately sought to kiU 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 gi-ew hotter and hotter. 
 Deputies to the new assembly, and superior officers of the new guard, 
 were to be elected. Buonaparte, being only a lieutenant 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 CORSICAX JACOBIN 95 
 
 nel, a position which would give him more power, and, imder the chap. xn 
 latest legislation, entitle him to retain his grade in the regular anny. 1791^92 
 
 There were now two pohtical clubs in Ajaccio : that of the Corsi- 
 can Jacobins, country people for the most pai-t ; 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 destroy the influence of the latter. The two previous attempts to 
 secure Ajaccio for the radicals had failed: a thu-d 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 ^Tote 
 about this time, " is like those statues of some of the gods which are 
 veiled imder certain ch-cumstances." For a few weeks there was little 
 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 furlough had expired, 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 fixed purpose the young Corsican patriot was heedless 
 of military obhgations to France, and wilfully remained absent fi'om 
 duty. Once more the spell of a wild, free life was upon him ; he was 
 enhsted 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 faUed, as a matter of com-se, 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 resom-ce 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 fi-om Paris that those officers 
 of the line who had been serving in the National Guard with a gi-ade 
 lower than that of lieutenant-colonel should return to regular ser-
 
 gg LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t.22 
 
 Chap, xn vice before April first, 1792. Here was an implication whicli might 
 1791^92 be turned to account. As a lieutenant on leave, Buonaparte should of 
 coiu-se have retui'ned on December twenty-fifth ; if, however, he were 
 an officer 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 fi-om Paris, gi'anted it. Safe from the charge of desertion thus 
 far, it was essential for his reputation and for his ambition that Buona- 
 parte should be elected lieutenant-colonel. Success would enable him 
 to plead that his first lapse in disciphne was due to irregular orders 
 from his superior, that anyhow he had been an adjutant-major, and 
 that finally the position of heutenant-colonel gave him immunity from 
 punishment, and left him blameless. 
 
 He nevertheless was uneasy, and wrote two letters of a curious 
 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 accoujit 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 hke 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 ahnost as powerful — that of three commissioners appointed by 
 the directory of the island to organize and equip the battahon. With 
 skilful diplomacy Buonaparte agreed that he would not presume to be 
 a candidate for the office of first heutenant-colonel, which was to go to 
 Peretti, a near friend of Paoh, but would seek the position of second
 
 l^roCllAVlRE BOfSSOD, VAI.ADOS A CO, rAllW. 
 
 AOLARtUE MADE fOn THF. CENTL'HY CO, 
 
 BONAPARTE IN 1 792 AS 
 
 , A FREQUENTER OF A SIX-SOUS RESTAURANT IN 1-ARIS. 
 
 r-REQ.U 
 
 H10>1 lilt AuLAilELLt UV EWC PAI'E.
 
 ^T. 22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 97 
 
 lieutenant-colonel. In this way he was assured of good will from two cnxp. xn 
 of the three commissioners; the other was hostile, being a partizan 179II92 
 of Peraldi, the rival candidate. Peretti himself declared in favor of a 
 nobody, his brother-in-law, Quenza. 
 
 The election, as usual in Corsica, seems to have passed in turbulence 
 and noisy violence. The third commissioner, Hving as a guest with 
 Peraldi, was seized dming 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 hkewise 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 turned out, the insignificant Quenza, and not Peretti, was 
 chosen first heutenant-colonel. Buonaparte, therefore, was in virt^^aI 
 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 apphed, 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 iiTCgu- 
 larities of that revolutionary 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 
 likewise a Corsican patriot and commander in the volunteer guard of 
 the island, fully equipped for another move. Perhaps, at last, he could 
 assiune 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. Through the de\aces 
 of his friends in the city government, Buonaparte's battaUon, the second,
 
 9g LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 22 
 
 Chap, xn was OB. One 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 public order was 
 jeopardized: on one extreme were the religious fanatics, on the other 
 the poUtical 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 resulted in conflicts between civilians and the 
 volunteer 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 waUs, the Corsicans in the regular 
 French service would, it was hoped, fraternize with their kia; with 
 such a beguming 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 beheved — found the much de- 
 sired pretext to interfere ; there was a melee, and one of the militia 
 officers was killed. Next morning the bm-ghers found then* 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 withdi'aw their forces. By the 
 advice of some detei-mined radical — Buonaparte agaia in all probability 
 — the latter flatly 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 Paoh to preserve
 
 ^T.22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 99 
 
 the peace, amved in a body. They were welcomed gladly by the chap. xn 
 majority of the people, and, after hearing the case, tlisniisscd the bat- 179T-92 
 taUon of volunteers to various posts in the sm-rounding countiy. Pub- 
 Uc opinion immediately timied against Buonaparte, convinced as the 
 populace was that he was the author of the entire distiu-bance. The 
 commander of the gamson was embittered, and sent a report to the 
 war department displaying the young officer's behavior in the most 
 unfavorable light. Buonaparte's defense was contained in a manifesto 
 which made the citizens still more furious by its declaration that the 
 whole civic structiu-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 volunteers 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 with another as to his " civism " — the 
 phrase used at that time to designate the quality of friendliness to the 
 Revolution. The former seems to have been framed according to his 
 own statements, and was speciously deceptive. Valence, where the roy- 
 aUst colonel regarded him as a deserter, was of coiu'se 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, xn stood on the regimental books. For this reason he hkewise secm*ed 
 179T-92 letters of introduction to the leading Corsicans in the French capital, 
 and, borrowing money for the jom'ney, 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; 
 Paoh'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 ? 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 hostility 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 emigrants 
 had seemingly become the only means of self-preservation for then' in- 
 tended victim. His constitutional supporters recognized that, in the 
 adoption of this coiu'se by the King, the last hope of a peaceful solution 
 to their awfid problem had disappeared. It was now cei-taiu and gen- 
 erally known that Louis himself was in 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 begiui. 
 Consequently, on April twentieth, 1792, war had been declared flgainst 
 Austria by influence of the King's friends. The populace, awed by the 
 armies thus caUed out, were at first silently defiant, an attitude which 
 changed to open fmy when the defeat of the French troops in the Aus- 
 trian Netherlands was announced. 
 
 The moderate repubhcans, or Grirondists, 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 THE MUSEITM OP AJACCIO, CORSICA 
 
 THE YOUNG NAPOLEON 
 
 KROM A MABBLK BUST BY AN UNKNOWN SCinJTOB
 
 ^T. 22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 101 
 
 garrison at Ajaccio. According to a strict interpretation of the Chap, xu 
 militaiy code there was scarcely a ciime which Buonaparte had not 1791-92 
 committed: desertion, disobedience, tampering, attack on constituted 
 authority, and abuse of official power. The minister reported the 
 conduct of both Quenza and Buonaparte as most reprehensible, and 
 declared that if their offense had been purely military he would have 
 court-martialed them. 
 
 Learning fii'st at Marseilles that war had broken out, and that the 
 companies of his regiment were dispersed to various camps for active 
 service, Buonaparte 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 current 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 imder arms to the enemy, and individual soldiers were escap- 
 ing by hundreds. The officers of the Fourth Ai-tilleiy 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 fi*om which she was stnigghng 
 to free herself. 
 
 When Buonaparte reached Paris on May twenty-eighth, 1792, there 
 was a poor outlook for a suppliant, bankrupt in funds and nearly so 
 in reputation ; but he was undaunted, and his application 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 duiing as many months, — and the assis- 
 tant now in 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 obscure Ueutenant with a shady character. 
 Buonaparte at once gi'asped the fact that he could win his cause only 
 by patience or by importunity, and began to consider how he should 
 an'ange for a prolonged stay iu the capital. His scanty resom-ces were 
 abeady exhausted, but he found Bom-rienne, a former school-fellow at 
 Brienne, in equal straits, waiting hke himself for something to tm-n
 
 2Q2 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 fui-nished 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 
 then* nati^re. The Assembly dismissed the King's body-guard on May 
 twenty-ninth ; on Jime 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 coahtion was an- 
 nounced, and on the twenty-eighth Lafayette endeavored to stay the 
 tide of fm-ious discontent which was now rising in the Assembly. But 
 it was as ruthless as that of the ocean, and on July eleventh the comitry 
 was declared in danger. There was, however, a temporary check to the 
 rush, a moment of repose in which the King, on the fourteenth, 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 abohtion of the monarchy. Such was the im- 
 patience of that city that, without waiting for the logical effect of their 
 declaration, its inhabitants detennined to make a demonstration m 
 Paris. On the thirtieth a deputation five hundred strong arrived before 
 the capital. On August third, they entered the city singing the im- 
 mortal song which bears their name, but which was written 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 cimous and the fickle, all the 
 unstable elements of society. This time the King was unnerved ; in de- 
 spair 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 unworthy of his office. 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 CORSICAX JACOBIN 103 
 
 than an interested spectator. We hear of him as visiting his sister chap, xn 
 Elisa at St. Cyi-, and in a letter wiitten on June eighteenth he specu- 179U92 
 lates on her fate, and on the chance of her manying without a dot. In 
 quiet times, the wards of St. Cyi- received, on leaving, a dowiy of three 
 thousand livres, with three hundi-ed more for an outfit; but as matters 
 then were, the establishment was breaking up and there were no funds 
 for that piu'pose. Like the rest, the Corsican gh'l was soon to be stripped 
 of her pretty uniform, the neat silk gown, the black gloves, and the 
 dainty bronze shppers which Mme. de Maintenon had prescribed for the 
 noble damsels at that royal school. In another letter written foiu- days 
 later there is a graphic account 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 Ttdleries 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, hke others 
 made by Bom'rienne, 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 wi'iter'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 course ; 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 rile 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, 181.5. new interests: this was the fourth dj-nasty, 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 regi^ncrates it, throwing off 
 
 lowed the second; then came the republic, and its the incrustations and gi^niig room to the life within, 
 
 succession was legitimated by victory, by the will It is interesting to note t)ie 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 di-eadful 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 foimd the repub- 
 Hc 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 fiiend. The impression left after 
 reading his narrative of the frightful carnage before the Tuileries, of the 
 indecencies committed by frenzied 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 
 siunmoned 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 established by any collateral evidence. 
 
 It is not likely that an ardent radical leader like Buonaparte, well 
 known and influential in the Rhone valley, 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 Loms XVI. had appeared on 
 horseback, he would have conquered." "After the victory of the Mar- 
 seiUais," continues the passage quoted from the letter, " I saw a man 
 about to kill a soldier of the guard. I said to him, ' Southron, let us 
 spare the unfortunate ! ' 'Art thou from the South'?' 'Yes.' 'WeU, 
 then, we wiU 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 
 
 > 
 
 w 
 
 

 
 ^T.22] BONAPARTE THE CORSICAN JACOBIN 105 
 
 thirteenth of Venclemiaire, most useful to Buonaparte; that though de- Chap, xn 
 graded from the office of general to which he was appointed in the im-m 
 revolutionary army, he was in 1800 restored to his rank by the Fu-st 
 Consul. All this is consistent with Napoleon's assertion, but it proves 
 nothing conclusively; and there is certainly groimd for suspicion when 
 we reflect that these events were ultimately decisive of Buonaparte's 
 fortunes. 
 
 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 drunkard, 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 oi"phans of those who had fallen ia \dctoiy. 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 
 popular 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 hke 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-thii'd the strong place of Longwy 
 was dehvered into the hands of the Prussians, the capitulation being 
 due, as was claimed, to treachery among the French officers.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 bonapaete the feench jacobin 
 
 Reinstatement and Promotion — Further Solicitation — Napoleon 
 AND Elisa — Occupations in Paris — Return to Ajaccio — Disor- 
 ders 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 De- 
 tachment — Further Developments in France — England's Pol- 
 icy — Paoli in Danger — Denounced and Summoned to Pabis. 
 
 Chap, xm fTHHE committee to which Buonaparte's request for reinstatement was 
 1792-93 J_ refen*ed made a report on June twenty-fii'st, 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 iil 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 oblivion ; for his 
 captain's commission was dated back to February sixth, 1792, the 
 day on which his promotion would have occurred in due com-se if he 
 
 81
 
 ^T. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 107 
 
 had been present in full standing with his regiment. His arrears for chap, xra 
 that rank were to be paid in full. 1792-03 
 
 Such success was intoxicathig. Monge, the groat mathematician, 
 had been his master at the military sfthool in Paris, and was now min- 
 ister of the navy. True to his nature, 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 
 artOlery in the sea service. The authorities 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 disgi-aced, which was still m com- 
 mand of a colonel who was not disposed to leniency. 
 
 An easy excuse for shirking 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 pupUs were then to be 
 dismissed. Each beneficiary was to receive a mileage of one livi-e for 
 every league she had to traverse. Three hundred and fifty-two was 
 the sTim due to Ehsa. 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- 
 parie had learned at the school of St. Louis, she was still as deficient 
 in writing and spelling as her brother. The formal requisitions widtten 
 by both are still extant ; they would infuiuate 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 necessary for 
 the new captain to procure a fm'ther leave of absence. Judging from
 
 108 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 
 
 Chap, xih Subsequent events, it is possible that he was also seeking further ae- 
 179T-93 quaiutauce and favor with the influential Jacobins of Paris. During 
 the days from the second to the seventh more than a thousand of thfe 
 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 
 hkely in \dew of the known dates of his journey. In any case he did 
 not seriously compromise himself, doing at the most nothing fmiiher 
 than to make plans for the future. It may have become clear to him, 
 for it was true and he behaved accordingly, that Erance 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 all-important fifteen hundred hvres of arrears, now due 
 him, but not paid until a month later, he and his sister set out for 
 home. They traveled by dUigence to Lyons, and thence by the 
 Rhone to Marseilles. Dm-ing 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 biU 
 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 
 Dumouriez, 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 
 retm-n. 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 younger children 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 TBE MUSECM OF VERSAIIXES 
 
 JEANNE-MARIE-IGNACE-THERESE DE CABARRUS 
 
 MADAME TALLIEN 
 
 KHOM THK fAINTINO IlY KltANCulK uf.UAHD
 
 ^T.23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 109 
 
 family properties were still productive, and Napoleon's private purse chap. xni 
 would soon be replenished by the quartermaster of his regiment. ivoa^oa 
 
 The course of affairs in Fi-ance 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 adjournment of the Constituent Assembly with many 
 new ideas which he had gathered from 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 fimds. He had returned to France before Buonaparte anived, 
 as a member of the newly elected legislatm-e, but his evil influence 
 survived his departui'e, and his heutenants were ubiquitous and active. 
 Paoli had been rendered helpless, and was simk in despair. He was 
 now commander-in-chief of the regular troops in garrison, 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 volunteer guard, 
 the entu-e 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 unruly than ever; for it was to then- 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 modified to a certain extent, they were more 
 embittered than ever against each other. 
 
 Buonaparte coxdd not be neutral ; his nature and his sujroundings 
 forbade it. His first step was to resimie his command in the vohm- 
 teers, and, under pretext of inspecting their posts, to make a journey 
 through the island ; his second was to go through the form of seeking 
 a reconcihation with Paoh. In the clubs, among his fi'iends 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 heutenants and a thorough Cor- 
 sican, explains that the writer is detained from going to Bonifacio by 
 an order from the general (Paoh) 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 [^t. 23 
 
 Chap, xhi and there will be an end to all disorder and iiTegularity. " Greet our 
 179I-93 Mends, and assure them of my desii^e to further their interests." The 
 epistle was written in Italian, but that fact signifies httle 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 our 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 Holland would, how- 
 ever, sm'ely join the aUiance; and if the Itahan principahties, with 
 the kingdom of Sardinia, should take the same coui'se, France would 
 be in dire straits. It was therefore suggested in the Assembly that 
 a blow should be stiiick at the house of Savoy, in order to awe 
 both that and the other coui-ts of Italy into inactivity. The idea of an 
 attack on Sardinia for this purpose originated in Corsica, but among 
 the friends of SaUcetti, and it was he who urged 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 heutenant- 
 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 
 usm-p the supreme control of France. A call was issued for the elec- 
 tion by manhood suffrage of a National Convention, and a committee 
 of surveillance was appointed with the bloodtMi-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. xm 
 were thrown into prison. The Assembly went thi-ough the foi-ni of mi^w 
 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 reaUy a massacre, and lasted, as has been said, 
 for five days. Versailles, Lyons, Meaux, Rheims, and Orleans were 
 similarly " purified." Amid these scenes the immaculate Robespierre, 
 whose hands were not soiled with the blood spiUed on August tenth, 
 appeared as the calm statesman controlling the wild vagaries of the 
 rough and impulsive but luiselfish and uncalculating Danton. These 
 two, with Phihp 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 
 Gu'ondists, or moderate repubhcans, 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 " fu-st 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, endeavoring to restore order 
 in Paris, and to bridle the extreme Jacobins. But notwithstanding its 
 right views and its numbers, the Grii-ondist party displayed no sagacity ; 
 before the year I was three months old, the unscrupulous Jacobins, 
 with the aid of the Paris commune, had reasserted their supremacy. 
 The declaration of the repubhc only hastened the execution of Sah- 
 cetti's plan regarding Sardinia, and the Convention was more energetic 
 than the Assembly had been. The fieet was made ready, troops from 
 France 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. Buonapai-te's old battahon 
 was among those that were selected from the Corsican volunteers. 
 From the outset Paoh had been unfriendly to the scheme ; its sup-
 
 112 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 
 
 Chap. XIII porters, whose zeal far outran theii* means, were not his friends. 
 1792-93 Nevertheless, he was in supreme command of hoth regulars and volun- 
 teers, and the government having authorized the expedition, the neces- 
 sary orders had to be issued thi'ough him as the only channel of 
 authority. Buonaparte's reappearance among his men had been of 
 course irregular. 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 heutenant-colonel of volunteers, a position which 
 had also been made one of emolument. But he was not a man to 
 stand on sUght formahties, and had evidently determined to seize both 
 horns of the dilemma. 
 
 Paoh, as a French official, of course could not hsten for an instant 
 to such a preposterous notion. But as a patriot anxious to keep all 
 the influence he could, and as a family friend of the Buonapartes, he 
 was unvdlling to order the young 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-nationalist 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 Paoh shut his eyes to an act of 
 flagrant insubordination. Paoh saw that Buonaparte was irrevocably 
 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 sKghtest basis of 
 proof that both Paoli 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 conjecture be true, Paoh either knew nothing of the 
 conspiracy, or behaved as he did because his own plans were not yet 
 ripe. The drama of his own personal perplexities, cross-purposes, and 
 ever false positions was rapidly moving 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. xiii 
 justed. One portion of the fleet was to skirt the Itahan shores, make 1792^3 
 demonstrations in the various harbors, and demand in one of them — 
 that of Naples — pubHc 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 gaaards and French 
 troops at Ajaccio, then to imite with the former in the Bay of Pahna, 
 whence both were to proceed against Caghari. Bitt the French soldiers 
 to be taken from the Anny of the Var mider General Anselme were in 
 fact non-existent; the only mihtary force to be found was a portion of 
 the Marseilles national guard — mere boys, unequipped, imtramed, and 
 inexperienced. Winds and waves, too, were adverse : two of the vessels 
 were wrecked, and one was disabled. The rest were badly demoralized, 
 and then" 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 their number. The character of the islanders showed 
 itself at once in further violence and the fiercest threats. The tumidt 
 was finally allayed, but it was perfectly clear that for Corsicans and 
 MarseiUais 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, fi'om 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 junction at the 
 appointed place and time. When they did imite, it was February 
 f oui'teenth, 1793 ; the men were iU fed and mutinous ; the troops that 
 landed to stoitn 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 cornet promised neutrahty, with reparation for the insult to the 
 tricolor.
 
 2;^4 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 
 
 Chap, xhi The Corsican expedition was quite as ill-starred as tlie French. 
 1792-93 Paoli accepted Buonaparte's plan, but appointed Ms nephew, Colonna- 
 Cesari, to lead, with instructions to see that, if possible, "this unfortu- 
 nate expedition shall end ia smoke." The disappointed but stubborn 
 young aspu-ant remaiaed in his subordinate place as an officer of the 
 second battalion 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, siace renowned as the home of Graribaldi. The 
 troops embarked and put to sea. Almost at once the wind fell ; there 
 was a two days' calm, 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 shghtly fi'om the enemy's fire, two of her crew having been kiUed. 
 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 Paoh's nephew, declaring him to have acted traitor- 
 ously. It is significant of the utter anarchy then prevaihng that no- 
 body was punished 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 during his short absence the whole Corsican 
 guard had been disbanded to make way for two battahons of hght 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
 
 H 
 
 m 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 H 
 t- 
 cn 
 
 O 
 
 m 
 S 
 2 
 
 > 
 
 m 
 yi 
 
 i Z 
 " m 
 
 a > 
 
 ^ "^ 
 
 I S 
 
 5 O 
 
 3 Z 
 
 J en 
 
 2 
 
 1 w 
 
 2 m 
 t- 
 O 
 
 C 
 
 z 
 
 o 
 < 
 
 m 
 
 S 
 
 m 


 
 ^T. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 115 
 
 tighten the bolts ; for the King, in dallying with foreign eoui-ts, had Chap, xm 
 vii-tually 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 by Austria and Prussia 
 had stung the nation to madness. RobespieiTe and Danton having 
 become dictators, all moderate pohcy was echpsed. The executive 
 council of the Convention, determined to appease the nation, gathered 
 their strength in one vigorous effort, and put three gi-eat armies in the 
 field. On November sixth, 1792, to the amazement of the world, 
 Dumouriez won the battle of Jemmapes, thus conquei-ing 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 estabhshment of 
 a Belgian repubhc. 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 aniznosity 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 hfe, claimed that the Convention had no jiu-isdiction, 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 
 theu" followers elsewhere, the radicals prevailed. By a vote of three 
 hundred and sixty-six to three hundred and fifty-five the verdict of 
 death was pronounced on January seventeenth, 1793, and fom* 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 junctm-e prime minister 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
 
 116 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 
 
 Chap, xiii giwduaUy convinced that Jacobinism, violence, and crime were the 
 1797-93 essence of the movement, constitutional reform but a specious pretext. 
 Between 1789 and 1792 there was a rising tide of adverse pubHc senti- 
 ment so swift and strong that Pitt was unable to follow it. By the 
 execution of Louis the Enghsh 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 repubU- 
 can armies, to spread hke a conflagration 1 The still monarchical hb- 
 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 
 adi'oitness France was tempted into a declaration of war against Eng- 
 land. Enthusiasm raged in Paris like fii-e among dry stubble. Prance, 
 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 Paoli now to do? From gratitude 
 to England he had repeatedly and earnestly declared that he could 
 never take up arms against her. He was ah^eady 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 
 abeady found disgrace in their attempts with inadequate means to dis- 
 lodge the Sardinian troops from the mountain passes of the Maritime 
 Alps. Mindful, therefore, of their fate, and of his obligations to Eng- 
 land, Paoli firmly refused the proffered honor. Suspicion as to the 
 existence of an Enghsh party in the island had early been awakened 
 among the members of the Mountain ; for half the Corsican delegation
 
 iET. 23] BONAPARTE THE FRENCH JACOBIN 117 
 
 to the Convention had opposed the sentence passed on the King. chap. xin 
 When the ill-starred Sardinian expedition reached Toulon, the blame of 1792-93 
 failure was laid by the Jacobins on Paoh's shoulders. 
 
 Sahcetti, 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 aUayed when, most unex- 
 pectedly, fatal news arrived from Paris. In the pi-eceding 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-foimd friend with him as secretary or useful man. Both 
 were firm Jacobins, and the master having failed in making any im- 
 pression on Paoh dtu'ing his Corsican sojoimi, the man took revenge by 
 denouncing the heiitenant-general as a traitor before a political meeting 
 in Toulon. An addi'ess 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 arrived, pubhc opinion 
 was inflamed, and on April second Paoh, 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 royaUsts were now forever ahenated from 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.
 
 u 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A JACOBIN HEJTRA 
 
 The Waning of Bonaparte's Patriotism — Alliance with Salicetti 
 — Another Scheme for Leadership — Failure to Seize the 
 Citadel of Ajacgio — Second Plan — Paoli's Attitude toward 
 the Convention — Bonaparte Finally Discredited in Corsica — 
 Paoli Turns to England — Plans of the Bonaparte Family 
 — Their Arrival in Toulon — Napoleon's Character — His Cor- 
 sicAN Career — Lessons of his Failures — His Ajbility, Situation, 
 AND Experience. 
 
 CHAP.xrv T)UONAPARTE was for an instant among the most zealous of 
 1793 J_3 Paoli's supporters, and, taking up Ms 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 
 addi-essed to the municipahty of Ajaccio that the people should renew 
 their oath of allegiance to France. The captain's French regiment had 
 already been some five months in active service. If his passion had 
 been only for military glory, that was to be found nowhere so certainly 
 as in its ranks, where he should have been. But his passion for pohti- 
 cal renown was clearly far stronger. Where could it be so easily grati- 
 fied as in Corsica imder the present conditions ? The personahty of the 
 young adventurer had for a long time been curiously 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 quarrels 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 Paoh imder the 
 ban of the Convention, and suspected of connivance with English 
 
 us
 
 -a;T.23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 119 
 
 schemes, there might be a revulsion of feehng and a chance to make Chap. xrv 
 French influence paramount once more in the island under the leader- 1793 
 ship of the Buonapartes and their fi-iends. For the moment Napoleon 
 preserved the outward semblance of the Corsican patriot, but he seems 
 to have been weaiy 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 SaUcetti reached Corsica ; the news of Paoli's- 
 denunciation by the Convention anived, as has been said, on the seven- 
 teenth. Seeing how nicely adjusted the scales of local poMtics were, the 
 deputy was eager to secure favor from Paris, and wrote 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. Sahcetti did not hesitate, but as between Paoli 
 and Corsica with no career on the one side, and the possibihties of a 
 gi"eat career under 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 artilleiy for Corsica. 
 
 Sahcetti had granted what Paoh would not : Buonaparte was free to 
 strike his blow for Corsican leadership. With swift and decisive mea- 
 sures the last scene in his Corsican adventures was an'anged. 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 insurgents 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 followers to take possession of the 
 stronghold he had so long coveted, and so often failed to capture. If
 
 120 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 
 
 Chap. XIV 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 Paohst who refused to be hoodwinked, and would 
 not act without an authorization from his general-in-chief. The value 
 of the seizui'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 ah'eady 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 
 from his own estate found a place of concealment for him in a house 
 belongmg to then* fiiends, 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 gai-rison. 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 unfailing resource. Rumors of these 
 proceedings soon reached Paoh, and Buonaparte was simimoned to 
 report immediately at Corte. Such was the intensity of popular bitter- 
 ness against him in Ajaccio for his desertion of Paoh 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 desire for revenge on his Corsican persecutors would now give an 
 additional stimulus to Buonaparte, and stni 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, munitions, and artillery on 
 
 i
 
 liEJABTMENT 
 
 1,N.jUA\L1.. liY li. U. lli-rZE 
 
 LAZARE-NICOLAS-MARGUERITE CARNOT 
 
 WAK MINISTER OF FRANCE 1 793-9?, POPULARLY CALLED 
 "THE ORGANIZER OF VICTORY" 
 
 KROU Tut PAINTING BY LRJEUNE
 
 ^T. 23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 121 
 
 board, were to appear unexpectedly before the city, land their men chap. xrv 
 and guns, and then, with the help of the Switzers and such of the citi- nas 
 zens as espoused the French cause, were to overawe the town and seize 
 the citadel. Corsican affans had now reached a crisis, for this was a 
 vu'tual declaration of war. PaoU so understood it, and nieasui-es of 
 mutual defiance were at once taken by both sides. The French com- 
 missioners formally deposed the officials who sympathized with Paoli ; 
 they, in tiu'n, took steps to increase the garrison of Ajaccio, aud to 
 strengthen the popular sentiment in then* 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 conunission of two members 
 started for Corsica. But at Aix they f eU into the hands of a royahst mob, 
 and were arrested. Ignorant of these favorable events, and the mitoward 
 circumstances by which their effect was thwarted, the disheartened 
 statesman had written and forwarded on May f om'teenth a second letter, 
 of the same tenor as the first. This measure hkewise had failed of 
 effect, for the messenger had been stopped at Bastia, now the focus of 
 Sahcetti'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 imder 
 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 from 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 then* home for 
 safety, leaving their small estates to be ravaged and then' slender re- 
 sources to be destroyed, while their 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 
 stoi-m, and reached Ajaccio on May twenty-ninth, in the very height of 
 these turmoils. It was too late for any possibihty of success. The few 
 French troops on shore were cowed, and dared not show themselves 
 
 17
 
 222 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t, 23 
 
 Chap, xtv wlien 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 then* course at Paris. He earned with him a 
 wordy paper widtten by Buonaparte in his worst style and spelling, 
 setting forth the mihtary and pohtical situation in Corsica, and con- 
 taming a bitter tu'ade against PaoU, which remains to lend some color 
 to the charge that the writer had been, since his leader's retiu'n 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 virtual autonomy in his fatherland, or to de- 
 liver it entirely into the hands of France. f 
 
 In this painful document Buonaparte sets forth in fiery phrase the 
 early enthusiasm of repubhcans for the return of Paoh, and their disil- 
 lusionment when he surrounded 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 failm-e of the commissioners to secure 
 Ajaecio, are all alike attributed to Paoli. " Can perfidy like this invade 
 the human 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 vain. Corsica 
 was far, communication slow, and the misunderstanding which oc- 
 curred 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 in 
 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 entire 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 
 
 impiinished; the great cities of Marseilles, Toulon, and Lyons were chap. xiv 
 in a state of anarchy; the revolutionary tribunal had been estabhshed i793 
 in Paris; the Committee of PubUc Safety had usurped the supreme 
 power ; the France to which he had intrusted the fortunes of Corsica 
 was no more. Already an agent was in communication with the Eng- 
 Ush diplomats in Italy. On July tenth Salicetti arrived in Paris; on 
 the seventeenth Paoh was declared a traitor and an outlaw, and his 
 friends were indicted for trial. But the EngMsh fleet was abeady in 
 the Mediterranean, and although the British protectorate over Corsica 
 was not estabhshed until the following year, in the intei-val the French 
 and their few remaining sympathizers on the island were able at best 
 to hold only the three 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 
 memoirs 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 everywhere, 
 he thought. " If I ever choose that career," said he, " I hope you will 
 hear of me. In a few years I shaU retmTi thence a rich nabob, and 
 bring fine dowries for our three sisters." But the scheme was defeiTed 
 and then abandoned. Sahcetti had arranged for his own retui'n to 
 Paris, where he would be safe. Napoleon felt that flight was the only 
 resort for him and his. Accordingly, on June eleventh, three days ear- 
 Uer 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 theii- 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 painful devotion. Such, at least, appears to have 
 been Napoleon's general 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 OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23 
 
 Chap. XIV witli eveiy 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 livres a month, infants forty- 
 five livres. Lads received simply a present of twenty-five livres. 
 With the preUminary 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 salary 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 coiu'ts were established 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 military irregularities, 
 and Napoleon, armed 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 Httle citadel of Ajaccio. Such a scheme, at all events, oc- 
 cupied him intermittently for nearly two years, or until 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 
 obdm-ate 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 imder the old regime, he had 
 imbibed a bitter hatred for the land indehbly associated with such
 
 ^T. 23] A JACOBIN HEJIRA 125 
 
 haughty privileges for the rich and such contemptuous disdain for the ceap. xiv 
 poor. He had not even the consolation of having received an educa- iTsa 
 tion. His nature revolted at the rehgious formahsm of priestcraft; 
 his mind tm'ued in disgust from the scholastic husks of its superficial 
 knowledge. What he had learned came from inborn capacity, from 
 desultory reading, and from the untutored imaginings of his garden 
 at Brienne, his cave at Ajaccio, or his barrack chambers. What more 
 plausible than that he should flj.'st turn to the land of his bh-th 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 reaUsm 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 purpose ; there is none as to either conduct or theory. There is the 
 passionate admiration 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 showu at every tuna, 
 in the perf ervid style of his vn:itings, in the mock dignity of an edict 
 issued from the grotto at MiUeh, in the empty honors of a heutenant- 
 colonel without a real command, in the paltiy 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 would 
 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 failui'e did not dis- 
 hearten him. Detesting garrison life, he neglected its duties, and en- 
 dured punishment, but he secured regular promotion; defeated again 
 and again before the citadel of Ajaccio, each time he returned undis- 
 mayed to make a fresh trial under new auspices or in a new way. 
 
 He was no spendthrift, 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 ia 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 tlic lowly, wliom he understood. Finally, here was a citizen of 
 1793 the world, a man without a country ; his bii'thright was gone, for Cor- 
 sica repelled him; Prance 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 poHtician. He was 
 apparently, too, without a single guidipg 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 but 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, adaptabiUty, 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 outward appearance, the httle captain of artillery was the 
 same shm, ill-proportioned, and rather iusignificant 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 ia the outside 
 world.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 "the suppeb of beaucaiee" 
 
 Revolutionaey Madness — Uprising of the Girondists — Contention 
 Forces Before 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. 
 
 IT was a tempestuous time in Provence when tlie 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" history 
 had been wilfully 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 whirlwind 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 unparalleled 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 Vendee, the Rhone valley, and the southeast of 
 Prance. Montesquieu declares that honor is the di stinguishing 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 poHcy colored the entu*e civil war, 
 and the bitterness in attack and retahation that was shown in Mar- 
 
 127
 
 -1^28 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 23-24 
 
 Chap. XV seilles, Lyons, Toulon, and elsewhere woiild have disgraced savages in 
 1793 a prehistoric age. 
 
 The westward slopes of the Alps were occupied by an army desig- 
 nated by that name, under the command of KeUermann ; farther south 
 and east lay the Ai'my of Italy, imder Brunet. Both these armies were 
 expected to di'aw their supphes fi-om 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 
 failure 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 aU the lands immediately to the westward momen- 
 tarily paralyzed their operations ; and when, shortly afterward, the Gi- 
 rondists overpowered the Jacobins in Marseilles, the defection of that 
 city made it difficult for the so-called 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 friends 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 civihan, but a man of energy. According to directions received from 
 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 walls of Avignon. 
 
 A few days later. Napoleon Buonaparte entered the camp, having 
 arrived by devious ways, and after narrow escapes from 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 supplies 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-
 
 V! ? 
 
 H 
 
 X 
 m 
 
 n 
 o 
 
 z 
 
 m 
 O 
 
 •D 
 X 
 
 o 
 
 r 
 
 > 
 z 
 
 D
 
 i 
 
 s
 
 ^T. 23-24] "THE SUPPER OF BEAUCAIRE" 129 
 
 mayed by the menacing attitude of the suiTounding population, and on chap. rv 
 the twenty-fifth, in the very horn- of victory, began their retreat. The nus 
 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 aimy, 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 retui-n of his old 
 malarial trouble. Moreover, his family had ah'eady been driven from 
 Toulon by the uprising of the hostile party, and were now dependent on 
 charity ; the Corsican revolt against the Convention was vii-tually suc- 
 cessful, and it was said that in the island the name of Buonaparte was 
 considered as httle less execrable than that of Buttafuoco. What must 
 he do to get a decisive share in the surging, rolling tumult about him ? 
 The visionary boy was transformed into the practical man. Frenchmen 
 were fighting, and winning glory everywhere, 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, — enhstment m the Russian anny,^ service with 
 England, a career in the Indies, the return of the nabob, — all such vi- 
 sions were set aside forever, and an apphcation 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 fi-ontier 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 aU be secured. 
 
 But what must be the first step to secure notoriety here and now I 
 How could that end be gained I The old instinct of authorship re- 
 turned 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 Beaucaire," his first hteraiy work of real abihty. 
 As if by magic his style is utterly changed, being now concise, con-ect, 
 and lucid. The opinions expressed are quite as thoroughly transfoi-med, 
 
 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 Montpellier, two merchants of Marseilles, and a 
 soldier fi-om Aviguon — find themselves accidentally thrown together as 
 table companions at an inn of Beaucaire, a httle city round about which 
 the ciAril 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 insiu^gents 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 recapitidates 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 mihtaryman he explains the strategic weak- 
 ness of then* position, and the futihty of their operations, uttering 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 desiring not moderation, but a counter-revolution in their 
 own interest, and of displaying a wilhngness 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 thrown down their arms before the constitution and sacrificed 
 their own interests to the pubhc 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 mauufactm-er is of opinion
 
 ^T. 23-24] "THE SUPPER OF BEAUCAIRE" * 131 
 
 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-revolu- 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 affau's had found a 
 style in which to express his clear-cut ideas. When the tide tm-ns it 
 rises without interruption. Buonaparte's pamphlet was scarcely wiitten 
 before its value was discerned; for at that moment aiTived 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 yoimger brother of RobespieiTe. 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 Gaspariu. Buona- 
 parte, of course, found easy access to the favor of his compatriot Sah- 
 cetti, and " The Supper of Beaucaire " was heard by the plenipoten- 
 tiaries with attention. Its merit was immediately recognized both by 
 Gasparin and by the younger Robespierre ; iu a few days the pamphlet 
 was pubhshed at the expense of the state. 
 
 In the interval, while Buonaparte remained at Avignon, secui'ing 
 artillery supphes 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 horri- 
 ble year. The Girondists of Toulon saw in the fate of those at Mar- 
 seilles the lot apportioned to themselves. If the high contractiug 
 powers now banded against France had shown a sincere desire to queU 
 Jacobin bestiahty, they could on the first formation of the coalition 
 easily have seized Paris. Instead, Austria and Pi-ussia 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 slung 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 measm-es, and displayed
 
 132 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [-SIt. 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 Gnondists of Toulon to induce its commander to 
 seize not only their splendid' arsenals, but the fleet in their harbor as 
 ■^eU — the only effective one, in fact, which at that time the French 
 possessed. Without delay or hesitation, Hood, the Enghsh admu-al, 
 grasped 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 arrived, 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 — Bonaparte'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 OF THE Jacobin Victors — A Corsican Plot — Horrors 
 OF THE French Revolution. 
 
 COUPLED as it was with other discouraging circumstances, the chap, xvi 
 " treason of Toulon " struck a staggering blow at the Convention. 1793 
 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 captiu*e by France; the great city of Bordeaux was 
 ominously silent and inactive ; the royahsts of Vendee were temporarily 
 victorious ; there was unrest in Normandy, and further 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 repubhc 
 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 military organizer and influential as a pohtician, he had 
 already awakened the whole land to a stiU higher fei'vor, and had con- 
 sohdated public sentiment in favor of his plans. In Dubois de Craned 
 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 [^t. 24 
 
 Chap. XVI miracles had been wrouglit, and, with Toulon lost, they might be 
 1793 forever impossible. 
 
 For a few days after the pubhcation of his Httle book Buonaparte 
 had a relapse into 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. Dming 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 in 
 the Ai'my 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 
 sohd 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 rolling 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 almost 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-
 
 lI'Ul.UA^tltK HOi;;sOlt. \.MAr.O.\ »t CO, PAIlI>. 
 
 BONAPARTE 
 
 i EXPLAINING HIS PL.VN FOR Till. TAKINH^, OF TOri.OX. ly.)^. 
 
 IROM THE 1'A1.NT1SG UV ASDllt CASIAIUNE.
 
 ^T. 34] TOULON . 135 
 
 mined them in the pregnant step they now took. The visiting captain cuap. x\t 
 was appointed to the vacant place. At the same time his mother re- itw 
 ceived a gi-ant 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 been the first to recognize 
 Buonaparte's abihty. He declares that the young Corsican was daily 
 at his table, and that it was he himself who m-egularly but efficiently 
 secured the appointment of his new friend to active duty. But he also 
 asserts what we know to be luitrae, that Buonaparte was still heiitenant 
 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 wer'S now wiUing to come forward, and Napoleon, not 
 pubhcly committed to the Jacobins, was able to win many capable 
 assistants fi'om 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 i^romising 
 kind was displayed by officers and men ahke. The only check was in 
 the ignorant meddhng 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 taUor. 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 memoriaUst to the higher rank of 
 acting commander ; but his fmther 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 himself 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 Pyrenees. Dugommier, a profes-
 
 136 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [.Et. 24 
 
 Chap. XVI sional soldier, was finally appointed commander-in-chief, and Duteil, 
 1793 a brother of Buonaparte's old fi'iend and commander, was made general 
 of artillery. Ahxmdant supphes an-ived at the same time 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 unportant by the captui-e of Greneral 
 O'Hara, the Enghsh commandant. In the "Momteur"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 explained to his col- 
 leagues the special featm'es of their task, but all in vain. He reasoned 
 that Toulon depended for its resisting power on ^he Alhes and their 
 fleets, and must be reduced from the side next the sea. The Enghsh 
 themselves understood this when they ileized and fortified the redoubt 
 of Fort Mulgrave, 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 simple 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 all 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 coidd no longer re- 
 main in a situation so precarious, the besieged at once made ready for 
 departm-e, 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 Barras are mentioned in Dugommier's let-
 
 O 
 
 I 
 
 >< 
 
 u. 
 O 
 
 CO 
 
 H 
 
 a 
 S 
 
 I 
 
 O 
 
 Di 
 U. 
 
 q 
 
 5 
 o 
 f- 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 < 
 
 aj 
 H
 
 ^T.24] TOULON 137 
 
 ters as those of men who had won distinction in various posts ; that of Chap. xvi 
 Buonaparte does not occui-. 1793 
 
 There was either jealousy of his merits, which are declared hj^ 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 Toulon. "Men won- 
 dered at the fortune which kept me invulnerable ; I always concealed 
 my dangers in mystery." The hypothesis of his insignificance appears 
 unlikely 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 wi-itten 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 virtues of this rare 
 ofi&cer. It rests with you, Minister, to retain them for the glory of 
 the Repubhc." 
 
 On December twenty-fourth 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 vamph-es they at once sent 
 two commissioners to wipe the name of Toulon fi*om the map, and its 
 inhabitants from the earth. Fouche, later chief of pohce and Duke of 
 Otranto under Napoleon, went down from Lyons to see the sport, and 
 wrote to his friend the arch-mui'derer Collet d'Herbois that they were 
 celebrating the victory in but one way. " This night we send two him- 
 dred and thirteen rebels into hell fire." The fact is, no one ever knew 
 how many hundreds or thousands of the Toulon Girondists were swept 
 together and destroyed by the fire of cannon and musketry. Freron, 
 one of the commissioners, desired to leave not a single rebel ahve. 
 Dugommier would hsten to no such proposition for a holocaust. Mar- 
 mont declares that Buonaparte and his artiUeiymen pleaded for mercy, 
 but in vain. 
 
 Running like a thread through aU these events was a counter-plot. 
 
 19
 
 138 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 
 
 Chap, x^^ The Corsicans at Toiilon wei-e persons of importance, and had shown 
 1793 theii- mettle. Sahcetti, Buonaparte, Ai-ena, and Cervoni were now men 
 of mark ; the two latter had, like Buonaparte, been promoted, though 
 to much lower rank. As Sahcetti declared in a letter wiitten 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 Sahcetti seemed to lose all inter- 
 est ia Corsican affairs, becoming more and more involved in the ever 
 madder rush of events in France. 
 
 There was nothiug strange hi this : a common pohtician could not 
 remain insensible to the course or the consequences of the mahgnant 
 anarchy now raging throughout France. The massacres at Lyons, 
 Marseilles, and Toulon were the reply to the horrors of like or worse 
 natm*e pei-petrated in. Vendee by the royahsts. Danton having used 
 the Paris sections to overawe the Gu'ondist 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 until even Danton's conduct appeared cahn, 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 Carrier 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 Sah- 
 cettis of the tune might hope for anything, or fear everything, in the 
 throes of her disorder. Not so a man like Buonaparte. His instinct 
 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 
 cmTent events, but stood with his eye still fixed, though now in a back- 
 ward gaze, on Corsica, ready, if interest or seK-preservation requu'ed it, 
 for another effort to seize and hold it as his own. Determined and 
 revengeful, he was again, through the confusion in France, to seciu-e 
 means for his enterprise, and this time on a scale proportionate to the 
 difficulty.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A JACOBIN GENEEAL 
 
 Tkansfokmation in Bonaparte's Chaeactee — Coneiemed as a Feench 
 General — Conduct of his Beothees — Napoleon's Caution — His 
 Repoet on Marseilles — The New Feench Aemy — Bon.\paete 
 THE Jacobin Leadee — Hostilities with Austeia and Saedinia 
 — Enthusiasm of the Feench Teoops — Bonapaete in Society — 
 His Plan foe an Italian Campaign. 
 
 HITHERTO prudence had not been characteristic of Buonaparte : chap. xvn 
 his escapades and disobedience had savored rather of reckless- 179^-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 punctilious obedience, sometimes even by an almost puerile caution. 
 His family was homeless and penniless; then' only hope for a hvelj- 
 hood was in rising with the Jacobins, who appeared to be growing more 
 influential every hour. Through the powerful fiiends that Napoleon 
 had made among the representatives of the Convention, men like the 
 younger RobespieiTe, Freron, and Barras, much had ah'eady 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 cu'cumstances, he had dur- 
 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 favor, it appeared to Buonaparte 
 that no stumbhng-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 earUer than it 
 actually occurred, omits as unessential details some of the places in 
 which he had Hved and some of the companies in which he had served, 
 
 139
 
 140 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 
 
 Chap. XVII declares that he had commanded a battahon at the capture of Magda- 
 179^-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 services as a Frenchman by its insidious 
 omissions, the overdi-iven officials in Paris took no exception ; and on 
 Febmary sixth, 1794, he was confirmed, receiving an appointment for 
 service in the new and regenerated Ai-my of Italy, which had replaced 
 as if by magic the ragged, shoeless, ill-equipped, and half -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 dravni the first prize 
 in the lottery, but what he had secured was enough to justify his 
 coiu'se, and confirm his confidence in fate. Eight years and three 
 months nominally in the service, out of which in reahty he had been 
 absent fom- years and ten months either on fm-lough or without one, 
 and already a general! Neither bhnd luck, nor the revolutionary 
 epoch, nor the superlative ability of the man, but a compound of all 
 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 confii-mation the young as- 
 pirant, through the faidt of his friends, was involved in a most serious 
 risk. Sahcetti, and the Buonaparte brothers, Joseph, Lucien, and 
 Louis, went vsdld with exultation over the faU 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 first class. Louis, without regard to his 
 extreme youth, was promoted to be adjutant-major of artillery — a dig- 
 nity which was short-hved, for he was soon after ordered to the school 
 at Chalons as a cadet, but which served, hke the greater 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 
 httle Robespierre." 
 
 The positions of Lucien and Louis were fantastic even for revolu- 
 tionary times. Napoleon was fuUy aware of the danger, and was cor-
 
 
 
 e a 
 
 ?3 
 
 H2 
 
 = > 
 
 g 
 
 ;r5 
 
 -; 
 
 50 
 
 
 ; 
 
 m 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ?o 
 
 S^B 
 
 S 
 
 O 
 
 II 
 
 
 
 z
 
 Ml. 24] A JACOBIN GENERAL 141 
 
 respondingly circumspect. It was possibly at his own suggestion that CHAr. xvn 
 he was appointed, on December twenty-sixth, 1793, inspector of the 1793^94 
 shore foi-tiflcations, and ordered to proceed immechately on an inspec- 
 tion of the Mediterranean coast as far as Meutone. The expedition re- 
 moved him fi-om all temptation to an imfortunate 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 already 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 fi-iendly 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. 
 
 Anived 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 aU the 
 Mediterranean ports of France. At Toulon, as has been told, they ac- 
 tually entered, and departed only after losing control of the promon- 
 tory which forms the harbor. There is a similar conformation of 
 the ground 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 January 
 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 royahsts and other malcontents of theii' 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 very stronghold as their Bastille, 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
 
 j^ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 
 
 Chap, xvxi botli Buonaparte and his superior, General Lapoype ; they were both 
 1797-M 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, 
 his commission amving at Marseilles on February sixteenth. It availed 
 nothing toward restoring him to popularity; on the contrary, the masses 
 grew more suspicious and more menacing. He therefore retm-ned to 
 the protection of Sahcetti and Robespien-e at Toulon, whence by their 
 advice he despatched to Paris by special messenger a poor-spmted 
 exculpatoiy 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 Sahcetti 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 assimied 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 
 Camot 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 figure of over seven hundred and thii-ty 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 number which included aU the ganisons and reserve of the coast 
 towns and of Corsica. Its organization, like that of the other portions 
 of the mihtary power, had been simplified, and so strengthened. There 
 were a commander-in-chief, a chief of staff, three generals of division, 
 of whom Massena was one, and thu-teen generals of brigade, of whom 
 one, Buonaparte, was the commander and inspector of artillery. 
 
 The younger 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 chap, xvii 
 quickly learned to see and hear with the eyes and ears of his Corsi- 1793-94 
 can friend, whose fideUty seemed assm-ed 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 pohtical conceptions, the mihtary plans, the devices to 
 obtain ways and means. It was probably his advice which was 
 deteniiinative in the scheme of operations finally adopted. A select 
 thii'd of the troops were chosen and divided into three divisions to 
 assume the offensive, under Massena's du-ection, against the almost im- 
 pregnable posts of the Austi'ians and Sardinians in the upper Apen- 
 nines. The rest were held in ganison partly as a reserve, partly to 
 overawe the newly conquered depai'tment of which Nice was the capital. 
 
 Genoa 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 squadron in the veiy harbor. Soon afterward, by way of 
 rejoinder to this act of violence, the French minister at Grenoa was offi- 
 cially informed from Paris that as it appeared no longer possible for a 
 French anny to reach Lombardy by the direct route through the Apen- 
 nines, it might be necessary to advance along the coast through Geno- 
 ese territoiy. This announcement was no threat, but serious earnest ; 
 the plan had been carefuUy considered and was before long to be put 
 into execution. It was merely as a feint that in April, 1794:, hostihties 
 were formally opened against Sardinia and Austria. Massena seized 
 Ventimiglia on the sixth. Advancing by Onegha and Ormea, in the 
 vaUey of the Stura, he turned the position of the aUied Austrians and 
 Sardinians, thus compeUing 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 garrison troops in places now no longer in danger. 
 Massena wi'ote in terms of exultation of the devotion and endurance 
 which his troops had shown in the sacred name of hberty. " They
 
 144 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24 
 
 Chap, xvn 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 wUl 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 Robespien-e 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 terrified by the accounts of French savagery to 
 women and children, and of theii' impiety in devastating the churches 
 and religious estabhshments. 
 
 Whether the phenomenal success of this short campaign, which 
 lasted but a month, was expected or not, nothing 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 Grenoese ten-itory. 
 Buonaparte would certainly have shared in the campaign had it been a 
 serious attack ; but, except to bring captured stores from Onegha, 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 repubh- 
 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 council 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 careful elaboration ultimately devel- 
 oped into the famous plan of campaign in Italy. But affairs in Grenoa
 
 O 
 Z 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 
 m 
 
 ?3 
 
 m 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 z: 
 
 c 
 
 < 
 
 c 
 
 z 
 m 
 < 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 
 Z 
 
 o 
 
 z
 
 ^T.24] A JACOBIN GENERAL 145 
 
 were becoming so menacing tliat for the moment they demanded the chap. xvii 
 exclusive attention of the French authorities. Austrian troops had 1793-94 
 disregarded her neutrahty and trespassed on her ten-itory; the land 
 ■was full of French deserters, and England, recalling her successes in 
 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 commimications to Marseilles, and there was put in 
 cu-culation. It was consequently soon determined 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. 
 
 ao
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 vicissitudes in wak and diplomacy 
 
 Signs of Maturity — The Mission to Genoa — Course of the French 
 Republic — The " Terror" — Therivitdor — Bonaparte a Scapegoat 
 — His Prescience — Adventures op his Brothers — Napoleon's 
 Defense of his French Patriotism — Bloodshedding for Amuse- 
 ment — New Expedition against Corsica — Bonaparte's Advice 
 FOR ITS Conduct. 
 
 Chap, xvm T)UONAPARTE'S plan for combimng operations against botli Genoa 
 1794 _13 and Sardinia was at first hazy. In Ms earliest efforts to expand 
 and clarify it, he wrote a rambling document, still in existence, which 
 draws a contrast between the opposite policies to be adopted with 
 reference to Italy and Spain. In it he also calls attention to the 
 scarcity of officers snitable for concerted action in a great enterprise, 
 and a remark concerning the course to be pui'sued in this particular 
 case contains the germ of his whole mihtary system. " Combine your 
 forces in a war, as in a siege, on one point. The breach once made, 
 equihbrium is destroyed, everything else is useless, and the place is 
 taken. Do not conceal, but concentrate, your attack." In the matter 
 of pontics 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 following year, he advises 
 against proceeding too far into Piedmont, lest the adversary should 
 gaia 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 aimies and of the embassy to Genoa. Buonaparte con- 
 tinued to be the real power. Military operations having been sus- 
 
 146
 
 ^T. 24-25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 147 
 
 pended to await the result of diplomacy, his iustructions from Ricord Chap. xvm 
 were drawn so as to be loose and merely fonnal. On July eleventh he i794 
 started from Nice, reaching his destination three days later. Dm-ing the 
 week of his stay — for he left again on the twenty-first — the envoy 
 made his representations, and laid down his ultimatiun that the republic 
 of Genoa should preserve absolute neutrality, neither permitting troops 
 to pass over its tenitories, nor lending aid in the consti-uction of mili- 
 tary roads, as she was charged with doing secretly. His success in 
 overawing the ohgarchy was complete, and a written promise of com- 
 pliance to these demands was made by the Doge. Buonaparte arrived 
 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 
 ah'eady on his shoulders the insignia of a commander-in-chief. But he 
 was retiu'ning to disgrace, if not to destruction. A week after his 
 arrival came the stupefying news that the hour-glass had once again, 
 been reversed, that on the very day of his own exultant return to Nice 
 RobespieiTe's head had fallen, that the Mountain was shattered, and 
 that the land was again staggering to gain its balance after another 
 pohtical 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 inaugurated on November twenty-fourth, 
 1793, by the so-called republic. There was first 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- 
 taiy days named sansculottides, — sansculottes meaning without knee- 
 breeches, a gannent 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 hohday for the long-trousered populace 
 which was to use the new reckoning. There was next the new, 
 strange, and unhallowed spectacle seen in history for the first time, the 
 realization of a nightmare — a whole people finally turned into an army, 
 and at war with nearly all the world. The reforming Gii'ondists had 
 created the situation, and the Jacobins, with giim humor, were un-
 
 148 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24-25 
 
 Chap, xvm flincliingly facing the logical consequences of such audacity. Carnot 
 ivji had given the watchword of attack in mass and with superior numbers; 
 the times gave the frenzied 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 Toulon had been 
 retaken. 
 
 The Jacobins were nothing if not thorough ; and here was another 
 new and awful thing — the "TeiTor" — which had broken loose with its 
 foul furies of party against party through aU 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 thi*ee 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-fourth. There then remained 
 the chques of Danton and Robespien-e ; the former claiming the name 
 of moderates, and teUing men to be cahn, the latter with no principle 
 but 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 foully murdered, and Robespierre remained alone, virtually 
 dictator. But his theatrical conduct in decreeing by law the existence 
 of a Supreme Being and the immortahty of the soul, and in organizing 
 tawdry festivals to supply the place of worship, utterly embittered 
 against him both atheists and pious people. In disappointed rage at his 
 faHm-e, he laid aside the characters of prophet and mild saint to give 
 vent to his natural wickedness and become a devil. 
 
 Dming the long days of June and July there raged again a carnival of 
 blood, known to history as the " Great TeiTor." In less than seven weeks 
 upward of twelve himdred victims were immolated. The unbridled 
 Hcense of the guillotine broadened as it ran. First the aristocrats had 
 f aUen, then royalty, then then- sympathizers, then the hated rich, then 
 the merely weU-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 Talhen, Fouche, Barras, Can-ier, Freron, and the 
 like, men of vile character, who knew that i£ Robespierre could maintain 
 his pose of the " Incorruptible " theh^ 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- chap. xvin 
 goat of the Revolution." The uprising of these accomplices was, how- 1794 
 ever, the opportunity long desired by the better elements ia Parisian so- 
 ciety, and the two antipodal classes made common cause. Dictator as 
 Robespierre wished to be, he was formed of other stuff, for when the 
 reckoning came his brutal violence was cowed. On July twenty-sev- 
 enth (the ninth of Thermidor), the Convention tm-ned on him in re- 
 beUion, extreme radicals and moderate conservatives combining 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 in his half- committed suicide. He and his brother, with their 
 friends, were seized, and beheaded on the moiTOw. 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 if 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 govenmient 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 Salicetti and the Buonapartes were nearly 
 all with the Army 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. 
 SaUcetti, ever ready for emergencies, was not disconcerted by this one ; 
 and with adroit baseness turned informer, denouncing as a suspicious
 
 150 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 24-25 
 
 Chap, xviii schemer his former protege and lieutenant, of whose budding greatness 
 1794 he was now well aware. He was both jealous and alaimed. 
 
 Buonaparte's mission to Genoa had been openly political ; secretly 
 it was also a military reconnaissance, and his confidential instructions, 
 vii-tually dictated by himself, had unfortunately leaked out. They had 
 directed him to examine the fortifications in and about both Savona and 
 Genoa, to investigate the state of the Genoese artillery, to inform 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 
 aU 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 deahngs with the 
 younger Robespierre, 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 au*, or else a letter now in the war 
 office at Paris, and piu-porting to have been written on August seventh, 
 to Tilly, the French agent at Genoa, is an antedated fabrication wiitten 
 later for Sahcetti's use. Speakiag 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 
 be genuine, as is probable, the writer was very far-sighted. He knew 
 that its contents would speedily reach Paris in the despatches of TUly, 
 so that it was virtually a pubhc renunciation of Jacobinism at the ear- 
 Hest 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, fortunately for himself, imprisoned 
 two days later in Fort Carre, near Antibes, instead of being sent direct 
 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 i£ not driven to extremity. 
 
 As the true state of things in Corsica began to be known in France, 
 there was a general disposition to blame and pimish the influential 
 men who had brought things to such a desperate pass and made the- 
 loss of the island probable, if not certain. Sahcetti, Multedo, and the 
 rest quickly unloaded the whole blame on Buonaparte's shoulders, so 
 that he had many enemies in Paris. Thus by apparent harshness to
 
 AQUAHELLe tSAOE FOB THE CENTUEY CO. 
 
 BONAPARTE UNDER ARREST, AUGUST, I7Q4 
 
 KKOM THK AQKARKLLK BV KBIC PAPS
 
 MT.m'25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 151 
 
 one whom lie still considered a subordinate, the real culprit escaped Chap, xvin 
 suspicion. Assm-ed of immimity fi-om punishment himself, Salicetti i794 
 was content with his rival's humiliation, and felt no real rancor toward 
 the family. This is clear from his treatment of Louis Buonaparte, who 
 had fallen fi-om place and favor along with his brother, hut was hy 
 Sahcetti's influence soon afterward made an officer of the home guard 
 at Nice. Joseph had rendered himself conspicuous in the very height 
 of the storm by a brilhant manuage ; 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 gu-l 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 
 an*est, he was sufficientlj^ insignificant to escape for the time. 
 
 Napoleon was kept in captivity but thirteen days. Sahcetti ap- 
 parently found it easier than he had supposed to exculpate himself 
 from the charge either of participating in Robespierre's conspiracy or 
 of having brought about the Corsican insmTection. More than this, 
 he found himself firm in the good gi'aces of the Thermidorians, among 
 whom his old friends Barras and Freron were held in high esteem. 
 It would therefore be a simple thing to liberate Greneral Buonaparte, if 
 only a proper expression of opinion could be secured fi-om him. The 
 clever prisoner had it ready before it was needed. To the faithful 
 Junot 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 course 
 would have compromised him further. But to the "representatives of 
 the people " he wrote in language which finally committed him for Ufe. 
 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 aU my 
 goods, I have lost aU 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, OnegUa, 
 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 separately 
 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. x^^II 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." 
 
 SaUcetti in person went through the form of examining the papers 
 offered in proof of Buonaparte's statements ; found them, as a matter 
 of coiu-se, satisfactory; and the commissioners restored the suppliant 
 to partial liberty, but not to his post. He was to remain at army head- 
 quarters, and the stiU 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 Kome 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 eqidpping and inspecting the 
 artillery destined for the enterprise. He intended to make the venture 
 teU 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 hnes. It was diuHing the preparatory days of this 
 short campaign that a dreadful incident occurred. Buonaparte had 
 long since learned the power of women, and had been ardently atten- 
 tive in turn both to Charlotte Robespierre and to Mme. Ricord. " It 
 was a great 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 like, 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 hmnan blood was 
 shed. The story was told by Napoleon himself, at the close of his hf e, 
 in a tone of repentance, but with evident rehsh. 
 
 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' hnes were driven back so as 
 to leave open the two most important roads into Italy — that by the 
 vaUey of the Bormida to Alessandria, and that by the shore to Genoa. 
 The difficult pass of Tenda fell entirely into French hands. The Eng-
 
 ^T. 24-25] VICISSITUDES IN WAR AND DIPLOMACY 153 
 
 lish could not disembark their troops to sti'engthen the Allies. The Chap, xvin 
 commerce of Grenoa with Marseilles was reestabUshed by land. " We i794 
 have celebrated the fifth sansculottide of the year II (September 
 twenty-first, 1794) in a manner worthy of the repubhc and the Na- 
 tional Convention," wi'ote the commissioners to theu* coUeagiies in 
 Paris. On the twenty-fom-th. General 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 coiTect. Paoli had made an 
 effort to strengthen it, but without success. " To diive the EngUsh," 
 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 found 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 agaiQ to a sore and disappointed man, but it is not probable : 
 the horizon of his life had expanded too far to be agaia contracted, and 
 the present task was probably considered but as a bridge to cross once 
 more the waters of bitterness.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE END OF APPEENTICESHIP 
 
 The English Conquest of Coesica — Effects in Italy — The Buo- 
 napartes AT Toulon — Napoleon Thwaeted Again — Depaetuee 
 FOR Paeis — His Chaeactee Deteemined — His Capacities — Re- 
 action FEOM THE " TeEEOE" — 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 turmoils of civil war in France had now left Corsica to her 
 1795 A pursuits for many months. Her internal affairs had gone from bad 
 to worse, and Paoh, unable 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 English fleet, driven 
 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 
 remainiag centers of French influence, Calvi and Bastia, the Enghsh 
 admii-al next laid siege to the latter. The place made a gallant defense, 
 holding out for over three months, untU on May twenty-fomih Captaia 
 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 terms 
 made by its captors were the easiest known to modem warfare, the 
 conquered beiag 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 Paoh 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. 
 
 I
 
 ^T. 25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 
 
 155 
 
 The presence of England so close to Italian shores unmediately pro- chap. xix 
 duced thi'oughout Lombardy and Tuscany a reaction of feeling in favor 1^5 
 of the French Revolution and its advanced ideas. The Committee of 
 Safety meant to take advantage of this sentiment and punish Rome for 
 an insult to the repubhc still unavenged — the death of the French min- 
 ister, in 1793, at the hands of a mob ; perhaps they might also drive 
 the British fi'om Corsica. This explained the arrival of the commis- 
 sioners at Nice with the order to cease operations against Sardinia and 
 Austria, for the purpose of striking at Enghsh influence in Italy, and 
 possibly in Corsica. 
 
 Every thing but one was soon in readiness. To meet the Enghsh 
 fleet, the shipwrights at Toulon must prepare a powerful 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 fii"e 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 climax 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 would 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 first encounter 
 with the English ended in a disaster, and two of its fine ships were cap- 
 tured ; the others fled to Hyeresj where the troops were disembarked 
 from their transports, and sent back to theh' posts. Once more Buona- 
 parte was the victim of uncontrollable circumstance. Destitute of em- 
 ployment, stripped even of the httle 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 BONAPARTE [^t. 
 
 Chap. XIX at the door. In some respects lie was worse equipped for success tlian 
 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 period 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, httle 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 milUons in this Ul-starred maritime entei-prise ; aU 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 Mediten-anean shore were too near their home. They were always 
 charged with imscrupulous 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 from 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 Aboukir 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 found 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 whick

 
 LN TUK UOTKL DK VILLE, AJACCIO 
 
 ENORAVKU BV MULLEK AAU SCUUSaLl:^ 
 
 MARIE-JULIE CLARY 
 
 WIFE OF JOSEPH BONAPARTE; Q.UEEN OF SPAIN 
 
 FROM TUK PAINTING BY AN UNKNuWN ARTIST
 
 ^T. 25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 157 
 
 that prophet had brought to pass, was practically lacking. Neither the chap. xix 
 hostihty of his father to rehgion, nor his own experiences with the i795 
 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 ; hut in general he preserved a formal and outward re- 
 spect for the Chiu'ch. He was, however, a stanch opponent of Roman 
 centrahzation 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 poHshing 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 gi'own most wily in diplomacy ; an ambitious pohtician, his 
 pulpy principles were repubhcan 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 pure-minded affec- 
 tion for either men or women he had so far shown only a httle, 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 
 cosmopohtan, and there will be outline, rehef, 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. 
 
 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 mnning risks." This is the pov^er and the temper of a man 
 of whom an intimate and confidential friend predicted that he would 
 never stop short until he had moimted either the throne or the scaffold. 
 The ovei'throw of Robespierre was the result of an alHance 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, 
 which took command of the resulting movement. The social structure 
 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 eveiy 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 Ught-heartedness returned. Underneath this temper 
 lay but partly concealed a giim 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 every mouth — "hu- 
 manity." The very songs of previous stages, the " ^a ka " 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 poUtical 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- 
 lic 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 in the eighteenth century, had had no experience whatever of 
 constitutional government, and the spirit of the age was aU for theory 
 in poUtics. 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 i795 
 Gh'ondist 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, Abeady the flimsy bub- 
 ble of such a conception had been punctured. 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, riot in the system, but in its details ; they beheved 
 they could improve on the work of their predecessors by the change 
 and modification of particulars. Aware, therefore, that then* 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 from the legislature, 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 form was as yet impossible. The Bourbons 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 
 repubhcans. 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 phght of the child dauphin, 
 dying by iaches in the Temple, awakened no compassion, and its next 
 lineal representative was that hated thing, a voluntary exile ; the no-
 
 jgQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 
 
 Chap. XIX biUty, who might have fui'nished the material for a French House of 
 iras Lords, were traitors to their coimtry, actually bearing arms in the levies 
 of her foes. The national feeling was a passion ; Louis XVI. had been 
 popular enough until he had outraged it first by ordering the Chiu-ch 
 to remain obedient to Rome, and then by appeahng to foreign powers 
 for protection. The emigi-ant nobles had stumbled over one another 
 in then* haste to manifest then* contempt for nationaUty 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 emigrants 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 already to have had a premonition or an instinct 
 that a ripe experience of Hberty was essential to the working of such 
 an institution. The student of the revolutionary times will become 
 aware how powerful the feeling already was among the French, that 
 a single strong executive, elected by the masses, would speedily turn 
 into a tyrant. They have now a nominal president ; but his election 
 is indirect, his office is representative, not pohtical, and his duties are 
 Hke an impersonal, colorless reflection of those performed by the Eng- 
 Hsh 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 jurisprudence, 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 comrdit the administration of govern-

 
 > 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 O 
 w 
 
 m 
 X 
 H
 
 ^T. 25] THE END OF APPRENTICESHIP 161 
 
 ment in botli external and internal relations to a divided executive, chap. xix 
 There, however, the resemblance to Rome ended, for instead of two i795 
 consuls there were to be five directors. These were to sit as a commit- 
 tee, to appoint their own ministerial agents, together with all officers 
 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 likewise to be in their 
 hands. They were to have no veto, and their treaties of peace must be 
 ratified by the legislature ; 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 man-ied ; 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, imder Girondist influence, 
 and was acceptable to the nation as a whole. In spite of many defects, 
 it might after a Uttle experience have been amended so as to work, if 
 the people had been united and hearty in its support. But they were 
 not. The Thennidorians, who were still Jacobins at heart, ordered 
 that at least two thu-ds 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 caiTy 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. 
 
 22
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE ANTECHAMBEK TO SUCCESS 
 
 Punishment of the Terrobists — Dangers or the Thermidorians — 
 Successes of Republican Arms — The Treaty of Basel — Yen- 
 dean 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. Permon — His Magnanimity. 
 
 1795 
 
 Chap. XX i^iROM time to time after the events of Thermidor the more active 
 -L agents of the Terror were sentenced to transportation, and the 
 less guilty were imprisoned. On May seventh, 1795, three days before 
 Buonaparte's arrival in Paris, Fouquier-Tinville, and fifteen other 
 wretches who had been but tools, the executioners of the revolutionary 
 tribunal, were put to death. The National Guard had been reorgan- 
 ized, and Pichegru was recalled fi'om the north to take command of 
 the united forces in Paris under a committee of the Convention with 
 Barras 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 angry. 
 During the years of internal disorder and foreign warfare just passed 
 the economic conditions of the land had grown worse and worse, until, 
 in the winter of 1794-95, the laboring classes of Paris were again on 
 the verge of starvation. As usual, they attributed their sufferings 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- 
 
 162
 
 ^T.25] THE ANTECHAMBER TO SUCCESS 163 
 
 easy. The Thei-midorians fiu'ther angei'ed it by introducing a new ceap. xx 
 metropolitan administration, which greatly diminished the powers and i"95 
 influence of the sections, without, however, destroying their organi- 
 zation. The people of the capital, therefore, were ready for mischief. 
 The storming 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 ? 
 
 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 briUiant season for the repubhcan arms and for 
 repubhcan 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 confii'ming 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-Cyr, Bernadotte, and Kleber, with many others of 
 Buonaparte's contemporaries, had also risen to distinction in minor en- 
 gagements. The record of mihtary energy put forth by the hberated 
 nation under Jacobin rule stands, as Fox 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 captured; two hundi-ed 
 and thirty forts or redoubts taken; three thousand eight hundred 
 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 ai-my had been pm'ged with as httle 
 mercy as a mercantile coi-poration shows to incompetent employees. It 
 is often claimed that the armies of repubhcan France and of Napoleon 
 were, after aU, the armies of the Bom-bons. Not so. The conscription 
 law, though very imperfect in itseK, 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 hundred 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 from 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 boimdary of 
 France and of its own revolutionary system was the Ehine. Nice and 
 Savoy would round out theu- 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 princes in central Grermany, which were eventually to be 
 secularized, yielded to France undisputed 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 military success of the repubhc was for a httle while 
 equally marked. Before the close of 1794 the Breton peasants who, 
 nnder 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 uisurrection of 
 Yendee had di-agged stubbornly on, but it was stamped out in June, 
 1795, by the execution of over seven himdred of the emigrants who 
 had returned on English vessels to fan the royalist blaze which was 
 kiddling again. 
 
 The royalists, having created the panic of five years previous, were 
 not now to be outdone even by the Terror. Charette, the Vendean 
 leader, retaliated by a holocaust of two thousand republican 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 burghers, the
 
 I
 
 DRAWDJO MADK KOB THE CKNTURY CO. 
 
 LOUIS-MARIE DE LAREVELLIERE-LEPEAUX 
 
 MEMBER OF THE DIRECTORY 
 
 SKET'^H BY KBIC PAI'K FROM TUB PORTIt.UT BY FR.VN(;0I8 O^RAKD
 
 ^T.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 retiu'n of comfort and prosperity, still further 1795 
 emboldened the royalists, and enabled them to produce a wide- 
 spread re-vailsion of feehug. They rose in many parts of the South, 
 instituting what is known fi'om the colors they wore as the " White 
 TeiTor," and pitilessly murdering, in the desperation of timid revenge, 
 then' imsuspecting and unready neighbors of republican opinions. 
 The scenes enacted were more ten-ible, the human butchery was more 
 bloody, than any known dm'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 shoidd 
 administer the new constitution. The royalists at the same time saw 
 in its provisions a means to accomplish theii" 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 then* activity appeared both in 
 mihtary and pohtical circles. Throughout the summer of 1795 there 
 was an xmaccouutable languor in the army. It was beheved 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 Aubry — who, having re- 
 tui'ned after the events of Thermidor, never disavowed his real senti- 
 ments as a royahst; and being later made chairman of the anny 
 committee, was in that position when Buonaparte's career was tempo- 
 rarily checked by degi-adation 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
 
 166 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25 
 
 Chap. XX later, on August twenty-second. Immediately the sections of Paris 
 1795 began to display ii-ritation 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 jubilant. 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 military 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 aUke inglorious. In the fickleness of pubhc 
 opinion the avenging hero of to-day may easily become the reprobated 
 outctist of to-mon*ow. What reputation he had gained at Toulon 
 was aheady 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 hke 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 — aU the avocations of 
 a people soured with the cruel and bloody past, and reasserting its 
 native passion for pleasm-e and refinement. The morahty 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 from 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 natui-e ; the niceties of speech, 
 gesture, and mien which once had a well-understood significance in 
 government chicles were all to be readjusted in accordance with the 
 ideas of the motley crowd and given new conventional cuiTcncy. In 
 such a disorderly transition vice does not requu-e the mask of hypoc- 
 risy, virtue is helpless because unorganized, and something hke riot 
 characterizes conduct. The soimd and rugged goodness of many new-
 
 JEt.25] the antechamber TO SUCCESS 167 
 
 comers, the habitual respeetabihty 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 mai-velous 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. Throughout the revolutionary' epoch 
 there had been much discussion concerning refonns in education. It 
 was in 1794 that Monge finally succeeded in foimding the gi'eat 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 apphed science, and tempted them to the undue 
 and unfortunate neglect of many important hiimanizing disciplines. 
 The Conservatory of Music and the Institute were permanently reor- 
 ganized soon after. The great collections of the Museum of Arts and 
 Crafts (Conservatou'e des Arts et Metiers) were begim, and permanent 
 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 hterature 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 hving 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 all appearance virtually undone. "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
 
 H^g LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [Mi. 25 
 
 Chap. XX clear that tlie National Guard was in sympathy with them. The Con- 
 1795 vention was equally alert, and began to ann 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 enhst a special guard of fifteen 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 three years before. The war department 
 Hstened to and granted 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 have 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 suppoi-t beyond the ramparts of 
 Paris, and within the city it was possible to maintain something in 
 the natm'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. Sah- 
 cetti had chosen the other child, a son now gi'own, as his private sec- 
 retary, and was of course a special favorite in the house. The first 
 manifestation of reviving Jacobin confidence was shown in the attack 
 made on May twentieth upon the Convention by hungiy rioters who 
 shouted 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 calm 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 chau- in the midst of the tumult. The mob brandished in 
 his face the bloody head of Feraud, a fellow-member of his whom they 
 had just murdered. The chairman uncovered his head in respect, and 
 his tmdaunted 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
 
 UKAWINll MMiK Kiill 'Illl-; (.LNTfltY CO. 
 
 FELICE PASQUALE BACCIOCCHI 
 
 PRINCE OF LUCCA AND PIOMBINO, GRAND DUKE OF TUSCANY 
 
 DRAWING BY EUlU PAPK FROM TbK PORTRAIT IN THK MU8KUM OV AJACCIO, CORSICA
 
 .St. 25] THE ANTECHAMBER TO SUCCESS 169 
 
 Buonaparte, who, though disiEusioned, was still a Jacobin. Something chap, xx 
 hke desperation appeared in his manner; the lack of proper food 1795 
 emaciated his fi'ame, while uncertainty as to the future left its mark on 
 his wan face and in his restless eyes. It was not astonisliing, 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 powerfid patron, and with his family once 
 more in actual want. Napoleon was scarcely fit m either garb or himior 
 for the society even of his friends. His hostess described him as hav- 
 ing " sharp, angular features ; small hands, long and thin ; liis 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 yeUow complexion, brightened only by two eyes glisten- 
 ing with shrewdness and fiimness." Bom'rienne, 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 hoUow 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, — Carnot, 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 herself and children. Even the rank and 
 file among the members of the Moimtain either fled or were ari'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 
 wounded pride and real or pretended jealousy. The epistle is dated 
 June eighteenth, 1795. He felt that she would think him duped, he
 
 170 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 
 
 Chap. XX explains, if he did not inform her that although she had not seen fit to 
 1795 trive her confidence to him, he had all along known that she had Sah- 
 cetti in hiding. 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, hut 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 countiy. My Ups 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 horrors 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 error of your way. The latter interpretation finds sup- 
 port in the complete renunciation of Jacobinism which the wi-iter made 
 soon afterward, and in his 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 
 
 BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OF THE CONVENTION 
 DlSAPPODJTMENTS — ANOTHER FURLOUGH — CONNECTION WITH BaRRAS — 
 
 Official 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 army hst with the subsequent reassignment chap. xxi 
 of officers turned out ill for Buonaparte. Aubiy, the head of the 1795 
 committee, appears to have been utterly indifferent to him, displaying 
 no iU will, and certainly no active good will, toward the sometime 
 Jacobia, 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 
 transferred 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 Ufe 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 ia contact. In this rigid scrutiny of the army Hst, 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
 
 JY2 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-26 
 
 Chap. XXI dependent on him, was in despair. The other members of the family 
 1795 were temporarily destitute, but 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. Ai-med with a medical certificate, he 
 apphed 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 from 
 Marseilles, whence he had really started, but from Nice, thus largely in- 
 creasing the amount which he asked for, and in due time received. 
 During 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 fi*enzy for speculation, 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 purchasing 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 
 Pontics : being an Inquity into the Causes of Troubles and Discords," 
 was sketched, but never completed. The memou* on the Army of 
 Italy was virtually the scheme for offensive warfare which he had laid 
 before the younger Eobespierre ; 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 well, 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
 
 IM Till-. UULLI-,i;UL.\ ur M' tuMu; 
 
 MARIE-JOSEPHE-ROSE TASCHER DE LA PAGERIE, CALLED JOSEPHINE, 
 EMPRESS OE THE FRENCH. 
 
 FHOM THE DESIGN DY JEAN-BAI'TISTE ISABKY ^^ESl:II. UllAWINr, nF-TOlCIfE D IN WAIEII (01 CHi MAl.K IN 1*08.
 
 ^T. 25-26] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OF THE CONVENTION 173 
 
 which a third of the committee on the reassignment of officers would chap. xxi 
 retire, among them the hated Aubry, 1795 
 
 Speakmg 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 Bairas, where I was well received. ... I was 
 there because there was nothmg to be 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 alliance with the moderate elements of Paris society. 
 Barras's rooms in the Luxembourg were the center of all that was gay 
 and dazzUng in that coiTupt and careless world. They were, as a mat- 
 ter of course, the resort of the most beautiful 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 Beauhamais and Mme. 
 Recamier. Barras had been a noble; the instincts of his class made 
 him a dehghtful host. 
 
 What Napoleon saw and experienced he wi-ote 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, lecture coiu'ses iu history, 
 botany, astronomy, etc., follow one another. Everything is here col- 
 lected to amuse and render hfe agreeable ; you are taken out of your 
 thoughts ; how can you have the blues iu this intensity of pm'pose and 
 whMing tui'moil? The women are everywhere, at the play, on the 
 promenades, in the hbraries. In the scholar's study you find very 
 charmiug 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 cheerful, and indicates that Buonaparte's efforts for a new aUi- 
 ance had been successful, that his fortunes were looking up, and that
 
 174 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-20 
 
 Chap. XXI tlio giddy world contained something of uncommon interest. As Ms 
 1795 fortunes improved, he grew more hopeful, and appeared more in 
 society. On occasion he even ventm-ed upon httle gallantries. Pre- 
 sented to Mme. Talhen, 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 gi-adually 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 
 httle Pauhne now had suitors. Fesch, described by Lucien as "ever 
 fresh, not hke a rose, but hke a good radish," was comfortably waiting . 
 at Aix in the house of old acquaintances for a chance to return to Coi'- 
 sica. Joseph's arrangements 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 all about him men of his 
 stripe were being executed. 
 
 On August fifth the members of the new Committee of Safety 
 finally entered on their duties. Almost the first docimient pre- 
 sented at the meeting was Buonaparte's demand for restoration to 
 his rank in the artillery. It rings with indignation, and abounds with 
 loose statements about his past services, boldly claiming the honors of 
 the last short but successful Itahan campaign. The paper was refen-ed 
 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 bm-eau of the Committee 
 of Safety for the direction of the armies m 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 salaiy and a splendid title, to organize the artilleiy of the i795 
 Grand Tui-k." 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 exliibit 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 are 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 Tm'key." 
 
 This was all half true. By dint of soliciting 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 likewise a chance 
 for realizing those dreams of achieving glory in the Orient which had 
 haunted him from childhood. At this moment there was a serious ten- 
 sion in the pohtics of eastern Europe, and the French saw an opportu- 
 nity to strike Austria on the other side by an alhance with Turkey. 
 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 artillery 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 vrith 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-first 
 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 [^t. 25-20 
 
 Chap. XXI remains m mauy 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 reality 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 desu-able vacancy in the consular ser- 
 vice, and secm*e it, if possible, for him. 
 
 Dreams of another kind had supplanted in his mind all visions of 
 Oi-iental splendor; for in subsequent letters to the same correspondent, 
 wiitten almost daily, he unfolds a series of rather startling schemes, 
 which among other things include a mamage, a town house, and a 
 country residence, with a cabriolet and three horses. How all this 
 was to come about we cannot entirely discover. The maniage 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 concemuig the other, the famous Desu'ee Clary, who afterward 
 became Mme. Bemadotte. 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 from is inscrutable ; but, as a matter of fact. Napoleon had al- 
 ready left his shabby lodgings for better ones in Michodiere street, and 
 was actually negotiating for the purchase of a handsome detached resi- 
 dence near that of Bomiienne, 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 purchaser for three millions or, as the price of gold 
 then was, about forty thousand dollars ! So gi'eat a personage must, of 
 course, have a secretary, and the faithful Junot had been appointed to 
 the of&ce. 
 
 The application for the horses turned out a serious matter, and 
 brought the adventin-er once more to the verge of ruin. The story 
 he told was not plain, the records did not substantiate it, the hard- 
 headed officials of the war department evidently did not believe a 
 syllable of his representations,— which, in fact, were untruthful,— and, 
 the central committee having again lost a thh'd of its members by ro-
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 GENERAL-IN-CHIEF OF THE ARMY OF ITALY 
 
 IB.™ THF: P.MSTlN.l »V JK.AN-SBIIASTIKN KOHI 
 
 l.I.AKl.. I-AINTKI. IS 193U
 
 I
 
 ^T. 25-2G] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OF THE CONVENTION 177 
 
 tatiou, amoug them Doiilcet, there was no one now hi it to plead Buo- chap. xxi 
 naparte's cause. Accordingly there was no httle talk about the matter i"95 
 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 itseK, but contained a confidential 
 inclosm*e animadverting severely on the iiTegidarities of the petitioner's 
 conduct, and in particular on his stubborn refusal to obey orders and 
 join the AiTay 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 really appeared as if the name of Napoleon might 
 almost 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 gi'eat state and with a full suite to 
 take service at Constantinople in the amiy of the Grand Tui'k ! 
 
 No one had ever imderstood better than Buonaparte the possibih- 
 ties of pohtical influence in a military career. Not only could he bend 
 the bow of AchiUes, 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 iufluence 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 stunniug 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 Constantraople ; it had been 
 formally recommended, and to secure its adoption he renewed his im- 
 portimate sohcitations. His rank he stiU held ; he might hope to re- 
 gain position by some brilUant 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 
 ebulhtions and incendiary symptoms." He was right in both surmises.
 
 178 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-26 
 
 Chap. XXI The Committee of Safety was formally considering the proposition for 
 1795 bis transfer to the Sultan's service, while simultaneously affaii-s both in 
 Paris and on the frontiers alike were "boiling." 
 
 Meantime the royaUsts and clericals had not been idle. They had 
 learned nothing from the events of the Revolution, and did not even 
 dimly imderstand theii" own position. Theu' 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 like Granville and Harcoiu-t 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 imfortimate 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 overwhehning vote — all this deceived them, and they 
 determined to strike for everything they had lost. Preparations, it is 
 now beheved, were all 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 fom'th an Enghsh fleet had appeared on the 
 northern shore of France, having on board the Coimt 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 measm-es. 
 
 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 pm-ged themselves of the extreme 
 democratic elements from the subm^bs. They were well di^iUed, weU 
 armed, and enthusiastic for resistance to the decree of the Con- 
 vention requiinng 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, aU royahsts at heart; the last was an emigrant, 
 and avowed it. The Convention had also by this time completed its
 
 ^T. 25-2G] BONAPARTE THE GENERAL OF THE CONVENTION 179 
 
 enlistment, and had taken other measures of defense ; but it was with- chap. xxi 
 out a tri;stworthy person to command its forces, for among the four- i"95 
 teen generals of the repubhc 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 anny knowTi 
 as that of the interior, of which Menou was the commander. The new 
 constitution having been formally proclaimed on September twenty- 
 thu'd, the signs of open rebellion iu 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 hall and issued a call to rebellion. These were no 
 contemptible foes : on the memorable tenth of August, theu's had been 
 the battalion 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-ing which he feebly recommended them to disperse and behave Hke 
 good citizens, he withdrew his forces to their ban'acks, and left the 
 armed and angiy sections masters of the situation. Prompt and ener- 
 getic measui'es were more necessary than ever. For some days already 
 the Convention leaders had been discussing their plans. Camot and 
 Tallien finally agreed 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 fourth 
 Buonaparte was summoned to a conference. The messengers sought 
 him at his lodgings and in all his haimts, but could not find him. It 
 was niae 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 himseK as 
 having come from the section of Lepelletier, but as having been recon- 
 noitering the enemy. After a rather tart conversation Barras appointed
 
 180 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 25-26 
 
 Chap. XXI him aide-de-camp, the position for which he had been 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 thi-oughout 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 grander 
 task than the never-accomphshed 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 unhke that of manceuvering in the narrow gorges of the Apennines 
 than might be supposed; at least Buonaparte's strategy was nearly 
 identical for both. All his measures 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 estabhshed in what 
 is now the Place de la Concorde, with an open hne of retreat toward 
 St. Cloud behind it. Eveiy order was issued in Barras's name, and 
 Barras, in his memoirs, 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 diive 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 fi'om 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. Eoch, which was to be used as a depot of supphes 
 and a retreat. Numerous sectionaries were, in fact, posted there as 
 auxiliaries at the crucial instant.
 
 H 
 X 
 
 g m 
 
 H 
 X 
 
 H 
 
 rr 
 i Z 
 
 H 
 
 a; 
 <; 
 
 Z 
 
 o 
 
 
 VJ1
 
 CHAPTER XXTT 
 
 the day of the paris sections 
 
 The Waefaee at St, Roch and the Pont Royal — Order Restored 
 — Meaning of the Conflict — Political Dangers — Bonaparte's 
 Dilemma — His True Attitude — Sudden Wealth — The Direc- 
 tory AJSTD Their General — Bonaparte in Love — His Corsican 
 Temperament — His Matrimonial Adventures. 
 
 IN this general position the opposing forces confronted each other on chap. x-yn 
 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 narrow maia 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 all about, than they would have done in 
 the open spaces which they would have had to cross in order to attack 
 it from the front. 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 hostile cannon, the 
 excited citizens lost their heads, and began to discharge their muskets. 
 Then with a swift, sudden blast, the street was cleared by a terrible dis- 
 charge of the shrapnel, canister, and gi'ape-shot with which the gi-eat 
 guns of Barras and Buonaparte were loaded. The action continued 
 about an hour, for the people and the National Guard ralUed again and 
 again, each time to be mowed down by a Hke awful discharge. At last 
 they could be rallied no longer, and retreated. On the left bank a 
 similar melee ended in a similar 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, xxn swept back by the cross-fii-e of artillery. The scene then changed like 
 1795 the vanishing of a mirage. Awe-stricken messengers appeared, hurry- 
 ing everywhere with the prostrating news from both sides of the river, 
 and the entire Parisian force withdi-ew to shelter. Before nightfall the 
 triumph of the Convention was complete. The di'amatic effect of this 
 achievement was heightened by the appearance on horseback here, 
 there, and everywhere, dui-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 di-amatic personage was Buona- 
 parte. If not, for what was he so signaUy 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 dresimed what he was yet to demonstrate as to the 
 worth of his chosen ann 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 
 first 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 measm^es were 
 enacted in relation to the pohtical 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 royahst 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 assured of 
 their ascendancy in the new legislatm^e ; 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 thirteenth of Vendemiaire were all promoted. Buonaparte was 
 made second in command of the Army of the Interior : in other words,
 
 ^T.26] THE DAY OF THE PARIS SECTIONS 183 
 
 was coTifirmed in an office he had both created and rendered illustrious. Crap. xxii 
 As Ban-as ahnost immediately resigned, this was equivalent to very 1795 
 high promotion. 
 
 This memorable "day of the sections," as it is often called, was an 
 unhallowed day for France and French Hberty. 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 pohti- 
 cal powers were gradually 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 political administration, the \'iolence 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 supj)ort 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 
 returned 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 from the first be the creature 
 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 necessarily 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 Directory and the ruler of the coimtry. Moreover, a 
 people can be free only when the first and imquestioning 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 uTeconcilable camps, 
 not of constitutional parties, but of violent partizans; many even of
 
 184 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap, xxn 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 had been made which rendered it the best 
 jjossible tool for a tyrant: it coidd 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 unfortunately his 
 later writings, however valuable fi'om the psychological, are worthless 
 fi'om the historical, standpoint. They aboimd in misrepresentations 
 which are in part due to lapse of time and weakness of memory, in part 
 to wilful intention. Wishing the RobespieiTe-Sahcetti episode of his 
 life to be forgotten, he strives in his memou's 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 fiiends. 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 councils 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 haK an hom* 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 dehberately 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 hst of names ut- 
 tered with hoiTor? " On the other hand, if the Convention be crushed, 
 what becomes of the great truths of our Revolution ■? Our many vic- 
 tories, om- blood so often shed, are all nothing but shameful deeds. 
 The foreigner we have so thoroughly conquered triumphs and over-
 
 z 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 ?3 
 
 n 
 b 
 
 Z 
 
 c 
 
 H 
 
 > 
 Z 
 
 H 
 I 
 rn- 
 O 
 Z 
 
 n 
 c 
 
 C3
 
 ^T. 26] THE DAY OF THE PARIS SECTIONS 185 
 
 whelms us with his contempt; an incapable race, an ovorbeaiing and chap. xxn 
 unnatural following, reappear triumphant, throw up our crime to us, i795 
 wreak 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 om* native land." 
 Such thoughts, his youth, trust in his o\vu power and in his destiny, 
 turned the balance. 
 
 Statements made under 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 
 Ms 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 mature 
 cosmopohtan 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 fourth 
 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 Army 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 himself as the powerful friend of every one in disgrace, as 
 a man of the world without rancor or exaggerated partizanship. At 
 the same time he plunged into speculation, and sent sums 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
 
 186 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap, xxh old aristocracy, the wealthy citizens of Paris, the returning Girondists, 
 1795 many of whom had become pronounced royahsts, the new deputies, the 
 officers who in some turn of the wheel had, like himself, lost their posi- 
 tions, but were now, through his favor, reinstated — all these he strove 
 to com-t, flatter, and make his own. 
 
 Such activity, of com'se, could not pass unnoticed. The new gov- 
 ernment had been constituted without distui'bance, the Du'ectory 
 chosen, and the legislature installed. Of the five directors — Barras, 
 Rewbell, Carnot, Letoumeaux de la Manche, and LareveUiere-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 BaiTas, 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 disttu'bed by the coui'se of 
 the general commanding then* army 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 thi-eatened a reversal of roles. This situation was the more 
 disquieting because Buonaparte was a capable and not unwjlling pohce 
 officer. Among many other invaluable services to the government, he 
 closed in person the great club of the Pantheon, which was the raUying- 
 point of the disaffected. Throughout another whiter 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 constraiaed, 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, poiatiag to the change in his 
 handwriting and grammar, to his alternate silence and loquacity, as a 
 proof of mental uneasiness ; to his suUen 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 openmg before him in pohtics and war. In a common
 
 ^T.26] THE DAY OF THE PARIS SECTIONS 187 
 
 inau not subjected to a microscopic examination, such conduct woiUd chap. xxii 
 be attributed to his being in love ; the wedding would ordinarily be i^os 
 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 bis creatures; and 
 they have, for this, among other reasons, pronounced him incapable 
 of disinterested affection. But it is also true tliat he Ukewise de- 
 nounced Buttafuoco for having, among otber 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 imprincipled who suit their language to their present pur- 
 pose, in fine disdain of commonplace consistency. The primitive Cor- 
 sican was both nide 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 couiiship ; 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 Ms earhest 
 manhood he had appeared hke one who desu-ed 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 rehef to his destitution. Refused by her, he was in a dis- 
 ordered and desperate emotional state imtil 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 nevei-theless in such a 
 tumult of feeling 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 [-^Et. 26 
 
 Chap, xxn tiful Desiree Clary. The first evidence in his correspondence of a seri- 
 3795 ous intention to many her is contained in the letter of June eighteenth, 
 1795, to Joseph; and for a few weeks afterward he wi-ote at intervals 
 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 enamom-ed of her, had himseK become interested, and per- 
 suading his brother to marry her sister, had entered into an under- 
 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 intermediary 
 began, according to French custom, to arrange the prehminaries of 
 marriage ; and when General Buonaparte fell madly in love with Mme. 
 Beauhamais the matter was dropped.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 a maeriage of inclination and interest 
 
 The Taschers and Beauharnais — Execution of Alexandre Beau- 
 HARNAis — Adventures of His Widow — Meeting of Napoleon 
 AND Josephine — The Latter's Uncertainties — Her Character 
 AND Station — Passion and Convenience — The Bride's Dowry — 
 Bonaparte's Philosophy of Life — The Ladder to Glory. 
 
 IN 1779, while the boys at Brienne were still toi-menting the Mttle chap. xxm 
 untamed Corsican nobleman, and driving him to his garden forta- i796 
 lice, there to seek refuge from their taunts 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 graceful litheness of figm-e which made her a most attractive 
 woman. She had spent the years of her life from ten to fourteen in 
 the convent of Port Royal. Having passed the interval in her native 
 isle, she was about to contract a marriage which her relatives ia 
 France had arranged. Her betrothed was the younger son of a fam- 
 ily friend, the Marquis de Beauharnais. The bride landed on October 
 twentieth, and the ceremony took place on December thirteenth. The 
 young vicomte brought his wife home to a suitable establishment in the 
 capital. Two children 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 gi-anted 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
 
 ^gQ LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap, xxhi the Revolution, when he returned, and was elected a deputy to the 
 1796 States-General. 
 
 Becoming an ardent repubhcan, 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 probably at her husband's instance, for 
 she at once joined him at his country-seat, where they continued to 
 live, as "brother and sister," until Citizen Beauhamais was made com- 
 mander of the Aj-my 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 Beauhamais's turn came ; he too was denounced to the Commune, 
 and imprisoned. Before long his wife was behind the same bars. 
 Then- children 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 yoimg 
 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 revolutionary 
 tribunal. He died on June twenty-third, 1794, true to his convictions, 
 acknowledging ia his farewell 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 virtue and — civism! 
 
 Dming her sojourn in prison Mme. Beauhamais had made a most 
 useful friend. This was a feUow-sufferer of similar character, but far 
 greater gifts, whose maiden name was Cabarrus, who was later Mme. de 
 Fontenay, who was afterward divorced and, having married TaUien, the 
 Convention deputy at Bordeaux, became renowned as his wife, and who, 
 divorced a second and married a third time, died as the Princesse de 
 Chimay. The ninth of Thermidor 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 
 charms were already fading. Her spirit, too, had reached and passed its 
 zenith; for in her letters of that time she describes herself as listless. 
 Nevertheless, in those very letters there is some sprighthness, and con-
 
 iET.26] A MARRIAGE OF INCLINATION AND INTEREST 191 
 
 siderable ability of a certain kind. A few weeks after her liberation, hav- chap. xxin 
 ing apprenticed Eugene and Hortense to an upholsterer and a dress- i796 
 maker respectively, she was on terms of intimacy with BaiTas so close as 
 to be considered suspicious, while her daily intercom-se was with those 
 who had brought her husband to a temble 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 dross, she 
 became for the needy and ambitious a successful inteimediary 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 imprincipled worldliness of those about her, although her 
 friends beheved her kind-hearted and virtuous. Whatever her true 
 nature 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 Proven<^.al 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 first 
 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 first place there was no disarma- 
 ment of anybody after the events of October fifth, the only action of 
 the Convention which might even be construed into hostility beiag a 
 decree making emigi*ants inehgible for election to the legislature under 
 the new constitution ; that in the second place this story attributes to 
 destiny what was really due to the fi-iendship of Barras, 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 memoir's. 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
 
 jg2 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap, xxui dazzled by the charmed etiquette and mysterious forms of artificial 
 179G society. Napoleon never affected to have been born 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 equahty with those accustomed to 
 polite society ; but that he probably conceived the splendid display and 
 significant f ormahty 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 dming 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 Kadi j ah at least ten years older than himself, by whose favor he was 
 set at the opening of a great career. There are hints, too, in various 
 contemporary documents and in the circumstances themselves that 
 Barras was an adroit match-maker. In a letter attributed to Jose- 
 phine, but without address, 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 uitroduction 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 
 well; the quickness of his intelligence, which makes him catch the 
 thought of another even before it is expressed: but I confess I am 
 afraid of the power he seems anxious to wield over all about Mm. His 
 piercing scrutiny has in it something strange and inexplicable, that 
 awes even om- directors; think, then, how it frightens a woman." The 
 writer is also terrified by the very ardor of her suitor's passion. Past 
 her fli'st youth, how can she hope to keep for herself that " violent ten-
 
 AQUABELLE MADE FOR THE CEJiTUBT CO, 
 
 THE CIVIL MARRIAGE OF NAPOLEON AND lOSEPHlNE 
 
 THt; AliUARELLK BY EBli.' PAPK
 
 ^T. 2C] A MARRIAGE OF INCLINATION AND INTEREST 193 
 
 demess " which is ahnost a frenzy ? "Would he not soon cease to love chap. xxiii 
 her, and regret the marriage ? If so, her only resoui'ce would be teal's i^'-ms 
 — a sorry one, indeed, but still the only one. " Ban-as declares that if 
 I marry the general, he will secure for him the chief command of the 
 Ai'my of Italy. Yesterday Bonaparte, speaking of this favor, which, 
 although not yet granted, ah'eady has set his colleagues in anns 
 to mm-mming, 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 shall 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 eveiything 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 
 reahty 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 
 circimi stances. She had no social station; for her dravsrng-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 hau", a complexion neither fresh 
 nor faded, expressive eyes, a small retrousse nose, a pretty mouth, and 
 a voice that charmed aU listeners. 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 well as her sensuality, which overpowered Buonaparte; 
 for he described her as having "the calm and dignified demeanor which 
 belongs to the old regime." 
 
 26
 
 IW 
 
 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap, xxhi What motives may have combined to overcome her scruples we can- 
 179C not tell ; perhaps a love of adventm-e, 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 all 
 events, his suit made swift advance, and by the end of January, 
 1796, he was secm-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 your 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 overmastering desire, I draw from your lips, yom' 
 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 afii-e." What genuine and reckless 
 passion! The "thou" and "you" may be strangely jimibled; the 
 grammar may be mixed and bad ; the language may even be somewhat 
 indehcate, 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 appomt- 
 ment, on Carnot's motion, not on that of Barras, as chief of the Army 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 marriage certificate at Paris the groom gives his age as 
 twenty-eight, but in reahty he was not yet twenty-seven; the bride, 
 who was thirty-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 MARRIAGI^ OF INCLINATION AND INTEREST I95 
 
 Madame Mere, in fact, was very angry, and foretold that with such a chap. xxm 
 difference in age the union would be ban-en. 179c 
 
 There was one weu-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 part, and displayed the shrewd, 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 adroit 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 natiu-e 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 great beauty, and deep in a 
 serious flirtation with Freron, who, not having been elected to the Five 
 Himdred, 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 OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap, xxm mercenary cosmopolitan, ready as an expert artillery officer for service 
 im in any laud or under any banner ; lastly, Frenchman, liberal, and revo- 
 lutionaiy. 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 "adi-oit" man, taking advantage of 
 every chance, became once more a cosmopolitan — this time not as a 
 soldier, but as a statesman ; not as a sei-vant, but as the imperator 
 universalis, too large for a single land, determined to reimite 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.
 
 33 
 O 
 
 z 
 
 > 
 
 > 
 
 H 
 
 m 
 
 O 
 
 z 
 
 i H 
 
 <5 - ?0 
 
 i. 5 O 
 
 r 5 > 
 
 i ; D 
 
 I " "^ 
 
 I I 2 
 
 -0 
 
 > 
 
 PC 
 
 o 
 z 
 
 n 
 m
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 EUROPE AND THE DIBECTOET 
 
 The FmsT Coalition — England and Austria — The Armies of the 
 Republic — The Treasury op the Republic — The Directory — 
 The Abbe Sieyes — Carnot as a Model Citizen — His Capacity 
 AS A Military 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 little centripetal force. In 1795 Prussia, i796 
 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 RepubUc 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 reaUy an appanage of France. 
 
 But England and Austria, though deserted by their strongest allies, 
 were still 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 coxmtry 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 wrested Silesia from her, and thereby set Protestant Prussia 
 among the great powers, she had felt that the balance of power was
 
 298 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXIV distiu'bed, 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 theii- determination 
 to draw something worth while from the seething caldron before the 
 fires of war were extinguished. They thought of Bavaria, of Poland, 
 of Tiu'key, and of Italy ; in the last countiy especially it seemed as if 
 the term of hfe had been reached for Venice, and that at her impending 
 demise her fair domains on the mainland would amply replace Silesia. 
 Eussia saw her ovni 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 heutenant, Dubois de Crance ; they were 
 organized and directed by the unassisted genius of the former. Being 
 the fii'st national armies which Europe had known, they were animated 
 as no others had been by that form of patriotism wliich 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 entii-e 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 fi'ontier. 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 their race was a byword for more than 
 a generation. They had been for over a century the victims of a sys- 
 tem abhorrent to both their intelUgence 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, their foreign
 
 ^T. 26] EUROPE AND THE DIRECTORY I99 
 
 commerce was ruined ; but theii- liberties were secm-e. Theii' soldiers chap, xxrv 
 were badly fed, badly armed, and badly clothed ; but they were free- nso 
 men under such disciphne as is possible only among freemen. Why 
 should not their success in the arts of peace be as great as in the glori- 
 ous and successful wars they had earned 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 within its old boundaries. 
 
 But such a reasonable and moderate pohcy was impossible on two 
 accounts. In consequence of the thu'teenth 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 policy 
 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 all, had been fed and paid and 
 clothed by the administration at Paris. If the armies should stiU 
 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 himseK afloat 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 Greneral Bonaparte was a mixed quantity ; for while he 
 imdoubtedly wished to secure for the state in any futm-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 officer, 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 Bonapaiie'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 pleasiu'e, his col- 
 leagues being severe, unostentatious, and economical repubhcans.
 
 200 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXIV Barras's muiu support in the government was Eewbell, a vigorous 
 1^ Alsatian and a bluff democrat, enthusiastic for the Eevolution 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 im- 
 holy alhances with army contractors and stock manipulators. Lare- 
 veUiere 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 modern agnostic, — seeking, however, not merely its 
 destmction, but, hke Robespierre, to substitute for it a cult of reason 
 and humanity. The fourth member of the Directory, 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 ureconcU- 
 able spht ia 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, Uke 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 hereditary and absolute mon- 
 archy, but thought that in the son of Phihppe Egahte 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 
 > 
 
 c 
 
 o 
 
 D 
 C 
 
 n 
 
 m 
 m 
 
 H 
 
 CO 
 
 ■< 
 
 C 
 c/i 
 
 > 
 
 O 
 -n 
 
 H 
 
 m 
 
 ■n 
 
 ;» 
 m 
 z 
 
 n 
 
 ?o 
 m 
 -o 
 C 
 
 > 
 z 
 
 c 
 > 
 
 ^J1
 
 ^T.26] EUROPE AND THE DIRECTORY 201 
 
 tution was not yet the right one, he flatly refused the place in the chap. xxiv 
 Directory which was offered to him. 179c 
 
 It was as a substitute for this dangerous visionary that Carnot was 
 made a director. He was now in his forty-thii-d year, and at the height 
 of his powers. In him was embodied all 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 first 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 life he strove with 
 equal sincerity of purpose to illustrate the highest ideals of the eigh- 
 teenth century. Such was the ardor of his repubUcanism 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 aU 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 dreamer. While a member of the National As- 
 sembly he had displayed such practical common sense in his chosen 
 field of mihtary 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 infiuence, but 
 merit. The wild and ignorant hordes of men which the conscrip- 
 tion law had brought into the field were something hitherto miknoAvn 
 in Europe. 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 young gen- 
 erals fii'st came to the fore. It was by his favor that almost eveiy 
 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.
 
 OQ2 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 CHAP. XXIV Moreau, Macdonald, Joiu-dan, Bernadotte, Kleber, Mortier, Ney, 
 
 1796 Pichegru, Desaix, Bertliier, Augereau, and Bonaparte himself, — each 
 
 one of these was the product of Carnot's system. He was the creator 
 
 of the armies which for a time made all Europe tributaiy to France. 
 
 Throughout an epoch which laid bare the meanness of most natures, ' 
 his character was unsmu-ched. He began life under the ancient re- 
 gime by writing and publishing a eulogy on Vauban, who had been 
 disgi-aced for his plain speaking to Louis XIV. When called to a 
 share in the government he was the advocate of a strong nationaUty, 
 of a just administration within, 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 Jourdan, 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 victory; all this he did as if it were commonplace duty, 
 without advertising himself by parade or ceremony. Even Robespierre 
 had trembled before his biting ii'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 Terror, excepting Camot, he prevented the sweeping 
 measm-e by standing in his place to say that he too had acted with 
 the rest, had held like them the conviction that the country 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 needful now as ruthless severity once had been. For 
 a year the glory of French arms had been echpsed : his dominant idea 
 was fii'st to restore their splendor, then to make peace with honor and 
 give the new life of his country an oppoi-timity for expansion in a mild 
 and firm 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 Letourneur 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 foimdation 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 legislatiu'e did not repre- i79o 
 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. Himger knows little discipline, and 
 with temporary loss of discipline the morals of the troops had been rm- 
 dermined. To save the constitution public opuiion mvist 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 secure for France her natural borders, and 
 command a peace by land, it might hope for eventual success in the 
 conflict with England.
 
 CHAPTER XXY 
 
 BONAPAETE ON A GREAT STAGE 
 BONAPAETE AND THE AkMY 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 
 Gtenerals — 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 MHE struggle vs^Mcli was imminent was for notliing less than a new 
 1796 JL lease of national life for France. It dawned on many minds that 
 ia sucli a combat changes of a revolutionary natiu*e — 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 justifiable. But to be justifiable they must be adequate ; 
 and to be adequate they must be unexpected and thorough. What 
 should they be ? The (Edipus who solves this riddle for France is the 
 man of the hour. He was found in Bonaparte. What mean these ring- 
 ing words from the headquarters at Nice, which, on March twenty- 
 seventh, 1796, feU 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 coiu-age 
 you show among these crags, are splendid, but they bring you no glory; 
 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 f oimd lacking in honor, courage, or constancy ? "
 
 ^T. 26] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 205 
 
 Such language has but one meaning. By a previous understanding chap. xxv 
 with the Directory, the French army was to be paid, the French trea- i™6 
 sury to be replenished, 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 then- adopted 
 countiy. Bonaparte was no exception, and occasionally he felt it neces- 
 sary to justify himself. For example, he had carefully explained that 
 his marriage bound 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, plunder, and rapine should 
 henceforth go unpunished in order that his soldiers might hne their 
 pockets, is the indication of a settled pohcy which was more definitely 
 expressed in each successive proclamation as it issued from 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 his 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, woidd be in no sense a constitutional 
 general, but a despotic conqueror. Outwardly gracious, and with no 
 irritating 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; appealing 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 transformed it, the nation itself. 
 
 The pecuUar 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 director of the Amiy of Italy. He had no personal share 
 irae 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 hut 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 
 accomphshed. Dui"ing the summer of 1795 Spain and Prussia had made 
 peace with France. In consequence all northern Em^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 Aimy of the Pyrenees had been 
 transferred 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 wai-ped 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 httle 
 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, could be conquered and brought to make a separate peace, 
 the Austrian army could be ovei*whelmed, and a highway to Vienna 
 opened first through 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 Allies were deaf to his warnings, while in the mean time 
 Bonaparte enforced the same idea upon the French authorities, and 
 secured their 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 understood what contributions might be levied on them, 
 because the Army of the Rhine was radically repubhcan and knew 
 its own strength, because therefore the personal ambitions of Bona- 
 parte, and in fact the very existence of the Directory, alike depended 
 on success elsewhere than in central Europe.
 
 ^T. 2G] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 207 
 
 Having been for centuries the battle-field of rival dynasties, Italy, Chap, xxv 
 though a geographical unit with natural fi-ontiers more marked than noe 
 those of any other land, and with mhabitants faMy homogeneous in 
 bu'th, 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 repubhes; 
 they were in reahty narrow, conunercial, even pu'atieal ohgarchies, 
 destitute of any vigorous political hfe. The Pope, like other petty 
 rulers, was but a temporal prince, despotic, and not even enhghtened, 
 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 spuit 
 of hberty was most extended and active. The petty coui'ts, hke those 
 of Parma and Modena, were nests of intrigue and corruj)tion. There 
 was, of course, 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 accumulations of ages, gained by 
 an extensive and lucrative commerce, or by the tiUing of a generous 
 soil, had not been altogether dissipated by misrule, 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 throughout the peninsula, but there was httle of 
 that fierce devotion to then* reaUzation 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 abeady 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 autumn of 1795, when, with 
 Camot's assistance, the united Pyrenean and Itahan armies were di-
 
 208 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXV rected to the old task of opening the roads thi-ough 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 plan of action was forwarded froni Paris in Jamiary. But 
 Scherer, the commanding general, and his staff were outraged, refusing 
 to consider its suggestions, either those for supplying their necessities 
 in Lombardy, or those for the daring and ventiu*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 drafts for twenty 
 thousand more ; forced loans for considerable siuns were made in Tou- 
 lon and Marseilles ; and Salicetti levied contributions of grain and 
 forage m Genoa according to the plan which had been preconcerted be- 
 tween him and the general in their Jacobin days. The anny 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 circumspect as 
 a man of the first ability alone could be when about to make the ven- 
 ture 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 infiuences which filled with 
 excitement the very au' they breathed. 
 
 At this moment, besides the National Guard, France had an army 
 and navy the effective fighting force of which numbered upward of 
 half a milhon. Divided into nine armies instead of fourteen as first 
 planned, there were in reahty but seven ; of these, fom- were of minor 
 importance: a small, skeleton Army of the Interior, a force in the
 
 W 
 Q 
 Z 
 
 w 
 
 Qi 
 
 cyi 
 
 O 
 H 
 
 w 
 
 > 
 
 PJ 
 
 H ^ 
 
 < s 
 O ^- 
 
 o 
 
 5 
 < 
 
 H 
 
 CO 
 
 S 
 
 
 O 
 
 CO 
 
 z 
 
 O 
 
 s 
 
 <
 
 iET. 2G] BONAPARTE ON A GREAT STAGE 209 
 
 West under Hoche twice as large and with ranks better filled, a fairly chap. xxv 
 strong ai-my in the North under Macdonald, and a similar one in the iTsIe 
 Alps under Kellermaun, with Berthier and Vaubois as lieutenants, 
 which soon became a part of Bonaparte's force. These were, if possi- 
 ble, to preserve internal order and to watch England, while thi-ee great 
 active organizations were to combine for the overthrow of Austria. On 
 the Rhine were two of the active armies — one near Diisseldoi-f under 
 Jom-dan, another near Strasbiu'g 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 in spite of its losses the Army of Italy contained nearly 
 double that number of men ready for the field, besides the ganison 
 troops and invaUds. 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 in the hospitals, while 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 Du-ectory 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 
 cajnpaign. 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 Robespierre's " man " had been thoroughly 
 familiar 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 du-ecting 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 territory for sustenance. He had still a thii-d, 
 that war must be made as intense and awful as possible in order to 
 make it short, and thus to diminish its horrors. Trite and simple as 
 
 28
 
 210 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXV these aphorisms now appear, they were all origmal and absolutely new, 
 1796 at least in the quick, fierce application of them made by Bonaparte. The 
 traditions of chivahy, the incessant warfare of two centuries and a 
 half, the humane conceptions of the Chm-ch, 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 impleasant 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 m proportion to their lack of sentiment and 
 disregard of conventionahties. Their notions and their conduct dis- 
 played the same instincts as those of Bonaparte, and their minds were 
 enlarged by a study of great campaigns hke 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 
 Europe had not materially changed in stature, weight, education, or 
 morals since the closing years of the Thirty Years' War. The roads were 
 somewhat better, the conformation of mountains, hills, and valleys was 
 better knovm, and hke his great predecessors, though unhke his con- 
 temporaries, Bonaparte knew the use of a map ; but in the main httle 
 was changed in the conditions for moving and manoeuvering troops. 
 News traveled slowly, for the fastest couriers rode fi-om Nice to Paris 
 or from Paris to Berlin in seven days. Muskets and small firearms of 
 every description were httle improved. PiTissia 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 ariillery 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 Europe followed the old and 
 more formal ways. Outside the repubhc, ceremony still held sway in 
 court and camp ; youthful energy was stifled in routine ; and the gen- 
 erals opposed to Bonaparte were for the most part men advanced m 
 years, wedded to tradition, and incapable of quickly adapting theu" 
 ideas to meet advances and attacks based on conceptions radically dif- 
 ferent from their 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 im 
 to support the bravery 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 Euroj^e; finally, with a genius indepen- 
 dently developed, and with conceptions of his profession which summar- 
 ized the experience of his greatest predecessors, Bonaparte performed 
 feats that seemed miraculous even when compared with those of 
 Hoche, Jom-dan, or Moreau, which had already so astomided 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 fortnight 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 four divisions, each resulting in an advance — the first, of nine 
 days, agamst Wurmser and Quasdanowich ; the second, of sixteen days, 
 against Wui'mser; the third, of twelve days, against Alvinczy; and the 
 fourth, of thirty days, until he captured Mantua and opened the moun- 
 tain passes to his aiTQy. Within fifteen days after beginning hostihties 
 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 empire. In 
 the year between March twenty-seventh, 1796, and Apiil seventh, 
 1797, Bonaparte humbled the most haughty dynasty in Europe, top- 
 pled the central Eiu'opean state system, and initiated the process 
 which has given a predominance 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 can-ied on to 
 emancipate Italy. The soldiers of his army were well dressed, weU fed, 
 and well equipped from the day of then* entiy into Milan ; the aiTcars 
 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
 
 2j^2 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXV examples. The treasmy 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 Em-ope 
 had indeed hung on the fate of Italy. 
 
 Europe had grown accustomed to military surprises in the few pre- 
 ceding years. The armies of the French repubhc, fired by devotion to 
 then- principles and their nation, had accompKshed marvels. But 
 nothing in the least foreshadowing this had been wrought even by 
 them. Then, as now, cm-iosity 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 supernatm-al influence fighting on Bonaparte's side 
 has not entirely 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 great vitahty 
 warring with a lifeless, vanishing system. The consequences were 
 startling, but logical ; the details sound like a romance from the land 
 of Ebhs.
 
 IN TUE CULLECTIUN UF UUilHAl' CUASLON 
 
 MARSHAL ANDRE MASSENA 
 
 UUKE OF RIVOLI, PRINCE OF ESSLING 
 
 HK PAINTlNtl HY ANTnlNK-JKAN OR»S
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 the conquest of piedmont and the milanese 
 
 The Akmies of Austria and Saedenia — Montenotte and Millesimo 
 
 — MONDOVI AND ChEKASCO — CONSEQUENCES OF THE CAMPAIGN — 
 
 The Plains of Lombakdy — The Crossing of the Po — Advance 
 TOWAED Milan — Lodi — Retreat of the Austrians — Moral Ef- 
 fects OF Lodi. 
 
 VICTOR AMADEUS of Sardinia was not unaccustomed to the chap. xxvi 
 loss of territory in the north, because from immemorial times his i796 
 house had relinquished picturesque but unfruitful 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 beautiful 
 and commanding site, should have been lost to his crown. But so far, 
 in every general European convulsion some substantial morsels had 
 fallen 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 territory. The road fi'om 
 their capital to Savona on the sea wound by Ceva and MiUesimo over 
 the main ridge of the Apennines, at the summit of which it was joined 
 by the highway through Dego and Cairo leading southwestward fi'om 
 Milan through Alessandria. The Piedmontese, under CoUi, were guard- 
 ing the approach to then* own capital ; the Austrians, under Beaulieu, 
 that to Milan. 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 forward to 
 
 29 213
 
 ^T.26] THE CONQUEST OF PIEDMONT AND THE MILANESE 215 
 
 Voltri. The Austrians uucler Argenteaii were to fall on its rear from Chap, xxvi 
 Montenotte, a village to the north of Savona, with the idea of driving I'flc 
 that wing of Bonaparte's army back along the shore road, on which it 
 was hoped they would fall under the fii'e of Nelson's guns. T^aharpe, 
 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 imder Colonel Rampon, was 
 sm-prised 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 division which had reached Millesimo 
 on its way to join Colli ; and on the fifteenth, at that place, Bonaparte 
 himself destroyed the remnant of Ai-genteau'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 driven back, but 
 was entirely separated from the Piedmontese. 
 
 Bonaparte had a foohsh plan in his pocket, which had been fm*- 
 nished by the Du'ectoiy in a temporary reversion to official tradition, 
 ordering him to advance into Lombardy, leaving behind the hostile 
 Piedmontese on his 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 Mondo\T 
 on April twenty-second, and utterly routed, losing not only their best 
 troops, bixt 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-seventh the Sardinians, isolated in 
 a mountain amphitheater, and with no prospect of rehef from their 
 discomfited ally, made overtures for an armistice preliminaiy 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 authorization 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 
 surrender 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 [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXVI to cross and recross Piedmontese territory at will — was completed on 
 1790 the twenty-eighth. Victor Amadeus being checkmated, Bonaparte 
 was free to deal with Beauheu. 
 
 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 his coiu^ had been a nest of plotting emigrants. The loss 
 of his fortresses robbed him of his power. By the terms of the treaty 
 he was to banish the French royalists 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, hke 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 theu' leader's spirit, vied VTith 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- 
 tility 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 
 Mils, which renews from year to year the soil it originally created. A 
 genial climate and a grateful soil return to the industrious inhabitants 
 an ample reward for their labors. In the fiercest heats of simuner the
 
 63 
 O 
 A, 
 > 
 
 \> 
 
 rri 
 3 > 
 
 > s 
 
 I ^ 
 
 S H 
 
 g n 
 
 :c > 
 I ^ 
 
 ? o 
 
 25 
 
 t- 
 O 
 D
 
 ^T. 26] THE CONQUEST OP PIEDMONT AND THE MILANESE 217 
 
 passing traveler will hear if he pauses the soft sounds of slow-i-unning chap. xxvi 
 waters in the imgation sluices which on every side supply any lack of wo 
 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 agi'iculture, are 
 grouped into the hamlets which abound at the shortest intei-vals. 
 And to the vision of one who sees them first fi'om 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 he 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 deferred. " Hannibal," said the command- 
 ing general to his staff, "took the Alps by storm. We have turned 
 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 
 arming ; Beauheu must be met wliile his men were still dispirited, and 
 before the arrival of reinforcements : for a great army of thu"ty thou- 
 sand men was immediately to be despatched under Wurmser to main- 
 tain the power of Austria in Italy. Beaulieu was a typical Austrian 
 general, seventy-one years old, but stiU 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, 
 dihgently 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 adventurer opposed to him 
 marched swiftly by on the right bank fifty miles onward to Piacenza,
 
 ^,g LIFE OP 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 hue. 
 The outwitted army was virtually outflanked, and in the greatest dan- 
 ger. Beaulieu had barely time to break camp and march in hot haste 
 northeasterly to Lodi, where, behind the swift current 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 hm^ied 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 killed 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 simidtaneously the reigning archduke quitted 
 Milan. Next day the pursuing army was at Lodi. 
 
 Bonaparte wrote to the Du'ectory 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 himdred yards in length then occupied 
 the site of the present solid stmcture of masonry and iron. The ap- 
 proach to this bridge Beaulieu had seized and fortified. Northwestward 
 was Milan ; to the east lay the almost 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
 
 IIHAWlN-fl IMMiK Kil[i TilK f[:XTritY i 
 
 EXORAVED BY J. W. EVANS 
 
 BONAPARTE, SURPRISED AT LONATO WITH HIS STAFF AND 
 1200 MEN, COMPELS 4OOO AUSTRIANS TO SURRENDER 
 
 F-KOM THK DRAWING BY KUOKNK COUKBOIN
 
 iET.26] THE CONQUEST OF PIEDMONT AND THE MILANESE 219 
 
 Beaulieu then brought into action the Austrian artillery, and swept the chap. xxvi 
 wooden roadway. iToe 
 
 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 mh'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-hng hail of shot and shrap- 
 nel, in order the better to aim two guns which in the huiTy had been 
 misdirected. Under this terrible fii-e and counterfire it was impossible 
 for the Austrians to apply a torch to any portion of the structm^e. Be- 
 hind the French guns were three thousand grenadiers waiting for a 
 signal. Soon the crisis came. A troop of Bonaparte's cavahy had 
 found the nearest ford a few hundi-ed yards above the bridge, and were 
 seen, amid the smoke, turning 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 fii'e of the Austrian artillery was now 
 redoubled, while from houses on the opposite side soldiers hitherto con- 
 cealed poured v^oUey after volley of musket-baUs 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 
 hues. 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. Beauheu could 
 make no further stand behind the Adda ; but, retreating beyond the 
 Ogho 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 outbursts of resistance to the fierce pohcy of levying 
 contributions. One was threatened in Milan itself, but they were
 
 220 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 Chap. XXVI all put down witli a high hand. Pavia, which rebelled outright, 
 1790 aud 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 courage 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 terrible. 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 v^d with joy. The peoples 
 of Italy bowed before the prodigy which thus both paralyzed and fas- 
 cinated them aU. 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 hberator of Lom- 
 bardy, at the head of his veteran columns, there was already about his 
 brows a mild effulgence of supernatural fight, 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.
 
 I
 
 ! 
 
 rnoM A I'KIST IN TMB COLLKCTION OF UB. W. C CBANK: THB ORIGINAL ENGBAVINU BV Q. FIKSINOER, AVTKll A MINIATUKK BV .IKAN-llAlTISTK-l'AITl.IN 
 
 UUKUIS, DEPOSITKD IN THK NATIONAL LIBBABY, PABIS. ITfW) 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 This tinitniit, witU a prolilc drawing ciigravud by Cniiu, publisUi^d in Milan in I70(i, evidently fonnd(;il on tlii- r..nt..rnini portrait 
 and tlu* Bunaparti' at Lodi. sliowa, according to Laronsse. the true Bonaparte
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 an insubokdinate conqueeoe and diplomatist 
 
 Bonaparte's Assertion of Independence — Helplessness of the Di- 
 rectory — Threats and Proclamations — The General 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, Parma, and the Papacy — The 
 French Radicals and the Pope — Bonaparte's Policy — His 
 Ambition. 
 
 WHEN the news of tlie successes in Piedmont reached Paris, pub- chap.xxvh 
 lie 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 plenipotence. Knowing how thoroughly their doctrine had 
 permeated Piedmont, they had intended to make it a repubhc. It was 
 exasperating, therefore, that through Bonaparte's meddhng they found 
 themselves stiU compelled to eaiTy on negotiations with a monarchy. 
 The treaty with the King of Sardmia was unwillingly signed by them 
 on May fifteenth, but previous to the act they determined to chp the 
 wings of their dangerous falcon. This they thought to accomphsh by 
 assigning KeEermann to share with Bonaparte the command of the 
 victorious army, and by confinning Sahcetti as theii- diplomatic pleni- 
 potentiary to accompany it. The news reached the conqueror at Lodi 
 on the eve of his triumphant entry into Milan. "As thmgs now are," he 
 promptly rephed to the Directory, " 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- 
 
 30 221
 
 222 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 ch. xxvn 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 repubhcan 
 virtue 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 wiU always find me on the straight road. I owe to the repubhc 
 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 
 all diplomatic negotiations to his hands. 
 
 In taking this last step the executive virtually surrendered 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 conqueiing 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 theii* pay in coin. Voices in 
 Paris declared that for such language the writer should be shot. Per- 
 haps those who put the worst interpretation on the apparently hannless 
 words were coiTcct in their instinct. In reahty the Du'ectory had been 
 wholly dependent on the army since the previous October ; and while 
 such an offensive insinuation of the fact would be, if intentional, most 
 unpalatable, 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 playing his 
 part with singular abihty. He sent to KeUermann, in Savoy, without the 
 foiTtt of transmitting it through government channels, a subsidy of one 
 milhon 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- Cn. xxvii 
 tion, and requesting that numbers of men be sent out to replace liim in itdc 
 the multiform functions which in his single person he was performing. 
 Of coui'se 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 
 centmy later m a cold and critical hght, Bonaparte'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 from his leader's lips the memorable words, " Fortune is a 
 woman; the more she does for me, the more I shall exact from her. 
 ... In our day no one has conceived anything great ; it falls to me 
 to give the example." This is the language that soldiers like 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 fom* chests 
 containing a miUion of francs in gold, and urged the general, as a friend 
 and compatriot, to accept them. " Thank you," was the calm 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 
 fell 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 then' ill-gotten 
 money to France, and having no opportunity for investing it elsewhere, 
 actually carried hundreds of thousands of francs in their 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 theii- destitution it seemed enormous. They 
 also accepted with pleasm-e a hundi-ed of the finest horses in Lombardy
 
 224 LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 ch. xxvri 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 cruse. At the opening of the campaign 
 in Piedmont, empty wagons had been ostentatiously displayed as repre- 
 senting the mihtary funds at the commander's disposal: these same 
 vehicles now groaned under a weight of treasure, and were kept in a 
 safe obscurity. 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 iu his policy. 
 
 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- 
 pubhcan had finally asserted dominion over aU his other qualities. In 
 the inconsistency of human nature, those former 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 Repubhc and put 
 under French protection. Every detail of administration, every offi- 
 cial and his functions, came under Bonaparte's direction. He knew 
 the land and its resources, the people and their capacities, the mutual 
 relations of the surroimding states, and the idiosyncrasies of their 
 rulers. Such laborious analysis as his despatches display, such grasp 
 both of outline and detail, 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 wiU 
 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. What 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 our 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 untrammeled by hu-
 
 
 o
 
 ^T.26] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 225 
 
 man limitations ; they worked on front, rear, and flank, often simulta- ch. xxvu 
 neously, and always without confusion. im 
 
 Was it astonishing that the French nation, just recovering from a 
 debauch of irrehgion 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 Caesar 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 milhon 
 fi'ancs on the country, which, though exhausted by five years of war, 
 was then the richest in the civilized universe. Nor was the self-esteem 
 of France and the Parisian passion for adornment forgotten. There 
 began a course of plunder, if not in a direction at least in a measure 
 hitherto unknown to the modern world — the plunder of scientific speci- 
 mens, of manuscripts, of pictures, statues, and other works of art. It 
 is difficult to fix the responsibihty for this poUcy. In the previous 
 year a few art works had been taken from Holland and Belgium, and 
 formal orders were given again and again by the Directory for strip- 
 ping the Pope's gaUeiies ; 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 departure. 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 pour 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 dehght, and would not Hsten. Raphael, Leo- 
 nardo, and Michelangelo, Correggio, Giorgione, and Paul Veronese, with 
 all the lesser masters, were stowed in the holds of frigates and de- 
 spatched by way of Toidon 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 great investigators 
 of Italy, forgetful of their native land, were to find a new citizen-
 
 226 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [iET. 26 
 
 ch. xxvn ship in the world of knowledge at the capital of European liberties. 
 1796 Words hke these, addressed to the astronomer Oriani, indicate that 
 on Bonaparte's mind had dawned the notion of a universal federated 
 state, to which national repubhcs would be subordinate. 
 
 Itahan rebellion having been subdued, the French nation roused to 
 enthusiasm, independent funds provided, and the Directory put in its 
 place, Bonaparte was fi'ee to unfold and consummate his further plans. 
 Before hhn was the territory 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. Beauheu 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 territo- 
 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 circiunstances 
 was an almost impregnable fortress, had been strengthened by an ex- 
 traordinary garrison, while the surrounding lowlands were artificially 
 inundated as a supreme measiire of safety. 
 
 Bonaparte intended to hurl Beaulieu back, and seize the line of 
 the Adige, far stronger than that of the Mincio for repelhng an Aus- 
 trian invasion from 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 jurisdiction, 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 hues of wi'iting on a piece of stamped 
 paper. Accordingly, by a simple feint, the Austrians were led to be- 
 heve that his object was the seizure of Peschiera and the passes above 
 
 '■ Lake Garda; consequently, defying international law and violating their 
 
 treaties, they massed themselves at that place to meet his attack. Then
 
 ^T. 2C] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 227 
 
 with a swift, forced inarch the French were concentrated not on the ch. xxvu 
 enemy's strong right, but on his weak center at Borghetto. Bona- iroe 
 parte's cavahy, hitherto badly mounted and timid, but now reorganized, 
 were thrown forward for then' easy task. Under Mm-at's conmiand 
 they dashed through, and, encouraged by their owti brilhaut successes, 
 were thenceforward famous for efficiency. Bonaparte, with the main 
 army, then hmTied 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 foi-tified, and Pizzighet- 
 tone occupied as Brescia had been, while contributions of every sort 
 were levied more nithlessly even than on the Milanese. The mastery 
 of these new positions isolated Mantua more completely than a formal 
 investment would have done ; but it was, nevertheless, considered ^^ase 
 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 ruin 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 smnmer this interval might well have 
 been devoted to ease; but it was ahnost the busiest period of Bona- 
 parte's hfe. According to the Directory's rejected plan for a division 
 of command in Italy, the mission assigned to Kellermann had been to 
 organize repubhcs 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 Du-ectory had 
 been forced by the brilhant successes of their general not merely to 
 condone his disobedience, but actually to approve his 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 Itahan system, he had first shattered 
 her power, at least for the time. The prop having been removed, the 
 structure was topphng, and during this interval of waiting, it fell. 
 His opportunity was made, his resolution ripe.
 
 228 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 ch. XX vn In fi-ont, 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 Ligm'ian Alps and the Apemiines meet. Bonaparte's first 
 step was to impose a new arrangement upon the submissive Piedmont, 
 whereby, to make assurance double sm-e, Alessandria was added to the 
 hst of fortresses in French hands ; then, as his second measure, Murat 
 and Lannes appeared before Genoa at the head of an armed force, with 
 uistructions fii'st to seize and shoot the many offenders who had taken 
 refuge in her tenitory after the risings in Lombardy, and then to 
 threaten the Senate with further retaliatory 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 fi-om 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 throne 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 francs with twenty of the 
 best pictures in the principaUty. 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 francs 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 francs, the amount at which its value was esti- 
 mated, but his request was not granted. Next came Bologna and its 
 surroimding territory. Such had been the tyi-anny 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
 
 
 >■ 
 
 < 
 
 < 
 < 
 
 o 
 
 OS
 
 ^T.2G] AN INSUBORDINATE CONQUEROR AND DIPLOMATIST 229 
 
 payment nominally of twenty-one million francs. In reality he had ch. xxvn 
 to sim-ender far more ; for his galleries, hke those of Modena, were rm 
 stripped of theii- gems, while the funds seized in government offices, 
 and levied in irregular ways, raised the total value forwarded to Paris 
 to nearly doiible the nominal contribution. All this, Bonaparte ex- 
 plained, was but a beginning, the idleness of summer heats. " This 
 armistice," he wrote to Paris on June twenty-fii'st, 1796, "being con- 
 cluded with the dog-star rather than with the papal ai-my, my opinion 
 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 teri-ified Italians, considering their relative situations, under- 
 stood it. Whatever had been the original an'angement with the direc- 
 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 fi'om Leghorn ; masts, cordage, and 
 ship supplies from Genoa ; horses, provisions, and forage from Milan ; 
 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 republic 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 tyranny of the papacy as a dangerous 
 survival of absolutism. 
 
 But Bonaparte was wise in his generation. The contributions he 
 levied throughout Italy were terrible ; but they were such as she could 
 bear, and stiU recuperate for further service in the same direction. The 
 liberaUsm of Italy was, moreover, not the radicahsm of France ; and a 
 submissive papacy was of incalculably gi-eater value both there and else- 
 where in Europe than an irreconcilable and fugitive one. The Pope, 
 too, though weakened and humihated as a temporal prince, was spared 
 for fm-ther usefulness to his conqueror as a spiritual dignitary. Be- 
 yond all this was the enormous moral influence of a temperate and
 
 230 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26 
 
 ch. xxvn apparently impersonal policy. Bonaparte, though personally and by 
 irae nature a passionate and wilful man, felt bound, as the representative of 
 a great movement, to exercise self-restraint, taking pains to live simply, 
 di'ess plainly, almost shabbily, and continuing by calm calculation to 
 refuse the enonnous bribes which began and continued to be offered 
 to him 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 amiy ( 
 was his devoted servant ; Italy and the world should see how different 
 was his moderation from the rapacity of the republic and its tools, 
 vandals hke the commissioners Grareau and Sahcetti. 
 
 Such was the " leism-e " 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 
 slim youth, with lanky hau', that he was on his arrival 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 Bonaparte was per- 
 ceptible, as Victor Hugo says, the shadowy outline of Napoleon.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 maj^tua and akcole 
 
 The Austeian System — The Austeian Steategt — Castiglione — 
 Feench Gains — Bassano — The Feench in the Tyeol — The 
 Feench Defeated in Gekmany — Bonapaete and Alvinczy — Aus- 
 TEiAN Successes — Caedleeo — Fiest Battle of Abcole — Second 
 Battle of Aecole. 
 
 MEANTIME the end of July had come. Wm'mser, considered by ch. xxvm 
 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 columns of Beaulieu's army, which was scattered in the Tyi-oL 
 This done, he was to assume the chief command, and advance to the 
 rehef of Mantua. The fii-st 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 from the Alps in thi'ee columns with a total force of 
 about fifty-three thousand men. There were about fifteen thousand in 
 the gan'ison 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. Wimnser 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 reciaiit so costly that desti-uc- 
 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 manceuvers. 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. 26-27 
 
 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 Crauce, had secured men in 
 unlimited nimibers at the least expense; while Camot's organization 
 had made possible the quick handling of troops in large mass by simjjh- 
 iying 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 Itahan destiny, for its 
 holder could command a kind of overlordship in every little 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, reheve 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 from the mountains in three divi- 
 sions against the French hue, which stretched fi'om Brescia past Pes- 
 chiera, at the head of the Mincio, and through Verona to Legnago on 
 the Adige. Two of these armies were to march respectively down the 
 east and west banks of Lake Garda, 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 reheve 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 really the key to the passage. 
 Such was the first onset of the Austrians down this line 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 
 firm, and checked any further 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, under Quasdanowich, had abeady captured Brescia, seized the 
 highway to Milan, and cut off the French retreat. This move in 
 Wurmser's plan was so far entirely 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 occurred the first of those ciuious scenes which recur 
 at intervals ia 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 2.33 
 
 spatched tlie division thus rendered available for field operations toward Ch. xxvm 
 Brescia. But its numbers were so few as scarcely to relieve the situa- ivoc 
 tion. Accordingly a council of war was summoned to decide whether 
 the aiTny 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 hne was open 
 but that southward through the low country, over the Po ; and to fol- 
 low that imphed something akin to a disorderly rout. Nevertheless, 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 declamatoiy but earnest speech, encouraging 
 his comrades and ui-ging 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 fom^th, the de- 
 feated columns retreating behind Lake Garda to join Wurmser on the 
 other side. Like the regular retm-n of the pendulum, the French 
 moved back again, and confronted the Austrian center that very night, 
 but now with eveiy 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. Wm-mser 
 had lost a day before Mantua. A second time the himying French 
 engaged their foe almost on the same field. A second time they were 
 easily victorious. In fact so temble was this second defeat that the 
 scattered bands of Austrians wandered aimlessly about in ignorance of 
 their way. One of them, foiu- 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. xx\au was then the custom, was at once despatched to summon the French 
 1796 commander to surrender to the superior Austrian force. The available 
 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 Ught falling on hundreds of brilhaut uniforms, 
 the imperious voice of his great enemy was heard conmianding him to 
 return and say to his leader that it was a personal insult to speak of 
 sun-ender to the French army, and that it was he who must imme- 
 diately yield himself and his division. The bold scheme was success- 
 ful, and to the ten thousand previously killed, woimded, and captured 
 by the conquerors four thousand prisoners were added. Next morning 
 Wurmser advanced, and with his right resting on Lake Garda offered 
 battle. The decisive fight occurred in the center of his long, weak line 
 at Castighone. Before evening the desperate struggle was over, and 
 the Austrians were in full retreat toward the Tyi'ol. 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 carefidly calculated and cleverly feigned. A week later the 
 French hues were again closed before Mantua, which, though not in- 
 vested, was at least blockaded. The fortress had been revictualed and 
 regarrisoned, while the besiegers had been compelled to destroy then' 
 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 great 
 stake was not won. 
 
 In the shortest possible period new troops were imder way both 
 from Vienna and from Paris. With those from 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, under Davido- 
 wich, was left in the Austrian Tyi-ol at Roveredo, near Trent, to stop 
 " the advance of the French, who, with theu* reinforcements, were press- 
 
 ing forward through the pass as if to join Moreau in Munich, The 
 main Austrian army, imder Wurmser, 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 valley of the
 
 ^T. 26-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 235 
 
 Adige to his assistance. But Bonaparte did not intend either to pass ch. xxviii 
 by and leave open the way southward, or to be shut up in the valleys itoo 
 of the Tyi-ol, With a quick surge Davidowich was fii-st defeated at 
 Roveredo, and then diiven far behind Trent into the higher valleys. 
 The victor delayed only to issue a proclamation giving autonomy to 
 the Tyrolese, under French protection ; but the ungi-ateful peasantry 
 preferred the autonomy they already enjoyed, and fortified then- pre- 
 cipitous passes for resistance. Turning quickly into the Brenta valley, 
 Bonaparte, by a forced march of two days, overtook Wurmser's advance- 
 giiard unawares at Primolano, and captured 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 notliing 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 brilliant movements, past the flank of the blockading 
 French lines, and found a refuge in the famous fortress. 
 
 The hghtning-like rapidity of these operations completed the de- 
 morahzation of the Austrian troops. The fortified defiles and chffs 
 of the Tyi'ol 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. 
 Joiu'dan 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 Wiu-mser's departure for Italy to a num- 
 ber far less. According to the plan of the Directory, these two Fi*ench 
 annies 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. Wiirtemberg and Baden made peace with the 
 French repubhc on its own terms, and Saxony, recalling its forces from 
 the coahtion, declared itself neutral, as Prussia had done. But Joui'- 
 dan, having seized Wiirzburg and won the battle of Altenkirchen, 
 was met on his way to Ratisbon and Neumarkt, and thoroughly beaten, 
 by the same young Archduke Charles, who had acquired experience and 
 learned wisdom in his defeat by Moreau. Both French annies were 
 thus thrown back upon the Rhine, and there coiild be no further hope
 
 235 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 26-27 
 
 Ch. xxvin of carrying out the original plan. In this way the attention of the 
 
 1796 world was concentrated on the \dctorious Army of Italy and its 
 
 young commander, whose importance was further enhanced by the 
 
 fulfilment 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 biilUantly vindicated in 
 the North, the government at Vienna naturally 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 nmnbers of raw recruits were gathered in lUyria and Croatia, 
 while a few veterans were taken fi-om the forces of the Archduke 
 Charles. When these were collected, Quasdanowich found himself in 
 Friuh with upward of thirty-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 Wurmser 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 reUef of 
 Mantua. For the fourth 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 tiifle better than it had been, 
 for several veteran battahons which were no longer needed in Vendee 
 had arrived from the Army of the West ; his own soldiers were also 
 well equipped and enthusiastic. He wrote to the Directory, 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 beliind 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 fourth 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 Eivoh,
 
 
 H^Urb 
 
 ch 
 
 DBAWINO MADE full TUt CL.NXl.ltV ' 
 
 EHOOATHl) DT M. UAIPKH 
 
 BONAPARTE AT ARCOLE 
 
 FROM THE DRAWING BV H. ( HAftTIKR
 
 I
 
 ^T. 26-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 237 
 
 which commands the southern slopes of Monte Baldo. The other bank ch. xxviii 
 was in Austrian hands, and Davidowich could have debouched safely itoo 
 into the plain. This result was largely due to the clever momitain war- 
 fare of the Tyrolese militia. Meantime Massena had advanced from 
 Bassano up the Piave to observe Alvinczy. Augereau was at Verona. 
 On November fom'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 ai-mies, 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 first 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 union 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 flanks at once, and 
 thus overwhelmed. 
 
 Verona hes 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 rallied at Rivoli, 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 Rivoh, 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 bank. To prevent 
 this a fierce onslaught was made against Alvinczy's position on Novem- 
 ber twelfth by Massena's corps. It was entu'ely 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 Aiistrian armies, one on 
 each flank, and Wm-mser with a thii'd stood ready to sally out of Man- 
 tua in his rear. If there should be even partial cooperation between 
 the Austrian leaders, he must retreat. But he felt sure 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 [^Et. 26-27 
 
 ch. XXVIII the Adige into the swampy lands about Ronco, where a crossing was 
 1796 to he 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 
 Bonapai-te'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 army had left 
 Verona without attracting attention, but by a svnft countermarch it 
 reached Ronco on the morning of November fifteenth, crossed in safety, 
 and tmiied back to flank the Austrian position. 
 
 The first stand of the enemy was made at Arcole, where a short, 
 nan-ow bridge connects the high dikes which regulate the sluggish 
 stream of the Mttle river Alpon, a tributary 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 thi-ee 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 theu' commander from the swamp. Fh'ed by his 
 undaimted 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 fi-om his position at Cal- 
 diero, effected by other causeways and another bridge further north, 
 which the French had not been able to secure in time. 
 
 Bonaparte quickly withdrew to Ronco, and recrossed the Adige to
 
 TOGIlAVCUt UOUsSOD, VALADON & CO, PAlllS 
 
 BONAPARTE AT ARC OLE. 

 
 i 
 
 i
 
 ^T.2&-27] MANTUA AND ARCOLE 239 
 
 meet an attack wMch he supposed Davidowich, having possibly forced ch. xxvin 
 Yaubois's position, would then certainly make. But that general was i79g 
 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 their stand a second time 
 in that red-walled burg. Bonaparte could not weD afford another di- 
 rect attack, with its attendant losses, and strove to tm*n 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 imdiminished fertility 
 of resource, a new plan was adopted and successfidly 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 gan-isons 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 diu'ing the previous night, Bonaparte gave battle 
 on the high ground to an enemy whose nimibers were now, as he cal- 
 culated, reduced to a comparative equahty with his own. The Aus- 
 trians made a vigorous resistance ; but such was their credulity as to 
 anything their enemy might do, that a simple stratagem of the French 
 made them beheve that their left was turned by a division, when in 
 reahty but twenty-five men had been sent to ride around behind the 
 swamps and blow then- 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. 2S-27 
 
 ch. xxvm. valley of the Brenta. The French returned to Verona. Davidowich, 
 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- 
 ui'e of both his colleagues, that Wurmser made a briUiant but of course 
 ineffectual sally from Mantua. The French were so exhausted, and the 
 Austrians so decimated and scattered, that by tacit consent hostihties 
 were intermitted for nearly two months.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 bonapaete's impekious spieit 
 
 Bonaparte's Teansfokmation — Militaey Genius — Powers and Prin- 
 ciples — Theory and Conduct — Political Activity — Purposes 
 FOE Italy — Private Correspondence — Treatment op the Ital- 
 ian Powers — Antagonism to the Directory — The Task be- 
 fore Him. 
 
 D TIRING- the two months between the middle of November, 1796, ch. xxrx 
 and the middle of January, 1797, there was a marked change in i^dg 
 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 single hair, having been rescued by 
 the desperate bravery of Rampon and his soldiers at Monte Legino, 
 and again by Augereau's daring at Lonato ; 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 miracle, once at 
 Lodi, once again at Arcole. These facts had apparently left a deep 
 impression on his mind, for they were turned 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 siibaltems, staking 
 his life in every new venture ; hereafter he seemed to appreciate his 
 own value, and to calculate not only the imperihng of his life, but 
 the intimacy of his conversation, with nice adaptation to some gi-eat 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 o£B.cers and finest soldiers being made to feel honored in 
 its membership. The constant attendance of such men necessarily se- 
 cluded the general-in-chief from those colleagues who had hitherto 
 been famihar comrades. Something in the nature of formal etiquette
 
 242 I^I^E OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 Ch. xxe once established, it was easy to extend its rules and confirm them. 
 1796 The generals were thus separated further and fui'ther from their supe- 
 rior, and before the new year they had insensibly adopted habits of ad- 
 dress which displayed a high outward respect, and vu-tually terminated 
 aU 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 accompUshed, it would have been impossible, 
 even for the most stubborn democrat, to check the process. Not one 
 of Bonaparte's principles had failed to secure triumphant vindication. 
 In later years Napoleon himseK beheved, and subsequent criticism 
 has confii'med his opinion, that the Itahan 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 appHca- 
 tion of principles already divined. "Divide and conquer" was an old 
 maxim ; it was a novelty to see it applied in warfare and poUtics as 
 Bonaparte appMed 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 ; Camot 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 apphcation of the same principle to an opposing line of 
 troops, though well known to Juhus Caesar, had been forgotten, and its 
 revival was Napoleon's masterpiece. The martinets of the seventeenth 
 and eighteenth centuries had so exaggerated the formaUties of war that 
 the relation of armies to the fighting-ground had been httle studied and 
 weU-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 cu'cumstances, 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 tlie French soldiers in the Ch. xxix 
 primitive savagery of theii- general, which, though partly concealed, and i"96 
 somewhat held in by training, nevertheless was willing that the spoils 
 of then* conquest should be devoted to making the victorious con- 
 testants opulent; which scorned the limitations of human powers in 
 himself and them, and thus accomphshed feats of strength and strat- 
 agem which gratified to satiety that love for the uncommon, the ideal, 
 and the gi'eat which is inherent in the spmt of their nation. In the 
 successful combination and evolution of all these elements there was a 
 grandeur which Bonaparte and every soldier of his army appreciated at 
 its full value. 
 
 The military side of Bonaparte'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 importance, 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 then- pohtics as antiquated, and 
 to brand their rulers as incapable fools. An ordinary man can, by the 
 assistance of the knowledge, education, and insight acquired by the ex- 
 perience of his race through an additional century, turn 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 fii'st 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 duphcity 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. Tmth, honor, unselfishness are 
 theoretically the virtues of all philosophy ; practically they are the vir- 
 tues of Christian men in Christian society. Where should the scion of 
 a Corsican stock, ignorant of moral or rehgious sentiment, thrown into
 
 244 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 27 
 
 ch. XXIX the atmosphere and suiToundings of the French Revolution, learn to 
 1796 practise them? 
 
 Such considerations are indispensable in the observation of Bona- 
 parte's progi'ess as a poUtician. 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 pohcy was to destroy existing institutions, and leave 
 order to evolve itself from 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 o'^ti 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 would be constitutional mon- 
 archy. Moreover, things appear simpler in the perspective of distance 
 than they do near at hand. The sincerity of Bonaparte's repubhcanism 
 was like the sincerity of his conduct — an affair of time and place, a 
 consistency with conditions and not with abstractions. He knew the 
 ItaUan mob, and faithfully described it in his letters as dull, ignorant, 
 and unreliable, without preparation or fitness for self-government. He 
 was wilhng to estabhsh the forms of constitutional administration; but 
 in spite of hearty support from many disciples of the Revolution, he 
 found those forms likely, 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 kind. 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 administrative unity. 
 
 The Itahans themselves understood neither the policy of the French 
 executive nor that of their conqueror. The transitional positicm in 
 which the latter had left them produced great uneasiness. The tem- 
 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
 
 i 
 
 THK LyiJVBE 
 
 E-VGR4VnD BY PETER AITKT 
 
 A GRENADIER 
 
 THK PAIMTLNO BY NICOLAS TOUBSAINT CaAIU-BT
 
 Mt.27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 245 
 
 governments soon come to the end of theii" usefulness, and the enemies Cn. 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 further, and, m spite of 
 the armistice, was assembling an army for the recoveiy of Bologna, Fer- 
 rara, and his other lost legations. Thus it happened that in the inter- 
 vals of the most laborious military operations, a pohtical 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 absm"dity 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 responsibihty. 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 caU 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 secure aU three ; could give consistency to the flabby, vi- 
 sionary policy of the Directory ; could repress the frightful robberies of 
 its civil agents in Italy ; could with any show of reason hiunble 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 Hapsburgs. 
 
 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 
 ofi&cers and men, accompanied by demands for the promotion of those 
 who had performed distinguished services. Writing to General Clarke
 
 246 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t.27 
 
 ch. XXIX on November nineteenth, 1796, fi-om Yerona, lie says, in words full of 
 1796 patlios : " Yoiu" nephew EUiot was killed on the battle-field of Axcole, 
 This youth had made himself famihar with arms ; several times he had 
 marched at the head of columns ; he would one day have been an es- 
 timable officer. He died with gloiy, in the face of the foe ; he did not 
 suffer for a moment. What reasonable man would not envy such a 
 death f Who is he that in the vicissitudes of life would not agree 
 to leave in such a way a world so often worthy of contempt ? What 
 one of us has not a hundi'ed times regretted that he could not thus 
 be withdi'awn from the powerful effects of calumny, of envy, and of 
 aU the hateful passions that seem almost entirely to control human 
 conduct '? " Perhaps these few words to the widow of one of his late 
 officers are even finer : " Muu-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 responsibilities 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 hours 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 Eepubhc, 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 Du-ectory 
 were subordinated to the mihtary commanders, ostensibly because the 
 foimer were so rapacious. Lombardy in this way became his veiy 
 own. Rome had made the armistice of Bologna merely to gain time,
 
 JSt. 27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 247 
 
 and in the hope of eventual disaster to French aims. A pretext for Cn. xxix 
 the resumption of hostihties was easily found by her in a foolish com- nac 
 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 withdi'aw all his procla- 
 mations against those who had obsei-ved their oaths and confoi-med. 
 The Pontiff, relying on the final success of Austria, had virtually bro- 
 ken off negotiations. Bonapai-te 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. Dm-ing the intei-val Naples also had become 
 refractory; refusing a ti'ibute demanded by the Directoiy, she was not 
 only collecting soldiers, Hke the Pope, but actually had some regiments 
 in marching order. Venice, assei-ting her neutraUty, was growing 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, Bonapai-te went through the form of consulting the 
 Du'ectory 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 annistice with Modena on the pretext that five hundred 
 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 hivited to form a fi-ee 
 government under that name. There had at least been a pretext for 
 erecting the Milanese into the Transpadane Repubhc — that of di'iving 
 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 
 then* general pointed, however, in the opposite du-ection ; he forced the 
 native liberals of the district to take the necessary steps toward organiz- 
 ing the new state so rapidly that the Dii*ectory found itself compelled 
 to yield. It is possible, but not likely, 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 tinued dependence on the French republic of a lot of artificial govem- 
 1796 mentSo The uninterrupted meddling of France in the affairs of the 
 Itahans destroyed in the end all her influence, and made them hate her 
 dominion, which masqueraded as liberahsm, 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 repubhcan principles, but his first care was for his army 
 and the success of his campaign. He behaved as any general sohcitous 
 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 afterward Naples made her peace ; an in- 
 surrection in Corsica against Enghsh 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 nature 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 calculating 
 and dispassionate as any he took concerning the most indifferent prin- 
 cipahty 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 likewise indicates an interesting development of 
 his own policy. " Diminish the nimiber of your 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 Eome as with Genoa and Venice. 
 Whenever your general in Italy is not the pivot of everything, you rxm 
 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 courage, which is not enough in a post hke this." Before 
 this masked dictator were two tasks as difficult in their way as any
 
 iET.27] BONAPARTE'S IMPERIOUS SPIRIT 2-^^ 
 
 even he would ever undertake, each calhug for the exercise of faculties cn. xxix 
 antipodal in quality, but quite as fine as any in the human mind. i"96 
 Mantua was yet to be captui*ed; Rome and the Pope were to be 
 handled so as to render the highest service to himself, to France, and 
 to Eiu'ope, In both these labors he meant to be strengthened and 
 yet unhampered. The habit of comphance was now strong upon the 
 Du'ectoiy, and they continued to yield as before.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 eivoli and the capitulation of mantua 
 Austria's Strategic Plan — Renewal of Hostilities — The Aus- 
 
 TRIANS at RiVOLI AND NOGARA — BoNAPARTE'S NiGHT MaRCH TO 
 RiVOLI — MONTE BaLDO AND THE BeENER KlAUSE — ThE BaTTLE 
 
 OF RiVOLI — The Battle of La Favorita — Feats of the French 
 Army — Bonaparte's Achievembnt — The Fall of JVIantua, 
 
 Ch.^xxx rriHE fifth division of the Italian campaign was the fom-th attempt 
 1797 X. of Austria to retrieve her position in Italy, a position on which 
 her rulers heheved that aU 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 Tyi'olese, 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 foUow the Brenta into the lower reaches 
 of the Adige, where he could effect a crossing, and reUeve 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 
 
 360
 
 ^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 line, massing two thousand men at Bologna 
 in order to repress certain hostile demonstrations lately made in behalf 
 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 
 line. This could mean nothing else than a renewal of hostihties by 
 Austria, although it was impossible to tell 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 hostUe movements, 
 and occupied Rivoli. During the day two Austrian colmnns 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 sun*ound 
 hiin 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 
 aU sides but one, where from 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 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. yxx fi'om Provera, and that if it were successful the two Austrian aiinies 
 vm would meet at Mantua. By ten that evening the reports brought 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 
 Deseuzano and Yerona, 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 carry 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 moonUght five divisions encamped in a 
 semicu'cle below ; then* 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 hours 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 disi)osition 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 Ciinmeria ; it was sung in 
 German myths as the Berner 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, frowning 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 summits of the German high- 
 land, smihng with its sunny slopes on the blue waters of Lake Garda 
 and the fertile vaUey of the Po. In the change of strategy incident to 
 the introduction of gunpowder the spot of greatest resistance was no 
 longer ia the gorge, but at its mouth, where Rivoli on one side, and 
 Ceraino on the other, command respectively the gentle slopes which fall
 
 
 < 
 < 
 
 > 1 
 
 o - 
 
 < 
 
 I 
 
 H 
 
 I
 
 ^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 " httle corporal," who, having flanked theu* defenses 1797 
 at one end, was now about to force then* center, and later to pass by 
 then* eastward end into the hereditary dominions of the German empe- 
 rors on the Danube. 
 
 At early dawn 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 
 Hue as far as Caprino. For some time the Austrians had the advantage, 
 and the result was in suspense, since the French left, at Capiino, 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, following 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 
 Rivoli, and Joubert, whose left at St. Mark was hard beset, could not 
 check the movement. For an instant he left the road unprotected. 
 The Austrians charged up the bill and seized the commanding posi- 
 tion ; but simultaneously there rushed from the opposite side three 
 French battahons, 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 colmnns 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 their 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 artilleiy fire against them, and threw them back to- 
 ward Lake Garda. He thus gained tune to reform his own ranks and 
 enabled Massena to hold in check still another of the Austrian columns, 
 which was striving to outflank bim on his left. Thereupon the French
 
 254 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 Ch. XXX reserve under Rey, coining in from the westward, cut the turning col- 
 1797 lunn entirely off, and compelled it to sun*ender. The rest of Alvinczy's 
 force being ah-eady in full retreat, this ended the worst defeat and most 
 complete rout which the Austrian arms had so far sustained. Such was 
 the utter demoraUzation of the flying and disintegrated columns that 
 a young French officer named Rene, who was in command of fifty 
 men at a hamlet on Lake Garda, successfully imitated Bonaparte's mse 
 at Lonato, and displayed such an imposing confidence to a flying troop 
 of fifteen hundred Austrians that they siuTendered to what appeared to 
 be a force superior to theu" own. Next morning at dawn, Murat, who 
 had marched aU 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 up 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 subm'b of St. George, before Mantua. He succeeded in commu- 
 nicating with Wui'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 Wurmser, by preconcerted arrangement, 
 sallying out from behind at the head of a strong force. The latter was 
 thrown back into the town by Serurier, who commanded the besiegers, 
 but only after a fierce and deadly confiict 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 from Rivoli, the " terrible 
 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 smTcnder his enthe force. This confiict of January six- 
 teenth, before Mantua, is known as the battle of La Favorita, from the
 
 256 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. XXX stand made by Serurier ou 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 repubhc had fought 
 within four 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 Rivoh was the tmnaing-point of the war, 
 and may be said to have shaped the history of Em-ope 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 tm-n the rear of Rivoh 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 from defeat on the right, he 
 was self-rehant 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, leaving 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 un- 
 known before, without the consent of any great power, not excepting 
 France. It is not wonderful that this personage should sometimes 
 have said of himself, " Say that my life began at Rivoh," as at other 
 times he dated his military career from Toulon. 
 
 Wurmser's retreat to Mantua in September had been successful ber 
 cause of the strong cavalry 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 abihty for further resistance,
 
 ioi,Lil OF VERSAILLES 
 
 MARSHAL JEAN-MATTHIEU-PHILIBERT, COUNT SERURIER 
 
 tR'.iM THfc: I'AI-NTISO BY Jt^AN-LOUlS LA.NKirVII.LK
 
 I
 
 ^T.27] RIVOLI AND THE CAPITULATION OF MANTUA 257 
 
 in order, of course, to secm-e tlie most favorable terms of sm-render. cn. xxx 
 There is a fine anecdote in connection with the arrival of this messen- iw 
 ger at the French headquarters, which, though perhaps not literall)^ is 
 probably ideally, true. When the Austrian envoy entered Senirier'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 sm-render, 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, found them so generous 
 that he at once admitted the desperate straits of the garrison. This is 
 substantially the account of Napoleon's memou's. 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 first blush mihtates against its literal truth. On February first, writ- 
 ing fi'om Bologna, he declared that he would vpithdraw 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 tei-ms, Bona- 
 parte immediately withdrew from Mantua to leave Serurier hi command 
 at the sun-ender, a glory he had so well deserved, and then returned 
 to Bologna to begin his final preparations against Rome. In the inter- 
 val Wurmser made a proposition even more favorable to himself. Bo- 
 naparte petulantly rejected it, but with the return of his generous feel- 
 iag, he determined that at least he would not withdraw his fii'st 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 coui"tesy. It requires no great ardor in his de- 
 fense to assert, on the contrary, that in circumstances so unprecedented 
 the disparity of age between the respective representatives of the old
 
 258 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. XXX and the new military system would have made Bonaparte's presence an- 
 1797 other drop in the bitter 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, forewarning him that a 
 plot had been formed in Bologna to poison him with that noted, but 
 never seen, compound so famous in ItaUan history — aqua tofana. 
 
 f!
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 
 
 Rome Theeatened — Pius VI. Sukkendees — The Peace of Tolen- 
 TiNO — Bonaparte and the Papacy — Designs for the Orient — 
 The Policy of Austria — The Archduke Charles — Bonaparte 
 Hampered by the Directory — His Treatment of Venice — Con- 
 dition OF Yenetia — The Commonwealth Warned. 
 
 BONAPARTE seems after Rivoli to have readied 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 Army 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 desu*ed the enth-e overthrow of the 
 papacy, Bonaparte proposed that with this in view Rome shoidd 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 fii-ed with revolutionary zeal, and of 
 Poles, a people who, since the recent dismembennent of their countiy, 
 were wooing France as a possible ally in its reconsti-uction. The main
 
 2G0 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. xxxi di\ision marched against Ancona ; a smaller one of two thousand men 
 1797 directed its course thi-ough 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 natural 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 
 pohcy in the interest of Austria; but knowing fuU weU that defeat 
 would mean the limitation of his domain to the island of Sicily, he pre- 
 ferred to remain neutral, and pick up what crumbs he could get from 
 Bonaparte's table. For this there were excellent reasons. The Eng- 
 Msh 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 squadi'on 
 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 hundred pris- 
 oners, with a treasTU"e valued at seven million francs, were taken with- 
 out a blow ; and on February nineteenth Bonaparte dictated the terms 
 of peace at Tolentino. 
 
 The terms were not such as either the Pope or the Directory ex- 
 pected. Far from it. To be sure, 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 
 thirty-six. Further stipulations were the surrender of the legations of 
 BologTia and FeiTara, together with the Romagna ; consent to the in- 
 corporation into France of Avignon and the Yenaissin, the two papal 
 possessions in the Rhone valley 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 army, 
 with satisfaction for the kilMng in a street row of Basseville, the 
 French plenipotentiary. This, however, was far short of the annihi-
 
 i..,VTIO.V \CrllUllUt[' m TllK AllT 
 
 BULLETIN OF VICTORY FROM THE ARMIES OF ITALY, lyoy 
 
 nuiM Hit I'MXTiNti bv oi-yii.^LS cain.
 
 (
 
 iET.27] HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 261 
 
 lation of the papacy as a temporal power. More than that, the vital Ch. xxxi 
 question of ecclesiastical authority was not mentioned except to guar- 1797 
 antee it in the surrendered legations. To the Du-ectory Bonai)ai-te ex- 
 plained that with such mutilations the Roman edifice 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 requii'ed by 
 the repuhhc, and who, having renounced their allegiance, had found an 
 asylum in the Paj^al States. This latter step was taken in the role of 
 humanitarian. In reahty, this fii'st 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 aUiance with the papacy. The 
 unthinking masses began to compare the captivity of the Roman 
 Chm'ch 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 beheved 
 that Italy had finally given up "all that was cuiious 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 blessing for the " dear son" who had snatched the papal 
 power from the veiy jaws of destruction. "Dear son" was merely a 
 formal phrase, and a gracious answer was retiuned from the French 
 headquarters. This equally foimal 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 Directory, 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 Cathohc, not only in France, but through- 
 out Eiu-ope, 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
 
 262 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^Et. 27 
 
 Ch. yyxT after the peace to say that Bonaparte was, Hke Alexander, a Greek in 
 1797 statm-e, and, like Caesar, a Roman in power. 
 
 While at Ancona Bonapai-te had a temporary relapse into his yearn- 
 ing for Oriental power. He wrote describing the harbor as the only 
 good one on the Adiiatic 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-fom- 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 loug 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 departm-e of the English fleet from 
 the Mediterranean fui'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 firmly than on another, it 
 was on the theory of territorial boundaries, and the inviolability of na- 
 tional existence. Yet, in defiance of all 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 theu- 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 herself into a great power 
 likely ia 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 aU
 
 ^T.27] HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 263 
 
 his master's military strength into Italy. The youthful Archduke Cn. xxxi 
 Charles, who had won great glory as the conqueror of Jom-dan, was i797 
 accordingly summoned fi'om Germany with the strength of his anny to 
 break thi'ough 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 amiy 
 after another to oppose France was worthy of her traditions. Even 
 when these aimies were commanded by veterans of the old school, they 
 were ten-ible : 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 Ehine been in Italy from 
 the outset, they thought, the result might have been different. Per- 
 haps they were right ; but his tardy ari'ival at the eleventh hour was 
 destined to avail nothing. The Auhc Coimcil ordered him into Friuh, 
 a district of the Itahan Alps on the borders of Venice, where another 
 army — the sixth within a year — was to assemble for the protection of 
 the Austrian fi'ontier and await the 'anival of the veterans from Ger- 
 many. This force, unhke the other five, was composed of heterogene- 
 ous elements, and, xintil further strengthened, inferior in numbers to 
 the French, who had finally been reinforced by fifteen thousand men, 
 under Bemadotte, 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 their 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. Tills change in the pohcy of the government likewise 
 affected the south and east of France most favorably for his purposes. 
 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
 
 2G4 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [.f:T. 27 
 
 ch. xyxt was altogether subdued, and there was not a hostile power in the rear 
 1797 of the gi-eat 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 fi-ont, 
 however, the case was different ; for the position of the Ai-chduke 
 Charles left the territory of Venice directly between the hostile armies 
 in such a way as apparently to force Bonaparte into adopting a definite 
 pohcy 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 
 doubtftd 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 Italian powers, was perfectly adapted to the ends 
 he had in view. He had already violated Venetian neutrahty, and in- 
 tended to disregard it entu'ely. 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 aU who sought to endanger the " friendly 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 hterally 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 imder 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 oligarchy 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 Golden Book 
 except those of its own houses. The revolutionary movement had, 
 moreover, already so heightened the discontent which had spread east-
 
 II
 
 IN JUL IJirEEUL COATEAT OV LASKXPrRr., AUSTRIA 
 
 ES'JKAVED UV JI. UAIUER 
 
 ARCHDUKE CHARLES OF AUSTRIA 
 
 FBOM THS PAINTDiO BY LEOPOLD KUPELWIE8ER
 
 ^T. 27] HUMILIATION OF THE PAPACY AND OF VENICE 265 
 
 ward from the Milanese, and was now prevalent in Brescia, Bergamo, cn. xxxi 
 and Peschiera, that these cities really favored Bonaparte, and longed 1797 
 to separate fi'om Venice. Fm-ther than this, the Venetian senate had 
 early in January been informed by its agents in Paris of a inimor that 
 at the conclusion of peace Austria would indemnify herself with Vene- 
 tian ten-itory for the loss of the Milanese. The disquiet of the outly- 
 ing cities on the borders of Lombardy was due to a desire for mnon 
 with the Trauspadane 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 alliance he could then, with less show of injustice, 
 tender them and their territories to Francis, in exchange for Belgiimi. 
 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 families 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 disai-m, agreeing in that event 
 to control the liberals on the mainland, and to guarantee the Venetian 
 territories, leaving behind troops enough both to secui'e those ends and 
 to guard his own communications. If these shotdd 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 neutrality, 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 PKELIMINAKIES OF LEOBEN 
 
 AusTKiAN Plans fob the Last Italian Campaign — The Battle on 
 
 THE TaGLIAMENTO — ReTREAT OF THE AkOHDUKE ChAELES — BONA- 
 
 paete's Proclamation to the Caeinthians — 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.xxxh rriHE Aulic Council at Vienna prepared for the Archduke Charles 
 1797 JL 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 would 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 small forces under Kilmaine 
 and Victor were detailed to watch Venice and Rome respectively; but
 
 ^T. 27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 267 
 
 the general good order of Italy was intrusted to the native legions cn.xxxn 
 which Bonaparte had organized. ito7 
 
 Massena advanced up the Piave against Lusignan, captm-ed his 
 rear-guard, and drove him away northward beyond Belluno, while the 
 Archduke, thus separated from his right, witlidrew 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 crossmg in the 
 face of theii' enemy. The Austrians on the left bank awaited the onset 
 in perfect order, and in dispositions of cavahy, 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 fui-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 hne without an instant's delay, rushed for the 
 stream, which at that spot was swift but fordable, flowing between 
 wide, low banks of gi'avel. The surjirise 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 houi"s 
 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 withdi-aw due eastward across the gi-eat 
 divide of the Alps, where they bow toward the Adriatic, and pass into 
 the valley of the Isonzo, behind that full and i-ushing stream, which he 
 fondly hoped would stop the French pursuit. The frost, however, had 
 bridged it in several places, and these were quickly found. Beniadotte 
 and Serurier stormed the fortress of Gradisca, and captured two thou- 
 sand five hundred men, while Massena seized the fort at the Chiusa 
 Veneta, and, scattering a whole division of fljnng Austrians, captured 
 five thousand with their stores and equipments. He then attacked and
 
 268 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 Ch. XXXII routed the enemy's guai-d 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 arrive. 
 
 Bonaparte wooed the stupefied Carinthians with his softly worded 
 proclamations, and his advancing columns were unharassed by the peas- 
 antry wliile he pushed farther on, eaptming 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 VUlach, " 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. All this was ac- 
 comphshed before the end of March ; and Charles, his army reduced to 
 less than three fom-ths, 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 mountaineers 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 their word, and pleading their penmy, 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 virtual re- 
 pulse ; both the Tyrol and Venice were jubUant, and the effects spread 
 as far eastward as the Austrian provinces of the Adi'iatic. Triest and 
 Fiume had not been garrisoned, and the Austrians occupied them once 
 more; the Venetian senate organized a secret insim-ection, 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 murdered.
 
 FRANCIS I., EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA 
 
 THE rAINTINfl IIY I.EOI'fJl.l' KI^I'EI.WIKSKH
 
 ^T.27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN o(jg 
 
 On March thirty-first, Bonaparte, having received definite and offi- cn. xxxu 
 cial information that he could expect no immediate support from the iw 
 Army of the Rhine, addressed from Klagenfurt to the Archduke what 
 he called a "philosophical" letter, calhng attention to the fact that it 
 was England which had embroiled France and Austria, powers which 
 had reaUy no grievance one against the other. Would a prince, so far 
 removed by lofty bii'th from the petty weaknesses of ministers and 
 goveiTiments, 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 military 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 seizui'e of St. Michael and 
 Leoben had cut off the last hope of a junction between the forces of 
 Charles and his expected reinforcements from 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 despau", sent envoys to Bona- 
 parte at Goritz. His reply was conciliatory, but he declared that he 
 would do nothing unless the city of Venice should make the long-desh'ed 
 concession about inscriptions in the Golden Book. At the same time 
 he demanded a monthly payment of a million fi'ancs in Ueu of all requi- 
 sitions on its tenitory. At Paris the Venetian ambassador had no 
 better success, and vdth the news of Joubert's withdrawal fi'om the 
 Tyrol a tenible insun-ection broke out, which sacrificed many French 
 hves 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 OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. xxxn from Moreau in enforcing his demands ; and with a growing hostihty 
 
 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 Greneral 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 public law of Em-ope 
 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 mm^ders to 
 which reference has been made, and of an engagement at Salo, provoked 
 by the French, in which the Bergamask mountaineers had captured 
 three hundi-ed of the garrison, mostly Poles. This affak was only a 
 little more serious than numerous 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 irreconcilable, and demanded from them impossible acts of 
 reparation. Junot was despatched to Venice with the message, and de- 
 hvered 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 coui't hide its treasui"es and 
 prepare to fly into Hungary, that the plenipotentiaries could only ac- 
 cept the offer of Bonaparte, which they did with ill-concealed delight. 
 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 obdm'ate. 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 pm-ported to be a counter-
 
 ^T. 27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 271 
 
 part of what had been mutually an*auged. Essential differences were, cn. xxxn 
 however, almost immediately marked by the recipients, and when they i™^ 
 announced their discovery with violent clamor, the cool, sarcastic gen- 
 eral produced without remark another copy, which was found to be a 
 coiTect reproduction of the prehniinary terms agi'ced upon. According 
 to these France was to have Belgium, with the " limits of France " as 
 decreed by the laws of the repubhc, a pm-posely 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, Fen-ara, 
 and the Romagna. Modena was to be imited 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 Genoa. 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 pui'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 
 herseK. 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 theu* mihtary antagonist, who, 
 though a mere tyro in then* art, was very hard to deal with. At the 
 outset, for instance, they had proposed to incoi'porate, 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 [^t. 27 
 
 ch. XXXII but could not obtain, from the Directoiy 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 Neuwied, 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 surrounded when a 
 sudden stop was put to Hoche's career by the arrival of a courier from 
 Leoben. In the Black Forest Desaix, having crossed the Rhine with 
 Moreau's army below Strasburg, was likewise didving 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 feehng among extreme repubUcans, 
 especially in the Directory, that he should have destroyed the Austrian 
 monarchy. LareveUiere and Rewbell were altogether of this opinion, 
 and the corrupt Barras to a certain extent, for he had taken a bribe of 
 six hundi-ed 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 afi'air 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 Tm'in, 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 overthrovni the Repubhc." He weU imderstood that 
 fear would yield what despair might refuse. It was a matter of course 
 that when the terms of Leoben reached Paris the Dhectory 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 further 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 prearrangement 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
 
 DRAWINQ MADE FOR THE CENTORT CO. 
 
 CAPTURE OF THE PASS OF TARVIS 
 
 FROM Till': DRAWIN*! liY II. CMAItTIKIt 
 
 i;SlUtAVKl> UV l~ II. I'HI-OUMJ;
 
 I
 
 ^T.27] THE PRELIMINARIES OF LEOBEN 
 
 273 
 
 Venetian mainland; soon after, the inevitable results of French occupa- ch.xxxu 
 tion afforded the opportunity for destroying the oHgarchy altogether. mi 
 The evacuation of Verona by the gan-ison of its former masters had 
 been ordered as a part of the general disannament of Italy. The 
 Veronese were intensely, fiercely indignant on learning that they were to 
 be transferred to a hated allegiance ; and on Apiil seventeenth, when a 
 party appeared to reinforce the French troops ah-eady there, the citizens 
 rose in a frenzy of indignation, and di'ove the hated invaders into the 
 citadel. Dming the following days, thi-ee hundi'ed 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 accounts of Jou- 
 bert's withdrawal and of Moreau's faHm-e to advance, hoped for ultimate 
 success, and the overthi'ow of the French. But riunors fi'om Leoben 
 caused the Austrians to withdi'aw 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, — occuiTed 
 another, of vastly less importance in itseK, but having perhaps even 
 more value as cimiulative 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 kiUed, 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 eveiy man confined for pohtical 
 reasons within their prison walls, but the sun-ender of their inquisitors 
 as well. " I win have no more Inquisition, no more Senate ; I shall be 
 
 S7
 
 274 
 ch. xxxn 
 
 1797 
 
 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 [^T. 27 
 
 \ 
 
 an Attila to Venice ! , . . I want not your alliance nor your schemes ; 
 I mean to lay down the law." They left his presence with gloomy and 
 accurate forebodings as to what was in those secret articles which had 
 been executed at Leoben. When, two days later, came this news of 
 fm'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 hcense of the 
 age, hostihties had, however, already begun; for as early as April 
 tlurtieth 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 neai-est point on the mainland to the city.
 
 CHAPTER XXXni 
 
 the fall of venice 
 
 Feebleness of the Venetian Oligaechy — Its Ovektheow — Bona- 
 pabte's Duplicity — Letteks of Opposite Pukport — Montebello 
 — The Republican Couet — England's Peoposition foe Peace — 
 Plans of the Dieectoey — Geneeal Claeke's Diplomatic Caeeer 
 — Conduct of Mme. Bonapaete — Bonapaete's Jealous Tender- 
 ness — His Wife's Social Conquests. 
 
 SINCE the days of Carthage no govemment like that of the Yene- ch. xxxui 
 tian ohgarchy had existed on the earth. At its best it was dark 1^97 
 and remorseless ; with the disappearance of its vigor its despotism had 
 become somewhat milder, but even yet no common man might di'aw 
 the veil from its mysterious, irresponsible councils and hve. A few 
 hundred famihes administered the country as they did their private 
 estates. All inteUigence, all hberty, all 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 govemment, smoothly as it seemed to lom 
 in time of peace. Now that the earth was quaking under the march of 
 Bonaparte's troops, that govemment 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 then- own account, permitting 
 a rash captain to open fire from the gunboats against the French van- 
 guard when it appeared. But immediately, as if in fear of their 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 [^t. 27 
 
 ch. xxxin as in the case of Modena, he refused. Next day the Great Council 
 1797 having been summoned, it was determined by a nearly unanimous 
 vote of the patricians — sis hundred and ninety to twenty-one — that 
 they would remodel then' institutions on democratic hues. The 
 pale and tenified Doge thought that in such a siurender lay the 
 last hope of safety. 
 
 Not for a moment did Lallemant and Villetard, the two French 
 agents, intermit their revolutionary agitation in the town. Disorders 
 grew 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 shotdd plant the hberty-tree on the Place of St. Mark, and 
 speedily accede to all the propositions for hberahzing Venice which the 
 popular temper seemed to demand. Such were the terror and disor- 
 ganization of the aristocracy that instead of punishing the intrusion of 
 the uri known reformers by death, according to the traditions of their 
 merciless procedure, they took measures to carry out the suggestions 
 made in a way as dark and significant as any of their ovni. The fleet 
 was dismantled, and the army disbanded. By the end of the month 
 the revolution was virtually accompUshed ; a rising of their supporters 
 having been mistaken by the Great Council, in its pusillanimous terror, 
 for a rebelHon of their antagonists, they decreed the abohtion of all ex- 
 isting institutions, and, after hastily organizing a provisional govern- 
 ment, disbanded. Foiu- thousand French soldiers occupied the town, 
 and an ostensible treaty was made between the new repubUc of Venice 
 and that of France. 
 
 This treaty was really nothing but a pronunciamento of Bonaparte. 
 He decreed a general amnesty to all offenders except the commander 
 of Fort Luco, who had recently fired on the French vessel. He also 
 guaranteed the pubhc debt, and promised to occupy the city only as long 
 as the pubUc 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 million francs, and furnish three ships of the line and 
 two frigates, while, in pursuance of the general pohcy of the French 
 repubUc, experts were to select twenty pictures from her galleries, and 
 five hundred manuscripts from her hbraries. Whatever was the under- 
 standing of those who signed these crushing conditions, the city was
 
 
 'tn 
 
 m 
 
 O 
 ■ m 
 
 w 
 
 C 
 c 
 o 
 > 
 r 
 
 > 
 r 
 > 
 n 
 
 m 
 
 o
 
 ^T. 271 THE FALL OF VENICE 277 
 
 never again treated by any European power as an independent state, ch. xxxni 
 Soon afterward a French expedition was d(»spatelied to occupy her isl- it»7 
 and possessions in the Levant. The aiTangements had ])een carefully 
 prepared during the very time when the provisional government be- 
 heved itself to be paying the price of its new hberties. And earlier 
 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 Directoiy 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 lib- 
 erty, and without land or water — it seems natm-al to me that we should 
 hand them over to those who have received then- mainland from us. 
 We shall take all their ships, we shall despoil their arsenal, we shall 
 remove all their cannon, we shall wreck 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 fi'om every foreign influence, should again appear 
 on the world's stage, and assert among the great 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-deahng 
 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 theh* peaks 
 of never-melting ice and snow ; ou the other thi-ee, 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 Europe, and the consoMdation of his own power
 
 278 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 Ch. xxxin ill Italy, in France, and northward beyond the Alps. The two objects 
 1797 went hand in hand. From Austria, from 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 
 mihtary 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 wdth 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 simplicity 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 briUiants 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 growing 
 stronger. The navy had been able to presei-ve 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 him self as a diplo- 
 matist in Holland by organizing the Orange party to sustain the Prus-
 
 ^T.27] THE FALL OF VENICE 279 
 
 sian aims against the rising democracy of that country. Moreover, the ch. xxxiu 
 envoy was an ultra-conservative in his views of the French Revolution, 1797 
 and, beUeving that there was no room in western Em-ope 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 behoved his real er- • 
 rand to be the reorganization of a royalist party in France. Moreo\'er, 
 Delacroix, minister of foreign affau's, was a naiTow, shallow, and con- 
 ceited man, imable 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 dm-ing 
 the war, provided the repubhc would abandon Belgium. It is well 
 to recall in this connection that the navigation of the Sclieldt has 
 ever been an object of the highest importance to England : the estab- 
 Ushment of a strong, hostile maritime power in harbors like those of the 
 Netherlands would menace, if not destroy, the British carrying-trade 
 with central and northern Europe. The reply of the Directoiy was 
 that their fundamental law forbade the consideration of such a point ; 
 and when Mahnesbiuy persisted in his offer, he was given forty-eight 
 hours to leave the country. Hoche was at once despatched to Ireland ; 
 but wind and waves were adverse, and he returned to replace Jom-dan 
 in command of one of the Rhine armies, the latter having been dis- 
 graced for his failures iu Grermany. 
 
 The Directory, with an eye single to the consohdation of the repul)- 
 hc, cared httle for Lombardy, and much for Belgium with the Rhine 
 frontier. The Austrian minister cared little for the distant pro\'inces 
 of the empire, and everything for a compact tenitorial consolidation. 
 The successes of 1796 had secured to France treaties with Pnissia, Ba- 
 varia, Wiiriemberg, Baden, and the two cii'cles 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 tlio Ger- 
 manic body. As a consequence the goal of the Du'ectory could be 
 reached by Austria's consent, and Austria appeared to be wilhng. The 
 only question was, Would France restore the ISIilanese? Carnot was 
 emphatic ia the expression of his opinion that she must, and his col- 
 leagues assented. Accordingly, Bonaparte was warned that no expec- 
 tations of emancipation must be awakened in the Itahan peoples. But
 
 280 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. xxxttt such a warning was absui-d. 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 hberator that Bonaparte was 
 successful in cajohng and conquering Italy, in sustaining and arming 
 his men, and in pouring treasures into Paris. It was for this reason that 
 - he saw himseK 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 veiy moderate abiUty. 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 faU 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 aUy, 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 
 dming 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 court at Montebello was not a mere levee of men. There was 
 as well an assemblage of brilhant 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 hghtly 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 TIIK MlSLIil ijf VtUSAll.LKS> 
 
 I..VuK4Vl.l> llV IL ". TIJTTK 
 
 EUGENIE-BERNARDINE-DESIREE CLARY 
 
 MME. BERNADOTTE ; QUEEN OF SWEDEN 
 
 FRDSI THR rAINTINIl IIV KUAN'fOIS oCltAIIII
 
 ^Et. 27] THE FALL OF VENICE 281 
 
 both, although in widely different degree, sustained something like cn. xxxni 
 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 Luxembourg downward through those of 
 her more aristocratic but less poweiful 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 willing 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 fieiy 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 com-tship, 
 slightly lightened 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 hour he is absent from her. His passion had 
 clouded his faculties, but if she is in pain he wiU leave at any hazard 
 for her side. Without appetite, and sleepless; without thought of 
 friends, glory, or country, all the world is annihilated for hun except 
 herseK. "I care for honor because you do, for victory because it gratifies 
 you, othei-wise 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 every moment of my time is 
 consecrated to you ; that never an hour passes without thought of you; 
 that it never occurred to me to think of another woman ; that they are 
 aU in my eyes without grace, 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 all yours ; that my soul 
 is in your form, and that the day you change, or the day you cease to 
 hve, win be that of my death ; that natm-e, the earth, is lovely in my 
 eyes only because you dwell within it. If you do not beUeve aU this, if 
 your soul is not persuaded, satm-ated, you distress me, you do not love
 
 
 282 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE [^t. 27 
 
 ch. y-yyni me. Between those who 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 per- 
 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 your 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 great . 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 ui'gent pleadings of 
 her husband. Traveling imder Junot's care, she reached Milan early 
 in July, to find the general no longer an adventurer, 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 ambitious 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. xxxm 
 by rendering memorable the celebration of the national fete on July ito? 
 fourteenth, 1797, an event arranged for political purposes, and so daz- 
 zling as to fix in the anny the intense and complete devotion to their 
 leader which made possible the next epoch in his career. 
 
 The summer 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 Britain 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 overtui*es 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- 
 lish naval victory among the European diplomats assembled at Monte- 
 bello. But they succeeded, and the evidence was ultimately given not 
 merely in great matters like the success of Fi-uctidor or the peace of 
 Campo Formio, but in small ones — such, for example, as the speedy 
 liberation of Lafayette from his Austrian prison. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I.
 
 fc
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Santa Barbara 
 
 I 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW. 
 
 Series 94H2
 
 jf////M///i/«i. 
 
 ■ly