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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa
+
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+Title: The Boy Life of Napoleon
+       Afterwards Emperor Of The French
+
+Author: Eugenie Foa
+
+Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9479]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on October 4, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger
+and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON
+
+Afterwards Emperor Of The French
+
+
+
+_Adapted And Extended For American Boys And Girls From The French Of_
+
+Madame Eugenie Foa
+
+Author Of "Little Princes And Princesses Young Warriors,"
+
+"Little Robinson," Etc.
+
+
+
+Illustrated By Vesper L George
+
+
+1895
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The name of Madame Eugenie Foa has been a familiar one in French homes
+for more than a generation. Forty years ago she was the most popular
+writer of historical stories and sketches, especially designed for the
+boys and girls of France. Her tone is pure, her morals are high, her
+teachings are direct and effective. She has, besides, historical
+accuracy and dramatic action; and her twenty books for children have
+found welcome and entrance into the most exclusive of French homes. The
+publishers of this American adaptation take pleasure in introducing
+Madame Foa's work to American boys and girls, and in this Napoleonic
+renaissance are particularly favored in being able to reproduce her
+excellent story of the boy Napoleon.
+
+The French original has been adapted and enlarged in the light of recent
+research, and all possible sources have been drawn upon to make a
+complete and rounded story of Napoleon's boyhood upon the basis
+furnished by Madame Foa's sketch. If this glimpse of the boy Napoleon
+shall lead young readers to the study of the later career of this
+marvellous man, unbiased by partisanship, and swayed neither by hatred
+nor hero worship, the publishers will feel that this presentation of the
+opening chapters of his life will not have been in vain.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+_In Napoleon's Grotto_
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+_The Canon's Pears_
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+_The Accusation_
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+_Bread and Water_
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+_A Wrong Righted_
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+_The Battle with the Shepherd Boys_
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+_Good-bye to Corsica_
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+_At the Preparatory School_
+
+CHAPTER NINE.
+
+_The Lonely School-Boy_
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+_In Napoleon's Garden_
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+_Friends and Foes_ CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+_The Great Snow-tall Fight at Brienne School_
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+
+_Recommended for Promotion_
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+
+_Napoleon goes to Parts_
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+_A Trouble over Pocket Money_
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+_Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots_
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+_Dark Days_
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+
+_By the Wall of the Soldiers' Home_
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+_The Little Corporal_
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+"_Long Live the Emperor!_"
+
+
+
+
+THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+IN NAPOLEON'S GROTTO.
+
+On a certain August day, in the year 1776, two little girls were
+strolling hand in hand along the pleasant promenade that leads from the
+queer little town of Ajaccio out into the open country.
+
+The town of Ajaccio is on the western side of the beautiful island of
+Corsica, in the Mediterranean Sea. Back of it rise the great mountains,
+white with snowy tops; below it sparkles the Mediterranean, bluest of
+blue water. There are trees everywhere; there are flowers all about; the
+air is fragrant with the odor of fruit and foliage; and it was through
+this scented air, and amid these beautiful flowers, that these two
+little girls were wandering idly, picking here and there to add to their
+big bouquets, that August day so many years ago.
+
+Every now and then the little girls would stop their flower-picking to
+cool off; for, though the August sun was hot, the western breezes came
+fresh across the wide Gulf of Ajaccio, down to whose shores ran broad
+and beautiful avenues of chestnut-trees, through which one could catch a
+glimpse, like a beautiful picture, of the little island of Sanguinarie,
+three miles away from shore.
+
+As they came out from the shadow of the chestnut-trees, one of the
+little girls suddenly caught her companion's arm, and, pointing at an
+opening in a pile of rocks that overlooked the sea, she said,--
+
+"Oh, what is this, Eliza?--an oven?"
+
+"An oven, silly! Why, what do you mean?" Eliza answered. "Who would
+build an oven here, tell me?"
+
+"But it opens like an oven," her friend declared. "See, it has a great
+mouth, as if to swallow one. Perhaps some of the black elves live there,
+that Nurse Camilla told us of. Do you think so, Eliza?"
+
+"What a baby you are, Panoria!" Eliza replied, with the superior air of
+one who knows all about things. "That is no oven; nor is it a black
+elf's house. It is Napoleon's grotto."
+
+"Napoleon's!" cried Panoria. "And who gave it to him, then? Your great
+uncle, the Canon Lucien?"
+
+"No one gave it to him, child," Eliza replied. "Napoleon found it in the
+rocks, and teased Uncle Joey Fesch to fix it up for him. Uncle Joey did
+so, and Napoleon comes here so often now that we call it Napoleon's
+grotto."
+
+"Does he come here all alone?" asked Panoria.
+
+"Alone? Of course," answered Eliza. "Why should he not? He is big
+enough."
+
+"No; I mean does he not let any of you come here with him?"
+
+"That he will not!" replied Eliza. "Napoleon is such an odd boy! He will
+have no one but Uncle Joey Fesch come into his grotto, and that is only
+when he wishes Uncle Joey to teach him the primer. Brother Joseph tried
+to come in here one day, and Napoleon beat him and bit him, until Joseph
+was glad to run out, and has never since gone into the grotto."
+
+"What if we should go in there, Eliza?" queried Panoria.
+
+"Oh, never think of it!" cried Eliza. "Napoleon would never forgive us,
+and his nails are sharp."
+
+"And what does he do in his grotto?" asked the inquisitive Panoria.
+
+"Oh, he talks to himself," Eliza replied.
+
+"My! but that is foolish," cried Panoria; "and stupid too."
+
+"Then, so are you to say so," Eliza retorted. "I tell you what is true.
+My brother Napoleon comes here every day. He stays in his grotto for
+hours. He talks to himself. I know what I am saying for I have come here
+lots and lots of times just to listen. But I do not let him see me, or
+he would drive me away."
+
+"Is he in there now?" inquired Panoria with curiosity.
+
+"I suppose so; he always is," replied Eliza.
+
+"Let us hide and listen, then," suggested Panoria. "I should like to
+know what he can say when he talks to himself. Boys are bad enough,
+anyway; but a boy who just talks to himself must be crazy."
+
+Eliza was hardly ready to agree to her little friend's theory, so she
+said, "Wait here, Panoria, and I will go and peep into the grotto to see
+if Napoleon is there."
+
+"Yes, do so," assented Panoria; "and I will run down to that garden and
+pick more flowers. See, there are many there."
+
+"Oh, no, you must not," Eliza objected; "that is my uncle the Canon
+Lucien's garden."
+
+"Well, and is your uncle the canon's garden more sacred than any one
+else's garden?" questioned Panoria flippantly.
+
+"What a goosie you are to ask that! Of course it is," declared Eliza.
+
+"But why?" Panoria persisted.
+
+"Why?" echoed Eliza; "just because it is. It is the garden of my great
+uncle the Canon Lucien; that is why."
+
+"It is, because it is! That is nothing," Panoria protested. "If I could
+not give a better reason"--"It is not my reason, Panoria," Eliza broke
+in. "It is Mamma Letitia's; therefore it must be right."
+
+"Well, I don't care," Panoria declared; "even if it is your mamma's, it
+is--but how is it your mamma's?" she asked, changing protest to inquiry.
+
+"Why, we hear it whenever we do anything," replied Eliza. "If they
+wish to stop our play, they say, 'Stop! you will give your uncle the
+headache.' If we handle anything we should not, they say, 'Hands off!
+that belongs to your uncle the canon.' If we ask for a peach, they tell
+us, 'No! it is from the garden of your uncle the canon.' If they give us
+a hug or a kiss, when we have done well, they say, 'Oh, your uncle the
+canon will be so pleased with you!' Was I not right? Is not our uncle
+the canon beyond all others?"
+
+"Yes; to worry one," declared Panoria rebelliously. "But why? Is it
+because he is canon of the cathedral here at Ajaccio that they are all
+so afraid of him?"
+
+"Afraid of him!" exclaimed Eliza indignantly. "Who is afraid of him? We
+are not. But, you see, Papa Charles is not rich enough to do for us what
+he would like. If he could but have the great estates in this island
+which are his by right, he would be rich enough to do everything for us.
+But some bad people have taken the land; and even though Papa Charles is
+a count, he is not rich enough to send us all to school; so our uncle,
+the Canon Lucien, teaches us many lessons. He is not cross, let me tell
+you, Panoria; but he is--well, a little severe."
+
+"What, then, does he whip you?" asked Panoria.
+
+"No, he does not; but if he says we should be whipped, then Mamma
+Letitia hands us over to Nurse Mina Saveria; and she, I promise you,
+does not let us off from the whipping."
+
+All this Eliza admitted as if with vivid recollections of the vigor of
+Nurse Saveria's arm.
+
+Panoria glanced toward the grotto amid the rocks.
+
+"Does he--Napoleon--ever get whipped?" she asked.
+
+"Indeed he does not," Eliza grumbled; "or not as often as the rest of
+us," she added. "And when he is whipped he does not even cry. You should
+hear Joseph, though. Joseph is the boy to cry; and so is Lucien. I'd be
+ashamed to cry as they do. Why, if you touch those boys just with your
+little finger, they go running to Mamma Letitia, crying that we've
+scratched the skin off."
+
+Panoria had her idea of such "cry-babies" of boys; but Napoleon
+interested her most.
+
+"But, Eliza," she said, "what does he say--Napoleon--when he talks to
+himself in his grotto over there?"
+
+"You shall hear," Eliza replied. "Let me go and peep in, to see if he is
+there. But no; hush! See, here he comes! Come; we will hide behind the
+lilac-bush, and hear what Napoleon says."
+
+"But will not your nurse, Saveria, come to look for us?" asked Panoria,
+who had not forgotten Eliza's reference to the nurse's heavy hand.
+
+"Why, no; Saveria will be busy for an hour yet, picking fruit for our
+table from my uncle the canon's garden. We have time," Eliza explained.
+
+So the two little girls hid themselves behind the lilac-bushes that
+grew beside the rocks in which was the little cave which they called
+Napoleon's grotto. The bush concealed them from view; two pairs of
+wideopen black eyes peering curiously between the lilac-leaves were
+the only signs of the mischievous young eavesdroppers.
+
+The boy who was walking thoughtfully toward the grotto did not notice
+the little girls. He was about seven years old. In fact, he was seven
+that very day. For he was born in the big, bare house in Ajaccio, which
+was his home, on the fifteenth of August, 1776.
+
+He was an odd-looking boy. He was almost elf-like in appearance. His
+head was big, his body small, his arms and legs were thin and spindling.
+His long, dark hair fell about his face; his dress was careless and
+disordered; his stockings had tumbled down over his shoes, and he looked
+much like an untidy boy. But one scarcely noticed the dress of this boy.
+It was his face that held the attention.
+
+It was an Italian face; for this boy's ancestors had come, not so many
+generations before, from the Tuscan town of Sarzana, on the Gulf of
+Genoa--the very town from which "the brave Lord of Luna," of whom you
+may read in Macaulay's splendid poem of "Horatius," came to the sack
+of Rome. Save for his odd appearance, with his big head and his little
+body, there was nothing to particularly distinguish the boy Napoleon
+Bonaparte from other children of his own age.
+
+Now and then, indeed, his face would show all the shifting emotions
+of ambition, passion, and determination; and his eyes, though not
+beautiful, had in them a piercing and commanding gleam that, with a
+glance, could influence and attract his companions.
+
+Whatever happened, these wonderful eyes--even in the boy--never lost the
+power of control which they gave to their owner over those about him.
+With a look through those eyes, Napoleon would appear to conceal his own
+thoughts and learn those of others. They could flash in anger if need
+be, or smile in approval; but, before their fixed and piercing glance,
+even the boldest and most inquisitive of other eyes lowered their lids.
+
+Of course this eye-power, as we might call it, grew as the boy grew; but
+even as a little fellow in his Corsican home, this attraction asserted
+itself, as many a playfellow and foeman could testify, from Joey Fesch,
+his boy-uncle, to whom he was much attached, to Joseph his older
+brother, with whom he was always quarrelling, and Giacommetta, the
+little black-eyed girl, about whom the boys of Ajaccio teased him.
+
+The little girls behind the lilac-bush watched the boy curiously.
+
+"Why does he walk like that?" asked Panoria, as she noted Napoleon's
+advance. He came slowly, his eyes fixed on the sea, his hands clasped
+behind his back.
+
+"Our uncle the canon," whispered Eliza; "he walks just that way, and
+Napoleon copies him."
+
+"My, he looks about fifty!" said Panoria. "What do you suppose he is
+thinking about?"
+
+"Not about us, be sure," Eliza declared.
+
+"I believe he's dreaming," said mischievous Panoria; "let us scream out,
+and see if we can frighten him."
+
+"Silly! you can't frighten Napoleon," Eliza asserted, clapping a hand
+over her companion's mouth. "But he could frighten you. I have tried
+it."
+
+Napoleon stood a moment looking seaward, and tossed back his long hair,
+as if to bathe his forehead in the cooling breezes. Then entering the
+grotto, he flung himself on its rocky floor, and, leaning his head upon
+his hand, seemed as lost in meditation as any gray old hermit of the
+hills, all unconscious of the four black eyes which, filled with
+curiosity and fun, were watching him from behind the lilac-bush.
+
+[Illustration: _At Napoleon's Grotto_]
+
+"Here, at least," the boy said, speaking aloud, as if he wished the
+broad sea to share his thoughts, "here I am master, here I am alone;
+here no one can command or control me. I am seven years old to-day.
+One is not a man at seven; that I know. But neither is one a child when
+he has my desires. Our uncle, the Canon Lucien, tells me that Spartan
+boys were taken away from the women when they were seven years old, and
+trained by men. I wish I were a Spartan. There are too many here to say
+what I may and may not do,--Mamma Letitia, our uncle the canon, Papa
+Charles, Nurse Saveria, Nurse Camilla, to say nothing of my boy-uncle
+Fesch, my brother Joseph, and sister Eliza; Uncle Joey Fesch is but four
+years older than I, my brother Joseph is but a year older, and Eliza is
+a year younger! Even little Pauline has her word to put in against me.
+Bah! why should they? If now I were but the master at home, as I am
+here"--
+
+"Well, hermit! and what if you were the master?" cried Eliza from the
+lilac-bush.
+
+The two girls had kept silence as long as they could; and now, to keep
+Panoria from speaking out, Eliza had interrupted with her question.
+
+With that, they both ran into the grotto.
+
+Napoleon was silent a moment, as if protesting against this invasion of
+his privacy. Then he said,--"If I were the master, Eliza, I would make
+you both do penance for listening at doors;" for it especially mortified
+this boy to be overheard talking to himself.
+
+"But here are no doors, Napoleon!" cried Eliza, whirling about in the
+grotto.
+
+"So much the worse, then," Napoleon returned hotly. "When there are no
+doors, one should be even more careful about intruding."
+
+"Pho! hear the little lord," teased Eliza. "One would think he was the
+Emperor what's his name, or the Grand Turk."
+
+Napoleon was about to respond still more sharply, when just then a
+shrill voice rang through the grotto.
+
+"Eliza; Panoria! Panoria; Eliza!" the call came. "Where are you,
+runaways? Where are you hidden?"
+
+"Here we are, Saveria," Eliza cried in reply, but making no move to
+retire.
+
+Napoleon would have put the girls out, but the next moment a tall and
+stout young woman appeared at the entrance of the grotto. She was
+dressed in black, with a black shawl draped over her high hair, and held
+by a silver pin. On her arm she carried a large basket filled with
+fine fruit,--pears, grapes, and figs. "So here you are, in Napoleon's
+grotto!" exclaimed Saveria the nurse, dropping with her basket on the
+ground. "Why did you run from me, naughty ones?"
+
+Napoleon noted the basket's luscious contents.
+
+"Oh, a pear! Give me a pear, Saveria!" he cried, springing toward the
+nurse, and thrusting a hand into the basket.
+
+But Nurse Saveria hastily drew away the basket.
+
+"Why, child, child! what are you doing?" she exclaimed. "These are your
+uncle the canon's."
+
+Napoleon withdrew his hand as sharply as if a bee amid the fruit had
+stung him.
+
+"Ah, is it so?" he cried; but Panoria, not having before her eyes the
+fear of the Bonapartes' bugbear, "their uncle the canon," laughed
+loudly.
+
+"What funny people you all are!" she exclaimed. "One needs but to cry,
+'Your uncle the canon,' and down you all tumble like a house of cards.
+What! is Saveria, too, afraid of him?"
+
+"No more than I am," said Napoleon stoutly.
+
+"No more than you!" laughed Panoria. "Why, Napoleon, you did not dare to
+even touch the pears of your uncle the canon."
+
+"Because I did not wish to, Panoria," replied Napoleon.
+
+"Did not dare to," corrected Panoria.
+
+"Did not wish to," insisted Napoleon.
+
+"Well, wish it! I dare you to wish it!" cried Panoria, while Eliza
+looked on horrified at her little friend's suggestion.
+
+By this time Saveria had led the children from the grotto, and, walking
+on ahead, was returning toward their home. She did not hear Panoria's
+"dare."
+
+"You may dare me," Napoleon replied to the challenge of Panoria; "but if
+I do not wish it, you gain nothing by daring me."
+
+"Ho! you are afraid, little boy!" cried Panoria.
+
+"I afraid?" and Napoleon turned his piercing glance upon the little
+girl, so that she quailed before it.
+
+But Panoria was an obstinate child, and she returned to the charge.
+
+"But if you did wish it, would you do it, Napoleon?" she asked. "Of
+course," the boy replied.
+
+"Oh, it is easy to brag," said Panoria; "but when your great man, your
+uncle the canon, is around, you are no braver, I'll be bound, than
+little Pauline, or even Eliza here."
+
+By this time Eliza, too, had grown brave; and she said stoutly to her
+friend, "What! I am not brave, you say? You shall see."
+
+Then as Saveria, turning, bade them hurry on, Eliza caught Panoria's
+hand, and ran toward the nurse; but as she did so, she said to Panoria,
+boastingly and rashly,--
+
+"Come into our house! If I do not eat some of those very pears out
+of that very basket of our uncle the canon's, then you may call me a
+coward, Panoria!"
+
+"Would you then dare?" cried Panoria. "I'll not believe it unless I see
+you."
+
+Eliza was "in for it" now. "Then you shall see me!" she declared. "Come
+to my house. Mamma Letitia is away visiting, and I shall have the best
+chance. I promise you; you shall see."
+
+"Hurry, then," said Panoria. "It is better than braving the black elves,
+this that you are to do, Eliza. For truly I think your uncle the canon
+must be an ogre."
+
+"You shall see," Eliza declared again; and, running after Nurse Saveria,
+they were soon in the narrow street in which, standing across the way
+from a little park, was the big, bare, yellowish-gray, four-story house
+in which lived the Bonaparte family, always hard pushed for money, and
+having but few of the fine things which so large a house seemed to call
+for. Indeed, they would have had scarcely anything to live on had it not
+been for this same important relative, "our uncle, the Canon Lucien,"
+who spent much of his yearly salary of fifteen hundred dollars upon this
+family of his nephew, "Papa Charles," one of whom was now about to make
+a raid upon his picked and particular pears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+THE CANON'S PEARS,
+
+When the little girls had left him, Napoleon remained for some moments
+standing in the mouth of his grotto. His hands were clasped behind his
+back, his head was bent, his eyes were fixed upon the sea.
+
+This, as I have told you, was a favorite attitude of the little boy,
+copied from his uncle the canon; it remained his favorite attitude
+through life, as almost any picture of this remarkable man will convince
+you.
+
+The boy was always thoughtful. But this day he was especially so. For he
+knew that it was his birthday; and while not so much notice was taken of
+children's birthdays when Napoleon was a boy as is now the custom, still
+a birthday _was_ a birthday.
+
+So the day set the little fellow to thinking; and, young as he was, he
+had yet much to remember.
+
+He felt that he ought to be as rich and important as the other boys
+whom he knew round about Ajaccio There were Andrew Pozzo and Charles
+Abbatucci, for example. They had everything they wished, their fathers
+were rich and powerful; and they made fun of him, calling him "little
+frowsy head," and "down at the heel," just because his mother could not
+always look after his clothes, and keep him neat and clean.
+
+Napoleon could not see why they should be better off than was he. His
+father, Charles Bonaparte, was, he had heard them say at home, a count,
+but of what good was it to be a count, or a duke, if one had not palaces
+and treasure to show for it?
+
+Napoleon knew that the big and bare four-story house in which he lived
+was by no means a palace; and so far from having any treasures to spend,
+he knew, instead, that if it were not for the help of their uncle, the
+Canon Lucien, they would often go hungry in the big house on the little
+park.
+
+But there was one consolation. If he was badly off, so, too, were many
+other boys and girls in that Mediterranean island. For when Napoleon
+Bonaparte was a boy, there was much trouble in Corsica. That rocky,
+sea-washed, forest-crowned island of mountains and valleys, queer
+customs and brave people, had been in rebellion, against its
+masters--first, the republic of Genoa, and then against France.
+
+[Illustration: House In Which Napoleon Was Born]
+
+[Illustration: The Mother of Napoleon]
+
+[Illustration: The Father of Napoleon]
+
+[Illustration: Room In Which Napoleon Was Born]
+
+Napoleon's father, Charles Bonaparte, had been a Corsican politician and
+patriot, a follower of the great Corsican leader, Paoli, who had spent
+many years of a glorious life in trying to lead his fellow-Corsicans to
+liberty and self-government. But the attempt had been a failure; and
+three months before the baby Napoleon was born, Charles Bonaparte had,
+with other Corsican leaders, given up the struggle. He submitted to the
+French power, took the oath of allegiance, and became a French citizen.
+And thus it came to pass that little Napoleon Bonaparte, though an
+Italian by blood and family, was really by birth a French citizen.
+
+Still, all that did not help him much, if, indeed, he thought anything
+about it as he stood in his grotto looking out to sea. He was thinking
+of other things,--of how he would like to be great and strong and rich,
+so that he could be a leader of other boys, rather than be teased by
+them; for little Napoleon Bonaparte did not take kindly to being teased,
+but would get very angry at his tormentors, and would bite and scratch
+and fight like any little savage. He had, as a child, what is known as
+an ungovernable temper, although he was able to keep it under control
+until the moment came when he could both say and do to his own
+satisfaction. He loved his father and mother; he loved his brothers and
+sisters; he loved his uncle, the Canon Lucien; he loved, more than all
+his other playmates and companions, his boy-uncle, fat, twelve-year-old
+Joey Fesch, who had taught him his letters, and been his admirer and
+follower from babyhood.
+
+But though he loved them all, he loved his own way best; and he was
+bound to have it, however much his father might talk, his mother chide,
+or his uncle the canon correct him. So, as he stood in the grotto,
+remembering that on that day he was seven years old, he determined to
+let all his family see that he knew what he wished to become and do.
+He would show them, he declared, that he was a little boy, a baby, no
+longer; they should know that he was a boy who would be a man long
+before other boys grew up, and would then show his family that they had
+never really understood him.
+
+At last he turned away and walked slowly toward home. The Bonaparte
+house was, as I have told you, a big, bare, four-story, yellow-gray
+house. It stood on a little narrow street, now called, after Napoleon's
+mother, Letitia Place, in the town of Ajaccio. The street was not over
+eight or ten feet wide; but opposite to the house was a little park that
+allowed the Bonapartes to get both light and air--something that would
+otherwise be hard to obtain in a street only ten feet wide.
+
+Tired and thirsty from his walk through the sunshine of the hot August
+afternoon, the boy started for the dining-room for a drink of water. As
+he opened the door in his quick, impetuous way, he heard a noise as of
+some one startled and fleeing. The swinging sash of the long French
+window opposite him shut with a bang, and Napoleon had a glimpse of a
+bit of white skirt, caught for an instant on the window-fastening.
+
+"Ah, ha! it was not a bird, then, that fluttering," he said. "It was a
+girl. One of my sisters. Now, which one, I wonder? and why did she run?
+I do not care to catch her. It is no sport playing with girls."
+
+So little curiosity did he have in the matter, that he did not follow on
+the track of the fugitive, nor even go to the window to look out; but,
+walking up to the sideboard, he opened it to take the water-pitcher and
+get a drink.
+
+As he did so, he started. There stood the basket of fruit which Saveria
+had filled so carefully with fruit for his uncle the canon. But now the
+basket was only half filled. Who had taken the fruit?
+
+He clapped his hands together in surprise; for the fruit of his uncle
+the canon was something no one in the house dared to touch. Punishment
+swift and sure would descend upon the culprit.
+
+"But, look!" he said half-aloud; "who has dared to touch the fruit of
+my uncle the canon? Touch it? My faith! they have taken half of it. Ah,
+that skirt! Could it have been--it must have been one of my sisters. But
+which one?"
+
+As he stood thus wondering, his eyes still fixed upon the rifled basket
+of fruit, he heard behind him a voice that tried to be harsh and stern,
+calling his name.
+
+"Napoleon!" cried the new-comer, "what are you doing at the sideboard?
+and why have you opened it? You know we have forbidden you to take
+anything to eat before mealtime. What have you done?"
+
+It was the voice of his uncle, the Canon Lucien. Napoleon, turning at
+the question, met the glance of his uncle fastened upon him. The Canon
+Lucien Bonaparte was a funny looking, fat little man, as bald as he
+was good-natured,--and that was _very_ bald,--and with a smooth,
+ordinary-appearing face, only remarkable for the same sharp, eagle-like
+look that marked his nephew Napoleon when he, too, became a man.
+
+Napoleon looked at his uncle the canon with indignation and denial on
+his face. "Why, my uncle, I have taken nothing!" he declared.
+
+Then suddenly he remembered how he had been discovered by his uncle
+standing before the half-emptied basket of fruit. Could it be that the
+old gentleman suspected him of pilfering? Would he dare accuse him of
+the crime?
+
+At the thought his face flushed red and hot. For you must know, boys and
+girls, that sometimes the fear of being suspected of a misdeed, even
+when one is absolutely innocent, brings to the face the flush that is
+considered a sign of guilt, and thus people are misunderstood and
+wrongfully accused. When one is high-spirited this is more liable to
+occur. It was so, at this moment, with the little Napoleon. His confused
+air, his flushed face, even his look of indignant denial, joined as
+evidence against him so strongly that his uncle the canon said sharply,
+"Come, you, Napoleon! do not lie to me now."
+
+At that remark all the boy's pride was on fire.
+
+[Illustration: "'I never lie uncle, you know I never lie!' said
+Napoleon"]
+
+"I never lie, uncle; you know I never lie!" he cried hotly.
+
+But Uncle Lucien was so certain of the boy's guilt that he mistook his
+pride for impudence. And yet he was such a good-natured old fellow, and
+loved his nieces and nephews so dearly, that he tried to soften and
+belittle the theft of his precious fruit.
+
+"No harm is done," he said, "if you but tell me what you have done. The
+fruit can be replaced, and I will say nothing, though you know you are
+forbidden to meddle with my fruit. But I do not love to see you doing
+wrong. I will not tolerate a lie. I do not know just what you have done;
+but if you will tell me the truth, I will--of course I will--pardon you.
+Why did you take my fruit?"
+
+"I took nothing, uncle," the boy declared. "It was"--then he stopped.
+Suppose it had been taken by one of his sisters, or by Panoria, their
+guest? The flutter of the departing skirt, as he came into the room,
+assured him it was one of these. But which one? And why should he accuse
+the little girls? It was not manly, and he wished to be a man.
+
+More than this, he was angry to think that he had been suspected,
+more angry yet to think he had been accused by good Uncle Lucien, and
+furiously angry to think that his word was doubted; so he said nothing
+further.
+
+"Ah, so! It was--you, then," the canon said, shaking his head in
+sorrowful belief.
+
+"No; I did not say so!" exclaimed Napoleon. "It was not I."
+
+"Take care, take care, my son," the canon said, very nearly losing his
+temper over what he considered Napoleon's insincerity. "You cannot
+deceive me. See! look at yourself in the glass. Your face betrays you.
+It is red with shame."
+
+"Then is my color a liar, uncle; but I am not," Napoleon insisted.
+
+"What were you doing here, all alone?" asked his uncle.
+
+"I was thirsty," replied the nephew. "I did but come for a drink of
+water."
+
+"That perhaps is so," said Uncle Lucien. "There is no harm in that. You
+came for a drink of water; but, how was it after that,--eh, my friend?"
+
+"That is all, uncle," replied Napoleon.
+
+"And the water? Have you taken a drink of it, yet?"
+
+"No, uncle; not yet."
+
+The canon again shook his head doubtingly.
+
+"See, then," he declared, "you came for a drink of water. You took no
+drink; the sideboard stands open; my fruit has disappeared. Napoleon,
+this is not right. You have done a wrong. Come, tell me the truth. If it
+is not as you say, if you have lied to me, much as I love you, I will
+have you punished. It is wicked in you, and I will not be merciful."
+
+As the canon said this with raised voice and warning finger,
+Napoleon's father, "Papa Charles," entered the room. With him
+came Napoleon's brother Joseph, two years older than he, and his
+twelve-year-old uncle-Joey Fesch. Joey was Mamma Letitia's half-brother,
+a Swiss-Corsican boy. He was, as I have told you, Napoleon's firm
+supporter.
+
+They looked in surprise at Uncle Lucien and Napoleon, and would have
+inquired as to the meaning of the attitude of the two. But the fact was,
+Napoleon had so many such moments of rebellion, that they gave it
+no immediate thought; and just then Charles Bonaparte had a serious
+political question which he wished to refer to the Canon Lucien.
+
+The two men at once began talking; the two boys saw through the open
+window something that engaged their attention, and Napoleon was
+unnoticed. But still the little boy stood, too proud to move away, too
+angry to speak, and so filled with a sense of the injustice that was
+done him, that he remained with downcast eyes, almost rooted to the
+spot, while still the sideboard stood open, and the tell-tale basket
+stood despoiled within it. The door opened again, and Saveria entered
+hastily. She went to the sideboard, took out the basket of fruit,
+and then you may be sure there was an exclamation that attracted the
+attention of all in the room.
+
+"For mercy's sake!" she cried. "Who has taken the canon's fruit?"
+
+"Ah, yes, who?" echoed Uncle Lucien, wheeling about, and laying his hand
+upon Napoleon's shoulder. "Behold, Saveria! here is the culprit. He has
+taken my fruit."
+
+Napoleon pushed away his uncle's hand.
+
+"It is not so!" he said; but he grew pale as he spoke. "I have not
+touched it."
+
+"But some one has. Hear me, Saveria!" the canon commanded; for in that
+house he had quite as much to say as the Father and Mother Bonaparte.
+"Call in the other children. We will soon settle this."
+
+All were soon in the room,--the two little girls, Joseph, and Uncle Joey
+Fesch, even baby Lucien, who was named for his uncle the canon. The
+children made a charming group; but they looked at Napoleon with
+curiosity and surprise, wondering into what new trouble he had fallen.
+For the solemn manner in which they had been called together, the grave
+looks of Papa Charles, of Uncle Lucien, and of Nurse Saveria, led
+them all to believe that something really serious had happened in the
+Bonaparte household.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+THE ACCUSATION.
+
+"Now, then, children, listen to me, and answer, he who is the guilty
+one," Charles Bonaparte said, facing the group of children. "Who is it
+that has taken the fruit from the basket of your uncle the canon?"
+
+Each child declared his or her innocence, though one might imagine that
+Eliza's voice was not so outspoken as the others.
+
+"And what do you say, Napoleon?" asked Papa Charles, turning toward the
+suspected one.
+
+"I have already said, Papa Charles, that it was not I," Napoleon
+answered, this time calmly and coolly; for his composure had returned.
+
+"That is a lie, Napoleon!" exclaimed Nurse Saveria, who, as the trusted
+servant of the Bonaparte family, spoke just as she wished, and said
+precisely what she meant, while no one questioned her freedom. "That is
+a lie, Napoleon, and you know it!" The boy sprang toward the nurse in a
+rage, and, lifting his hand threateningly, cried, "Saveria! if you were
+not a woman, I would"--and he simply shook his little fist at her, too
+angry even to complete his threat.
+
+"How now, Napoleon! what would you do?" his father exclaimed.
+
+But Saveria only laughed scornfully. "It must have been you, Napoleon,"
+she said. "I have not left the pantry since I placed the basket of fruit
+in this sideboard. No one has come in through the door except you and
+your uncle the canon. Who else, then, could have taken the fruit? You
+will not say"--and here she laughed again--"that it is your uncle the
+canon who has stolen his own fruit?"
+
+"Ah, but I wish it had been I," said Uncle Lucien, smiling sadly; for
+it sorely disturbed his good-nature to have such a scene, and to be
+a witness of what he believed to be Napoleon's obstinacy and
+untruthfulness. "I would surely say so, even if I had to go without my
+supper for the disobedient act."
+
+"But," suggested Napoleon, in a broken voice, touched with the shame of
+appearing to be a tell-tale, "it is possible for some one to come in
+here through the window."
+
+"Bah!" cried Saveria. "Do not be a silly too. No one has come through
+the window. You are the thief, Napoleon. You have taken the fruit. Come,
+I will punish you doubly--first for thieving, and then for lying."
+
+But as she crossed as if to seize the boy, Napoleon sprang toward his
+uncle for refuge.
+
+"Uncle Lucien! I did not do it!" he cried. "They must not punish me!"
+
+"Tell the truth, Napoleon," his father said. "That is better than
+lying."
+
+"Yes, tell the truth, Napoleon," repeated his uncle; "only by confession
+can you escape punishment."
+
+"Ah, yes; punishment--how does that sound, Napoleon?" whispered Joseph
+in his ear. "You had better tell the truth. Saveria's whip hurts."
+
+"And so does my hand, rascal!" cried Napoleon, enraged at the taunts of
+his brother. And he sprang upon Joseph, and beat and bit him so sharply
+that the elder boy howled for help, and Uncle Joey Fesch was obliged
+to pull the brothers apart. For Joseph and Napoleon were forever
+quarrelling; and Uncle Joey Fesch was kept busy separating them, or
+smoothing over their squabbles.
+
+As Uncle Joey Fesch drew Napoleon away, he said, "Tell them you took the
+fruit, and they will pardon you. Is it not so, Uncle Lucien?" he added,
+turning to the canon.
+
+"Assuredly, Joey Fesch," the Canon Lucien replied. "Sin confessed is
+half forgiven."
+
+But Napoleon only stamped his foot. "Why should I confess?" he cried.
+"What should I confess? I should lie if I did so. I will not lie! I tell
+you I did not take any of my uncle's fruit!"
+
+"Confess," urged Joseph.
+
+"'Fess," lisped baby Lucien.
+
+"Confess, dear Napoleon," sister Pauline begged.
+
+Only Eliza remained quiet.
+
+"Napoleon," said the Canon Lucien, who, as head of the Bonaparte
+family, and who, especially because he was its main support, was given
+leadership in all home affairs, "we waste time with you; for you are but
+an obstinate boy. At first I felt sorry for you, and would have excused
+you, but now I can do so no longer. See, now; I give you five minutes
+by my watch in which to confess your wrong-doing. You ask for my
+protection. I am certain of your guilt. But I open a door of escape.
+It is the door to pardon; it is confession. Profit by it. See,
+again,"--here the canon took out his watch,--"it is now five minutes
+before seven. If, when the clock strikes seven, you have not confessed,
+Saveria shall give you a whipping. Am I right, brother Charles?"
+
+"You are right, Canon," replied Papa Charles. "If within five minutes by
+your watch Napoleon has not confessed, Saveria shall give him the whip."
+
+"The whip is for horses and dogs, but not for boys," Napoleon declared,
+upon whom this threat of the whip always had an extraordinary effect. "I
+am not a beast."
+
+"The whip is for liars, Napoleon," returned Papa Charles; "for liars and
+children who disobey."
+
+"Then, you are cruel to lay it over me; you are cruel and unjust,"
+declared the boy. "For I am not a liar; I am not disobedient. I will not
+be whipped!"
+
+As he spoke, the boy's eyes flashed defiance. He crossed his arms on his
+breast, lifted his head proudly, planted himself sturdily on his feet,
+and flung at them all a look of mingled indignation and determination.
+
+Supper was ready; and the family, all save Napoleon, seated themselves
+at the table. The five minutes granted him by the canon had run into a
+longer time, when little Pauline, distressed at sight of her brother
+standing pale and grave in front of the open sideboard and the despoiled
+basket of fruit, rose from her chair; approaching him, she whispered,
+"Poor boy! they will give you the whip. I am sure of it. Hear me! While
+they are not looking, run away. See! the window is open."
+
+"Run away? Not I!" came Napoleon's answer in an indignant whisper. "I am
+not afraid."
+
+"But I am," said Pauline. "I do not wish them to whip you. I shall cry.
+Run, Napoleon! run away!"
+
+The perspiration stood in beads on the boy's sallow forehead; but he
+said nothing. "Ask Uncle Lucien's pardon, Napoleon; ask Papa Charles's
+pardon, if you will not run away," Pauline next whispered; "or let me.
+Come! may I not do it for you?"
+
+Napoleon's hand dropped upon Pauline's shoulder, as if to keep her back
+from such an action; but he said nothing.
+
+"Pauline, leave your brother," Charles Bonaparte said. "He is a stubborn
+and undutiful boy. I forbid you to speak to him."
+
+Then turning to his son, he said, "Napoleon, we have given you more than
+the time offered you for reflection. Now, sir, come and ask pardon for
+your misdeed, and all will be over."
+
+"Yes, come," said Uncle Lucien.
+
+Napoleon remained silent.
+
+"Do you not hear me, Napoleon?" his father said.
+
+"Yes, papa," replied the boy.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Pauline pushed her brother; but he would not move. "Go! do go!" she
+said. Instead, Napoleon drew away from her. Uncle Joey Fesch took
+Napoleon by the arm, and sought to draw him toward the table. Even
+Joseph rose and beckoned him to come. But the boy made no motion toward
+the proffered pardon.
+
+"Stupid boy! Obstinate pig!" cried Joseph; "why do you not ask pardon?"
+
+"Because I have done no evil," replied Napoleon. "You are the stupid
+one; you are the pig, I say. Did I not tell you I did not touch the
+fruit?"
+
+"Still obstinate!" exclaimed "Papa Charles," turning away from his
+son. "He does not wish for pardon. He is wicked. Saveria! take this
+headstrong boy to the kitchen, and lay the whip upon him well, do you
+hear? He has deserved it."
+
+Napoleon fled to the corner, and stood at bay. Uncle Joey Fesch joined
+him, as if to protect and defend him. But when big and strong Nurse
+Saveria bore down upon them both, Uncle Joey, after an unsuccessful
+attempt to drag Napoleon with him, turned from the enemy, and sprang
+through the open window.
+
+Then Saveria flung her arms about the little Napoleon, and, in spite of
+his kickings and scratchings, bore him from the room, while all laughed
+except Pauline. She stuffed her fingers into her ears to shut out the
+sound of her brother's cries. But she had no need to do this. No sound
+came from the punishment chamber. For not a sound, not a cry, not even a
+sigh, escaped from the boy who was bearing an unmerited punishment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+BREAD AND WATER.
+
+You will, no doubt, wonder what Napoleon's mother was doing while her
+little son was undergoing his unjust punishment. Perhaps if she had been
+at home things would not have turned out so badly with the boy; for
+"Mamma Letitia," as the Bonaparte children called their beautiful
+mother, had a way about her that none of them could resist. She had much
+more will and spirit, she saw things clearer and better, than did "Papa
+Charles."
+
+Indeed, Napoleon said when he was a man, recalling the days of his
+boyhood in Ajaccio, "I had to be quick when I wished to do anything
+naughty, for my Mamma Letitia would always restrain my warlike temper;
+she would not put up with my defiance and petulance. Her tenderness was
+severe, meting out punishment and reward with equal justice,--merit and
+demerit, she took both into account."
+
+So, you see, she would probably have understood that Napoleon spoke the
+truth, and that it was some one else who had taken the fruit from the
+basket of their uncle the canon. But Mamma Letitia was not at home. She
+had gone to Melilli, in the country beyond Ajaccio, to visit her mother
+and step-father--the father and mother of her half-brother, "Uncle Joey
+Fesch," as the Bonaparte children called him. Melilli was in the midst
+of fields and forests and luscious vineyards, and it was a great treat
+for the children to go there to visit their grandmother.
+
+Sometimes their mother would take one or two of the children with her;
+but on this visit she had gone alone. That very evening her husband was
+to join her, and there had been great contention among the children as
+to which of them should accompany their father.
+
+Before leaving the supper-table "Papa Charles" announced that their
+Uncle Santa's carriage would be at the door in half an hour; that Uncle
+Joey Fesch would drive; and that Joseph and Lucien and Eliza--"the good
+children," as he called them--should go with him to Melilli to visit
+their Grandmother Fesch, and bring back Mamma Letitia. Joseph exulted
+loudly; Eliza said nothing; and baby Lucien crowed his delight. But
+Pauline slipped out into the pantry where Napoleon stood silent and
+still defiant. "I am to stay with you, brother," she said. "Will you be
+good to me?"
+
+Napoleon slipped his arm about his little sister's neck; but just then
+his father came from the dining-room, and the boy drew up again, haughty
+and hard.
+
+"Well, Napoleon," said his father, stopping an instant before the boy,
+"I hope you are sorry and subdued. Will you now ask your Uncle Lucien's
+pardon?"
+
+[Illustration: _"What! Stubborn still?"_]
+
+Napoleon looked his father full in the face. "I did not take that fruit,
+papa," he said.
+
+"What! stubborn still?" his father cried. "See, then; it shall not be
+said in my home that an obstinate little fellow like you can rule the
+house. Since the whip has not conquered you, we will try what starving
+will do. Listen! I am to go to Melilli for Mamma Letitia. Joseph, Eliza,
+and Lucien, our three good ones, shall go with me; we shall be gone for
+three days. As for you, Napoleon, you shall remain here, and shall have
+only bread and water, unless, indeed, before our return you ask pardon
+from your uncle the canon."
+
+Pauline looked sadly at Napoleon, and caught his hand. Then she asked
+her father, "But he may have a little cheese with his bread, may he not,
+papa?"
+
+"Well--yes"--her father yielded. "But only common cheese, Pauline; not
+broccio."
+
+Now, broccio was the favorite cheese of the Corsican children, and
+Pauline protested.
+
+"Oh, yes, papa! let him have broccio, papa," she said. "Why, broccio is
+the best cheese in Corsica!"
+
+"And that is why Napoleon shall not have it," replied her father.
+"Broccio is for good boys and girls; and Napoleon is not good."
+
+As he said this he glanced at Napoleon sharply, as if he really hoped
+for and expected a word of repentance, a look of entreaty. But Napoleon
+said nothing. He looked even more haughty and unyielding than ever; and
+his father, with a word of farewell only to Pauline, left the room.
+
+"Poor Napoleon," said Pauline pityingly, as their father closed the
+door. "See, I will stay by you. But why will you not ask for pardon?"
+
+"Because pardon is for the guilty, Pauline," Napoleon replied; "and I am
+not guilty."
+
+"And will you never ask it?"
+
+"Never," her brother said firmly.
+
+"But, O Napoleon!" cried the little girl, "what if they should always
+give you just bread and water and cheese?"
+
+"And if they should, I would not give in," Napoleon answered. "What can
+I do? I am not master here."
+
+Pauline gave a great sigh of sympathy. The thought of never having
+anything to eat but bread and water and a little cheese was too much for
+her courage.
+
+"I could confess anything, rather," she said. "I would ask pardon three
+times a day."
+
+"And I would not," said Napoleon. "But then, I am a man."
+
+Just then the three children who were to accompany their father to
+Milelli, passed through the pantry, for they had been to bid Nurse
+Saveria good-by. Joseph caught the last word.
+
+"A man, are you!" he cried. "Then, why not be a man, and not a baby?"
+
+"Bah, rascal! and who is the greater baby?" his brother responded. "It
+is he who cries the loudest when things go wrong; and I never cry."
+
+Joseph said nothing further except, "Good-by, obstinate one!"
+
+"Good-by," lisped baby Lucien.
+
+But Eliza said nothing. She did not even glance at Napoleon as she
+passed him; and he simply looked at her, without a word of accusation or
+farewell.
+
+The three days passed quietly, though hungrily, for Napoleon. Uncle
+Lucien said nothing to influence the boy, though he looked sadly, and
+sometimes wistfully, at him; and Pauline tried to sweeten the bread and
+water and cheese as much as possible by her sympathy and companionship.
+
+Of this last, however, Napoleon did not wish much. He spent much of the
+time in his grotto, brooding over his wrongs, and thinking how he would
+act if people tried to treat him thus when he became a man.
+
+The second day he dragged his toy cannon to his grotto, and made believe
+he was a Corsican patriot, intrenched in his fortifications, and
+holding the whole French army at bay; for though Corsica was a French
+possession, the people were still smarting under their wrongs, and hated
+their French oppressors, as they termed them. Some years after, when he
+was a young man, Napoleon, talking about the home of his boyhood and
+the troubles of Corsica, said, "I was born while my country was dying.
+Thirty thousand French thrown upon our shores, drowning the throne of
+liberty in blood--such was the horrid sight that first met my view.
+The cries of the dying, the groans of the oppressed, tears of despair,
+surrounded my cradle at my birth."
+
+It was not quite as bad as all that. But Napoleon liked to use big words
+and dramatic phrases. It had been, in fact, very much like this before
+Napoleon was born. He had heard all the stories of French tyranny and
+Corsican courage, and, like a true Corsican, was hot with wrath against
+the enslavers of his country, as he called the French. So he found an
+especial pleasure in bombarding all France with his toy gun from his
+grotto; and as he then felt very bitter indeed because of his treatment
+at home, you may be sure the French army was horribly butchered in the
+boy's make-believe battle before Napoleon's grotto.
+
+Then he went back for his bread and water.
+
+As he approached the house, he found that he was beginning to rebel at
+the bread and water diet.
+
+Bread and water alone, with just a little cheese, begin to grow
+monotonous to a healthy boy with a good appetite, after two or three
+days.
+
+Suddenly Napoleon had a brilliant idea. "The shepherd boys!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+He hurried to the house, took from Saveria the bread she had put aside
+for him, and was speedily out of the house again.
+
+This time he took his way to the grazing-lands, where, upon the slopes
+of the grand mountains that wall in the town of Ajaccio, the shepherd
+boys were tending their scattered herds.
+
+"Who will exchange chestnut bread for the best town bread in Ajaccio?"
+he demanded. "I will give piece for piece."
+
+Those shepherd boys led a lonely sort of life, and welcomed anything
+that was novel. Then, too, they were as tired of their bread, made from
+pounded chestnuts, as was Napoleon of Saveria's wheat bread.
+
+So Napoleon found a ready response to his offer.
+
+"Here! I'll do it!"--"and I"--"and I"--"and I"--came the answers, in
+such numbers that Napoleon saw that his little stock would soon be
+exhausted; and, indeed, he was not overfond of chestnut bread.
+
+So he improved on his idea.
+
+"Piece for piece, I will exchange, as I offered," he announced. "But
+there are too many of you. See! he who will give me the biggest slice of
+broccio shall have first choice for the bread, and the next biggest, the
+next."
+
+This put a different face on the transaction, but it added spice to the
+operation; and Napoleon actually succeeded in getting for his stale home
+bread, goodly sized pieces of fresh chestnut bread, and enough of the
+much-loved broccio, and bunches of luscious grapes, "to boot," to
+provide him with a generous meal. But the next day the shepherd boys
+rebelled; they told Napoleon that his bread was stale, and not good.
+They preferred their chestnut bread.
+
+"But if you will look after our sheep while we go into the town," said
+one of them, "we will give you some of our bread."
+
+[Illustration: _"He tossed his dry bread to the shepherd boys"_]
+
+This, however, did not suit Napoleon. "I am not one to tend sheep," he
+answered. "Keep your bread. It is not so good that one wishes to eat it
+twice; and--here, I pity you for having always to eat that stuff. Take
+mine!" With that, he tossed his store of dry bread to the shepherd boys,
+and, walking back to town, ran in to visit his foster mother; that is,
+the woman who had been his nurse when he was a baby.
+
+Nurse Camilla, as he called her, or sometimes "foster-mamma Camilla,"
+was now the widow Ilari; but since her husband had been killed in one of
+those terrible family quarrels known as a Corsican _vendetta_, she had
+lived in a little house on one of the narrow streets of Ajaccio, not far
+from the Bonapartes.
+
+She was very fond of her baby, as she called Napoleon; and when he told
+her of his disgrace at home, she said,--
+
+"Bah! the sillies! Do they not know a truth-teller when they see one?
+And so they would keep you on bread and water? Not if Nurse Camilla can
+prevent it. See, now! here is a plenty to eat, and just what my own boy
+likes, does he not? Eat, eat, my son, and never mind the stale bread of
+that stingy Saveria."
+
+Then she petted and caressed the boy she so adored; she gave him the
+best her house afforded, and sent him away to his own home satisfied and
+filled, but especially jubilant, I fear, because he had got the best, as
+he termed it, of the home tyranny, and shown how he was able to do for
+himself even when he was driven to extremities.
+
+It was this ability to use all the conditions of life for his own
+benefit, and to turn even privation and defeat into victory, that gave
+to Napoleon, when he became a man, that genius of mastery that made this
+neglected boy of Corsica the foremost man of all the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE.
+
+A WRONG RIGHTED.
+
+It was the third day of the family's absence from the Bonaparte house.
+Napoleon had been at his favorite resort,--the grotto that overlooked
+the sea. He had been brooding over his fancied wrongs, as well as his
+real ones; he had wished he could be a man to do as he pleased. He would
+free Corsica from French tyranny, make his father rich, and his mother
+free from worry, and, in fact, accomplish all those impossible things
+that every boy of spirit and ambition is certain he could do if he might
+but have the chance.
+
+As he approached his home, he saw little Panoria swinging on the gate.
+She was waiting for her friend Eliza; for she had learned from Pauline
+that the absent ones were to return that evening from their visit to
+Melilli.
+
+Panoria, as you have learned, was a bright little girl, who spoke her
+mind, and had no great awe for the Bonapartes--not even for the mighty
+Canon Lucien, the all-powerful Nurse Saveria, nor the masterful little
+Napoleon.
+
+In fact, Napoleon stood more in awe of Panoria than she did of him. For
+the boy was, as boys and girls say today, "sweet on" the little Panoria,
+to whom he gave the pet name "La Giacommetta." Many a battle royal he
+had fought because of her with the fun-loving boys of Ajaccio, who
+found that it enraged Napoleon to tease him about the little girl, and
+therefore never let the opportunity slip to tease and torment him.
+
+"Ah, Napoleon, it is you!" cried Panoria, as the boy approached her.
+"And what great stories have you been telling yourself today in your
+grotto?"
+
+"I tell no great stories to myself, little one," Napoleon replied with
+rather a lordly air. "I do but talk truth with myself."
+
+"Then should you talk truth with me, boy," the little lady replied, a
+trifle haughty also. "I am not to be called 'little one' by such a mite
+as you. See! I am taller than you!"
+
+"Yes; when one stands on a gate, one is taller than he who stands on the
+ground," Napoleon admitted. "But when we stand back to back, who then is
+the taller? See! Call Pauline! She shall tell us!"
+
+"That shall she not, then," said the little girl, who loved to tease
+quite as well as most girls. "It would be better to go and make yourself
+look fine, than to stand here saying how big you are. Go look in the
+glass. Your stockings are tumbling over your shoes, and your jacket is
+all awry. How will your Mamma Letitia like that? Run, then! I hear the
+carriage wheels! In with you, little Down-at-the-heel!"
+
+Smarting under the girl's teasing, and all the more because it came from
+her, Napoleon sulked into the house.
+
+But Panoria still swung on the gate. When the carriage stopped before
+the house, she ran to welcome her friend Eliza, and, with the returned
+family, entered the house.
+
+In the doorway the fat little canon, Uncle Lucien, received them.
+
+"Back again, uncle!" cried Mamma Letitia in welcome. "And how do you
+all? Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?" The woman who spoke was
+Madame Letitia Bonaparte, the mother of Napoleon. She was a remarkable
+woman--remarkable for beauty, for ability, and for position. Born a
+peasant, she became the mother of kings and queens; reared in poverty,
+she became the mistress of millions. In her Corsican home she was
+house-mother and care-taker; and when, made great by her great son, she
+had every comfort and every luxury, she still remained house-mother and
+care-taker, looking after her own household, and refusing to spend the
+money with which her son provided her, for fear that some day she or her
+family might need it. In all the troubles in Corsica she accompanied her
+husband to the mountain-retreat and the battle-field, encouraging him by
+her bravery, and urging him to patriotic purpose, until the end came,
+and Corsica was defeated and conquered. She carried all the worries and
+bore all the responsibilities of the Bonaparte household; and it was
+only by her management and carefulness that the family was kept from
+absolute poverty.
+
+Her children loved her; but they feared her too, and never thought of
+going contrary to her desires or commands. Late in life Napoleon
+once told a boy of whom he was fond the consequences of the only time he
+ever dared make fun of "Mamma Letitia."
+
+"Pauline and I tried it," he said; "but it was a great mistake on our
+part. It was the only time in my life that my mother herself ever
+whipped me. I don't believe Pauline ever forgot it. I never did."
+
+So it was Mamma Letitia who first spoke on the arrival at home; and her
+first question was as to the children who had remained behind.
+
+"Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?" she asked.
+
+Little Pauline sprang from behind her uncle the canon.
+
+"I am here, mamma," she said, and threw herself in her mother's arms.
+
+"But where is Napoleon?"
+
+"He has not been good, mamma," Pauline replied. "See! he is there,
+behind the door. He dare not come out. He pouts."
+
+"It is not so, mamma," said Napoleon, coming forward; "I do dare. I am
+sad; but I do not pout."
+
+"And is he obstinate still, Uncle Lucien?" Papa Charles asked. "Has he
+confessed, or asked your pardon?"
+
+"He has done neither," Uncle Lucien replied. "I have never seen, in any
+child, such obstinacy as his."
+
+"Napoleon! Obstinacy!" exclaimed Mamma Letitia. "Why, tell me; what has
+the boy done?"
+
+Then Uncle Lucien told the story of the rifled basket of fruit, excusing
+the lad as much as he could, although it must be confessed that the kind
+of canon was considerably "put out" by the reason of what he called
+Napoleon's obstinacy.
+
+When, however, he reached the part of his story that described how he
+wished Napoleon to confess his misdeed, little Panoria, having, as
+I have told you, none of that awe of the Canon Lucien that his grand
+nephews and nieces had, burst in upon him,--
+
+"Why, then!" she cried, "I should not think Napoleon would confess. Poor
+boy! He did not eat your fruit, Canon Lucien."
+
+"How, child! What do you say?" the canon exclaimed. "He did not? Who
+did, then?"
+
+"Why, I did--and Eliza," Panoria replied
+
+"You--and Eliza!"--"Eliza!"--"Why, she said nothing!" These were the
+exclamations of surprise and query that came from all present.
+
+"Why, surely!" said Panoria; "and was it wrong? Fruit is free to all
+here in Corsica. But Eliza was so afraid of her uncle the canon's fruit
+that I dared her to take some; and we did. Napoleon never touched it. He
+knew nothing of it."
+
+"My poor boy my good child!" said the Canon Lucien, taking Napoleon in
+his arms. "Why did you not tell me this?"
+
+"I thought it might have been Eliza who did it," replied the boy; "but
+I am no tattle-tale, uncle. Besides, I would have said nothing on
+Panoria's account. She did not lie."
+
+"No more did Eliza," said Joseph.
+
+"Bah, imbecile!" said Napoleon, turning on his brother. "Where, then, is
+the difference between telling a lie and acting one by keeping quiet, if
+both mislead?"
+
+You can readily believe that Napoleon was made much of by all his family
+because of his action. "That is the stuff that makes brave soldiers,
+leaders, and patriots, my son," his "Mamma Letitia" said. "Would that we
+all had more of it!"
+
+For Madame Bonaparte knew that there was but little of the heroic in her
+handsome husband, "Papa Charles." He would flame out with wrath, and
+tell every one how much he meant to do against tyranny and wrong; he
+would even act with courage for a while; but at last his love of ease
+and his dislike of trouble would get the better of his valor, and he
+would give up the struggle, bow before his opponents, and seek to gain
+by subserviency their favor and patronage.
+
+As for Eliza, she received a merited punishment--first, for her
+disobedience in taking what she had been told never to touch; next, for
+her bravado in daring to act insolently toward her uncle, the canon;
+then for her gluttony in eating so much of the fruit; and finally, for
+her "bad heart," as her mother called it, for allowing her brother
+to suffer in her stead, and be punished for the wrong that she had
+committed.
+
+As for Napoleon, I fear that this little incident in his life made him
+feel more important than ever. He assumed a yet more masterful tone
+toward his companions and playmates, lorded it over Joseph, his brother,
+and made repeated demands for loyalty upon Uncle Joey Fesch.
+
+But he did feel grateful toward Panoria for her timely word and generous
+conduct. He became more fond than ever of "La Giacommeta;" and he
+brought her fruit and flowers, told her of all the great things he meant
+to do "when he was a man," and even invited her into his much loved and
+jealously guarded grotto; and that, you may be sure, was a very great
+favor for Napoleon to grant. For his grotto was his own private and
+exclusive hermitage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+THE BATTLE WITH THE SHEPHERD BOYS.
+
+The relations between Napoleon and the shepherd boys of the Ajaccio
+hillsides were not improved by his unsatisfactory food-trade during his
+bread-and-water days.
+
+Whenever he took his walks abroad in their direction, the belligerent
+shepherd boys made haste to annoy and attack him. They had no special
+love for the town boys; there was, in fact, a long-standing rivalry
+and quarrel between them, as there often is between boys of different
+sections, or between boys of the country and the town.
+
+So you may be sure that Napoleon's solitary tramps along the hillsides
+were often disturbed and made unpleasant.
+
+At last he determined upon the punishment or discomfiture of the
+shepherd boys. He roused his playmates to action; and one day they
+sallied forth in a body, to surprise and attack the shepherd boys. But
+there must have been a traitor in the camp of the town boys; for, when
+they reached the hill pastures, they not only found the shepherd boys
+prepared for them, but they found them arrayed in force. Before the town
+boys could rush to the attack, the shepherd boys, eager for the fray,
+"took the initiative," as the war records say, and making a dash upon
+the town boys, drove them ignominiously from the field.
+
+Napoleon disliked a check. Discomfited and mortified, he turned on big
+Andrew Pozzo, the leader of the town boys.
+
+"Why, you are no general!" he cried. "You should have massed us all
+together, and held up firm against the shepherds. But, instead, you
+scattered us all; and as for you--you ran faster than any of us!"
+
+"Ho! little gamecock! little boaster!" answered Pozzo hotly. "You
+know it all, do you not? You'd better try it yourself, Captain
+Down-at-the-heel."
+
+"And I will, then!" cried Napoleon. "Come, boys, try it again! Shall we
+be whipped by a lot of shepherd boys, garlic lovers, eaters of chestnut
+bread? Never! Follow me!" But the town boys had received all they
+wished, for one day. Only a portion of them followed Napoleon's lead;
+and they turned about and fled before they even met the shepherd boys,
+so formidable seemed the array of those warriors of the hills.
+
+"Why, this will never do!" Napoleon exclaimed. "It must not be said that
+we town boys have been whipped into slavery by these miserable ones of
+the mountains. At them again! What! You will not? Then let us arrange a
+careful plan of attack, and try them another day. Will you do so?"
+
+The boys promised; for it is always easy to agree to do a thing at some
+later day. But Napoleon did not intend that the matter should be given
+up or postponed. He went to his grotto, and carefully thought out a plan
+of campaign.
+
+The next day he gathered his forces about him, and endeavored to fire
+their hearts by a little theatrical effect.
+
+"What say you, boys, to a cartel?" he said.
+
+"A cartel?"
+
+"Yes; a challenge to those miserable ones of the hill, daring them to
+battle."
+
+"But those hill dwellers cannot read; do you not know that, you silly?"
+Andrew Pozzo cried. "How, then, can you send a challenge?"
+
+"How but by word of mouth?" replied Napoleon. "See, here are Uncle Joey
+Fesch and big Ilari; they shall go with their sticks, and stand before
+those shepherd boys, and shall cry aloud"--
+
+"Shall we, then?" broke in big Ilari. "I will do no crying."
+
+Napoleon said nothing. He simply looked at the big fellow--looked at
+him--and went on as if there had been no interruption,--
+
+"And shall cry aloud, 'Holo, miserable ones! holo, rascal shepherds! The
+town boys dare you to fight them. Are you cowards, or will you meet them
+in battle?' This shall Uncle Joey Fesch cry out. He has a mighty voice."
+
+"And of course they will fight," sneered Andrew Pozzo. "Did you think
+they would not? But shall we?"
+
+"Shall we not, then?" answered Napoleon. "And if you will but follow and
+obey me, we will conquer those hill boys, as you never could if Pozzo
+led you on. For I will show you the trick of mastery. Of mastery, do you
+hear? And those miserable boys of the sheep pastures shall never more
+play the victor over us boys of the town."
+
+It was worth trying, and the boys of that day and time were accustomed
+to give and take hard knocks.
+
+So Uncle Joey Fesch and big Tony Ilari, the bearers of the challenge,
+set off for the hill pastures; and while they were gone Napoleon
+directed the preparations of his forces.
+
+The heralds returned with an answer of defiance from the hill boys.
+
+"So! they boast, do they?" little Napoleon said. "We will show them
+how skill is better than strength. Remember my orders: stones in your
+pockets, the stick in your hand. Attention! In order! March!"
+
+In excellent order the little army set out for the hills. In the
+pastures where they had met defeat the day before they saw the
+straggling forces of the shepherd boys awaiting them.
+
+"Halt!" commanded the Captain Napoleon.
+
+"Let the challengers go forward again," he directed. "Summon them to
+surrender, and pass under the yoke. Tell them we will be masters in
+Ajaccio."
+
+The big boy challengers obeyed the little leader's command; and as they
+departed on their mission Napoleon ordered his soldiers to quietly drop
+the stones they carried in their pockets, in a line where they stood.
+Then he planted a stick in the ground as a guide-post.
+
+The challengers came rushing back, followed by the jeers and sticks of
+the hill boys.
+
+"So! they will not yield? Then will we conquer them," Napoleon cried.
+"In order! Charge!"
+
+And up the slope, brandishing their sticks, charged the town boys.
+
+The hill boys were ready for them. They were bigger and stronger than
+the town boys, and they expected to conquer by force.
+
+The two parties met. There was a brief rattle of stick against stick.
+But the hill boys were the stronger, and Napoleon gave the order to
+retreat.
+
+Down the hill rushed the town boys. After them, pell-mell, came the hill
+boys, flushed with victory and careless of consequences. Suddenly, as
+Napoleon reached his guide-post, he shouted in his shrill little voice,
+"Halt!" And his army, knowing his intentions, instantly obeyed.
+
+"Stones!" he cried, and they scooped up their supply of ammunition.
+
+"About!" They faced the oncoming foe.
+
+"Fire!" came his final order; and, so fast and furious fell the shower
+of stones upon the surprised and unprepared hill boys, that their
+victorious columns halted, wavered, turned, broke, and fled.
+
+"Now! upon them! follow them! drive them!" rang out the little Captain
+Napoleon's swiftly given orders.
+
+They followed his lead. The hill boys, utterly routed, scattered in
+dismay. One-half of them were captured and held as prisoners, until
+Napoleon's two big challengers, now acting as commissioners of
+conquest, received from the hill boys an unconditional surrender, an
+acknowledgment of the superiority of the town boys, and the humble
+promise to molest them no more.
+
+This was Napoleon's first taste of victorious war. But ever after he
+was an acknowledged leader of the boys of Ajaccio. Andrew Pozzo was
+unceremoniously deposed from his self-assumed post of commander in all
+street feuds and forays. The old rivalry was a sore point with him,
+however; and throughout his life he was the bitter and determined
+opponent of his famous fellow-Corsican, Napoleon. But you may be sure
+big Tony Ilari and the other boys paid court to the little Bonaparte's
+ability; while as for Uncle Joey Fesch, he was prouder than ever of his
+nine-year-old nephew and commander.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+GOOD-BYE TO CORSICA.
+
+Meantime things were going from bad to worse in the Bonaparte home.
+
+Careless "Papa Charles" made but little money, and saved none; all the
+economy and planning of thrifty "Mamma Letitia" did not keep things from
+falling behind, and even the help of Uncle Lucien the canon was not
+sufficient.
+
+Charles Bonaparte had gained but little by his submission to the French.
+The people in power flattered him, and gave him office and titles, but
+these brought in no money; and yet, because of his position, he was
+forced to entertain and be hospitable to the French officers in Corsica.
+
+Now, this all took money; and there was but little money in the
+Bonaparte house to take. So, at last, after much discussion between the
+father and mother,--the father urging and the mother objecting,--the
+Bonapartes decided to sell a field to raise money; and you can
+scarcely understand how bitter a thing this is to a Corsican. To part
+with a piece of land is, to him, like cutting off an arm. It hurts.
+
+Napoleon heard all of these discussions, and was sadly aware of the
+poverty of his home. He worried over it; he wished he could know how to
+help his mother in her struggles; and he looked forward, more earnestly
+than ever, to the day when he should be a man, or should at least be
+able to do something toward helping out in his home.
+
+At last things took a turn. Old King Louis of France was dead; young
+King Louis--the sixteenth of the name--sat on the throne. There was
+trouble in the kingdom. There was a struggle between the men who wished
+to better things and those who wished things to stay as they were. Among
+these latter were the governors of the French provinces or departments.
+In order to have things fixed to suit themselves, they selected men to
+represent them in the nation's assembly at Paris.
+
+The governor of Corsica was one of these men; and by flattery and
+promises he won over to his side Papa Charles Bonaparte, and had him
+sent to Paris (or rather to Versailles, where the assembly met, not far
+from Paris) as a delegate from the nobility of Corsica. This sounded
+very fine; but the truth is, "Papa Charles" was simply nothing more
+than "the governor's man," to do as he told him, and to work in his
+interests.
+
+One result of this, however, was that it made things a little easier for
+the Bonapartes; and it gave them the opportunity of giving to the two
+older boys, Joseph and Napoleon, an education in France at the expense
+of the state.
+
+So when Charles Bonaparte was ready to sail to his duties in France, it
+was arranged that he should take with him Joseph, Napoleon, and Uncle
+Joey Fesch. Joseph was now eleven years old; Napoleon was nine, and
+Uncle Joey was fifteen.
+
+Joseph and Uncle Joey were to be educated as priests; Napoleon was to go
+to the military school at Brienne. But, at first, both the brothers were
+sent to a sort of preparatory school at Autun.
+
+Napoleon was delighted. He was to go out into the world. He was to be
+a man; and yet, when the time came, he hated to leave his home. He was
+fond of his family; indeed, his life was largely given up to remembering
+and helping his mother and brothers and sisters. He regretted leaving
+his dear grotto; he was sorry to say good-by to Panoria--his favorite
+"La Giacommetta." But his future had been decided upon by his father
+and mother, and he promised to do great things for them when he was old
+enough to be a captain in the army--even if it were the army of France.
+For, you see, he was still so earnest a Corsican patriot, that he wished
+rather to free Corsica than to defend France.
+
+"Who knows?" he boasted one day to Panoria; "perhaps I will become a
+colonel, and come back here and be a greater man than Paoli. Perhaps I
+may free Corsica. What would you think of that, Panoria?"
+
+"I should think it funny for a boy who went to school in France to come
+away and fight France," said practical Panoria.
+
+But Napoleon would not see it in this way. He dreamed of glory, and
+believed he would yet be able to strike a blow for the freedom of
+Corsica. At last the day of departure arrived. There was a lingering
+leave-taking and a sorrowful one. For the first time, the Bonaparte boys
+were leaving their mother and their home.
+
+"Be good boys," she said to them; "learn all you can, and try to be
+a credit to your family. Upon you we look for help in the future. Be
+thrifty, be saving, do not get sick, and remember that, upon your work
+now, will depend your success in life."
+
+"Good-bye!" cried Nurse Saveria. "When you come back I will have for you
+the biggest basket of fruit we can pick in the garden of your uncle the
+canon."
+
+"That you shall, boy," said Uncle Lucien, slipping his last piece of
+pocket-money into Napoleon's hand. "And take you this, for luck. You
+will do your best, I know you will, and you'll come back to us a great
+man. Don't forget your Uncle Lucien, you boy, when you are famous, will
+you?"
+
+Napoleon smiled through his tears, and made a laughing promise in reply
+to his uncle's laughing demand. But, for all the fun of the remark,
+there was yet a strong groundwork of belief beneath this assertion of
+the Canon Lucien Bonaparte; the old man was a shrewd observer. His
+friendship for the little Napoleon was strong. And in spite of all
+the boy's faults,--his temper, his ambition, his sullenness, his
+carelessness, and his selfishness,--Uncle Lucien still recognized in
+this nine-year-old nephew an ability that would carry him forward as he
+grew older.
+
+"Napoleon has his faults," he said, in talking over family matters
+with Mamma Letitia and Papa Charles the night before the departure for
+France; "the boy is not perfect--what child is? But those very faults
+will grow into action as he becomes acquainted with the world. I expect
+great things of the boy; and mark my words, Letitia and Charles, it is
+of no use for you to think on Napoleon's fortune or his future. He will
+make them for himself, and you will look to him for assistance, rather
+than he to you. Joseph is the eldest son; but, of this I am sure,
+Napoleon will be the head of this family. Remember what I say; for,
+though I may not live to see it, some of you will--and will profit by
+it."
+
+They were all on the dock as the vessel sailed away, bearing Papa
+Charles, Uncle Joey Fesch, and the two Bonaparte boys, from Ajaccio to
+Florence.
+
+Mamma Letitia was there, tearful, but smiling, with Eliza, and Pauline,
+and Baby Lucien; so were Uncle Lucien the canon, and Aunt Manuccia,
+who had been their mother's housekeeper, with Nurse Saveria, and Nurse
+Ilaria, whom Napoleon called foster-mother, and even little Panoria, to
+whom Napoleon cried "Good-by, Giacommeta mia! I'll come back some day."
+
+Then the vessel moved out into the harbor, and sailed away for Italy,
+while the tearful group on the dock and the tearful group on the deck
+threw kisses to one another until they could no longer make out faces or
+forms.
+
+The home tie was broken; and Napoleon Bonaparte, a boy of nine and a
+half years, was launched upon life--a life the world was never to
+forget.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+AT THE PREPARATORY SCHOOL.
+
+The Bonaparte boys and their father stopped a while in Florence, so that
+Charles Bonaparte could procure the proper papers to prove that he was
+of what is called noble birth. For it seems that only the children of
+nobles could enter the French military school at Brienne.
+
+He procured these at last, and also a letter of introduction to the
+French queen, Marie Antoinette whose sad story you all know so well.
+
+Then they set out for Autun, and reached that quaint old town on the
+last day of the year 1778. On New Year's Day, 1779, Napoleon was entered
+as a pupil in the preparatory school at Autun.
+
+Autun has been a school town tor hundreds of years. The old Druids had a
+school there, and so did the Romans. It is one of the oldest of French
+towns; and you will find it on your map of France, about one hundred and
+fifty miles south-east of Paris. It is a picturesque old town, placed
+on a sloping hillside, that runs down to the Arroux River. There is
+a cathedral in the town over nine hundred years old; and there, too,
+Napoleon found a college and a seminary, a museum and a library, with
+plenty of ruins, walls, and gateways, and such things, that told of its
+great age and old-time grandeur.
+
+It was a fine place in which to go to school, and the Bonaparte boys
+must have found it quite a change from their Corsican home. The bishop
+of Autun, who had charge of the cathedral and the schools, was the
+nephew of a friend of Charles Bonaparte, and he promised to look after
+the boys.
+
+Napoleon did not stay long in the school at Autun. His father went to
+Paris to enter upon his duties as delegate to the Assembly, intending,
+while there, to make arrangements for getting Napoleon into the military
+school at Brienne.
+
+But there was much need of the preparatory work at Autun. For you must
+know that, being a Corsican, Napoleon knew scarcely a word of French.
+The Corsicans speak Italian, and this would never do for a French
+schoolboy. So, for three months, Napoleon was drilled in French.
+
+He did not take kindly to it. But he did his best. For, you see, his
+journey from Florence to Marseilles, and on to Autun, had opened his
+eyes. He saw, for the first time, cities larger than Ajaccio, and
+learned that there were other places in the world besides Corsica.
+
+But he never really lost his Ajaccio tongue, and for most of his life he
+talked French with an Italian accent.
+
+It was a queer-looking little Italian boy who was thus studying French
+at Autun school. You would scarcely have looked at him twice; for his
+figure was small, his appearance insignificant, his face sober and
+solemn, his hair stiff and stringy, and his complexion sallow. The boys
+made fun of the way in which he talked, as boys are apt to make sport of
+those who do not talk as they do.
+
+"What is your name, new boy?" the big boy of Autun school called out to
+Napoleon, as on that first day of the new year, which was, as I have
+said, his first day at school, the Bonaparte brothers wandered about the
+schoolyard, strangers and shy.
+
+"Na-polle-o-nay!" answered the little new-comer, giving the Corsican
+pronunciation to his name of Napoleon.
+
+"Oho! so!" cried the big boy, mimicking him. "Na-pailli-au-nez, is it?
+See, fellows, see! this is Mr. Straw-Nose!"
+
+For, you see, the way Napoleon pronounced his name sounded very much
+like the French words that mean "the nose of straw." That, of course,
+gave the boys at the school a rare chance to nickname; and so poor
+Napoleon was called "Mr. Straw-Nose" all the time he was at that school.
+
+This was not very long, however; for in three months he had made
+sufficient progress in his study of French to permit him to pass into
+the military school at Brienne, into which his father was at last able
+to procure his admission.
+
+But, while he was at Autun, Napoleon seems to have been a favorite with
+his teachers. One of them, the Abbe Chardon, spoke of him as "a sober,
+thoughtful child." He wished very much to get into the military school;
+so he worked hard, learned quickly, and was proud of what he called his
+ability.
+
+But when the boys tried to plague him, or to twit him for being a
+Corsican, the boy was ready enough to talk back.
+
+The French boys knew but little about Corsica, and had a certain
+contempt for the little island which, so they declared, was the home of
+robbers, and which France had one day gone across and conquered.
+
+"Bah, Corsican!" one of the big boys called out to the new scholar, "and
+what is Corsica? Just an island of cowards. Just see how we Frenchmen
+whipped you out of your boots!"
+
+Napoleon clinched his little fist, and turned hotly on his tormentor.
+But he was already learning the lesson of self-control.
+
+"And how did you do it, Frenchman?" he replied. "By numbers. If you had
+been but four to one against us, you would never have conquered us. But,
+behold! you were ten to one! That is too much to struggle against."
+
+"And yet you boast of your general--your leader," said the other boy.
+"You say he is a fine commander--this--how do you call him?--this
+Paoli."
+
+"I say so; yes, sir," Napoleon replied sadly. Then, as if his ambition
+led him on, he added, "I would like to be like him. What could I not do
+then!"
+
+This feeling of being a Corsican, an outsider at the school, made the
+boy quiet and retiring. He kept by himself, just as he had at home when
+things did not suit him; he walked out alone, and played with no one. To
+be sure, he was more or less with his brother Joseph, who loved his
+ease and comfort, did not fire up when the other boys teased him, and
+smoothed over many a quarrel between them and his brother.
+
+Napoleon would often find fault with Joseph's lack of spirit, as he
+called it; but Joseph, all through life, liked to take things easy, and
+hated to face trouble. Most of us do, you know; but it was the readiness
+of Napoleon to boldly face danger, and to attempt what appeared to be
+the impossible, that made him the self-reliant boy, the successful man,
+the conqueror, the emperor, the hero.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE
+
+THE LONELY SCHOOL-BOY
+
+While Napoleon was at Autun school, studying French, and preparing for
+entrance into the military academy, his father, Charles Bonaparte, was
+at Versailles, trying to get a little more money from the king, in
+return for his services as Corsica's delegate to France.
+
+At the same time he was working to complete the arrangements which
+should permit him to enter Napoleon at the military school, at the
+expense of the state. This he finally accomplished; and on the
+twenty-third of April, in the year 1779, Napoleon entered the royal
+military school at Brienne.
+
+There were ten of these military schools in France. They were started
+as training-schools for boys who were to become officers in the French
+army. The one at Brienne was a bare and ugly-looking lot of buildings
+in the midst of trees and gardens, looking down toward the little River
+Aube, and near to the fine old chateau, or nobleman's house, built, a
+hundred years before Napoleon's day, by the last Count of Brienne.
+
+There were a hundred and fifty boys at Brienne school, although there
+was scarcely room enough for a hundred and twenty.
+
+The new-comer was therefore crowded in with the others; and you may be
+sure that the old boys did not make life pleasant and easy for the new
+boy.
+
+Although he had learned to write and speak French during his three
+months' schooling at Autun, he could not, of course, speak it very well;
+so the boys plagued him for that. And when he told them his name,
+they, too, made fun of his pronunciation of Na-po-le-one, and at once
+nicknamed him, "straw-nose," just as the Autun boys had done.
+
+Most of the boys who attended Brienne school were the sons of French
+noblemen. They had plenty of money to spend; they made a show of it, and
+dressed and did things as finely as they could. Napoleon, you know, was
+poor. His father had scrimped and begged and borrowed to send his boys
+to school. He could not, therefore, give them much for themselves; so
+the French boys, with the money to spend and the manners to show, made
+no end of fun of the little Corsican, who had neither money nor manners.
+
+At once he got into trouble. He did not like, nor did he understand, the
+ways of the French boys; he was alone; he was homesick; and naturally he
+became sulky and uncompanionable. When the boys teased him, he tossed
+back a wrathful answer; when they made fun of his appearance, he grew
+angry and sullen; and when they tried to force him into their society,
+he went off by himself, and acted like a little hermit.
+
+But when they twitted him on his nationality, called him "Straw-nose,
+the Corsican," and made all manner of fun of that rocky and (as they
+called it) savage island, then all the patriotism in the boy's nature
+was aroused, and he called his tormentors French cowards, with whom he
+would one day get square.
+
+"Bah, Corsican! and what will you do?" asked Peter Bouquet. "I hope some
+day to give Corsica her liberty," said Napoleon; "and then all Frenchmen
+shall march into the sea."
+
+Upon which all the boys laughed loudly; and Napoleon, walking off in
+disgust, went into the school-building, and there vented his wrath upon
+a portrait of Choiseul, that hung upon the wall.
+
+"Ah, ha! blackguard, pawnbroker, traitor!" he cried, shaking his fist at
+this portrait of a stout and smiling-looking gentleman. "I loathe you! I
+despise you! I spit upon you!" And he did.
+
+Now, Monsieur the Count de Choiseul was the French nobleman who was
+one of the old King Louis's ministers and advisers. It was he who had
+planned the conquest of Corsica, and annexed it to France. You may not
+wonder, then, that the little Corsican, homesick for his native island,
+and hot with rage toward those who made fun of it, when he came upon
+this portrait of the man to whom, as he had been taught, all Corsica's
+troubles were due, should have vented his wrath upon it, and heaped
+insults upon it.
+
+
+[Illustration: "_What' you will not ask Monsieur the Count's pardon?"_]
+
+Unfortunately for him, however, the teachers at Brienne did not
+appreciate his patriotic wrath; so, when one of the tattle-tales
+reported Napoleon's actions, at once he was pounced upon, and ordered to
+ask pardon for what he had said and done, standing before the portrait
+of Corsica's enslaver.
+
+He approached the portrait so reluctantly and contemptuously, that one
+of the teachers scolded him sharply.
+
+"You are not worthy to be a French officer, foolish boy," the teacher
+declared; "you are no true son of France, thus to insult so great and
+noble a Frenchman as Monsieur the Count de Choiseul."
+
+"I am a son of Corsica," Napoleon replied proudly; "that noble country
+which this man ground in the dust."
+
+"As well he might," replied the teacher tauntingly. "He was Corsica's
+best friend. He was worth a thousand Paoli's."
+
+"It is not so!" cried Napoleon, hot with patriotic indignation. "You
+talk like all Frenchmen. Paoli was a great man. He loved his country.
+I admire him. I wish to be like him. I can never forgive my father for
+having been willing to desert the cause of Corsica, and agree to its
+union with France. He should have followed Paoli's lead, even though it
+took him with Paoli, into exile in England."
+
+"Bah! your father!" one of the big boys standing by exclaimed; "and who
+is your father, Straw-nose?"
+
+Napoleon turned upon his tormentor; "a better man than you, Frenchman!"
+he cried; "a better man than this Choiseul here. My father is a
+Corsican."
+
+"A stubborn rebel, this boy," said the teacher, now losing his temper.
+"What! you will not ask Monsieur the Count's pardon, as a rebel should?
+Then will we tame your spirit. Is a little arrogant Corsican to defy all
+France, and Brienne school besides? Go, sir! We will devise some
+fine punishment for you, that shall well repay your insolence and
+disobedience."
+
+So Napoleon, in disgrace, left the schoolroom, and pacing down his
+favorite walk, the pleasant avenue of chestnut-trees that lined the
+path from one of the schoolhouse doors, he sought his one retreat and
+hermitage,--his loved and bravely defended garden.
+
+That garden was a regular Napoleonic idea. I must tell you about it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+IN NAPOLEON'S GARDEN.
+
+One of the rules of Brienne school was that each pupil should know
+something about agriculture. To illustrate this study, each one of the
+one hundred and fifty boys had a little garden-spot set aside for him to
+cultivate and keep in order.
+
+Some of the boys did this from choice, and because they loved to watch
+things grow; but many of them were careless, and had no love for fruit
+or flowers; so while some of the garden-plots were well kept, others
+were neglected.
+
+Napoleon was glad of this garden-plot, for it gave him something which
+he could call his own. He cared for it faithfully; but he wished to make
+it even more secluded. He remembered his dear grotto at Ajaccio, and
+studied over a plan to make his garden-plot just such a real retreat.
+But it was not large enough for this. He looked about him. The boys to
+whom belonged the garden-plots on either side of him were careless and
+neglectful. Their gardens received no attention; they were overgrown
+with weeds; their hedges were full of gaps and holes.
+
+"I will take them," said Napoleon; "what one cannot care for, another
+must."
+
+So the boy went systematically to work to "annex" his neighbors'
+kingdoms, and make from the three plots one ample retreat for himself.
+He cut down the separating borders; he trimmed and trained and filled
+in the stout outside hedge, until it completely surrounded his enlarged
+domain; and, in the centre of the paths and flower-beds and hedges, he
+put up a seat and a little summer-bower for his pleasure and protection.
+
+It took some time to get this into shape, of course. When he had
+completed it, and was beginning to enjoy it, the owners of the plots
+he had confiscated awoke to a sense of their loss and the excellent
+garden-spot this young Corsican had made for them. "For of course," they
+said, "the garden-plots are ours. Straw Nose has improved them at his
+own risk. What he has made we will keep for our own pleasure." So they
+attempted to occupy their property; but with Napoleon there was force in
+the old saying, "Possession is nine points of the law."
+
+When the dispossessed boys demanded their property, he refused it; when
+they spoke of their rights, he laughed at them; and when they attempted
+to enter the garden by force, he fell upon them, drove them flying from
+the field, and pommelled them so soundly that they judged discretion to
+be the better part of valor, and made no further attempt to disturb the
+conqueror.
+
+The other boys did attempt it, however, simply to tease and annoy the
+fiery Corsican. But it always resulted in their own damage; for Napoleon
+become so attached to his garden citadel, that he would grow furiously
+angry whenever he was disturbed. Rushing out, he would rout his
+assailants completely; until at last it was understood that it was
+safest to let him alone.
+
+As he sought his garden on this day of disgrace to which I have
+referred, he was full of bitter thoughts against the unfriendly boys and
+the unsympathetic teachers amid whom his lot was cast. Like most boys,
+he determined to do something that should free him from this tyranny;
+then, like many boys, he decided to run away. Where or how he could go
+he did not know; for he had no friends in France who would help him
+along, and he had no money in his pocket to enable him to help himself.
+
+"I will run away to sea," he said. For the sea, you know, is the first
+thought of boys who determine to be runaways.
+
+But Napoleon had a strong love for his family; he held high notions
+in regard to the honor of the family name; above all else, he was
+determined to do something that should help his family out of its sore
+straits, and become one element of its support.
+
+"If I should run away to sea," he thought, "I should bring discredit and
+shame to my family: I should annoy my father, and seriously interfere
+with my own plans. For, should I run away from Brienne, my father, who
+has been at such pains to place me here, would be distressed, and
+perhaps injured. No; I will brave it out. But I will write to my father,
+asking him to take me away, and place me in some school where I shall
+feel less like an outcast, where poverty would not be held as a crime,
+and where I shall have more agreeable surroundings. So he went into his
+garden fortress; he stretched himself at full length on his bench, and,
+using the cover of his favorite book, Plutarch's "Lives," as a desk, he
+wrote this letter to his father:--
+
+[Illustration: _Napoleon writing to his father_.]
+
+"MY FATHER,--If you or my protectors cannot give me the means of
+sustaining myself more honorably in the house where I am, please summon
+me home, and as soon as possible. I am tired of poverty, and of the
+smiles of the insolent scholars who are superior to me only in their
+fortune; for there is not one among them who feels one-hundredth part
+of the noble sentiments by which I am animated. Must your son, sir,
+continually be the butt of these boobies, who, vain of the luxuries
+which they enjoy, insult me with their laughter at the privations I am
+forced to endure? No, father; No! If fortune refuses to smile upon me,
+take me from Brienne, and make me, if you will, a mechanic. From these
+words you may judge of my despair. This letter, sir, please believe, is
+not dictated by a vain desire to enjoy expensive amusements. I have no
+such wish. I feel simply that it is necessary to show my companions that
+I can procure them as well as they, if I wish to do so.
+
+"Your respectful and affectionate son,
+
+"BONAPARTE."
+
+
+It took some time to write this letter; for, with Napoleon,
+letter-writing was always a detested task.
+
+When he had written and directed it, he felt better. We always do feel
+relieved, you know, if we speak out or write down our feelings. Then he
+read a chapter in Plutarch about Alexander the Great. This set him to
+thinking and planning how he would win a battle if he should ever become
+a leader and commander. He had a notion that he knew just what he would
+do; and, to prove that his plan was good, he threw himself on the garden
+walk, and gathering a lot of pebbles, he began to set them in array,
+as if they were soldiers, and to make all the moves and marches and
+counter-marches of a furious battle. He indicated the generals and chief
+officers in this army of stone by the larger pebbles; and you may be
+sure that the largest pebble of all represented the commander-in-chief
+--and that was Napoleon himself.
+
+As he marshalled his pebble army, under the lead of his generals and
+officers, shifting some, advancing others, rearranging certain of them
+in squares, and massing others as if to resist an attack, Napoleon was
+conscious of a snickering sort of laugh from somewhere above him.
+
+He looked up, and caught sight of a mocking face looking down at him
+from the top of the hedge that bordered his garden.
+
+"Ho, ho! Straw-nose!" the spy cried out; "and what is the baby doing?
+Is it playing with the pretty pebbles? Is it making mud-pies? It was a
+sweet child, so it was."
+
+Napoleon flushed with anger, enraged both at the intrusion and the
+teasing.
+
+"Pig! imbecile!" he cried; "get down from my hedge, or I will make you!"
+
+"Ho! hear the infant!" came back the taunting answer. "He will make me--
+this pretty Corsican baby who plays with pebbles. He will make me! That
+is good! I laugh; I--Oh, help! help! the Corsican has killed me!"
+
+[Illustration: "_'Get down from my hedge' cried Napoleon_"]
+
+For a moment Napoleon thought indeed he had; for a moment, too, I am
+afraid, he did not care. For so enraged was he at the boy's insults and
+actions, that he had caught up his biggest pebble, which happened to
+be Napoleon the general, and flung it at the intruder. It struck him
+squarely between the eyes, and so stunned him that he fell back from the
+hedge, and lay, first howling, and then terribly quiet, in the space
+outside Napoleon's garden. At once there was a hue and cry; Napoleon was
+summoned from his retreat, and dragged before his teacher.
+
+"Ah, miserable one!" cried the master. "And is it you again? You have
+perhaps killed your fellow-student. You will yet end in the Bastille, or
+on the block. Take him away, until we see what shall be the result of
+the last ill-doing of this wicked one."
+
+"When one plays the spy and the bully one must expect retribution," said
+Napoleon loftily. "This Bouquet is a rascal who will be more likely to
+end in the Bastille than I, who did but defend my own."
+
+This language, of course, did not help matters; so into the school-cage,
+or punishment "lock-up" for the school-boy offenders, young Napoleon was
+at once hurried, without an opportunity for explanation or protest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+FRIENDS AND FOES.
+
+Napoleon, the prisoner in the school "lock-up," raged for a while like
+a caged lion. Then he calmed down into the sulks, returned to his
+determination to run away, concluded again that he would go to sea,
+thought of his family and his duties once more, and at last concluded to
+take his punishment without a word, though he knew that the boy who had
+mocked him into anger deserved the punishment fully as much as did he
+who had been the insulted one.
+
+"But then," he reasoned, "he paid well for his taunts and teasing. I
+wonder how he is now?"
+
+His schoolmate, the English boy, Lawley, was on duty outside the
+"lock-up" door, as a sort of monitor.
+
+"Say, you Lawley!" Napoleon called out, "and how is that brute of a
+Bouquet?"
+
+"None the better for seeing you, little one," replied the good-natured
+English boy, who had that love of fair play that is supposed to belong
+to all Englishmen, and, therefore, felt that young Bonaparte was
+suffering unjustly. Then he added:
+
+"Bouquet will no doubt die, and then what will you do?"
+
+"I will plead self-defence, my friend," said Napoleon. "Did not you tell
+me that an English judge did once declare that a man's home was his
+castle, which he was pledged to defend from invasion and assault. What
+else is my garden? That brute of a Bouquet came spying about my castle,
+and I did but defend myself. Is it not so?"
+
+"It may be so to you, young Bonaparte," Lawley replied; "but not to your
+judges. No, little one, you're in for it now; they'll make you smart for
+this, whatever happens to old Bouquet."
+
+For, like all English boys, this young Lawley mingled with his love of
+justice an equal love for teasing: and like most of the boys at Brienne
+school, he declared it to be "great fun to get the little Corsican mad."
+
+"Then must you help me to get away from here," Napoleon declared. "Look
+you, Lawley!" and the boy in great secrecy pulled a paper from his
+pocket; "see now what I have written."
+
+The English boy took the paper, ran his eye over it, and laughed as
+loudly as he dared while on duty.
+
+"My eye!" he said, "it's in English, and pretty fair English too. A
+letter to the British Admiralty? Permission to enter the British navy as
+a midshipman, eh? Well, you Bonaparte, you are a cool one. A Frenchman
+in the British navy! Fancy now!"
+
+"No, sir; a Corsican," replied Napoleon. "Why should it not be so? What
+have I received but scorn and insult from these Frenchmen? You English
+are more fair, and England is the friend of Corsica. Why should I not
+become a midshipman in your navy? The only difficulty, I am afraid, will
+be my religion."
+
+"Your religion!" cried Lawley, with a laugh; "why, you young rascal! I
+don't believe you have any religion at all."
+
+"But my family have," Napoleon protested. "My mother's race, the
+Ramolini" (and the boy rolled out the name as if that respectable farmer
+family were dukes or emperors at least), "are very strict. I should
+be disinherited if I showed any signs of becoming a heretic like you
+English; and if I joined the British navy, would I not be compelled to
+become a heretic, like you, Lawley?"
+
+Lawley burst into such a loud laugh over the boy's religious scruples,
+of which he had never before seen evidence, that he aroused one of the
+teachers with his noise, and had to scud away, for fear of being caught,
+and punished for neglect of duty.
+
+But he kept Napoleon's letter of application. He must have sent it,
+either in fun, or with some desire to befriend this badgered Corsican
+boy; for to-day Napoleon's letter still exists in the crowded English
+department, wherein are filed the archives of the British Admiralty.
+
+At last, by the interest of certain of the friends whom the boy's
+misfortune, if not his pluck, had made for him--such lads as Lawley, the
+English boy, Bourrienne, Lauriston, and Father Patrault, the teacher of
+mathematics,--Napoleon was liberated with a reprimand; while the boy who
+had caused all the trouble went unpunished, save for the headache that
+Napoleon's well-aimed stone had given him and the scar the blow had
+left.
+
+But the boy could not long stay out of trouble. The next time it came
+about, friendship, and not vindictiveness, was the cause.
+
+Napoleon did not forget the good offices of his friends. Indeed,
+Napoleon never forgot a benefit. His final fall from his great power
+came, largely, because of the very men whom he had honored and enriched,
+out of friendship or appreciation for services performed in his behalf.
+
+One day young Lauriston, who was on duty as a sort of sentry in the
+chestnut avenue that was one of Napoleon's favorite walks, left his
+post, and joining Napoleon, begged him to help him in a problem in
+mathematics which he had been too lazy or too stupid to solve.
+
+"We will go to your garden, Straw-nose," said Lauriston; for both friend
+and foe, after the manner of boys, used the nicknames that had by common
+consent been fastened upon their schoolfellows.
+
+"We will not, then," Napoleon returned. For, as you know, his garden was
+sacred, and not even his friends were allowed entrance. "See, we will
+go beyond, to the seat under the big chestnut. But are you not on duty
+here?"
+
+Lauriston snapped his fingers and shrugged his shoulders in contempt of
+duty. "That for duty!" he exclaimed. "My duty now is to get out this pig
+of a problem."
+
+Under the big chestnut, which was another of Napoleon's favorite
+resorts, the two boys put their heads together over Lauriston's problem,
+and it was soon made clear to the lad; for Napoleon was always good at
+mathematics.
+
+But the time spent over the problem exhausted Lauriston's limit of
+duty; and when the teacher came to relieve him at his post, the boy was
+nowhere to be seen.
+
+Now, at Brienne, military instruction was on military rules; and no
+crime against military discipline is much greater than "absence without
+leave."
+
+So when, at last, young Lauriston was found in Napoleon's company, away
+from his post of duty, and beneath the big chestnut-tree, the boy was in
+a "pretty mess." But Napoleon never deserted his friends.
+
+"Sir," he said to the teacher, "the fault is mine. I led young Lauriston
+away to"--he stopped: it would scarcely help his friend's cause to say
+that he had been helping him at his lessons; thus he continued, "to show
+him my lists"--which was not an untruth, for he had shown the copy to
+Lauriston.
+
+"Your lists, unruly one," said the teacher--one of Napoleon's chief
+persecutors. "And what lists, pray?"
+
+"My lists of the possessions of England, here in my copy-book," said
+Napoleon, drawing the badly scrawled blank-book from his pocket.
+
+He handed it to the teacher.
+
+"Ah, what handwriting! It is vilely done, young Bonaparte. Even I can
+scarcely read it," he said. "What is this? You would draw my portrait in
+your copy-book? Wretched one! have you no manners? So! Possessions of
+the English, is it? Would that the English possessed you! None then
+would be happier than I." Thereupon the teacher read through the list,
+making sarcastic comments on each entry, until he came to the end.
+"'Cabo Corso in Guinea, a pretty strong fort on the sea side of Fort
+Royal, a defence of sixteen cannons.' Bad spelling, worse writing, this!
+and the last, 'Saint Helena, a little island;' and where might it be,
+that Saint Helena, young Bonaparte?"
+
+"In the South Atlantic, well off the African coast," replied Napoleon.
+
+"Would you were there too, young malcontent!" said the teacher, "luring
+boys from their duty. This is worse than treason. See! you shall to the
+lockup once more. And you are no longer battalion captain."
+
+Young Lauriston would have protested against this injustice, and
+declared that he was at fault; but, like too many boys under similar
+circumstances, he was afraid, and accepted anything that should save him
+from punishment. Moreover, a glance at Napoleon's masterful eyes held
+his tongue mute, and he saw his friend borne away to the punishment that
+should have been his.
+
+"'Tis Saint Helena's fault, and not yours, my Lauriston," Napoleon
+whispered in his ear. "Bad writing is never forgiven."
+
+So, as if in a prophecy of the future, Napoleon suffered unjust disgrace
+in connection with Saint Helena's name; and to-day, in the splendid
+exhibition-room of the historical library at Florence, jealously guarded
+beneath a glass case, is Napoleon's blue paper copybook, the very last
+line of which reads, by the strangest of all strange coincidences,
+"Saint Helena, a little island."
+
+The boy's willingness to suffer for his friends, and, even more than
+this, the unjust taking away of his office in the school battalion, of
+which he was quite proud, turned the tide in young Napoleon's favor, so
+far as his schoolmates were concerned.
+
+"Little Straw-nose is a plucky one, is he not, though?" the boys
+declared; and when he came on the field again, they welcomed him with
+cheers, and made him leader for the day in their sports.
+
+They had great fun. Napoleon, full of his readings in Plutarch's
+"Lives," divided the boys into two camps; one camp was to be the
+Persians, the other the Greeks and Macedonians. Napoleon, of course, was
+Alexander; and, like the great Macedonian, he wrought such havoc on the
+Persians, that the school hall in which the battle was waged was filled
+with the uproar, and all the teachers at Brienne rushed pell-mell to the
+place, to quell what they were certain must be a school riot, led on by
+"that miserable Corsican."
+
+Day by day, however, "that miserable Corsican" made more and more
+friends among his schoolfellows. For boys grow tired at last of plaguing
+one who has both spirit and pluck; and these Napoleon certainly
+possessed. He had come to the school "a little savage," so the polished
+French boys declared.
+
+"I was in Brienne," he said years afterwards, as he thought over his
+school-days, "the poorest of all my schoolfellows. They always had money
+in their pockets; I, never. I was proud, and was most careful that
+nobody should perceive this. I could neither laugh nor amuse myself like
+the others. I was not one of them. I could not be popular."
+
+[Illustration: _Napoleon at the School
+of Brienne (From the Painting by M R Dumas_)]
+
+So he had to go through the same hard training that other poor boys at
+boarding-school have undergone. He, however was petulant, high-spirited,
+proud, and had something of that Corsican love of retaliation that has
+made that rocky island famous for its feuds and family rows, or
+"vendettas" as they are called.
+
+He showed the boys at last that they could not impose upon him; that
+he had plenty of spirit; that he was kind-hearted to those who showed
+themselves friendly; and, above all, that he was fitted to lead them in
+their sports, and could, in fact, help them toward having a jolly good
+time.
+
+So, gradually, they began to side with and follow him. They left him in
+undisturbed possession of his fortified garden, they asked his help over
+hard points in mathematics, until at last he began even to grow a little
+popular. And then, to crown all, came the great Snow-ball Fight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+THE GREAT SNOW-BALL FIGHT AT BRIENNE SCHOOL.
+
+That Snow-ball Fight is now famous. It was in the winter of 1783.
+Snow fell heavily; drifts piled up in the schoolyard at Brienne. The
+schoolboys marvelled and exclaimed; for such a snow-fall was rare in
+France. Then they began to shiver and grumble. They shivered at the
+cold, to which they were not accustomed; they grumbled at the snow
+which, by covering their playground, kept them from their usual
+out-of-door sports, and held them for a time prisoners within the dark
+schoolrooms.
+
+Suddenly Napoleon had an inspiration.
+
+"What is snow for, my brothers," he exclaimed, "if not to be used? Let
+us use it. What say you to a snow fort and a siege? Who will join me?"
+
+It was a novel idea; and, with all the boyish love for something new and
+exciting, the boys of Brienne entered into the plan at once. "The fort,
+the fort, young Straw-nose!" they cried. "Show us what to do! Let us
+build it at once!"
+
+With Napoleon as director, they straightway set to work. The boy had an
+excellent head for such things; and his mathematical knowledge, together
+with the preparatory study in fortifications he had already pursued in
+the school, did him good service.
+
+He was not satisfied with simply piling up mounds of snow. He built
+regular works on a scientific plan. The snow "packed well," and the
+boys worked like beavers. With spades and brooms and hands and homemade
+wooden shovels, they built under Napoleon's directions a snow fort that
+set all Brienne wondering and admiring. There were intrenchments and
+redoubts, bastions and ramparts, and all the parts and divisions and
+defences that make up a real fort.
+
+It took some days to build this wonderful fort. For the boys could only
+work in their hours of recess. But at last, when all was ready, Napoleon
+divided the schoolboys into two unequal portions. The smaller number
+was to hold the fort as defenders; the larger number was to form the
+besieging force. At the head of the besiegers was Napoleon. Who was
+captain of the fort I do not know. His name has not come down to us.
+
+But the story of the Snow-ball Fight has. For days the battle raged. At
+every recess hour the forces gathered for the exciting sport. The rule
+was that when once the fort was captured, the besiegers were to become
+its possessors, and were, in turn, to defend it from its late occupants,
+who were now the attacking army, increased to the required number by
+certain of the less skilful fighters in the successful army.
+
+Napoleon was in his element. He was an impetuous leader; but he was
+skilful too; he never lost his head.
+
+[Illustration: "_As leader of the storming-party
+he would direct the attack_"]
+
+Again and again, as leader of the storming-party, he would direct
+the attack; and at just the right moment, in the face of a shower
+of snow-balls, he would dash from his post of observation, head the
+assaulting army, and scaling the walls with the fire of victory in his
+eye and the shout of encouragement on his lips, would lead his soldiers
+over the ramparts, and  with a last dash drive the defeated
+defenders out from the fortification.
+
+The snow held for nearly ten days; the fight kept up as long as the snow
+walls, often repaired and strengthened, would hold together.
+
+The thaw, that relentless enemy of all snow sports, came to the
+attack at last, and gradually dismantled the fortifications; snow for
+ammunition grew thin and poor, and gravel became more and more a part of
+the snow-ball manufacture.
+
+Napoleon tried to prevent this, for he knew the danger from such
+missiles. But often, in the heat of battle, his commands were
+disregarded. One boy especially--the same Bouquet who had scaled his
+hedge and brought him into trouble--was careless or vindictive in this
+matter.
+
+On the last day of the snow, Napoleon saw young Bouquet packing
+snow-balls with dirt and gravel, and commanded him to stop. But Bouquet
+only flung out a hot "I won't!" at the commander, and launched his
+gravel snow-ball against the decaying fort.
+
+Napoleon was just about to head the grand assault. "To the rear with
+you! to the rear, Bouquet! You are disqualified!" he cried.
+
+But Bouquet was insubordinate. He did not intend to be cheated out of
+his fun by any orders that "Straw-nose" should give him. Instead of
+obeying his commander, he sang out a contemptuous refusal, and dashed
+ahead, as if to supplant his general in the post of leader of the
+assault.
+
+Napoleon had no patience with disobedience. The insubordination and
+insolence of Bouquet angered him; and darting forward, he collared his
+rebellious subordinate, and flung him backward down the slushy rampart.
+
+"Imbecile!" he cried. "Learn to obey! Drag him to the rear, Lauriston."
+
+The fort was carried. But "General Thaw" was too strong for the young
+soldiers; and that night, a rain setting in, finished the destruction of
+the now historic snow-fort of Brienne School.
+
+Bouquet, smarting under what he considered the disgrace that had been
+put upon him before his playmates, accosted Napoleon that night in the
+hall. "Bah, then, smarty Straw-nose!" he cried; "you are a beast. How
+dare you lay hands on me, a Frenchman?"
+
+"Because you would not obey orders," Napoleon replied. "Was not I in
+command?"
+
+"You!" sneered Bouquet; "and who are you to command? A runaway Corsican,
+a brigand, and the son of a brigand, like all Corsicans."
+
+"My father is not a brigand," returned Napoleon. "He is a
+gentleman--which you are not."
+
+"I am no gentleman, say you?" cried the enraged French boy. "Why, young
+Straw-nose, my ancestors were gentlemen under great King Louis when
+yours were tending sheep on your Corsican hills. My father is an officer
+of France; yours is"--
+
+"Well, sir, and what is mine?" said Napoleon defiantly.
+
+"Yours," Bouquet laughed with a mocking and cruel sneer, "yours is but a
+lackey, a beggar in livery, a miserable tip-staff!"
+
+Napoleon flung himself at the insulter of his father in a fury; but he
+was caught back by those standing by, and saved from the disgrace of
+again breaking the rules by fighting in the school-hall.
+
+All night, however, he brooded over Bouquet's taunting words, and the
+desire for revenge grew hot within him.
+
+The boy had said his father was no gentleman. No gentleman, indeed!
+Bouquet should see that he knew how gentlemen should act. He would not
+fall upon him, and beat him as he deserved. He would conduct himself
+as all gentlemen did. He would challenge to a duel the insulter of his
+father.
+
+This was the custom. The refuge of all gentlemen who felt themselves
+insulted, disgraced, or persecuted in those days, was to seek vengeance
+in a personal encounter with deadly weapons, called a duel. It is a
+foolish and savage way of seeking redress; but even today it is resorted
+to by those who feel themselves ill treated by their "equals." So
+Napoleon felt that he was doing the only wise and gentlemanly thing
+possible.
+
+But, even then duelling was against the law. It was punished when men
+were caught at it; for schoolboys, it was considered an unheard-of
+crime.
+
+[Illustration: _Napoleon sends his Challenge_.]
+
+Still, though against the law, all men felt that it was the only way
+to salve their wounded honor. Napoleon felt it would be the only manly
+course open to him; so, early next morning, he despatched his friend
+Bourrienne with a note to Bouquet. That note was a "cartel," or
+challenge. It demanded that Mr. Bouquet should meet Mr. Bonaparte at
+such time and place as their seconds might select, there to fight with
+swords until the insult that Mr. Bouquet had put upon Mr. Bonaparte
+should be wiped out in blood.
+
+There was ferocity for you! But it was the fashion.
+
+"Mr. Bouquet," however, had no desire to meet the fiery young Corsican
+at swords' points. So, instead of meeting his adversary, he sneaked off
+to one of the teachers, who, as we know, most disliked Napoleon, and
+complained that the Corsican, Bonaparte, was seeking his life, and meant
+to kill him.
+
+At once Napoleon was summoned before the indignant instructor.
+
+"So, sir!" cried the teacher, "is this the way you seek to become a
+gentleman and officer of your king? You would murder a schoolmate; you
+would force him to a duel! No denial, sir; no explanation. Is this so,
+or not so?"
+
+Once more Napoleon saw that words or remonstrances would be in vain.
+
+"It is so," he replied. "Can we, then, never work out your Corsican
+brutality?" said the teacher. "Go, sir! you are to be imprisoned until
+fitting sentence for your crime can be considered."
+
+And once again poor Napoleon went into the school lock-up, while
+Bouquet, who was the most at fault, went free.
+
+There was almost a rebellion in school over the imprisonment of the
+successful general who had so bravely fought the battles of the
+snow-fort.
+
+Napoleon passed a day in the lock-up; then he was again summoned before
+the teacher who had thus punished him.
+
+"You are an incorrigible, young Bonaparte," said the teacher.
+"Imprisonment can never cure you. Through it, too, you go free from your
+studies and tasks. I have considered the proper punishment. It is this:
+you are to put on to-day the penitent's woollen gown; you are to kneel
+during dinner-time at the door of the dining-room, where all may see
+your disgrace and take warning therefrom; you are to eat your dinner on
+your knees. Thereafter, in presence of your schoolmates assembled in the
+dining-room, you are to apologize to Mr. Bouquet, and ask pardon from
+me, as representing the school, for thus breaking the laws and acting as
+a bully and a murderer. Go, sir, to your room, and assume the penitent's
+gown."
+
+Napoleon, as I have told you, was a high-spirited boy, and keenly felt
+disgrace. This sentence was as humiliating and mortifying as anything
+that could be put upon him. Rebel at it as he might, he knew that he
+would be forced to do it; and, distressed beyond measure at thought of
+what he must go through, he sought his room, and flung himself on his
+bed in an agony of tears. He actually had what in these days we call a
+fit of hysterics.
+
+While thus "broken up," his room door opened. Supposing that the
+teacher, or one of the monitors, had come to prepare him for the
+dreadful sentence, he refused to move.
+
+Then a voice, that certainly was not the one he expected, called to him.
+He raised a flushed and tearful face from the bed, and met the inquiring
+eyes of his father's old friend, and the "protector" of the Bonaparte
+family, General Marbeuf, formerly the French commander in Corsica.
+
+"Why, Napoleon, boy! what does all this mean?" inquired the general.
+"Have you been in mischief? What is the trouble?"
+
+The visit came as a climax to a most exciting event. In it Napoleon saw
+escape from the disgrace he so feared, and the injustice against which
+he so rebelled. With a joyful shout he flung himself impulsively at his
+friend's feet, clasped his knees, and begged for his protection. The
+boy, you see, was still unnerved and over-wrought, and was not as cool
+or self-possessed as usual.
+
+Gradually, however, he calmed down, and told General Marbeuf the whole
+story.
+
+The general was indignant at the sentence. But he laughed heartily at
+the idea of this fourteen-year-old boy challenging another to a duel.
+
+"Why, what a fire-eater it is!" he cried. "But you had provocation,
+boy. This Bouquet is a sneak, and your teacher is a tyrant. But we will
+change it all; see, now! I will seek out the principal. I will explain
+it all. He shall see it rightly, and you shall not be thus disgraced.
+No, sir! not if I, General Marbeuf, intrench myself alone with you
+behind what is left of your slushy snow-fort yonder, and fight all
+Brienne school in your behalf--teachers and all. So cheer up, lad! we
+will make it right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
+
+RECOMMENDED FOR PROMOTION.
+
+General Marbeuf did make it all right. Bouquet was called to account;
+the teacher who had so often made it unpleasant for Napoleon was sharply
+reprimanded; and the principal, having his attention drawn to the
+persistent persecution of this boy from Corsica, consented to his
+release from imprisonment, while sternly lecturing him on the sin of
+duelling.
+
+The general also chimed in with the principal's lecture; although I am
+afraid, being a soldier, he was more in sympathy with Napoleon than he
+should have been.
+
+"A bad business this duelling, my son," he said, "a bad business--though
+I must say this rascal Bouquet deserved a good beating for his
+insolence. But a beating is hardly the thing between gentlemen."
+
+"And you have fought a duel, my General?" inquired Napoleon. "Have I?
+why, scores" the bluff soldier admitted.
+
+[Illustration: "_'And you have fought a duel, my General'? inquired
+Napoleon_"]
+
+"Let me see--I have fought one--two--four--why, when I was scarcely more
+than your age, my friend, I"--and then the general suddenly stopped.
+For he saw how his reminiscences would grow into admissions that would
+scarcely be a correction.
+
+So, with a hem and a haw, General Marbeuf wisely changed the subject,
+and began to inquire into the reasons for Napoleon's unpleasant
+experiences at Brienne. He speedily discovered that the cause lay in the
+pocket. As you have already learned from Napoleon's letter to his father
+and his own later reflections, the boy's poverty made him dissatisfied
+with his lot, while his companions, heedless and blundering as boys are
+apt to be in such matters, did not try to smooth over the difference
+between their plenty and this boy's need, but rather increased his
+bitterness by their thoughtless speech and action.
+
+"Brains do not lie in the pocket, Napoleon, boy," he said. "You have as
+much intelligence as any of your fellows, you should not be so touchy
+because you do not happen to have their spending-money. You must learn
+to be more charitable. Do not take offence so easily; remember that
+all boys admire ability, and look kindly on good fellowship in a
+comrade, whether he have much or little in his purse. Learn to be more
+companionable; accept things as they come; and if you are ever hard
+pushed for money,--call on me. I'll see you through."
+
+Any boy will take a lecture with so agreeable an ending, and Napoleon
+did not resent his good friend's advice.
+
+The general also introduced the boy to the great lady who lived in the
+big chateau near by--the Lady of Brienne. She interested herself in the
+lad's doings, gave him many a "tip," invited him to her home, and, by
+kindly words and motherly deeds, brought the boy out of his nervousness
+and solitude into something more like good manners and gentlemanly ways.
+
+So the school--life at Brienne went on more agreeably as the months
+passed by. Napoleon studied hard. He made good progress in mathematics
+and history, though he disliked the languages, and never wrote a good
+hand. He was always an "old boy" for his years; and, in time, many of
+his teachers became interested in him, and even grew fond of him.
+
+But he always kept his family in mind. He was continually planning how
+he might help his mother, and give his brothers and sisters a chance to
+get an education.
+
+He even treated Joseph as if he himself were the elder, and Joseph the
+younger brother. There is a letter in existence which he wrote to his
+father in 1783, in which he tries to arrange for Joseph's future, as
+that rather heavy boy had decided not to become a priest.
+
+"Joseph," so Napoleon wrote from Brienne to his father, "can come here
+to school. The principal says he can be received here; and Father
+Patrault, the teacher of mathematics, says he will be glad to undertake
+Joseph's instruction, and that, if he will work, we may both of us go
+together for our artillery examination. Never mind me. I can get along.
+But you must do something for Joseph. Good-by, my dear father. I hope
+you will decide to send Joseph here to Brienne, rather than to Metz. It
+will be a pleasure for us to be together; and, as Joseph knows nothing
+of mathematics, if you send him to Metz, he will have to begin with the
+little children; and that, I know, will disgust him. I hope, therefore,
+that before the end of October I shall embrace Joseph."
+
+That is a nice, brotherly letter, is it not? It does not sound like the
+boy who was always ready to quarrel and fight with brother Joseph,
+nor does it seem to be from a sulky, disagreeable boy. This spirit of
+looking out for his family was one of the traits of Napoleon's character
+that was noticeable alike in the boy, the soldier, the commander, and
+the emperor.
+
+Indeed, the very spirit of self-denial in which this letter, an extract
+from which you have just read, was written, was not only characteristic
+of this remarkable man of whose boy-life this story tells, but it led in
+his school-days at Brienne to a change that affected his whole life.
+
+One day there came to the school the Chevalier de Keralio, inspector of
+military schools--a sort of committee man as you would say in America.
+It was the duty of the inspector to look into the record, and arrange
+for the promotions, of "the king's wards," as the boys and girls were
+called who were educated at the expense of the state. He was, in some
+way, attracted to this sober, silent, and sad-eyed little Corsican, and
+inquired into his history. He rather liked the boy's appearance, odd as
+it was. He took quite a fancy to the young Napoleon, talked with him,
+questioned him, and outlined to the teachers at Brienne what he thought
+should be the future course of the lad.
+
+Charles Bonaparte had some thought of placing Napoleon in the naval
+service of France. The boy told Inspector Keralio this; but the
+chevalier declared that he intended to recommend the boy for promotion
+to the military school at Paris, and then have him assigned for service
+at Toulon. This was the nearest port to Corsica, and would place
+Napoleon nearer to his much-loved family home.
+
+The teachers objected to this.
+
+"There are other boys in the school much better fitted for such an honor
+than this young Bonaparte," they said.
+
+But the inspector thought otherwise.
+
+"I know boys," he said. "I know what I am doing."
+
+"But he is not ready yet," said the principal. "To do as you advise
+would be to change all the rules set down for promotion."
+
+"Well, what if it does?" replied the inspector.
+
+"But why should you favor this boy and his family? They are Corsicans."
+
+"I do not care anything about his family," the inspector declared. "If I
+put aside the rules in this case, it is not to do the Bonaparte family a
+favor. I do not know them. But I have studied this boy. It is because of
+him that I propose this action. I see a spark in him that cannot be too
+early cultivated. It shall not be extinguished if I can help it. This
+young Bonaparte will make his mark if he has a chance, and I shall give
+him that chance."
+
+So before he left Brienne the inspector wrote this strong recommendation
+of the boy whom he desired to befriend and put forward:--
+
+"Monsieur de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born August 15, 1769. Height,
+four feet, ten inches. Of good constitution, excellent health, mild
+disposition. Has finished the fourth form: is straightforward and
+obliging. His conduct has been most satisfactory. He has been
+distinguished for his application to mathematics; is fairly acquainted
+with history and geography; is weak in all accomplishments,--drawing,
+dancing, music, and the like. This boy would make an excellent sailor.
+He deserves promotion to the school in Paris."
+
+Napoleon had gained a powerful friend. His favor would put the boy well
+forward in his career. He felt quite elated. But, unfortunately for
+the plans proposed, the Inspector de Keralio died suddenly, before his
+recommendation could he acted upon; and with so many other applications
+that were backed up by influence, for boys with better opportunities,
+Napoleon's desired assignment to the naval service did not receive
+action by the government, and he was passed by in favor of less able but
+better befriended boys.
+
+So, when the examination--days came, the new Inspector, who came in
+place of the lad's friend Chevalier de Keralio, decided that young
+Napoleon Bonaparte was fitted for the artillery service; and at the age
+of fifteen the boy left the school at Brienne, and was ordered to enter
+upon a higher course of study at the military school at Paris. Nothing
+more was said about preparing him for the naval service, for which
+Inspector de Keralio had recommended him. And in the certificate
+which he carried from Brienne to Paris, Napoleon was described as a
+"masterful, impetuous and headstrong boy." Evidently the opinion of
+Napoleon's teachers was adopted, rather than the prophetic report of his
+dead friend, Inspector de Keralio.
+
+In after-years Napoleon forgot all the worries and troubles of his
+school-days at Brienne, and remembered only the pleasant times there.
+
+Once, when he was a man, he heard some bells chiming musically. He
+stopped, listened, and said to his old schoolmate, whom he had made his
+secretary,--
+
+"Ah, Bourrienne! that reminds me of my first years at Brienne; we were
+happy there, were we not?"
+
+To the chaplain who had prepared him for that most important occasion in
+the lives of all French children, his first communion, and who had taken
+a fatherly interest in him, Napoleon, when powerful and great, wrote:
+"I can never forget that to your virtuous example and wise lessons I am
+indebted for the great fortune that has come to me. Without religion, no
+happiness, no future, is possible. My dear friend, remember me in your
+prayers."
+
+Even his old adversary, Bouquet, whose mean ways had brought Napoleon
+into so many scrapes, was not forgotten. Bouquet was a bad fellow. Years
+after, he was caught doing some great mischief; and Napoleon, as his
+superior officer, would have been obliged to punish him. But when he
+heard that Bouquet had escaped from prison, he really felt relieved.
+
+"Bouquet was my old schoolfellow at Brienne," he said. "I am glad I did
+not have to punish him."
+
+Whenever he had the chance, after he had risen to honor and power, he
+would do his old schoolmates and teachers at Brienne school a service.
+Bourrienne and Lauriston were both advanced and honored. To one teacher
+he gave the post of palace librarian; another was appointed the head of
+the School of Fine Arts; Father Patrault, who had been his friend and
+had taught him mathematics, was made one of his secretaries; other
+teachers he helped with pensions or positions; and even the porter of
+the school was made porter of one of the palaces when Napoleon became an
+emperor.
+
+At last, as I have told you, when the opportunity came, Napoleon said
+good-by to Brienne school. He left before his time was up, in order to
+give his younger brother, Lucien, the chance for a scholarship in
+the school; he put aside with regret, but without complaining, the
+wished-for assignment to the naval service. He decided to become an
+artillery officer; and on October 17, in the year 1784, he started for
+Paris to enter upon his "king's scholarship" in the military school. He
+had been a schoolboy at Brienne five years and a half. He was now a boy
+of fifteen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
+
+NAPOLEON GOES TO PARIS.
+
+Some boys at fifteen are older than other boys at fifteen. Napoleon, as
+I have told you, was always an "old boy." So when, on that October day
+in 1784, he arrived at the capital to enter upon the king's scholarship
+which he had received, he was no longer a child, even though under-sized
+and somewhat "spindling."
+
+Here, however, as at Autun and Brienne, his appearance was against him,
+and created an unfavorable impression.
+
+As he got out of the Brienne coach, he ran almost into the arms of one
+of the boys he had known at Corsica--young Demetrius Compeno.
+
+"What, Demetrius! you here?" he cried, a smile of pleasure at sight of a
+familiar face lighting up his sallow features.
+
+"And why not, young Bonaparte," Demetrius laughed back in reply. "You
+did not suppose I was going to let you fall right into the lion's mouth,
+undefended. Why, you are so fresh and green looking, the beast would
+take you for Corsican grass, and eat you at once."
+
+Although Napoleon was inclined to resent this pleasantry, he was too
+delighted to meet an old friend to say much. And, the truth is, the
+great city did surprise him. For, even though he had been five years
+at Brienne school, he was still a country boy, and walked the streets
+gaping and staring at everything he saw, like a boy at his first circus.
+
+"Why, boy! if I were not with you," said Demetrius, with the superior
+air of the boy who knows city ways, "I don't know what snare you would
+not fall into. While you were staring at the City Hall, or the Soldier's
+Home, or that big statue of King Henry on the bridge, one of those
+street-boys who is laughing at you yonder would have picked your
+pockets, snatched your satchel, or perhaps (who knows?) cut your throat.
+Oh, yes! they do such things in Paris. You must learn to look out for
+yourself here."
+
+"I think I am big enough for that," cried Napoleon.
+
+"You big! why, you are but a child, young Bonaparte!" Demetrius
+exclaimed. "But we'll make a man of you at the Paris school."
+
+The boys at the Paris Military School--the West Point of France in those
+days--proceeded at once to try to "make a man" of Napoleon in the same
+way that all boys seem ever ready to do; as, indeed, the boys at Autun
+and Brienne had done--by poking fun at the new cadet, mimicking
+his manners, ridiculing his appearance, and making life generally
+unpleasant.
+
+But Napoleon had learned one thing by his bitter experiences at the
+other schools he had attended,--he had learned to control his temper,
+and take things as they came, with less of revenge and sullenness.
+The kindly criticism of his friends, General Marbeuf and Inspector de
+Keralio, had left their effect upon him; and besides the companionship
+of his fellow-countryman, Demetrius Comneno, he had the good fortune to
+make his first really boy-friend in his roommate at the military school.
+This was young Alexander des Mazes, a fine lad of his own age, "a noble
+by birth and nature," who conceived a liking for Napoleon at once, and
+was his friend for many years.
+
+In Paris, too, he had the advantage of the friendship of a fine Corsican
+family,--the Permous, relatives of Demetrius, and old acquaintances of
+the Bonaparte family. His sister Eliza was also at school at the girls'
+academy of St. Cyr; and Napoleon visited her frequently, and talked over
+home matters and other mutual interests. For Napoleon had long since
+forgiven and forgotten the trouble into which Eliza had once plunged him
+because of her love for the fruit of their uncle, the canon; and the
+brother and sister could now laugh over that childish experience, while
+Eliza dearly loved Napoleon, in spite of her selfishness, and even
+because of his so uncomplainingly bearing her punishment.
+
+Napoleon, though "an odd child," as people called him, was wide awake
+and critical. He observed everything, and thought much. He was not long
+in noticing one thing: that was, the recklessness, the extravagance, and
+the indifference of the boys who were being educated at the king's
+expense in the king's military school.
+
+Most of these boys were of high birth, accustomed to having their own
+way, and with extravagant tastes and notions. Napoleon spoke of this
+frequently to the friends he made; but both Demetrius and Alexander
+laughed at him, and said, "Well, what of it? Would you have us all digs
+and hermits--like you? Here is the chance to have a good time, to live
+high, and to let the king pay for it--the king or our fathers. Why
+shouldn't we do as we please?"
+
+"But, Demetrius!" Napoleon protested, "that is not the way to make
+soldiers. Do you think those fellows will be good officers, if they
+never know what it is to deny themselves, or to do the work that is
+their duty, but which they leave for servants to do?" For Napoleon, you
+see, had many of the saving ways of his practical mother, and rebelled
+at the unconcern of these luxury-loving and careless boys, who were
+supposed to be learning the discipline of soldiers in their Paris
+school.
+
+Demetrius only snapped his fingers, as Alexander shrugged his shoulders,
+in contempt of what they considered Napoleon's countrified way.
+
+But all this show of pomp and luxury really troubled this boy, who had
+long before learned the value of money and the need of self-denial.
+Indeed, it worried him so much that one day he sat down and wrote a
+letter which he intended to send as a protest to the minister of war,
+actually lecturing that high and mighty officer, and "giving him points"
+on the proper way to educate boys in the French military schools.
+
+Fortunately for him, he sent the letter first to his old instructor, the
+principal of the Brienne school. And the instructor--even though he,
+perhaps, agreed with this boy-critic--saw how foolish and hurtful for
+Napoleon's interest it would be to send such a surprising letter; and
+he promptly suppressed it. But the letter still exists; and a curious
+epistle it is for a fifteen-year-old boy to write. Here is a part of it:
+
+"The king's scholars," so Napoleon wrote to the minister, "could only
+learn in this school, in place of qualities of the heart, feelings of
+vanity and self-satisfaction to such an extent, that, on returning to
+their own homes, they would be far from sharing gladly in the simple
+comfort of their families, and would perhaps blush for their fathers
+and mothers, and despise their modest country surroundings. Instead of
+maintaining a large staff of servants for these pupils, and giving them
+every day meals of several courses, and keeping up an expensive stable
+full of horses and grooms, would it not be better, Mr. Minister--of
+course without interrupting their studies--to compel them to look after
+their own wants themselves? That is to say, without compelling them
+to really do their own cooking, would it not be wise to have them eat
+soldiers' bread or something no better, to accustom them to beat and
+brush their own clothes, to clean their own boots and shoes, and
+do other things equally useful and self-helpful? If they were thus
+accustomed to a sober life, and to be particular about their appearance,
+they would become healthier and stronger; they could support with
+courage the hardships of war, and inspire with respect and blind
+devotion the soldiers who would have to serve under their orders." How
+do you think the grand minister of war would have felt to get such a
+lecturing on discipline from a boy at school? and what do you imagine
+the boys would have done had they heard that one of their schoolmates
+had written a letter, suggesting that they be deprived of their
+pleasures and pamperings? It was lucky for young Napoleon that the
+principal at Brienne got hold of the letter before it was forwarded to
+the war minister.
+
+But then, as you have heard before, Napoleon was an odd boy. He thought
+so himself when he grew to be a man, and he laughed at the recollection
+of his manners. He laid it all, however, to the responsibility he had
+felt, even from the day when he was a little fellow, because of the
+needs of his hard-pushed family in Corsica. "All these cares," he once
+said, looking back over his boy-life, "spoiled my early years; they
+influenced my temper, and made me grave before my time."
+
+Even if he did not send that critical and most unwise letter for a boy
+of his standing, the insight he gained into the expensive ways of the
+pupils at the military school had its effect upon him; and the very
+criticisms of that remarkable letter were used for their original
+purpose when Napoleon came to authority and power. For, when he was
+emperor of France, he gave to the minister who had the military
+schools in charge this order: "No pupil is to cost the state more than
+twenty-five cents a day. These pupils are sons either of soldiers or
+of working-men; it is absolutely contrary to my intention to give them
+habits of life which can only be hurtful to them."
+
+If Napoleon was so critical as to the ways and style of his schoolmates,
+he certainly set the lesson in economy for himself that he suggested for
+them.
+
+To be sure, he had no money to waste or to spend; but he might have been
+hail-fellow with the other boys, and joined in their luxuries, had he
+but been willing to borrow, as did the rest of them. But Napoleon
+had always a horror of debt. He had acquired this from his mother's
+teachings and his father's spendthrift ways. Even as a boy, however,
+his will was so strong, his power of self-denial was so great, that
+he continued in what he considered the path of duty, unmindful of
+the boyish charges of "mean fellow" and "pauper" that the spoiled
+spendthrifts of the school had no hesitation in casting at him.
+
+At last, however, these culminated almost in an open row; and Napoleon
+found himself called upon either to explain his position, or become both
+unpopular and an "outcast" because of what his schoolmates considered
+his stinginess and parsimony.
+
+It was this way--But I had better tell you the story in a new chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+A TROUBLE OVER POCKET MONEY.
+
+It was the twelfth of June in the year 1785 that a group of scholars was
+standing, during the recess hour, in a corner of the military school of
+Paris.
+
+They were all boys; but they assumed the manners and gave themselves the
+airs of princes of the blood.
+
+"Gentlemen," said one who seemed to be most prominent in the group, "I
+have called you together on a most important matter. Tomorrow is old
+Bauer's birthday. I propose that, as is our custom, we take some notice
+of it. What do you say to giving him a little supper, in the name of the
+school?"
+
+"A good idea; a capital idea, d'Hebonville!" exclaimed most of the boys,
+in ready acquiescence.
+
+"A gluttonous idea, I call it; and an expensive one," said one upon the
+outer edge of the circle, in a sharply critical tone. "Ah. our little
+joker has a word to say," exclaimed one of the boys sarcastically,
+drawing back, and pushing the speaker to the front; "hear him."
+
+"Oh, now, Napoleon! don't object," young Alexander des Mazes said. "Did
+you not hear why d'Hebonville proposed the supper? It is to honor the
+German teacher's birthday."
+
+"Oh, he heard it fast enough, des Mazes," rejoined d'Hebonville. "That
+is what makes him so cross."
+
+"Why do you say that?" Napoleon demanded.
+
+"You do not like the plan because it is to honor old Bauer; for you do
+not like him," d'Hebonville replied. "If, now, it were a supper to the
+history teacher, you would agree, I am sure. For de l'Equille praises
+you on 'the profundity of your reflections and the sagacity of your
+judgment.' Oh, I've read his notes; or you would agree if it were
+Domaisen, the rhetoric teacher, who is much impressed--those are
+his very words, are they not, gentlemen?--with 'your powers of
+generalization, which' he says, are even 'as granite heated at a
+volcano.' But as it is only dear old Bauer"--and d'Hebonville shrugged
+his shoulders significantly. "Well, and what about 'dear old Bauer,' as
+you call him?" cried Napoleon; "finish, sir; finish, I say."
+
+"I will tell you what Father Bauer says of you, Napoleon," said des
+Mazes laughingly, as he laid his arm familiarly about Napoleon's neck;
+"he says he does not think much of you, because you make no progress in
+your German; and as old Bauer thinks the world moves only for Germans,
+he has nothing good to say of one who makes no mark in his dear
+language. 'Ach!' says old Bauer, 'your Napoleon Bonaparte will never be
+anything but a fool. He knows no German.'"
+
+The boys laughed loudly at des Mazes's mimicry of the German teacher's
+manner and speech. But Napoleon smiled with the air of one who felt
+himself superior to the teacher of German.
+
+"Now, I should say," said Philip Mabille, "that here is the very reason
+why Napoleon should not refuse to join us. It will be--what are the
+words?--'heaping coals of fire' on old Bauer's head."
+
+"That might be so," Napoleon agreed, in a better humor. "But why give
+him a feast? Let us--I'll tell you--let us give him a spectacle. A
+battle, perhaps."
+
+"In which you should be a general, I suppose, as you were in that
+snow--ball fight at Brienne, of which we have heard once or twice," said
+d'Hebonville sarcastically.
+
+"And why not?" asked Napoleon haughtily.
+
+"Or the death of Caesar, like the tableaux we arranged at Brienne,"
+suggested Demetrius Comneno enthusiastically.
+
+"In which your great Napoleon played Brutus, I suppose," said
+d'Hebonville. "No, no; the birthday of old Bauer is not a solemn
+occasion to demand a battle or a spectacle; something much more simple
+will do for a professor of German. Let us make it a good collation.
+There are fifteen of us in his class. If each one of us contributes five
+dollars, we could get up quite a feast."
+
+"Oh, see here, d'Hebonville!" cried Mabille; "think a little. Five
+dollars is a good deal for some of us. Not all of the fifteen can
+afford so much. I don't believe I could; nor you, Napoleon, could you?"
+Napoleon's face grew sober, but he said nothing.
+
+"Oh, well! let only those pay then who can," said d'Hebonville.
+
+"Who, then, will take part in your feast?" demanded Napoleon.
+
+"Why, all of us, of course," replied d'Hebonville.
+
+"At the feast, or in giving the money," queried Mabille.
+
+"At the feast, to be sure," d'Hebonville answered.
+
+"Come, now; we should have no feeling in this matter," cried des Mazes.
+"We will decide for you, Mabille."
+
+"Old Bauer must not dream that there are any of his class who do not
+share in the matter," said Comneno. "That would be showing a preference,
+and a preference is never fair."
+
+"And do you wish, then," said Mabille, "that old Bauer should be under
+obligation to me, for example, who can pay little or nothing toward the
+feast?"
+
+"Certainly; to you as much as to the richest among us," said
+d'Hebonville.
+
+"Bah!" cried Napoleon. "That would imply a sentiment of gratitude toward
+my masters; and I, for one, have none to this Professor Bauer."
+
+"Some one to see Napoleon Bonaparte," said a porter of the school,
+appearing at the door of the schoolroom. "He waits in the parlor."
+
+Without a word Napoleon left his school-fellows; but they looked after
+him with faces expressive of disapproval or disappointment.
+
+The disagreeable impression produced by the discussion in which he had
+been taking part still remained with Napoleon as he entered the parlor
+to meet his visitor. It was the friend of his family, Monsieur de
+Permon.
+
+Napoleon, indeed, was scarce able to greet his visitor pleasantly. But
+Monsieur de Permon, without appearing to notice the boy's ill-humor,
+greeted him pleasantly, and said,--
+
+"Madame de Permon and I are on our way to the Academy of St. Cyr, to see
+your sister Eliza. Would you not like to go with us, Napoleon? I have
+permission for you to be absent"
+
+Napoleon brightened at this invitation, and gladly accepted it. The two
+proceeded to the carriage, in which Madame Permon was awaiting them; and
+the three were soon on the road to the school of St. Cyr, in which, as I
+have told you, Eliza Bonaparte was a scholar.
+
+They were ushered into the parlor, and Eliza was summoned. She soon
+appeared; but she entered the room slowly and disconsolately; her eyes
+were red with crying. Eliza was evidently in trouble.
+
+"Why, Eliza, my dear child, what is the matter?" Madame Permon
+exclaimed, drawing the girl toward her. "You have been crying. Have they
+been scolding you here?"
+
+"No, madame," Eliza replied in a low tone.
+
+"Are you afraid they may? Have you trouble with your lessons?" persisted
+Madame Permon.
+
+With the same dejected air, Eliza answered as before, "No, madame."
+
+"But what, then, is the matter, my dear?" cried Madame Permon; "such red
+eyes mean much crying."
+
+Eliza was silent.
+
+"Come, Eliza!" Napoleon demanded with an elder brother's authority;
+"speak! answer Madame here What is the matter?"
+
+But even to her brother, Eliza made no reply.
+
+[Illustration: _"'Come, Eliza! What is the matter?' demanded
+Napoleon."_]
+
+Then Madame Permon, as tenderly as if she had been the girl's mother,
+led her aside; and finding a remote seat in a corner, she drew the child
+into her lap.
+
+"Eliza," she said with gracious kindliness, "I must know why you are in
+sorrow. Think of me as your mother, dear; as one who must act in her
+place until you return to her. Speak to me as to your mother. Let me
+have your love and confidence. Tell me, my child, what troubles you."
+
+The tender solicitude of her mother's friend quite vanquished Eliza's
+stubbornness. Her tears burst out afresh; and between the sobs she
+stammered,--
+
+"You know, Madame, that Lucie de Montluc leaves the school in eight
+days."
+
+"I did not know it, Eliza," Madame Permon said, keeping back a smile;
+"but if that so overcomes you, then am I sorry too."
+
+"Oh, no, Madame'" Eliza said, just a bit indignant at being
+misunderstood; "it is not her leaving that makes me cry; but, you see,
+on the day she goes away her class will give her a good--by supper."
+
+"What! and you are not invited?" exclaimed Madame Permon. "Ah, that is
+the trouble, Madame," cried Eliza, the tears gathering again. "I am
+invited."
+
+"And yet you cry?"
+
+"It is because each girl is to contribute towards the supper; and I,
+Madame, can give nothing. My allowance is gone."
+
+"So!" Madame Permon whispered, glad to have at last reached the real
+cause of the trouble, "that is the matter. And you have nothing left?"
+
+"Only a dollar, Madame," replied Eliza. "But if I give that, I shall
+have no more money; and my allowance does not come to me for six weeks.
+Indeed, what I have is not enough for my needs until the six weeks are
+over. Am I not miserable?"
+
+Napoleon, who had gradually drawn nearer the corner, thrust his hand
+into his pocket as he heard Eliza's complaint. But he drew it out as
+quickly. His pocket was empty. Mortified and angry, he stamped his foot
+in despair. But no one noticed this pantomime.
+
+"How much, my dear, is necessary to quiet this great sorrow?" Madame
+Permon asked of Eliza with a smile. Eliza looked into her good friend's
+eyes.
+
+"Oh, Madame! it is an immense sum," she replied,
+
+"Let me know the worst," Madame Permon said, with affected distress.
+"How much is it?"
+
+"Two dollars!" confessed Eliza in despair.
+
+"Two dollars!" exclaimed Madame Permon; "what extravagant ladies we are
+at St. Cyr!" Then she hugged Eliza to her; and, as she did so, she slyly
+slipped a five-dollar piece into the girl's hand. "Hush! take it, and
+say nothing," she said; for, above all, she did not wish her action to
+be seen by Napoleon. For Madame Permon well knew the sensitive pride of
+the Bonaparte children.
+
+Soon after they left the school; and when once they were within the
+carriage Napoleon's ill-humor burst forth, in spite of himself.
+
+"Was ever anything more humiliating?" he cried; "was ever anything more
+unjust? See how it is with that poor child. The rich and poor are
+placed together, and the poor must suffer or be pensioners. Is it not
+abominable, the way these schools of St. Cyr and the Paris military are
+run? Two dollars for a scholars' picnic in a place where no child is
+supposed to have money. It is enormous!"
+
+His friends made no reply to this boyish outburst; but, when the
+military school was reached, Monsieur Permon followed Napoleon into the
+parlor.
+
+"Napoleon," he said, "at your age one is not furious against the world
+unless he has particular reason."
+
+"And are not my sister's tears a reason, sir, when I cannot remedy their
+cause?" Napoleon answered with emotion.
+
+"But when I came here for you," said Monsieur Permon, "you, too,
+appeared angry, as if some trouble had occurred between yourself and
+your schoolfellows."
+
+"I am unfortunate, sir, not to be able to conceal my feelings," said
+Napoleon; "but it does seem as if the boys here delighted in making me
+feel my poverty. They live in an insolent luxury; and whoever cannot
+imitate them,"--here Napoleon dashed a hand to his forehead,--"Oh, it is
+to die of humiliation!"
+
+"At your age, my Napoleon, one submits and blames no one," said Monsieur
+Permon, smiling, in spite of himself, at the boy's desperation.
+
+"At my age' yes, sir," Napoleon rejoined, as if keeping back some
+great thought. "But later--ah, if, some day, I should ever be master!
+However"--and the French shrug that is so eloquent completed the
+sentence.
+
+"However,"--Monsieur Permon took up his words--"while waiting, one may
+now and then find a friend. And you take your part here with the boys,
+do you not?"
+
+Napoleon was silent; and Monsieur Permon, remembering the trouble that
+had weighed Eliza down, concluded also that some such trial might be a
+part of Napoleon's school-life.
+
+"Let me help you, my boy," he said.
+
+At this unexpected proposition Napoleon flushed deeply; then the red
+tinge paled into the sallow one again, and he responded, "I thank you,
+sir, but I do not need it."
+
+"Napoleon," said Monsieur Permon, "your mother is my wife's dearest
+friend; your father has long been my good comrade. Is it right for
+sons to refuse the love of their fathers, or for boys to reject the
+friendships of their elders? Pride is excellent; but even pride may
+sometimes be pernicious. It is pride that sets a barrier between you and
+your companions. Do not permit it. Regard friendship as of more value
+than self-consideration; and, for my sake, let me help you to join in
+these occasions that may mean so much to you in the way of friendship."
+
+Thus deftly did good Monseiur Permon smooth over the bitterness that
+inequality in pocket allowances so often stirs between those who have
+little and those who have much.
+
+Napoleon fixed upon his father's friend one of his piercing looks, and
+taking his proffered money, said:--
+
+"I accept it, sir, as if it came from my father, as you wish me to
+consider it. But if it came as a loan, I could not receive it. My people
+have too many charges already; and I ought not to increase them by
+expenses which, as is often the case here, are put upon me by the folly
+of my schoolfellows."
+
+The Permons proved good friends to the Bonaparte children; and it
+was to their house at Montpellier that, in the spring of 1785, Charles
+Bonaparte was brought to die.
+
+For ill health and misfortune proved too much for this disheartened
+Corsican gentleman; and, before his boys were grown to manhood, he gave
+up his unsuccessful struggle for place and fortune. He had worked hard
+to do his best for his boys and girls; he had done much that the world
+considers unmanly; he had changed and shifted, sought favors from the
+great and rich, and taken service that he neither loved nor approved.
+But he had done all this that his children might be advanced in the
+world; and though he died in debt, leaving his family almost penniless,
+still he had spent himself in their behalf; and his children loved and
+honored his memory, and never forgot the struggles their father had
+made in their behalf. In fact, much of his spirit of family devotion
+descended to his famous son Napoleon, the schoolboy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+LIEUTENANT PUSS-IN-BOOTS.
+
+Napoleon returned to his studies after his father's death, poorer than
+ever in pocket, and greatly distressed over his mother's condition.
+
+For Charles Bonaparte's death had taken away from the family its main
+support. The income of their uncle, the canon, was hardly sufficient
+for the family's needs. Joseph gave up his endeavors, and returned
+to Corsica to help his mother. But Napoleon remained at the military
+school; for his future depended upon his completing his studies, and
+securing a position in the army.
+
+How much the boy had his mother in his thoughts, you may judge from this
+letter which he wrote her a month after his father's death:
+
+MY DEAR MOTHER,--Now that time has begun to soften the first transports
+of my sorrow. I hasten to express to you the gratitude I feel for all
+the kindness you have always displayed toward us. Console yourself, dear
+mother, circumstances require that you should. We will redouble our care
+and our gratitude, happy if, by our obedience, we can make up to you in
+the smallest degree for the inestimable loss of a cherished husband I
+finish, dear mother,--my grief compels it--by praying you to calm yours.
+My health is perfect, and my daily prayer is that Heaven may grant you
+the same. Convey my respects to my Aunt Gertrude, to Nurse Saveria, and
+to my Aunt Fesch.
+
+Your very humble and affectionate son,
+
+NAPOLEON.
+
+
+At the same time he wrote to his kind old uncle, the Canon Lucien,
+saying: "It would be useless to tell you how deeply I have felt the blow
+that has just fallen upon us. We have lost a father; and God alone knows
+what a father, and what were his attachment and devotion to us. Alas!
+everything taught us to look to him as the support of our youth. But the
+will of God is unalterable. He alone can console us."
+
+These letters from a boy of sixteen would scarcely give one the idea
+that Napoleon was the selfish and sullen youth that his enemies are
+forever picturing; they rather show him as he was,--quiet, reserved,
+reticent, but with a heart that could feel for others, and a sympathy
+that strove to lessen, for the mother he loved, the burden of sorrow and
+of loss.
+
+That the death of his father, and the "hard times" that came upon the
+Bonapartes through the loss of their chief bread-winner, did sober the
+boy Napoleon, and made him even more retiring and reserved, there is no
+doubt. His old friend, General Marbeuf, was no longer in condition to
+help him; and, indeed, Napoleon's pride would not permit him to receive
+aid from friends, even when it was forced upon him.
+
+"I am too poor to run into debt," he declared.
+
+So he became again a hermit, as in the early days at Brienne school. He
+applied himself to his studies, read much, and longed for the day when
+he should be transferred from the school to the army.
+
+The day came sooner than even he expected. He had scarcely been a
+year at the Paris school when he was ordered to appear for his final
+examination. Whether it was because his teachers pitied his poverty, and
+wished him to have a chance for himself, or whether because, as some
+would have us believe, they wished to be rid of a scholar who criticised
+their methods, and was fault-finding, unsocial, and "exasperating," it
+is at least certain that the boy took his examinations, and passed them
+satisfactorily, standing number forty in a class of fifty-eight.
+
+"You are a lucky boy, my Napoleon," said his roommate, Alexander des
+Mazes; "see! you are ahead of me. I am number fifty-six; pretty near to
+the foot that, eh?"
+
+"Near enough, Alexander," Napoleon replied; "but I love you fifty-six
+times better than any of the other boys; and what would you have, my
+friend? Are not we two of the six selected for the artillery? That is
+some compensation. Now let us apply for an appointment in the same
+regiment."
+
+They did so, and secured each a lieutenancy in an artillery regiment.
+This, however, was not hard to secure; for the artillery service was
+considered the hardest in the army; and the lazy young nobles and
+gentlemen of the Paris military school had no desire for real work.
+
+The certificate given to Napoleon upon his graduation read thus:--"This
+young man is reserved and studious, he prefers study to any amusement,
+and enjoys reading the best authors, applies himself earnestly to the
+abstract sciences, cares little for anything else. He is silent, and
+loves solitude. He is capricious, haughty, and excessively egotisical,
+talks little, but is quick and energetic in his replies, prompt and
+severe in his repartees, has great pride and ambition, aspiring to any
+thing. The young man is worthy of patronage."
+
+And upon the margin of the report one of the examining officers wrote this
+extra indorsement--
+
+"A Corsican by character and by birth. If favored by circumstances, this
+young man will rise high."
+
+Napoleon's school-life was over. On the first of September, 1785, he
+received the papers appointing him second-lieutenant in the artillery
+regiment, named La Fere (or "the sword"), and was ordered to report at
+the garrison at Valence. His room-mate and friend, Alexander des Mazes,
+was appointed to the same regiment.
+
+It was a proud day for the boy of sixteen. At last his school-life was
+at an end. He was to go into the world as a man and a soldier.
+
+I am afraid he did not look very much like a man, even if he felt that
+he was one. But he put on his uniform of lieutenant, and in high spirits
+set off to visit his friends, the Permons.
+
+They lived in a house on one of the river streets--Monsieur and Madame
+Permon, and their two daughters, Cecilia and Laura.
+
+Now, both these daughters were little girls, and as ready to see the
+funny side of things as little girls usually are.
+
+So when Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte, aged sixteen, came into the room,
+proud of his new uniform, and feeling that he looked very smart, Laura
+glanced at Cecilia, and Cecilia smiled at Laura, and then both girls
+began to laugh.
+
+Madam Permon glanced at them reprovingly, while welcoming the young
+lieutenant with pleasant words.
+
+But the boy felt that the girls were laughing at him, and he turned to
+look at himself in the mirror to see what was wrong.
+
+Nothing was wrong. It was simply Napoleon; but Napoleon just then
+was not a handsome boy. Longhaired, large-headed, sallow-faced,
+stiff-stocked, and feeling very new in his new uniform (which could not
+be very gorgeous, however, because the boy's pocket would not admit of
+any extras in the way of adornment on decoration), he was, I expect,
+rather a pinched-looking, queer-looking boy; and, moreover, his boots
+were so big, and his legs were so thin, that the legs appeared lost in
+the boots.
+
+As he glanced at himself in the mirror, the girls giggled again, and
+their mother said,--
+
+"Silly ones, why do you laugh? Is our new uniform so marvellous a change
+that you do not recognize Lieutenant Bonaparte?"
+
+"Lieutenant Bonaparte, mamma!" cried fun-loving Laura. "No, no! not
+that. See! is not Napoleon for all the world like--like Lieutenant
+Puss-in-Boots?"
+
+Whereupon they laughed yet more merrily, and Napoleon laughed with them.
+
+"My boots are big, indeed," he said; "too big, perhaps; but I hope to
+grow into them. How was it with Puss-in-Boots, girls? He filled his well
+at last, did he not? You will be sorry you laughed at me, some day, when
+I march into your house, a big, fat general. Come, let us go and see
+Eliza. They may go with me, eh, Madame?"
+
+"Yes; go with the lieutenant, children," said Madame Permon.
+
+[Illustration: _"Like--like Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots!"_]
+
+So they all went to call on Eliza, at the school of St. Cyr, and you may
+be sure that she admired her brother, the new lieutenant, boots and all.
+And as they came home, Napoleon took the little girls into a toy-store,
+and bought for them a toy-carriage, in which he placed a doll dressed as
+Puss-in-boots.
+
+"It is the carriage of the Marquis of Carabas, my children," he said, as
+they went to the Permons' house by the river. "And when I am at Valence,
+you will look at this, and think again of your friend, Lieutenant
+Puss-in-Boots."
+
+But between the date of his commission and his orders to join his
+regiment at Valence a whole month passed, in which time Napoleon's funds
+ran very low. Indeed, he was so completely penniless, that, when the
+orders did come, Napoleon had nothing; and his friend Alexander had just
+enough to get them both to Lyons.
+
+"What shall we do? I have nothing left, Napoleon," said Alexander; "and
+Valence is still miles away."
+
+"We can walk, Alexander," said Napoleon.
+
+"But one must eat, my friend," Alexander replied ruefully. For boys of
+sixteen have good appetites, and do not like to go hungry.
+
+"True, one must eat," said Napoleon. "Ah, I have it! We will call upon
+Monsieur Barlet." Now, Monsieur Barlet was a friend of the Bonapartes,
+and had once lived in Corsica. So both boys hunted him up, and Napoleon
+told their story.
+
+"Well, my valiant soldiers of the king," laughed Monsieur Barlet, "what
+is the best way out? Come; fall back on your training at the military
+school. What line of conduct, my Napoleon, would you adopt, if you were
+besieged in a fortress and were destitute of provisions?"
+
+"My faith, sir," answered Napoleon promptly, "so long as there were any
+provisions in the enemy's camp I would never go hungry."
+
+Monsieur Barlet laughed heartily.
+
+"By which you mean," he said, "that I am the enemy's camp, and you
+propose to forage on me for provisions, eh? Good, very good, that! See,
+then, I surrender. Accept, most noble warriors, a tribute from the
+enemy."
+
+And with that he gave the boys a little money, and a letter of
+introduction to his friend at Valence, the Abbe (or Reverend) Saint
+Raff.
+
+But Lyons is a pleasant city, where there is much to see and plenty
+to do. So, when the boys left Lyons, they had spent most of Monsieur
+Barlet's "tip"; and, to keep the balance for future use, they fell
+back on their original intention, and walked all the way from Lyons to
+Valence.
+
+Thus it was that Napoleon joined his regiment; and on the fifth of
+November 1785, he and Alexander, foot-sore, but full of boyish spirits,
+entered the old garrison-town of Valence in Southern France, and were
+warmly welcomed by Alexander's older brother, Captain Gabriel des Mazes,
+of the La Fere regiment, who at once took the boys in charge, and
+introduced them to their new life as soldiers of the garrison of
+Valence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+DARK DAYS.
+
+It does not take boys and girls long to find out that realization is not
+always equal to anticipation. Especially is this so with thoughtful,
+sober-minded boys like the young Napoleon.
+
+At first, on his arrival at Valence, as lieutenant in his regiment, he
+set out to have a good time.
+
+He took lodging with an old maid who let out rooms to young officers,
+in a house on Grand Street, in the town of Valence. Her name was
+Mademoiselle Bon. She kept a restaurant and billiard--room; and
+Napoleon's room was on the first floor, fronting the street, and next to
+the noisy billiard--room. This was not a particularly favorable place
+for a boy to pursue his studies; and at first Napoleon seem disposed to
+make the most of what boys would call his "freedom." He went to balls
+and parties; became a "great talker;" took dancing lessons of Professor
+Dautre, and tried to become what is called a "society man."
+
+But it suited neither his tastes nor his desires, and made a large hole
+in his small pay as lieutenant. Indeed, after paying for his board and
+lodging, he had left only about seven dollars a month to spend for
+clothes and "fun." So he soon tired of this attempt to keep up
+appearances on a little money. He took to his books again, studying
+philosophy, geography, history, and mathematics. He thought he might
+make a living by his pen, and concluded to become an author. So he began
+writing a history of his native island--Corsica.
+
+He even tried a novel, but boys of seventeen are not very well fitted
+for real literary work, and his first attempts were but poor affairs.
+His reading in history and geography drew his attention to Asia; and he
+always had a boyish dream of what he should like to attempt and achieve
+in the half-fabled land of India, where he believed great success and
+vast riches were to be secured by an ambitious young man, who had
+knowledge of military affairs, and the taste for leadership. At last he
+was ordered away on active service; first to suppress what was known as
+the "Two-cent Rebellion" in Lyons, and after that to the town of Douay
+in Belgium.
+
+If was while there that bad news came to him from Corsica. His family
+was again in trouble. His mother had tried silkworm raising, and failed;
+his uncle the canon was very sick; his good friend and the patron of the
+family, General Marbeuf, was dead; his brothers were unsuccessful in
+getting positions or employment; and something must be done to help
+matters in the big bare house in Ajaccio.
+
+Worried over the news, Napoleon tried to get leave of absence, so as to
+go to Corsica and see what he could do. But this favor was not granted
+him. His anxiety made him low-spirited; this brought on an attack of
+fever. The leave of absence was granted him because he was sick; and
+early in 1787 he went home to Corsica.
+
+He had been absent from home for eight years. At once he tried to set
+matters on a better footing. He fixed up the little house at Melilli,
+which had belonged to his mother's father; tried to help his mother in
+her attempts at mulberry-growing for the silkworms; saw that his brother
+Joseph was enabled to go into the oil-trade; brightened up his uncle the
+canon with his political discussions and a correspondence with a famous
+French physician as to the cure for his uncle's gout; and finally, being
+recalled to his regiment, went back to Paris, and joined his regiment at
+Auxonne.
+
+While in garrison at this place, he lodged with Professor Lombard, a
+teacher of mathematics, whom he sometimes assisted in his classes. He
+worked hard, kept out of debt, ate little, and was "poor, but proud." He
+gained the esteem of his superiors; for in a letter to Joey Fesch, who
+was now a priest, he wrote:
+
+  "The general here thinks very well of me; so much so, that he has
+  ordered me to construct a polygon,--works for which great calculations
+  are necessary,--and I am hard at work at the head of two hundred men.
+  This unheard-of mark of favor has somewhat irritated the captains
+  against me; they declare it is insulting to them that a lieutenant
+  should be intrusted with so important a work, and that, when more than
+  thirty men are employed, one of them should not have been sent out
+  also. My comrades also have shown some jealousy, but it will pass.
+  What troubles me is my health, which does not seem to me very good."
+
+Indeed, it was not very good. He was just at the age when a young fellow
+needs all the good food, healthful exercise, and restful sleep that are
+possible; and these Napoleon did not permit himself. The doctor of his
+regiment told him he must take better care of himself; but that he did
+not, we know from this scrap from a letter to his mother:--
+
+"I have no resources but work. I dress but once in eight days, for the
+Sunday parade. I sleep but little since my illness; it is incredible. I
+go to bed at ten o'clock, and get up at four in the morning. I take but
+one meal a day, at three o'clock. But that is good for my health."
+
+The boy probably added that last line to keep his mother from feeling
+anxious. But it was not true. Such a life for a growing boy is very
+bad for his health. Again Napoleon fell ill, obtained six months' sick
+leave, and went again to Corsica. This visit was a much longer one than
+the first. In fact, he overstayed his leave; got into trouble with the
+authorities because of this; smoothed it over; regained his health;
+wrote and worked; mixed himself up in Corsican politics; became a fiery
+young advocate of liberty; and at last, after a year's absence from
+France, returned to join his regiment at Auxonne, taking with him his
+young brother, Louis, whom he had agreed to support and educate.
+
+It was quite a burden for this young man of twenty to assume. But
+Napoleon undertook it cheerfully, he was glad to be able to do anything
+that should lighten his mother's burdens.
+
+The brothers did not have a particularly pleasant home at Auxonne. They
+lived in a bare room in the regimental barracks, "Number 16," up
+one flight of stairs. It was wretchedly furnished. It contained an
+uncurtained bed, a table, two chairs, and an old wooden box, which the
+boys used, both as bureau and bookcase. Louis slept on a little cot-bed
+near his brother; and how they lived on sixty cents a day--paying out of
+that for food, lodging, clothes, and books--is one of the mysteries.
+
+[Illustration: "_'I dreamed that I was a king,' said Louis_"]
+
+In fact, they nearly starved themselves. Napoleon made the broth;
+brushed and mended their clothes; sometimes had only dry bread for a
+meal; and, as Napoleon said later, "bolted the door on his poverty."
+That is to say, they went nowhere, and saw no one.
+
+It was hard on the young lieutenant; it was perhaps even harder on the
+little brother.
+
+One morning, after Napoleon had dressed himself and was preparing their
+poor breakfast, he knocked on the floor with his cane to arouse his
+brother and call him to breakfast and studies.
+
+Little Louis awoke so slowly that Napoleon was obliged to arouse him a
+second time.
+
+"Come, come, my Louis," he cried; "what is the matter this morning? It
+seems to me that you are very lazy."
+
+"Oh, brother!" answered the half-awaked child, "I was having such a
+beautiful dream!"
+
+"And what did you dream?" asked Napoleon.
+
+The little Louis sat upright on the edge of his cot. "I dreamed that I
+was a king," he replied.
+
+"A king! Well, well!" exclaimed his brother, laughing. Then he glanced
+around at the bare and poverty-stricken room. "And what, then, your
+Majesty, was I, your brother,--an emperor perhaps?" Then he shrugged his
+shoulders, and pinched his brother's ear.
+
+"Well, kings and emperors must eat and work," he said, "the same as
+lieutenants and schoolboys. Come, then, King Louis; some broth, and then
+to your duty."
+
+This was Napoleon at twenty,--a poverty-pinched, self-sacrificing,
+hard-working boy, a man before his time; knowing very little of fun and
+comfort, and very much of toil and trouble.
+
+He was an ill-proportioned young man, not yet having outgrown the
+"spindling" appearance of his boyhood, but even then he possessed
+certain of the remarkable features familiar to every boy and girl who
+has studied the portraits of Napoleon the emperor. His head was large
+and finely shaped, with a wide forehead, large mouth, and straight nose,
+a projecting chin, and large, steel-blue eyes, that were full of fire
+and power. His face was sallow, his hair brown and stringy, his cheeks
+lean from not too much over-feeding. His body and lees were thin and
+small, but his chest was broad, and his neck short and thick. His step
+was firm and steady, with nothing of the "wobbly" gait we often see in
+people who are not well-proportioned. His character was undoubtedly that
+of a young man who had the desire to get ahead faster than his
+opportunities would permit. Solitude had made him uncommunicative and
+secretive; anxiety and privation had made him self-helpful and self-
+reliant; lack of sympathy had made him calculating; but doing for others
+had made him kind-hearted and generous. His reading and study had made
+him ambitious; his knowledge that when he knew a thing he really knew
+it, made him masterful and desirous of leadership. He had few of the
+vices, and sowed but a small crop of what is called the "wild oats" of
+youth; he abhorred debt, and scarcely ever owed a penny, even when in
+sorest straits; and, while not a bright nor a great scholar, what he had
+learned he was able to store away in his brain, to be drawn upon for use
+when, in later years, this knowledge could be used to advantage.
+
+[Illustration: _Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte Aged 22 (from the
+portrait by Jean Baptiste Greuse, in the Museum at
+Versailles)_]
+
+Such at twenty years of age was Napoleon Bonaparte. Such he remained
+through the years of his young manhood, meeting all sorts of
+discouragements, facing the hardest poverty, becoming disgusted with
+many things that occurred in those changing days, when liberty was
+replacing tyranny, and the lesson of free America was being read and
+committed by the world.
+
+He saw the turmoil and terrors of the French Revolution--that season of
+blood, when a long-suffering people struck a blow at tyranny, murdered
+their king, and tried to build on the ruins of an overturned kingdom an
+impossible republic.
+
+You will understand all this better when you come to read the history of
+France, and see through how many noble but mistaken efforts that fair
+European land struggled from tyranny to freedom. In these efforts
+Napoleon had a share; and it was his boyhood of privation and his youth
+of discouragement that made him a man of purpose, of persistence and
+endeavor, raising him step by step, in the days when men needed leaders
+but found none, until this one finally proved himself a leader indeed,
+and, grasping the reins of command, advanced steadily from the barracks
+to a throne. All this is history; it is the story of the development and
+progress of the most remarkable man of modern times. You can read the
+story in countless books; for now, after Napoleon has been dead for over
+seventy years, the world is learning to sift the truth from all the
+chaff of falsehood and fable that so long surrounded him; it is
+endeavoring to place this marvellous leader of men in the place he
+should rightly occupy--that of a great man, led by ambition and swayed
+by selfishness, but moved also by a desire to do noble things for the
+nation that he had raised to greatness, and the men who looked to him
+for guidance and direction.
+
+Our story of his boyhood ends here. For years after he came to young
+manhood fate seemed against him, and privation held him down. But he
+broke loose from all entanglements; he surmounted all obstacles; he
+conquered all adverse circumstances. He rose to power by his own
+abilities. He led the armies of France to marvellous victories. He
+became the idol of his soldiers, the hero of the people, the chief man
+in the nation, the controlling power in Europe; and on the second of
+December, in the year 1804, he was crowned in the great church of
+Notre Dame, in Paris, Emperor of the French. "Straw-nose," the
+poverty-stricken little Corsican, had become the foremost man in all the
+world!
+
+But through all his marvellous career he never forgot his family. The
+same love and devotion that he bestowed upon them when a poor boy and
+a struggling lieutenant, he lavished upon them as general, consul,
+and emperor. Indeed, to them was due, to a certain extent, his later
+misfortunes, and his fall from power. The more generous he became, the
+more selfish did his brothers and sisters grow. For their interests he
+neglected his own safety and the welfare of France. His unselfishness
+was, indeed, his greatest selfishness; and the boy who uncomplainingly
+took his sister's punishment for the theft of the basket of fruit,
+stood also as the scapegoat for all the mistakes and stupidities and
+wrong-doings that were due to his self-seeking brothers and sisters, the
+Bonaparte children of Ajaccio in Corsica.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
+
+BY THE WALL OF THE SOLDIERS' HOME.
+
+The Emperor Napoleon had long been dead. A wasting disease and English
+indignities had worn his life away upon his prison-rock of St. Helena;
+and, after many years, his body had been brought back to France, and
+placed beneath a mighty monument in the splendid Home for Invalid
+Soldiers, in the beautiful city of Paris which he had loved so much, and
+where his days of greatness and power had been spent.
+
+There, beneath the dome, surrounded by all the life and brilliancy of
+the great city, he rests. His last wish has been gratified--the wish he
+expressed in the will he wrote on his prison-rock, so many miles away:
+"I desire that my ashes shall rest by the banks of the Seine, in the
+midst of the French people I have loved so well."
+
+That Home for Invalid Soldiers, in which now stands the tomb of
+Napoleon, has long been, as its name implies, a home for the maimed and
+aged veterans who have fought in the armies of France, and received as
+their portion, wounds, illness,--and glory.
+
+The sun shines brightly upon the walls of the great home; and the
+war-worn veterans dearly love to bask in its life-giving rays, or to
+rest in the shade of its towering walls.
+
+It was on a certain morning, many years ago, that I who write these
+lines--Eugenie Foa, friend to all the boys and girls who love to read of
+glorious and heroic deeds--was resting upon one of the seats near to the
+shade-giving walls of the Soldiers' Home. As I sat there, several of
+the old soldiers placed themselves on the adjoining seat. There were a
+half-dozen of them--all veterans, grizzled and gray, and ranging from
+the young veteran of fifty to the patriarch of ninety years.
+
+As is always the case with these scarred old fellows, their talk
+speedily turned upon the feats at arms at which they had assisted. And
+this dialogue was so enlivening, so picturesque, so full of the hero-
+spirit that lingers ever about the walls of that noble building which is
+a hero's resting-place, that I gladly listened to their talk, and try
+now to repeat it to you.
+
+"But those Egyptians whom Father Nonesuch, here, helped to conquer," one
+old fellow said,--"ah, they were great story-tellers! I have read of
+some of them in a mightily fine book. It was called the 'Tales of the
+Thousand and One Nights.'"
+
+"Bah!" cried the eldest of the group. "Bah! I say. Your 'Thousand and
+One Nights,' your fairy stories, all the wonders of nature,"--here he
+waved his trembling old hand excitedly,--"all these are but as nothing
+compared with what I have seen."
+
+"Hear him!" exclaimed the young fellow of fifty; "hear old Father
+Nonesuch, will you, comrades? He thinks, because he has seen the
+republic, the consulate, the empire, the hundred days, the kingdom"--
+
+"And is not that enough, youngster?" interrupted the old veteran they
+called Father Nonesuch.[1]
+
+      [1] Perhaps the correct rendering of this nickname would be
+      "The Remnant," and it applies to the battered veteran even
+      better than "Nonesuch."]
+
+He certainly merited the nickname given him by his comrades; for I saw,
+by glancing at him, that the old veteran had but one leg, one arm, and
+one eye.
+
+"Enough?" echoed the one called "the youngster," whose grizzled locks
+showed him to be at least fifty years old, "Enough? Well, perhaps--for
+you. But, my faith! I cannot see that they were finer than the 'Thousand
+and one Nights.'"
+
+"Bah!" again cried old Nonesuch contemptuously; "but those were fairy
+stories, I tell you, youngster,--untrue stories,--pagan stories.
+But when one can tell, as can I, of stories that are true,--of
+history--history this--history that--true histories every one--bah!"
+and, shrugging his shoulders, old Nonesuch tapped upon his neighbor's
+snuff-box, and, with his only hand, drew out a mighty pinch by way of
+emphasis.
+
+"Well, what say thou, Nonesuch,--you and your histories?" persisted the
+young admirer of the "Arabian Nights."
+
+"As for me,--my faith! I like only marvellous."
+
+[Illustration: "Beneath the great dome
+he rests"--The Hotel des Invalides (The 'Soldiers' Home' in Paris,
+containing the Tomb of Napoleon)]
+
+"And I tell you this, youngster," the old veteran cried, while his voice
+cracked into a tremble in his  excitement, "there is more of the
+marvellous in the one little finger of my history than in all the
+characters you can crowd together in your 'Thousand and One Nights.'
+Bah!--Stephen, boy; light my pipe."
+
+"And what is your history, Father Nonesuch?" demanded "the youngster,"
+while two-armed Stephen, a gray old "boy" of seventy, filled and lighted
+the old veteran's pipe.
+
+"My history?" cried old Nonesuch, struggling to his feet,--or rather to
+his foot,--and removing his hat, "it is, my son, that of the Emperor
+Napoleon!"
+
+And at the word, each old soldier sprang also to his feet, and removed
+his hat silently and in reverence.
+
+"Why, youngster!" old Father Nonesuch continued, dropping again to the
+bench, "if one wished to relate about my emperor a thousand and one
+stories a thousand and one nights; to see even a thousand and one days
+increased by a thousand and one battles, adding to that a thousand and
+one victories, one would have a thousand and a million million things
+--fine, glorious, delightful, to hear. For, remember, comrades," and the
+old man well-nigh exploded with his mathematical calculation, and the
+grandeur of his own recollections, "remember you this: I never left the
+great Napoleon!"
+
+"Ah, yes," another aged veteran chimed in; "ah, yes; he was a great
+man."
+
+Old Nonesuch clapped his hand to his ear.
+
+"Pardon me, comrade the Corsican," he said, with the air of one who had
+not heard aright; "excuse my question, but would you kindly tell me whom
+you call a great man?"
+
+"Whom, old deaf ears? Why, the Emperor Napoleon, of course," replied the
+Corsican.
+
+Old Nonesuch burst out laughing, and pounded the pavement with his heavy
+cane.
+
+"To call the emperor a man!" he exclaimed; "and what, then, will you
+call me?"
+
+"You? why, what should we?" said the Corsican veteran; "old Father
+Nonesuch, old 'Not Entire,' otherwise, Corporal Francis Haut of
+Brienne."
+
+"Ah, bah!" cried the persistent veteran; "I do not mean my name, stupid!
+I mean my quality, my--my title, my--well--my sex,--indeed, what am I?"
+"Well, what is left of you, I suppose," laughed the Corsican, "we might
+call a man."
+
+"A man! there you have it exactly!" cried old Nonesuch. "I am a man; and
+so are you, Corsican, and you, Stephen, and you,--almost so,--youngster.
+But my emperor--the Emperor Napoleon! was he a man? Away with you! It
+was the English who invented that story; they did not know what he was
+capable of, those English! The emperor a man? Bah!"
+
+"What was he, then? A woman?" queried the Corsican.
+
+"Ah, stupid one! where are your wits?" cried old Nonesuch, shaking pipe
+and cane excitedly. "Are you, then, as dull as those English? Why, the
+emperor was--the emperor! It is we, his soldiers, who were men."
+
+The Corsican veteran shook his head musingly.
+
+"It may be so; it may be so, good Nonesuch. I do not say no to you," he
+said. "Ah, my dear emperor! I have seen him often. I knew him when he
+was small; I knew him when he was grown. I saw him born; I saw him
+die"--"Halt there!" cried old Nonesuch; "let me stop you once more,
+good comrade Corsican. Do not make these other 'Not Entires' swallow
+such impossible and indigestible things. The emperor was never born; the
+emperor never died; the emperor has always been; the emperor always will
+be. To prove it," he added quickly, holding up his cane, as he saw that
+the Corsican was about to protest at this surprising statement, "to
+prove it, let me tell you. He fought at Constantine; he fought at St.
+Jean d'Ulloa; he fought at Sebastopol, and was conqueror."
+
+"Come, come, Father Nonesuch!" broke in "the youngster," and others
+of that group of veterans, "you are surely wandering. It was not the
+Emperor Napoleon who fought at those places. That was long after he was
+dead. It was the son of Louis Philippe, the Duke of Nemours, who fought
+at Constantine; it was the Prince of Joinville who led at Ulloa; and, at
+Sebastopol, the"--
+
+[Illustration: "_Pif! paf! pouf! That is the way I
+read"--Napoleon at the Battle of Jena. (From the Painting by Horace
+Vernet_.)]
+
+"Bah!" broke in the old veteran. "You are all owls, you! What if they
+did? I will not deny either the Duke of Nemours nor the Prince of
+Joinville, nor  Louis Philippe himself. But what then? You need not
+deny, you youngster, nor you, the other shouters, that when the cannons
+boom, when the battles rage, when, above all, one is conqueror for
+France, there is something of my emperor in that. Could they have
+conquered except for him? Ten thousand bullets! I say. He is
+everywhere."
+
+"But, see here, Father Nonesuch," protested the Corsican, "you must not
+deny to me the emperor's birth; for I know, I know all about it. Was not
+my mother, Saveria, Madame Letitia's servant? Was she not, too, nurse to
+the little Napoleon? She was, my faith! And she has told me a hundred
+times all about him. I know of what I speak. Our emperor, Napoleon
+Bonaparte, was born on the fifteenth of August, 1769, and when he was
+a baby, the cradle not being at hand, he was laid upon a rug in Madame
+Letitia's room. And on that rug was a fine representation of Mars, the
+god of war. And because his bed on that rug was on the very spot which
+represented Mars, that, old Nonesuch, is why our emperor was ever
+valiant in war. What say you to that?"
+
+"Oh, very well, very well," said old Nonesuch, as if he made a great
+concession; "if you say so from your own knowledge, if you insist that
+he was born, let it go so. I admit that he was born. But as to his being
+dead, eh? Will you insist on that too?"
+
+"And why not?" replied the Corsican, still harping on his personal
+knowledge of things in Ajaccio. "I knew the Bonapartes well, I tell you.
+There was the father, Papa Charles, a fine, noble-looking man; and their
+uncle, the canon--ah! he was a good man. He was short and fat and bald,
+with little eyes, but with a look like an eagle. And the children!
+how often I have seen them, though they were older than I--Joseph and
+Lucien, and little Louis, and Eliza and Pauline and Caroline. Yes; I saw
+them often. And Napoleon too. They say he never played much. But you
+knew him at Brienne school, old Nonesuch."
+
+"Yes," nodded the old veteran; "for there my father was the porter."
+
+"He was ever grave and stern, was Napoleon;--not wicked, though"--"No,
+no; never wicked," broke in old Nonesuch. "I remember his snow-ball
+fight."
+
+"A fight with snow-balls!" exclaimed the youngster. "Yes; with
+snow-balls, youngster," replied old None-such.
+
+[Illustration: "'The Emperor was--the Emperor' cried old Nonesuch"]
+
+"Did you never hear of it? But you are too young. Only the Corsican and
+I can remember that;" and the old man nodded to the Corsican with the
+superiority of old age over these "babies," as he called the younger
+veterans. "Let me see," said Nonesuch, crossing his wooden leg over his
+leg of flesh; "I was the porter's boy at Brienne school. I was there to
+blacken my shoes--not mine, you understand, but those of the scholars.
+There was much snow that winter. The scholars could not play in the
+courts nor out-of-doors. They were forced to walk in the halls. That
+wearied them, but it rejoiced me. Why? Because I had but few shoes to
+blacken. They could not get them dirty while they remained indoors. But,
+look you! one day at recess I saw the scholars all out-of-doors,--all
+out in the snow. 'Alas! alas! my poor shoes,' said I. It made me sad. I
+hid behind the greenhouse doors, to see the meaning of this disorder.
+Then I heard a sudden shout. 'Brooms, brooms! shovels, shovels!' they
+cried. They rushed into the greenhouse: they took whatever they could
+find; and one boy, who saw me standing idle, pushed me toward the door,
+crying, 'Here, lazy-bones! take a shovel, take a broom! Get to work,
+and help us!'--'Help you do what?' said I. 'To make the fort and roll
+snow-balls,' he replied. 'Not I; it is too cold,' I answered. Then the
+boys laughed at me. My faith! to-day I think they were right. Then they
+tried to push me out-of-doors, I resisted; I would not go. Suddenly
+appeared one whom I did not know. He said nothing. He simply looked at
+me. He signed to me to take a broom--to march into the garden--to set to
+work. And I obeyed. I dared not resist. I did whatever he told me; and,
+my faith! so, too, did all the boys. 'Is this one a teacher?' I asked
+one of the scholars. 'He does not look so; he is too small and pale
+and thin.'--'No,' replied the boy; 'it is Napoleon.'--'And who is
+Napoleon?' I asked; for at that time I was as ignorant as all of you
+here. 'Is he our patron? Is he the king? Is he the pope?'--'No; he is
+Napoleon,' the boy replied again, shrugging his shoulders. I did not ask
+more. The boy was right. Napoleon was neither boy nor man, patron,
+king, nor pope; he was Napoleon! You should have seen him while we
+were working. His hand was pointing continually,--here, there,
+everywhere,--indicating what he wished to have done; his clear voice was
+ever explaining or commanding. Then, when we had cut paths in the snow,
+and had built ramparts, dug trenches, raised fortifications, rolled
+snow-balls--then the attack began. I had nothing more to do, I looked
+on. But my heart beat fast; I wished that I might fight also. But I was
+the porter's son, and did not dare to join in the scholars' play. Every
+day for a week, while the snow lasted, the war was fought at each
+recess. Snow-balls flew through the air, striking heads, faces, breasts,
+backs. The shouting and the tumult gave me great pleasure; but, oh! the
+shoes I had to blacken! Then I said to myself, 'I wish to be a soldier.'
+And I kept my word."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+THE LITTLE CORPORAL.
+
+"But why," asked the Corsican, as old Nonesuch concluded his story, and
+all the veterans applauded with cane and boot, "why did you not say, 'I
+wish to be a general,' and keep your word. Others like you have been
+soldiers of the emperor--and generals, marshals, princes."
+
+"Yes, Corsican," replied old Nonesuch sadly; "what you say is true. But
+I will tell you what prevented my advancement. I did not know how to
+read as well as a lot of the schemers who were in my regiment. In fact,"
+old Nonesuch confessed, "I could not write; I could not read at all."
+
+"Why did you not learn, then, father?" asked one of the veterans, who,
+because he sat up late every night to read the daily paper, was called
+by his comrades "the scholar."
+
+"I did try to learn, Mr. Scholar," replied old Nonesuch, taking a pinch
+of snuff from the Corsican's box; "but indeed it was not in the blood,
+don't you see? Not one of my family could read or write; and then I saw
+so much trouble over the pens and the books when I was blackening my
+boots at Brienne school, that then I had no wish to learn. 'It is all
+vexation,' I said. And when I became a soldier, what do you suppose
+prevented my learning?"
+
+"Were your brains shot away, old Nonesuch?" queried the scholar
+sarcastically.
+
+"My brains, say you!" the old man cried indignantly. "And if they had
+been, Mr. Scholar, I would still have more than you. No; it was an
+adventure I had after Austerlitz. Ah, what a battle was that! I had the
+good luck there to have this leg that I have not now, carried away by a
+cannon-ball"--
+
+"Good luck! says he," broke in the youngster. "And how good luck, Father
+Nonesuch?"
+
+"Tut, tut! boys are so impatient," said old Nonesuch with a frown. "Yes,
+youngster, good luck, said I. Well, one day, after I had my timber-toe
+put on, the emperor, who always had thoughts for those of his soldiers
+who had been wounded, gave notice that he had certain small places at
+his disposal which he wished to distribute among us crippled ones, in
+order that we might rest from war. Then all of us set to wondering,
+'What can I do? What shall I ask for? What do I like best to do?' My
+wish was never to leave my own general. He was General Junot"--
+
+"Ah, yes! I know of him," said the Corsican. "He married a Corsican
+girl, Laura Permon, a friend of the Bonaparte children."
+
+[Illustration: _I know not if I know,' said I_."]
+
+"The same," old Nonesuch said, with a nod at his comrade. "Now, I saw
+that the person who was nearest to my General Junot was his secretary.
+One day, when I was at Paris, the emperor, I was told, was to review his
+troops in the courtyard of the Tuileries; so I dressed myself in my
+best,--it was a grenadier's uniform,--a comrade wrote on a piece of
+paper my desire; and, with my paper in my hand, I posted myself near a
+battalion of lancers. 'The emperor will see me here,' said I. In truth,
+he did come; he did see me. He came towards me, and, with the look that
+pierced me through,--ten thousand bullets! as the plough cuts through
+the ground,--'Are you not an Egyptian, my grenadier?' he asked me. (You
+know, Corsican, he called all of us Egyptians who had fought with him in
+Egypt.) 'Yes, my Emperor,' I replied, so glorified to see that he
+recognized me, that, my faith! my heart swelled and swelled, so that I
+thought it would crack with pride, and burst my coat open. The emperor
+took the paper I held out toward him. He read it. "So, so, my Egyptian!
+you wish to be a secretary, eh?'--'Yes, my Emperor,' I answered. 'Do you
+know how to read and write?' said he. 'Eh? Why! I know not if I know,'
+said I. 'What! You do not know if you know?' he repeated. 'Why, no, my
+Emperor,' said I; 'for, look you! I have never tried; but perhaps I do
+know.' The emperor pulled my ear, as much as to say, 'Well, here is an
+odd one!' 'But,' said he, 'to be a secretary one must know how to read
+and write, comrade.' He called me his comrade, see you--me, who had
+blackened his shoes at Brienne. I was the emperor's comrade. He had said
+it. The tears came to my eyes for joy. 'Ah, then, my Emperor, let us say
+no more about it,' said I. 'But if you would promise to learn,' said he.
+'Oh, as for that, my Emperor,' I answered, 'by the faith of an Egyptian
+of the guard, second division, first battalion! I do not promise it to
+you.'--'Then ask me something else,' said he. I hesitated. I did not
+know how to say just what I wished to ask; for it was worth to me very
+much more than the place of secretary. 'Come, then, comrade; speak
+quickly,' said the emperor; 'what is it you wish?'--'I wish, my
+Emperor,' I stammered, 'to press my lips to your hand.'"
+
+"Ho! was that all?" cried the youngster.
+
+"All!" echoed the Nonesuch, turning upon the youngest veteran a look of
+scorn. "All! It was more than anything!"
+
+"Well, and what said the emperor?" asked Stephen breathlessly.
+
+"He said nothing," responded Nonesuch. "He smiled; then instantly I felt
+his hand in mine. I wonder I did not die with joy. I kissed his hand.
+He grasped mine firmly. 'Thanks, my comrade,' he said. 'My Emperor,' I
+said, 'I promise you never to learn to read and write.' And I said no
+more. And that, comrades, is why I never learned."
+
+"Which hand was it?" asked the youngster with interest.
+
+"This one, thank God!" cried the veteran. "The other I lost at Jena. No,
+I never learned to write; the hand that the emperor had clasped in his
+should never, I vowed, be dishonored by a pen. I look at this hand with
+veneration. See! it has been pressed by my emperor. I love it; I honor
+it. Indeed, at one time I thought of cutting it off,--that was before
+Jena,--and putting it in a frame, that I might have it always before my
+eyes. But my General Junot, to whom I told my plan, said that then it
+would be spoiled forever, and that the only way not to lose sight of it
+was to let it always hang to my arm; thus, he said, it would always
+be beside me. That is how you see it still, comrades. To write, to
+write--bah! It always troubles me," old Nonesuch continued musingly, as
+he regarded his precious hand, "when I see those poor fellows, their
+noses over a bit of paper, their bodies bent double! Writing is not
+a man's proper state; it does not agree with his valiant and warlike
+nature. Talk to me of a charge, of an onset! that is the true
+vocation; that is why the good God created the human race.
+One--two--three--shoulder arms! that is clear; that is easily
+understood. But to study a dozen letters; to remember which is _b_ and
+which is _o,_ and that _b_ and _o_ make _bo_! that is not meant for the
+head. I prefer to read a battle with my musket and my sword. Pif! paf!
+pouf! that is the way I read. And now that I can read no more, I have
+but one pleasure,--to tell of my battles. Is not that better than your
+'Thousand and One Nights,' youngster?"
+
+"You have, indeed, much to tell, old Nonesuch," replied the youngster
+guardedly, "and you have, indeed, seen much."
+
+"Ah, have I not, though!" old Nonesuch responded. "Do you not remember,
+Corsican, in the third year of the republic, as our government was then
+called, how the word came: 'The English are in Toulon! Soldiers of
+France, you must dislodge them!'?"
+
+"Ah, do I not, old Nonesuch! I was a conscript then," replied the
+Corsican.
+
+"So, too, was I," said the old veteran. "We marched to Toulon. The next
+day there was an action. I ate a kind of small pills I had never tasted
+at Paris. The English and the French kept up a conversation with these
+sugar-plums. Our dialogue went on for days. They would toss their
+sugar-plums into the town; we would throw these plums back to them,
+especially into one bonbon box. You remember that box--that fort,
+Corsican, do you not?"
+
+"What, the Little Gibraltar?" queried the Corsican.
+
+"The same," replied old Nonesuch, "for so the English called it. But
+they had to give it up. We filled the Little Gibraltar so full of our
+sugar-plums that the English had to get out. Then it was that I saw a
+thin little captain at the guns. I knew him at once. It was Bonaparte of
+Brienne school. This is what he did. An artillery man was killed while
+charging his piece. I do not know how many had been cut off at that same
+gun. It was warm--it was hot there, I can tell you! No one wished to
+approach it. Then my little captain--my Bonaparte of Brienne--dashed at
+the gun. He loaded it; he was not killed. Oh, what a pleasure-party that
+was! There he met two other tough ones like himself,--Duroc and Junot.
+Ah, that Junot! He became my general later. He was a cool joker.
+Napoleon wished some one to write for him. He asked for a corporal or a
+sergeant who could write and stand fire at the same time. Sergeant Junot
+came to him. 'Write!' said Napoleon. And as Junot wrote, look you a
+cannon-ball ploughed the earth at his feet, and scattered the dirt over
+his paper. 'Good!' cried this Junot, never looking up from his paper. 'I
+needed sand to blot my ink.' That made Napoleon his friend forever. Then
+those in power at Paris took offence at something Napoleon did. They
+called him back to Paris. He was disgraced. But he had courage, had my
+Napoleon. He cared nothing for those stupid ones at Paris. 'I will
+make them see,' said he, 'that I am master.' He took post for Paris.
+Everything was wrong there. Every one was hungry. They fought for bread,
+as horses when there is no hay in the rack. Then, crack! Napoleon came.
+In two moves he had established order. Then who so great as he? He was
+made general. He was sent to Italy. He fought at Lodi. You remember
+Lodi, Corsican?"
+
+"Ha! the fight on the bridge; do I not, though!" the Corsican answered
+excitedly. "It was there he led everything; it was there he conquered
+everything; it was there he sighted the cannon against the Austrians; it
+was there he led us straight across the bridge; it was there we cheered
+for him, and called him the 'Little Corporal!'"
+
+"Eh, was it not! Cheer for the Little Corporal, comrades!" cried old
+Nonesuch, swinging his hat; and all the veterans sprang up, and stamped
+and shouted: "Long live the Little Corporal!"
+
+"As he has!" said old Nonesuch. "See you, Corsican! what said I? The
+emperor lives, I tell you!"
+
+"And that was Italy, was it?" said the scholar.
+
+"Yes; that was Italy," the veteran replied. "It was there we were
+going; and, with our Little Corporal to lead us, turned everything into
+victory."
+
+"Tell us of it, Father Nonesuch," demanded the youngster.
+
+"Yes; tell us of it," echoed the younger veterans, their scarred old
+faces full of interest and excitement. "I will, my children. It was
+thus, you see,"--puff--puff, "eh--Stephen, fill my pipe again!"
+
+So Stephen filled the old fellow's pipe again, and set it aglow; and
+all the others waited, silently watchful, until, after a few puffs and
+whiffs, the old veteran began again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!"
+
+"It was thus, you see," said old Nonesuch, crossing his legs--the wooden
+one over the good one. "At that time our army in Italy was destitute of
+everything. We had nothing--no bread, no ammunition, no shoes, no coats.
+Ah, it was a poor army we were then! The people at Paris, called the
+Directory, were worried over our condition. The army must have bread,
+ammunition, shoes, coats, they said. We must send one to look after
+this. And, as I told you, they sent Napoleon. It was in March, in the
+year 1796, that he came to us at Nice. We were near by, in camp at
+Abbenya. There the new general held his first review. He looked at us;
+he pitied us. 'Soldiers!' he said to us, 'you are naked; you are badly
+fed. The government owes you much; it can give you nothing. You are in
+need of everything,--boots, bread, soup! Well, I will lead you into the
+most fertile plains in the world. I have come to take you into a country
+where you will find everything in plenty,--dollars, cattle, roast-meat,
+salads, honor, palaces, what you will. Soldiers of Italy, how do you
+like that?'"
+
+"Ah! but that was grand," cried the youngster; "and you said?"
+
+"We said, 'How do we like it, my general? Ten thousand bullets! March
+you at our head, and you will see how we like it.' His words gave us new
+heart; his promises seemed already to clothe us. We were ragged and
+tired; but it seemed, after that speech, as if we walked on air, and
+were dressed in silken robes. Forward, march! Boom--boom--boom! Ta-ra,
+ta-ra-ra! Hear the drums! See us marching! We marched through the day;
+we marched through the night. We were faint with hunger, but we marched.
+We were at Montenotte on the eleventh of April. We whacked the
+Austrians,--famous men, nevertheless; well furnished, good fighters!
+But, bah! what was that to us? We whacked them at Montenotte. They ran;
+we after them. We fell upon then at Millesimo, at Dego, at Mondovi, at
+Cherasco. We had a taste of the glory of being conquerors. We routed the
+Austrians in those fights that were called 'the Five Days' Campaign.' We
+had brave generals with us; and we had Napoleon! From the heights of
+Ceva he showed us the plains of Italy,--the rich, well-watered land
+which he had promised us. Then we crossed the Alps. Mighty mountains!
+Bah! what of that? We were Frenchmen; we had Napoleon! We turned the
+flank of the Alps. We fought at Fombio; we fought on the bridge of Lodi;
+we marched into Milan. We were Frenchmen; we had Napoleon! In fact, we
+conquered Italy! We fought at Arcola; we conquered at Rivoli. Then who
+so great as the Little Corporal? We planted the eagles upon the lion of
+Saint Mark, at Venice--a famous lion, nevertheless. But who could resist
+us? We had Napoleon! Then we returned to Toulon. Then Napoleon said,
+'Soldiers! two years ago you had nothing. I made promises to you; have I
+kept them?'--'You have; you have, my general!' every man of us shouted.
+'Will you follow me again?' said Napoleon. 'To the death, my general!'
+we shouted once more. Behold us now embarked in ships. 'And now, what
+place are we to conquer?' we asked our generals. 'Egypt,' they answered.
+'It is well,' we said. 'We will go to Egypt; we will take Egypt.'
+
+[Illustration: "_What fates, my comrades!"--A Review Day under the First
+Empire (From the Painting by H. Bellange_)]
+
+"My faith! but you were brave, you old soldiers," cried the youngster
+with enthusiasm. "But think of it, then! To Egypt!"
+
+"Well, we took Egypt," resumed old Nonesuch. "We were Frenchmen. We had
+Napoleon! And after that we undertook another little campaign in Italy.
+Then we returned to France, our beautiful France, to install ourselves
+in the Tuileries. Eh!"--puff--puff,--"Light my pipe, Stephen!"
+
+And Stephen again lighted the old veteran's pipe.
+
+"Yes; in the Tuileries"--puff--puff. "We gave ourselves up to _fetes_.
+Ah! there were grand times--each one finer than the other. One might
+call them _fetes_ indeed! Death of my life! Who was it said just now
+that the emperor was a man? Why, look you! his enemies--those villains
+of traitors--tried to kill him. They plotted against him. But, bah! they
+could not. He rode over infernal machines as if they were roses. They
+could not kill him. Those things are for men--for little kings. He was
+Napoleon!"
+
+"And at last he was crowned emperor," suggested the youngster.
+
+"Yes; on the second of December, in the year 1804," answered old
+Nonesuch. "And the Pope himself came from Rome to consecrate our
+emperor. Ah, then, what _fetes_, my comrades! what _fetes_ and _fetes_
+and _fetes_! It rained kings on all sides."
+
+"But there came an end of _fetes_" said the scholar, who read in books
+and newspapers.
+
+"Well, what would you have?--always feasting? Perhaps you think that our
+emperor once an emperor, would rest at home. Yes? Well, that would have
+been good for you and me; but he had still to undertake battles and
+victories,--battles and victories; they were the same thing! We were at
+Austerlitz; there I left this leg. At Jena; there I dropped this hand.
+Then came the peace, made upon the raft at Tilsit; then the war in
+Spain--a villanous war, and one I did not like at all. Napoleon was not
+there. Where he was not, the sun did not shine. Then we returned to
+Paris. The emperor married a grand princess. He had a son--a baby
+son--the King of Rome! Then, too, what _fetes!_ A fine child the King of
+Rome! I saw him often in his little goat-carriage at the Tuileries. I
+do not know what has become of him. They say he is dead; but I do not
+believe that, any more than I believe that my emperor is dead. Two
+deaths? Bah! old women's stories,--witch stories, good only to frighten
+children to sleep. When my emperor and his son come back, we shall be
+amazed that we ever believed them dead!"
+
+"But he disappeared--the emperor disappeared--he vanished," persisted
+the scholar.
+
+[Illustration: "_Your
+Emperor was banished to a rock"--The Exiled Emperor (From the Painting
+by W Q Orchardson, entitled "Napoleon on board the Bellerophon_.")]
+
+"Yes; he disappeared," the veteran admitted. "For after that came the
+Russian Campaign. Ah, but it was a cold one! Such snow, such ice; so
+cold, so cold! It was then I lost my eye. My leg I left at Austerlitz,
+my arm at Jena; my eye I dropped somewhere in the Beresina,--so much the
+better. I could not see that freeze-out. Then they sent me here. And
+since that I do not know what has happened. They tell me--you tell me--
+much. But to believe such foolish stories! Bah! I am not a baby. They
+tell me that the emperor--my emperor--was exiled to Elba; that he
+returned again to France; that he reigned a hundred days; that a battle
+was fought at--where was it?"
+
+"Waterloo," suggested the scholar.
+
+"Eh, yes, you say, at Waterloo; and you say we lost it? As if we could
+lose a battle, and Napoleon there! Then you will say that the empire was
+no longer an empire, but a kingdom; and that he who governed was called
+Louis the Eighteenth, and others after him, but not my emperor. Bah!
+foolish stories all!"
+
+"But they are true, old Nonesuch," said the youngster sadly.
+
+"Yes; they are true," echoed the other veterans. And the scholar added,
+"Yes; and your emperor was banished by those rascal English to a rock--
+the rock of St. Helena--a horrid rock, miles and miles out in the ocean.
+But he is here among us again."  the Soldiers' Home, in the midst of his
+veterans, in the heart of his beautiful Paris.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon (1. The
+General 2. The Consul 3. The Conqueror 4. The Emperor.)]
+
+Old soldiers are apt to be boastful when they tell, as did the Nonesuch,
+of the deeds of a leader whom they so often followed to victory. Madame
+Foa's pen has long since stopped its task of writing of French heroism
+for the boys and girls of France; but it never wrote anything more
+attractive or inspiring than the delicious bit of boasting that it put
+into the mouth of this dear and battered old veteran of Napoleon's
+wars,--Corporal Nonesuch of the Soldiers' Home.
+
+For, if the American boys and girls who have followed this story will
+read, as I trust they will, the entire life-story of this marvellous
+man,--Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French,--they will learn that
+much of the boasting of old Nonesuch was true story, as he assured his
+comrades; while some of it, too, was,--let us say, the exaggeration of
+enthusiasm.
+
+But there was much in the career of the great Napoleon to inspire
+enthusiasm. The determined and persistent way in which, while but a
+boy, he climbed steadily up, using the obstacles in his path but as the
+rounds of a ladder to lift him higher, affords a lesson of pluck and
+energy that every boy and girl can take to heart; while the story of his
+later career, through the rapid changes that made him general, consul,
+conqueror, emperor, is as full of interest, marvel, and romance as
+any of those wonder-stories of the "Arabian Nights" for which "the
+youngster" expressed so much admiration, but which old Nonesuch so
+contemptuously cast aside.
+
+There were dark sides to his character; there were shadows on his
+career, there were blots on his name. Ambition, selfishness, and the
+love of success, were alike his inspiration and his ruin. But, with
+these, he possessed also the qualities that led men to follow him
+enthusiastically and love him devotedly.
+
+But people do not all see things alike in this world; and since the
+downfall and death of Napoleon, those who recall his name have either
+enshrined him as a hero or vilified him as a monster. Whichever side in
+this controversy you make take as, when you grow older, you read and
+ponder over the story of Napoleon, you will, I am sure, be ready to
+admit his greatness as an historic character his ability as a soldier,
+his energy as a ruler, and his eminence as a man. And in these you will
+see but the logical outgrowth of his self-reliance, his determination,
+and his pluck as a boy, when on the rocky shore of Corsica, or in the
+schools of France, he was turned aside by no obstacle, and conquered
+neither by privation nor persecution, but pressed steadily forward to
+his great and matchless career as leader, soldier, and ruler--the most
+commanding figure of the nineteenth century. I did not like at all.
+Napoleon was not there. Where he was not, the sun did not shine. Then we
+returned to Paris. The emperor married a grand princess. He had a son--a
+baby son--the King of Rome! Then, too, what _fetes_! A fine child
+the King of Rome! I saw him often in his little goat-carriage at the
+Tuileries. I do not know what has become of him. They say he is dead;
+but I do not believe that, any more than I believe that my emperor is
+dead. Two deaths? Bah! old women's stories,--witch stories, good only to
+frighten children to sleep. When my emperor and his son come back, we
+shall be amazed that we ever believed them dead!"
+
+"But he disappeared--the emperor disappeared--he vanished," persisted
+the scholar.
+
+"Yes; he disappeared," the veteran admitted. "For after that came the
+Russian Campaign. Ah, but it was a cold one! Such snow, such ice; so
+cold, so cold! It was then I lost my eye. My leg I left at Austerlitz,
+my arm at Jena; my eye I dropped somewhere in the Beresina,--so much the
+better. I could not see that freeze-out.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Boy Life of Napoleon
+       Afterwards Emperor Of The French
+
+Author: Eugenie Foa
+
+Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9479]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on October 4, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger
+and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON
+
+Afterwards Emperor Of The French
+
+
+
+_Adapted And Extended For American Boys And Girls From The French Of_
+
+Madame Eugénie Foa
+
+Author Of "Little Princes And Princesses Young Warriors,"
+
+"Little Robinson," Etc.
+
+
+
+Illustrated By Vesper L George
+
+
+1895
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The name of Madame Eugenie Foa has been a familiar one in French homes
+for more than a generation. Forty years ago she was the most popular
+writer of historical stories and sketches, especially designed for the
+boys and girls of France. Her tone is pure, her morals are high, her
+teachings are direct and effective. She has, besides, historical
+accuracy and dramatic action; and her twenty books for children have
+found welcome and entrance into the most exclusive of French homes. The
+publishers of this American adaptation take pleasure in introducing
+Madame Foa's work to American boys and girls, and in this Napoleonic
+renaissance are particularly favored in being able to reproduce her
+excellent story of the boy Napoleon.
+
+The French original has been adapted and enlarged in the light of recent
+research, and all possible sources have been drawn upon to make a
+complete and rounded story of Napoleon's boyhood upon the basis
+furnished by Madame Foa's sketch. If this glimpse of the boy Napoleon
+shall lead young readers to the study of the later career of this
+marvellous man, unbiased by partisanship, and swayed neither by hatred
+nor hero worship, the publishers will feel that this presentation of the
+opening chapters of his life will not have been in vain.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+_In Napoleon's Grotto_
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+_The Canon's Pears_
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+_The Accusation_
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+_Bread and Water_
+
+CHAPTER FIVE
+
+_A Wrong Righted_
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+_The Battle with the Shepherd Boys_
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+_Good-bye to Corsica_
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+_At the Preparatory School_
+
+CHAPTER NINE.
+
+_The Lonely School-Boy_
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+_In Napoleon's Garden_
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+_Friends and Foes_ CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+_The Great Snow-tall Fight at Brienne School_
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+
+_Recommended for Promotion_
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+
+_Napoleon goes to Parts_
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+_A Trouble over Pocket Money_
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+_Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots_
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+_Dark Days_
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+
+_By the Wall of the Soldiers' Home_
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+_The Little Corporal_
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+"_Long Live the Emperor!_"
+
+
+
+
+THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ONE.
+
+IN NAPOLEON'S GROTTO.
+
+On a certain August day, in the year 1776, two little girls were
+strolling hand in hand along the pleasant promenade that leads from the
+queer little town of Ajaccio out into the open country.
+
+The town of Ajaccio is on the western side of the beautiful island of
+Corsica, in the Mediterranean Sea. Back of it rise the great mountains,
+white with snowy tops; below it sparkles the Mediterranean, bluest of
+blue water. There are trees everywhere; there are flowers all about; the
+air is fragrant with the odor of fruit and foliage; and it was through
+this scented air, and amid these beautiful flowers, that these two
+little girls were wandering idly, picking here and there to add to their
+big bouquets, that August day so many years ago.
+
+Every now and then the little girls would stop their flower-picking to
+cool off; for, though the August sun was hot, the western breezes came
+fresh across the wide Gulf of Ajaccio, down to whose shores ran broad
+and beautiful avenues of chestnut-trees, through which one could catch a
+glimpse, like a beautiful picture, of the little island of Sanguinarie,
+three miles away from shore.
+
+As they came out from the shadow of the chestnut-trees, one of the
+little girls suddenly caught her companion's arm, and, pointing at an
+opening in a pile of rocks that overlooked the sea, she said,--
+
+"Oh, what is this, Eliza?--an oven?"
+
+"An oven, silly! Why, what do you mean?" Eliza answered. "Who would
+build an oven here, tell me?"
+
+"But it opens like an oven," her friend declared. "See, it has a great
+mouth, as if to swallow one. Perhaps some of the black elves live there,
+that Nurse Camilla told us of. Do you think so, Eliza?"
+
+"What a baby you are, Panoria!" Eliza replied, with the superior air of
+one who knows all about things. "That is no oven; nor is it a black
+elf's house. It is Napoleon's grotto."
+
+"Napoleon's!" cried Panoria. "And who gave it to him, then? Your great
+uncle, the Canon Lucien?"
+
+"No one gave it to him, child," Eliza replied. "Napoleon found it in the
+rocks, and teased Uncle Joey Fesch to fix it up for him. Uncle Joey did
+so, and Napoleon comes here so often now that we call it Napoleon's
+grotto."
+
+"Does he come here all alone?" asked Panoria.
+
+"Alone? Of course," answered Eliza. "Why should he not? He is big
+enough."
+
+"No; I mean does he not let any of you come here with him?"
+
+"That he will not!" replied Eliza. "Napoleon is such an odd boy! He will
+have no one but Uncle Joey Fesch come into his grotto, and that is only
+when he wishes Uncle Joey to teach him the primer. Brother Joseph tried
+to come in here one day, and Napoleon beat him and bit him, until Joseph
+was glad to run out, and has never since gone into the grotto."
+
+"What if we should go in there, Eliza?" queried Panoria.
+
+"Oh, never think of it!" cried Eliza. "Napoleon would never forgive us,
+and his nails are sharp."
+
+"And what does he do in his grotto?" asked the inquisitive Panoria.
+
+"Oh, he talks to himself," Eliza replied.
+
+"My! but that is foolish," cried Panoria; "and stupid too."
+
+"Then, so are you to say so," Eliza retorted. "I tell you what is true.
+My brother Napoleon comes here every day. He stays in his grotto for
+hours. He talks to himself. I know what I am saying for I have come here
+lots and lots of times just to listen. But I do not let him see me, or
+he would drive me away."
+
+"Is he in there now?" inquired Panoria with curiosity.
+
+"I suppose so; he always is," replied Eliza.
+
+"Let us hide and listen, then," suggested Panoria. "I should like to
+know what he can say when he talks to himself. Boys are bad enough,
+anyway; but a boy who just talks to himself must be crazy."
+
+Eliza was hardly ready to agree to her little friend's theory, so she
+said, "Wait here, Panoria, and I will go and peep into the grotto to see
+if Napoleon is there."
+
+"Yes, do so," assented Panoria; "and I will run down to that garden and
+pick more flowers. See, there are many there."
+
+"Oh, no, you must not," Eliza objected; "that is my uncle the Canon
+Lucien's garden."
+
+"Well, and is your uncle the canon's garden more sacred than any one
+else's garden?" questioned Panoria flippantly.
+
+"What a goosie you are to ask that! Of course it is," declared Eliza.
+
+"But why?" Panoria persisted.
+
+"Why?" echoed Eliza; "just because it is. It is the garden of my great
+uncle the Canon Lucien; that is why."
+
+"It is, because it is! That is nothing," Panoria protested. "If I could
+not give a better reason"--"It is not my reason, Panoria," Eliza broke
+in. "It is Mamma Letitia's; therefore it must be right."
+
+"Well, I don't care," Panoria declared; "even if it is your mamma's, it
+is--but how is it your mamma's?" she asked, changing protest to inquiry.
+
+"Why, we hear it whenever we do anything," replied Eliza. "If they
+wish to stop our play, they say, 'Stop! you will give your uncle the
+headache.' If we handle anything we should not, they say, 'Hands off!
+that belongs to your uncle the canon.' If we ask for a peach, they tell
+us, 'No! it is from the garden of your uncle the canon.' If they give us
+a hug or a kiss, when we have done well, they say, 'Oh, your uncle the
+canon will be so pleased with you!' Was I not right? Is not our uncle
+the canon beyond all others?"
+
+"Yes; to worry one," declared Panoria rebelliously. "But why? Is it
+because he is canon of the cathedral here at Ajaccio that they are all
+so afraid of him?"
+
+"Afraid of him!" exclaimed Eliza indignantly. "Who is afraid of him? We
+are not. But, you see, Papa Charles is not rich enough to do for us what
+he would like. If he could but have the great estates in this island
+which are his by right, he would be rich enough to do everything for us.
+But some bad people have taken the land; and even though Papa Charles is
+a count, he is not rich enough to send us all to school; so our uncle,
+the Canon Lucien, teaches us many lessons. He is not cross, let me tell
+you, Panoria; but he is--well, a little severe."
+
+"What, then, does he whip you?" asked Panoria.
+
+"No, he does not; but if he says we should be whipped, then Mamma
+Letitia hands us over to Nurse Mina Saveria; and she, I promise you,
+does not let us off from the whipping."
+
+All this Eliza admitted as if with vivid recollections of the vigor of
+Nurse Saveria's arm.
+
+Panoria glanced toward the grotto amid the rocks.
+
+"Does he--Napoleon--ever get whipped?" she asked.
+
+"Indeed he does not," Eliza grumbled; "or not as often as the rest of
+us," she added. "And when he is whipped he does not even cry. You should
+hear Joseph, though. Joseph is the boy to cry; and so is Lucien. I'd be
+ashamed to cry as they do. Why, if you touch those boys just with your
+little finger, they go running to Mamma Letitia, crying that we've
+scratched the skin off."
+
+Panoria had her idea of such "cry-babies" of boys; but Napoleon
+interested her most.
+
+"But, Eliza," she said, "what does he say--Napoleon--when he talks to
+himself in his grotto over there?"
+
+"You shall hear," Eliza replied. "Let me go and peep in, to see if he is
+there. But no; hush! See, here he comes! Come; we will hide behind the
+lilac-bush, and hear what Napoleon says."
+
+"But will not your nurse, Saveria, come to look for us?" asked Panoria,
+who had not forgotten Eliza's reference to the nurse's heavy hand.
+
+"Why, no; Saveria will be busy for an hour yet, picking fruit for our
+table from my uncle the canon's garden. We have time," Eliza explained.
+
+So the two little girls hid themselves behind the lilac-bushes that
+grew beside the rocks in which was the little cave which they called
+Napoleon's grotto. The bush concealed them from view; two pairs of
+wideopen black eyes peering curiously between the lilac-leaves were
+the only signs of the mischievous young eavesdroppers.
+
+The boy who was walking thoughtfully toward the grotto did not notice
+the little girls. He was about seven years old. In fact, he was seven
+that very day. For he was born in the big, bare house in Ajaccio, which
+was his home, on the fifteenth of August, 1776.
+
+He was an odd-looking boy. He was almost elf-like in appearance. His
+head was big, his body small, his arms and legs were thin and spindling.
+His long, dark hair fell about his face; his dress was careless and
+disordered; his stockings had tumbled down over his shoes, and he looked
+much like an untidy boy. But one scarcely noticed the dress of this boy.
+It was his face that held the attention.
+
+It was an Italian face; for this boy's ancestors had come, not so many
+generations before, from the Tuscan town of Sarzana, on the Gulf of
+Genoa--the very town from which "the brave Lord of Luna," of whom you
+may read in Macaulay's splendid poem of "Horatius," came to the sack
+of Rome. Save for his odd appearance, with his big head and his little
+body, there was nothing to particularly distinguish the boy Napoleon
+Bonaparte from other children of his own age.
+
+Now and then, indeed, his face would show all the shifting emotions
+of ambition, passion, and determination; and his eyes, though not
+beautiful, had in them a piercing and commanding gleam that, with a
+glance, could influence and attract his companions.
+
+Whatever happened, these wonderful eyes--even in the boy--never lost the
+power of control which they gave to their owner over those about him.
+With a look through those eyes, Napoleon would appear to conceal his own
+thoughts and learn those of others. They could flash in anger if need
+be, or smile in approval; but, before their fixed and piercing glance,
+even the boldest and most inquisitive of other eyes lowered their lids.
+
+Of course this eye-power, as we might call it, grew as the boy grew; but
+even as a little fellow in his Corsican home, this attraction asserted
+itself, as many a playfellow and foeman could testify, from Joey Fesch,
+his boy-uncle, to whom he was much attached, to Joseph his older
+brother, with whom he was always quarrelling, and Giacommetta, the
+little black-eyed girl, about whom the boys of Ajaccio teased him.
+
+The little girls behind the lilac-bush watched the boy curiously.
+
+"Why does he walk like that?" asked Panoria, as she noted Napoleon's
+advance. He came slowly, his eyes fixed on the sea, his hands clasped
+behind his back.
+
+"Our uncle the canon," whispered Eliza; "he walks just that way, and
+Napoleon copies him."
+
+"My, he looks about fifty!" said Panoria. "What do you suppose he is
+thinking about?"
+
+"Not about us, be sure," Eliza declared.
+
+"I believe he's dreaming," said mischievous Panoria; "let us scream out,
+and see if we can frighten him."
+
+"Silly! you can't frighten Napoleon," Eliza asserted, clapping a hand
+over her companion's mouth. "But he could frighten you. I have tried
+it."
+
+Napoleon stood a moment looking seaward, and tossed back his long hair,
+as if to bathe his forehead in the cooling breezes. Then entering the
+grotto, he flung himself on its rocky floor, and, leaning his head upon
+his hand, seemed as lost in meditation as any gray old hermit of the
+hills, all unconscious of the four black eyes which, filled with
+curiosity and fun, were watching him from behind the lilac-bush.
+
+[Illustration: _At Napoleon's Grotto_]
+
+"Here, at least," the boy said, speaking aloud, as if he wished the
+broad sea to share his thoughts, "here I am master, here I am alone;
+here no one can command or control me. I am seven years old to-day.
+One is not a man at seven; that I know. But neither is one a child when
+he has my desires. Our uncle, the Canon Lucien, tells me that Spartan
+boys were taken away from the women when they were seven years old, and
+trained by men. I wish I were a Spartan. There are too many here to say
+what I may and may not do,--Mamma Letitia, our uncle the canon, Papa
+Charles, Nurse Saveria, Nurse Camilla, to say nothing of my boy-uncle
+Fesch, my brother Joseph, and sister Eliza; Uncle Joey Fesch is but four
+years older than I, my brother Joseph is but a year older, and Eliza is
+a year younger! Even little Pauline has her word to put in against me.
+Bah! why should they? If now I were but the master at home, as I am
+here"--
+
+"Well, hermit! and what if you were the master?" cried Eliza from the
+lilac-bush.
+
+The two girls had kept silence as long as they could; and now, to keep
+Panoria from speaking out, Eliza had interrupted with her question.
+
+With that, they both ran into the grotto.
+
+Napoleon was silent a moment, as if protesting against this invasion of
+his privacy. Then he said,--"If I were the master, Eliza, I would make
+you both do penance for listening at doors;" for it especially mortified
+this boy to be overheard talking to himself.
+
+"But here are no doors, Napoleon!" cried Eliza, whirling about in the
+grotto.
+
+"So much the worse, then," Napoleon returned hotly. "When there are no
+doors, one should be even more careful about intruding."
+
+"Pho! hear the little lord," teased Eliza. "One would think he was the
+Emperor what's his name, or the Grand Turk."
+
+Napoleon was about to respond still more sharply, when just then a
+shrill voice rang through the grotto.
+
+"Eliza; Panoria! Panoria; Eliza!" the call came. "Where are you,
+runaways? Where are you hidden?"
+
+"Here we are, Saveria," Eliza cried in reply, but making no move to
+retire.
+
+Napoleon would have put the girls out, but the next moment a tall and
+stout young woman appeared at the entrance of the grotto. She was
+dressed in black, with a black shawl draped over her high hair, and held
+by a silver pin. On her arm she carried a large basket filled with
+fine fruit,--pears, grapes, and figs. "So here you are, in Napoleon's
+grotto!" exclaimed Saveria the nurse, dropping with her basket on the
+ground. "Why did you run from me, naughty ones?"
+
+Napoleon noted the basket's luscious contents.
+
+"Oh, a pear! Give me a pear, Saveria!" he cried, springing toward the
+nurse, and thrusting a hand into the basket.
+
+But Nurse Saveria hastily drew away the basket.
+
+"Why, child, child! what are you doing?" she exclaimed. "These are your
+uncle the canon's."
+
+Napoleon withdrew his hand as sharply as if a bee amid the fruit had
+stung him.
+
+"Ah, is it so?" he cried; but Panoria, not having before her eyes the
+fear of the Bonapartes' bugbear, "their uncle the canon," laughed
+loudly.
+
+"What funny people you all are!" she exclaimed. "One needs but to cry,
+'Your uncle the canon,' and down you all tumble like a house of cards.
+What! is Saveria, too, afraid of him?"
+
+"No more than I am," said Napoleon stoutly.
+
+"No more than you!" laughed Panoria. "Why, Napoleon, you did not dare to
+even touch the pears of your uncle the canon."
+
+"Because I did not wish to, Panoria," replied Napoleon.
+
+"Did not dare to," corrected Panoria.
+
+"Did not wish to," insisted Napoleon.
+
+"Well, wish it! I dare you to wish it!" cried Panoria, while Eliza
+looked on horrified at her little friend's suggestion.
+
+By this time Saveria had led the children from the grotto, and, walking
+on ahead, was returning toward their home. She did not hear Panoria's
+"dare."
+
+"You may dare me," Napoleon replied to the challenge of Panoria; "but if
+I do not wish it, you gain nothing by daring me."
+
+"Ho! you are afraid, little boy!" cried Panoria.
+
+"I afraid?" and Napoleon turned his piercing glance upon the little
+girl, so that she quailed before it.
+
+But Panoria was an obstinate child, and she returned to the charge.
+
+"But if you did wish it, would you do it, Napoleon?" she asked. "Of
+course," the boy replied.
+
+"Oh, it is easy to brag," said Panoria; "but when your great man, your
+uncle the canon, is around, you are no braver, I'll be bound, than
+little Pauline, or even Eliza here."
+
+By this time Eliza, too, had grown brave; and she said stoutly to her
+friend, "What! I am not brave, you say? You shall see."
+
+Then as Saveria, turning, bade them hurry on, Eliza caught Panoria's
+hand, and ran toward the nurse; but as she did so, she said to Panoria,
+boastingly and rashly,--
+
+"Come into our house! If I do not eat some of those very pears out
+of that very basket of our uncle the canon's, then you may call me a
+coward, Panoria!"
+
+"Would you then dare?" cried Panoria. "I'll not believe it unless I see
+you."
+
+Eliza was "in for it" now. "Then you shall see me!" she declared. "Come
+to my house. Mamma Letitia is away visiting, and I shall have the best
+chance. I promise you; you shall see."
+
+"Hurry, then," said Panoria. "It is better than braving the black elves,
+this that you are to do, Eliza. For truly I think your uncle the canon
+must be an ogre."
+
+"You shall see," Eliza declared again; and, running after Nurse Saveria,
+they were soon in the narrow street in which, standing across the way
+from a little park, was the big, bare, yellowish-gray, four-story house
+in which lived the Bonaparte family, always hard pushed for money, and
+having but few of the fine things which so large a house seemed to call
+for. Indeed, they would have had scarcely anything to live on had it not
+been for this same important relative, "our uncle, the Canon Lucien,"
+who spent much of his yearly salary of fifteen hundred dollars upon this
+family of his nephew, "Papa Charles," one of whom was now about to make
+a raid upon his picked and particular pears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWO.
+
+THE CANON'S PEARS,
+
+When the little girls had left him, Napoleon remained for some moments
+standing in the mouth of his grotto. His hands were clasped behind his
+back, his head was bent, his eyes were fixed upon the sea.
+
+This, as I have told you, was a favorite attitude of the little boy,
+copied from his uncle the canon; it remained his favorite attitude
+through life, as almost any picture of this remarkable man will convince
+you.
+
+The boy was always thoughtful. But this day he was especially so. For he
+knew that it was his birthday; and while not so much notice was taken of
+children's birthdays when Napoleon was a boy as is now the custom, still
+a birthday _was_ a birthday.
+
+So the day set the little fellow to thinking; and, young as he was, he
+had yet much to remember.
+
+He felt that he ought to be as rich and important as the other boys
+whom he knew round about Ajaccio There were Andrew Pozzo and Charles
+Abbatucci, for example. They had everything they wished, their fathers
+were rich and powerful; and they made fun of him, calling him "little
+frowsy head," and "down at the heel," just because his mother could not
+always look after his clothes, and keep him neat and clean.
+
+Napoleon could not see why they should be better off than was he. His
+father, Charles Bonaparte, was, he had heard them say at home, a count,
+but of what good was it to be a count, or a duke, if one had not palaces
+and treasure to show for it?
+
+Napoleon knew that the big and bare four-story house in which he lived
+was by no means a palace; and so far from having any treasures to spend,
+he knew, instead, that if it were not for the help of their uncle, the
+Canon Lucien, they would often go hungry in the big house on the little
+park.
+
+But there was one consolation. If he was badly off, so, too, were many
+other boys and girls in that Mediterranean island. For when Napoleon
+Bonaparte was a boy, there was much trouble in Corsica. That rocky,
+sea-washed, forest-crowned island of mountains and valleys, queer
+customs and brave people, had been in rebellion, against its
+masters--first, the republic of Genoa, and then against France.
+
+[Illustration: House In Which Napoleon Was Born]
+
+[Illustration: The Mother of Napoleon]
+
+[Illustration: The Father of Napoleon]
+
+[Illustration: Room In Which Napoleon Was Born]
+
+Napoleon's father, Charles Bonaparte, had been a Corsican politician and
+patriot, a follower of the great Corsican leader, Paoli, who had spent
+many years of a glorious life in trying to lead his fellow-Corsicans to
+liberty and self-government. But the attempt had been a failure; and
+three months before the baby Napoleon was born, Charles Bonaparte had,
+with other Corsican leaders, given up the struggle. He submitted to the
+French power, took the oath of allegiance, and became a French citizen.
+And thus it came to pass that little Napoleon Bonaparte, though an
+Italian by blood and family, was really by birth a French citizen.
+
+Still, all that did not help him much, if, indeed, he thought anything
+about it as he stood in his grotto looking out to sea. He was thinking
+of other things,--of how he would like to be great and strong and rich,
+so that he could be a leader of other boys, rather than be teased by
+them; for little Napoleon Bonaparte did not take kindly to being teased,
+but would get very angry at his tormentors, and would bite and scratch
+and fight like any little savage. He had, as a child, what is known as
+an ungovernable temper, although he was able to keep it under control
+until the moment came when he could both say and do to his own
+satisfaction. He loved his father and mother; he loved his brothers and
+sisters; he loved his uncle, the Canon Lucien; he loved, more than all
+his other playmates and companions, his boy-uncle, fat, twelve-year-old
+Joey Fesch, who had taught him his letters, and been his admirer and
+follower from babyhood.
+
+But though he loved them all, he loved his own way best; and he was
+bound to have it, however much his father might talk, his mother chide,
+or his uncle the canon correct him. So, as he stood in the grotto,
+remembering that on that day he was seven years old, he determined to
+let all his family see that he knew what he wished to become and do.
+He would show them, he declared, that he was a little boy, a baby, no
+longer; they should know that he was a boy who would be a man long
+before other boys grew up, and would then show his family that they had
+never really understood him.
+
+At last he turned away and walked slowly toward home. The Bonaparte
+house was, as I have told you, a big, bare, four-story, yellow-gray
+house. It stood on a little narrow street, now called, after Napoleon's
+mother, Letitia Place, in the town of Ajaccio. The street was not over
+eight or ten feet wide; but opposite to the house was a little park that
+allowed the Bonapartes to get both light and air--something that would
+otherwise be hard to obtain in a street only ten feet wide.
+
+Tired and thirsty from his walk through the sunshine of the hot August
+afternoon, the boy started for the dining-room for a drink of water. As
+he opened the door in his quick, impetuous way, he heard a noise as of
+some one startled and fleeing. The swinging sash of the long French
+window opposite him shut with a bang, and Napoleon had a glimpse of a
+bit of white skirt, caught for an instant on the window-fastening.
+
+"Ah, ha! it was not a bird, then, that fluttering," he said. "It was a
+girl. One of my sisters. Now, which one, I wonder? and why did she run?
+I do not care to catch her. It is no sport playing with girls."
+
+So little curiosity did he have in the matter, that he did not follow on
+the track of the fugitive, nor even go to the window to look out; but,
+walking up to the sideboard, he opened it to take the water-pitcher and
+get a drink.
+
+As he did so, he started. There stood the basket of fruit which Saveria
+had filled so carefully with fruit for his uncle the canon. But now the
+basket was only half filled. Who had taken the fruit?
+
+He clapped his hands together in surprise; for the fruit of his uncle
+the canon was something no one in the house dared to touch. Punishment
+swift and sure would descend upon the culprit.
+
+"But, look!" he said half-aloud; "who has dared to touch the fruit of
+my uncle the canon? Touch it? My faith! they have taken half of it. Ah,
+that skirt! Could it have been--it must have been one of my sisters. But
+which one?"
+
+As he stood thus wondering, his eyes still fixed upon the rifled basket
+of fruit, he heard behind him a voice that tried to be harsh and stern,
+calling his name.
+
+"Napoleon!" cried the new-comer, "what are you doing at the sideboard?
+and why have you opened it? You know we have forbidden you to take
+anything to eat before mealtime. What have you done?"
+
+It was the voice of his uncle, the Canon Lucien. Napoleon, turning at
+the question, met the glance of his uncle fastened upon him. The Canon
+Lucien Bonaparte was a funny looking, fat little man, as bald as he
+was good-natured,--and that was _very_ bald,--and with a smooth,
+ordinary-appearing face, only remarkable for the same sharp, eagle-like
+look that marked his nephew Napoleon when he, too, became a man.
+
+Napoleon looked at his uncle the canon with indignation and denial on
+his face. "Why, my uncle, I have taken nothing!" he declared.
+
+Then suddenly he remembered how he had been discovered by his uncle
+standing before the half-emptied basket of fruit. Could it be that the
+old gentleman suspected him of pilfering? Would he dare accuse him of
+the crime?
+
+At the thought his face flushed red and hot. For you must know, boys and
+girls, that sometimes the fear of being suspected of a misdeed, even
+when one is absolutely innocent, brings to the face the flush that is
+considered a sign of guilt, and thus people are misunderstood and
+wrongfully accused. When one is high-spirited this is more liable to
+occur. It was so, at this moment, with the little Napoleon. His confused
+air, his flushed face, even his look of indignant denial, joined as
+evidence against him so strongly that his uncle the canon said sharply,
+"Come, you, Napoleon! do not lie to me now."
+
+At that remark all the boy's pride was on fire.
+
+[Illustration: "'I never lie uncle, you know I never lie!' said
+Napoleon"]
+
+"I never lie, uncle; you know I never lie!" he cried hotly.
+
+But Uncle Lucien was so certain of the boy's guilt that he mistook his
+pride for impudence. And yet he was such a good-natured old fellow, and
+loved his nieces and nephews so dearly, that he tried to soften and
+belittle the theft of his precious fruit.
+
+"No harm is done," he said, "if you but tell me what you have done. The
+fruit can be replaced, and I will say nothing, though you know you are
+forbidden to meddle with my fruit. But I do not love to see you doing
+wrong. I will not tolerate a lie. I do not know just what you have done;
+but if you will tell me the truth, I will--of course I will--pardon you.
+Why did you take my fruit?"
+
+"I took nothing, uncle," the boy declared. "It was"--then he stopped.
+Suppose it had been taken by one of his sisters, or by Panoria, their
+guest? The flutter of the departing skirt, as he came into the room,
+assured him it was one of these. But which one? And why should he accuse
+the little girls? It was not manly, and he wished to be a man.
+
+More than this, he was angry to think that he had been suspected,
+more angry yet to think he had been accused by good Uncle Lucien, and
+furiously angry to think that his word was doubted; so he said nothing
+further.
+
+"Ah, so! It was--you, then," the canon said, shaking his head in
+sorrowful belief.
+
+"No; I did not say so!" exclaimed Napoleon. "It was not I."
+
+"Take care, take care, my son," the canon said, very nearly losing his
+temper over what he considered Napoleon's insincerity. "You cannot
+deceive me. See! look at yourself in the glass. Your face betrays you.
+It is red with shame."
+
+"Then is my color a liar, uncle; but I am not," Napoleon insisted.
+
+"What were you doing here, all alone?" asked his uncle.
+
+"I was thirsty," replied the nephew. "I did but come for a drink of
+water."
+
+"That perhaps is so," said Uncle Lucien. "There is no harm in that. You
+came for a drink of water; but, how was it after that,--eh, my friend?"
+
+"That is all, uncle," replied Napoleon.
+
+"And the water? Have you taken a drink of it, yet?"
+
+"No, uncle; not yet."
+
+The canon again shook his head doubtingly.
+
+"See, then," he declared, "you came for a drink of water. You took no
+drink; the sideboard stands open; my fruit has disappeared. Napoleon,
+this is not right. You have done a wrong. Come, tell me the truth. If it
+is not as you say, if you have lied to me, much as I love you, I will
+have you punished. It is wicked in you, and I will not be merciful."
+
+As the canon said this with raised voice and warning finger,
+Napoleon's father, "Papa Charles," entered the room. With him
+came Napoleon's brother Joseph, two years older than he, and his
+twelve-year-old uncle-Joey Fesch. Joey was Mamma Letitia's half-brother,
+a Swiss-Corsican boy. He was, as I have told you, Napoleon's firm
+supporter.
+
+They looked in surprise at Uncle Lucien and Napoleon, and would have
+inquired as to the meaning of the attitude of the two. But the fact was,
+Napoleon had so many such moments of rebellion, that they gave it
+no immediate thought; and just then Charles Bonaparte had a serious
+political question which he wished to refer to the Canon Lucien.
+
+The two men at once began talking; the two boys saw through the open
+window something that engaged their attention, and Napoleon was
+unnoticed. But still the little boy stood, too proud to move away, too
+angry to speak, and so filled with a sense of the injustice that was
+done him, that he remained with downcast eyes, almost rooted to the
+spot, while still the sideboard stood open, and the tell-tale basket
+stood despoiled within it. The door opened again, and Saveria entered
+hastily. She went to the sideboard, took out the basket of fruit,
+and then you may be sure there was an exclamation that attracted the
+attention of all in the room.
+
+"For mercy's sake!" she cried. "Who has taken the canon's fruit?"
+
+"Ah, yes, who?" echoed Uncle Lucien, wheeling about, and laying his hand
+upon Napoleon's shoulder. "Behold, Saveria! here is the culprit. He has
+taken my fruit."
+
+Napoleon pushed away his uncle's hand.
+
+"It is not so!" he said; but he grew pale as he spoke. "I have not
+touched it."
+
+"But some one has. Hear me, Saveria!" the canon commanded; for in that
+house he had quite as much to say as the Father and Mother Bonaparte.
+"Call in the other children. We will soon settle this."
+
+All were soon in the room,--the two little girls, Joseph, and Uncle Joey
+Fesch, even baby Lucien, who was named for his uncle the canon. The
+children made a charming group; but they looked at Napoleon with
+curiosity and surprise, wondering into what new trouble he had fallen.
+For the solemn manner in which they had been called together, the grave
+looks of Papa Charles, of Uncle Lucien, and of Nurse Saveria, led
+them all to believe that something really serious had happened in the
+Bonaparte household.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THREE.
+
+THE ACCUSATION.
+
+"Now, then, children, listen to me, and answer, he who is the guilty
+one," Charles Bonaparte said, facing the group of children. "Who is it
+that has taken the fruit from the basket of your uncle the canon?"
+
+Each child declared his or her innocence, though one might imagine that
+Eliza's voice was not so outspoken as the others.
+
+"And what do you say, Napoleon?" asked Papa Charles, turning toward the
+suspected one.
+
+"I have already said, Papa Charles, that it was not I," Napoleon
+answered, this time calmly and coolly; for his composure had returned.
+
+"That is a lie, Napoleon!" exclaimed Nurse Saveria, who, as the trusted
+servant of the Bonaparte family, spoke just as she wished, and said
+precisely what she meant, while no one questioned her freedom. "That is
+a lie, Napoleon, and you know it!" The boy sprang toward the nurse in a
+rage, and, lifting his hand threateningly, cried, "Saveria! if you were
+not a woman, I would"--and he simply shook his little fist at her, too
+angry even to complete his threat.
+
+"How now, Napoleon! what would you do?" his father exclaimed.
+
+But Saveria only laughed scornfully. "It must have been you, Napoleon,"
+she said. "I have not left the pantry since I placed the basket of fruit
+in this sideboard. No one has come in through the door except you and
+your uncle the canon. Who else, then, could have taken the fruit? You
+will not say"--and here she laughed again--"that it is your uncle the
+canon who has stolen his own fruit?"
+
+"Ah, but I wish it had been I," said Uncle Lucien, smiling sadly; for
+it sorely disturbed his good-nature to have such a scene, and to be
+a witness of what he believed to be Napoleon's obstinacy and
+untruthfulness. "I would surely say so, even if I had to go without my
+supper for the disobedient act."
+
+"But," suggested Napoleon, in a broken voice, touched with the shame of
+appearing to be a tell-tale, "it is possible for some one to come in
+here through the window."
+
+"Bah!" cried Saveria. "Do not be a silly too. No one has come through
+the window. You are the thief, Napoleon. You have taken the fruit. Come,
+I will punish you doubly--first for thieving, and then for lying."
+
+But as she crossed as if to seize the boy, Napoleon sprang toward his
+uncle for refuge.
+
+"Uncle Lucien! I did not do it!" he cried. "They must not punish me!"
+
+"Tell the truth, Napoleon," his father said. "That is better than
+lying."
+
+"Yes, tell the truth, Napoleon," repeated his uncle; "only by confession
+can you escape punishment."
+
+"Ah, yes; punishment--how does that sound, Napoleon?" whispered Joseph
+in his ear. "You had better tell the truth. Saveria's whip hurts."
+
+"And so does my hand, rascal!" cried Napoleon, enraged at the taunts of
+his brother. And he sprang upon Joseph, and beat and bit him so sharply
+that the elder boy howled for help, and Uncle Joey Fesch was obliged
+to pull the brothers apart. For Joseph and Napoleon were forever
+quarrelling; and Uncle Joey Fesch was kept busy separating them, or
+smoothing over their squabbles.
+
+As Uncle Joey Fesch drew Napoleon away, he said, "Tell them you took the
+fruit, and they will pardon you. Is it not so, Uncle Lucien?" he added,
+turning to the canon.
+
+"Assuredly, Joey Fesch," the Canon Lucien replied. "Sin confessed is
+half forgiven."
+
+But Napoleon only stamped his foot. "Why should I confess?" he cried.
+"What should I confess? I should lie if I did so. I will not lie! I tell
+you I did not take any of my uncle's fruit!"
+
+"Confess," urged Joseph.
+
+"'Fess," lisped baby Lucien.
+
+"Confess, dear Napoleon," sister Pauline begged.
+
+Only Eliza remained quiet.
+
+"Napoleon," said the Canon Lucien, who, as head of the Bonaparte
+family, and who, especially because he was its main support, was given
+leadership in all home affairs, "we waste time with you; for you are but
+an obstinate boy. At first I felt sorry for you, and would have excused
+you, but now I can do so no longer. See, now; I give you five minutes
+by my watch in which to confess your wrong-doing. You ask for my
+protection. I am certain of your guilt. But I open a door of escape.
+It is the door to pardon; it is confession. Profit by it. See,
+again,"--here the canon took out his watch,--"it is now five minutes
+before seven. If, when the clock strikes seven, you have not confessed,
+Saveria shall give you a whipping. Am I right, brother Charles?"
+
+"You are right, Canon," replied Papa Charles. "If within five minutes by
+your watch Napoleon has not confessed, Saveria shall give him the whip."
+
+"The whip is for horses and dogs, but not for boys," Napoleon declared,
+upon whom this threat of the whip always had an extraordinary effect. "I
+am not a beast."
+
+"The whip is for liars, Napoleon," returned Papa Charles; "for liars and
+children who disobey."
+
+"Then, you are cruel to lay it over me; you are cruel and unjust,"
+declared the boy. "For I am not a liar; I am not disobedient. I will not
+be whipped!"
+
+As he spoke, the boy's eyes flashed defiance. He crossed his arms on his
+breast, lifted his head proudly, planted himself sturdily on his feet,
+and flung at them all a look of mingled indignation and determination.
+
+Supper was ready; and the family, all save Napoleon, seated themselves
+at the table. The five minutes granted him by the canon had run into a
+longer time, when little Pauline, distressed at sight of her brother
+standing pale and grave in front of the open sideboard and the despoiled
+basket of fruit, rose from her chair; approaching him, she whispered,
+"Poor boy! they will give you the whip. I am sure of it. Hear me! While
+they are not looking, run away. See! the window is open."
+
+"Run away? Not I!" came Napoleon's answer in an indignant whisper. "I am
+not afraid."
+
+"But I am," said Pauline. "I do not wish them to whip you. I shall cry.
+Run, Napoleon! run away!"
+
+The perspiration stood in beads on the boy's sallow forehead; but he
+said nothing. "Ask Uncle Lucien's pardon, Napoleon; ask Papa Charles's
+pardon, if you will not run away," Pauline next whispered; "or let me.
+Come! may I not do it for you?"
+
+Napoleon's hand dropped upon Pauline's shoulder, as if to keep her back
+from such an action; but he said nothing.
+
+"Pauline, leave your brother," Charles Bonaparte said. "He is a stubborn
+and undutiful boy. I forbid you to speak to him."
+
+Then turning to his son, he said, "Napoleon, we have given you more than
+the time offered you for reflection. Now, sir, come and ask pardon for
+your misdeed, and all will be over."
+
+"Yes, come," said Uncle Lucien.
+
+Napoleon remained silent.
+
+"Do you not hear me, Napoleon?" his father said.
+
+"Yes, papa," replied the boy.
+
+"Well?"
+
+Pauline pushed her brother; but he would not move. "Go! do go!" she
+said. Instead, Napoleon drew away from her. Uncle Joey Fesch took
+Napoleon by the arm, and sought to draw him toward the table. Even
+Joseph rose and beckoned him to come. But the boy made no motion toward
+the proffered pardon.
+
+"Stupid boy! Obstinate pig!" cried Joseph; "why do you not ask pardon?"
+
+"Because I have done no evil," replied Napoleon. "You are the stupid
+one; you are the pig, I say. Did I not tell you I did not touch the
+fruit?"
+
+"Still obstinate!" exclaimed "Papa Charles," turning away from his
+son. "He does not wish for pardon. He is wicked. Saveria! take this
+headstrong boy to the kitchen, and lay the whip upon him well, do you
+hear? He has deserved it."
+
+Napoleon fled to the corner, and stood at bay. Uncle Joey Fesch joined
+him, as if to protect and defend him. But when big and strong Nurse
+Saveria bore down upon them both, Uncle Joey, after an unsuccessful
+attempt to drag Napoleon with him, turned from the enemy, and sprang
+through the open window.
+
+Then Saveria flung her arms about the little Napoleon, and, in spite of
+his kickings and scratchings, bore him from the room, while all laughed
+except Pauline. She stuffed her fingers into her ears to shut out the
+sound of her brother's cries. But she had no need to do this. No sound
+came from the punishment chamber. For not a sound, not a cry, not even a
+sigh, escaped from the boy who was bearing an unmerited punishment.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOUR.
+
+BREAD AND WATER.
+
+You will, no doubt, wonder what Napoleon's mother was doing while her
+little son was undergoing his unjust punishment. Perhaps if she had been
+at home things would not have turned out so badly with the boy; for
+"Mamma Letitia," as the Bonaparte children called their beautiful
+mother, had a way about her that none of them could resist. She had much
+more will and spirit, she saw things clearer and better, than did "Papa
+Charles."
+
+Indeed, Napoleon said when he was a man, recalling the days of his
+boyhood in Ajaccio, "I had to be quick when I wished to do anything
+naughty, for my Mamma Letitia would always restrain my warlike temper;
+she would not put up with my defiance and petulance. Her tenderness was
+severe, meting out punishment and reward with equal justice,--merit and
+demerit, she took both into account."
+
+So, you see, she would probably have understood that Napoleon spoke the
+truth, and that it was some one else who had taken the fruit from the
+basket of their uncle the canon. But Mamma Letitia was not at home. She
+had gone to Melilli, in the country beyond Ajaccio, to visit her mother
+and step-father--the father and mother of her half-brother, "Uncle Joey
+Fesch," as the Bonaparte children called him. Melilli was in the midst
+of fields and forests and luscious vineyards, and it was a great treat
+for the children to go there to visit their grandmother.
+
+Sometimes their mother would take one or two of the children with her;
+but on this visit she had gone alone. That very evening her husband was
+to join her, and there had been great contention among the children as
+to which of them should accompany their father.
+
+Before leaving the supper-table "Papa Charles" announced that their
+Uncle Santa's carriage would be at the door in half an hour; that Uncle
+Joey Fesch would drive; and that Joseph and Lucien and Eliza--"the good
+children," as he called them--should go with him to Melilli to visit
+their Grandmother Fesch, and bring back Mamma Letitia. Joseph exulted
+loudly; Eliza said nothing; and baby Lucien crowed his delight. But
+Pauline slipped out into the pantry where Napoleon stood silent and
+still defiant. "I am to stay with you, brother," she said. "Will you be
+good to me?"
+
+Napoleon slipped his arm about his little sister's neck; but just then
+his father came from the dining-room, and the boy drew up again, haughty
+and hard.
+
+"Well, Napoleon," said his father, stopping an instant before the boy,
+"I hope you are sorry and subdued. Will you now ask your Uncle Lucien's
+pardon?"
+
+[Illustration: _"What! Stubborn still?"_]
+
+Napoleon looked his father full in the face. "I did not take that fruit,
+papa," he said.
+
+"What! stubborn still?" his father cried. "See, then; it shall not be
+said in my home that an obstinate little fellow like you can rule the
+house. Since the whip has not conquered you, we will try what starving
+will do. Listen! I am to go to Melilli for Mamma Letitia. Joseph, Eliza,
+and Lucien, our three good ones, shall go with me; we shall be gone for
+three days. As for you, Napoleon, you shall remain here, and shall have
+only bread and water, unless, indeed, before our return you ask pardon
+from your uncle the canon."
+
+Pauline looked sadly at Napoleon, and caught his hand. Then she asked
+her father, "But he may have a little cheese with his bread, may he not,
+papa?"
+
+"Well--yes"--her father yielded. "But only common cheese, Pauline; not
+broccio."
+
+Now, broccio was the favorite cheese of the Corsican children, and
+Pauline protested.
+
+"Oh, yes, papa! let him have broccio, papa," she said. "Why, broccio is
+the best cheese in Corsica!"
+
+"And that is why Napoleon shall not have it," replied her father.
+"Broccio is for good boys and girls; and Napoleon is not good."
+
+As he said this he glanced at Napoleon sharply, as if he really hoped
+for and expected a word of repentance, a look of entreaty. But Napoleon
+said nothing. He looked even more haughty and unyielding than ever; and
+his father, with a word of farewell only to Pauline, left the room.
+
+"Poor Napoleon," said Pauline pityingly, as their father closed the
+door. "See, I will stay by you. But why will you not ask for pardon?"
+
+"Because pardon is for the guilty, Pauline," Napoleon replied; "and I am
+not guilty."
+
+"And will you never ask it?"
+
+"Never," her brother said firmly.
+
+"But, O Napoleon!" cried the little girl, "what if they should always
+give you just bread and water and cheese?"
+
+"And if they should, I would not give in," Napoleon answered. "What can
+I do? I am not master here."
+
+Pauline gave a great sigh of sympathy. The thought of never having
+anything to eat but bread and water and a little cheese was too much for
+her courage.
+
+"I could confess anything, rather," she said. "I would ask pardon three
+times a day."
+
+"And I would not," said Napoleon. "But then, I am a man."
+
+Just then the three children who were to accompany their father to
+Milelli, passed through the pantry, for they had been to bid Nurse
+Saveria good-by. Joseph caught the last word.
+
+"A man, are you!" he cried. "Then, why not be a man, and not a baby?"
+
+"Bah, rascal! and who is the greater baby?" his brother responded. "It
+is he who cries the loudest when things go wrong; and I never cry."
+
+Joseph said nothing further except, "Good-by, obstinate one!"
+
+"Good-by," lisped baby Lucien.
+
+But Eliza said nothing. She did not even glance at Napoleon as she
+passed him; and he simply looked at her, without a word of accusation or
+farewell.
+
+The three days passed quietly, though hungrily, for Napoleon. Uncle
+Lucien said nothing to influence the boy, though he looked sadly, and
+sometimes wistfully, at him; and Pauline tried to sweeten the bread and
+water and cheese as much as possible by her sympathy and companionship.
+
+Of this last, however, Napoleon did not wish much. He spent much of the
+time in his grotto, brooding over his wrongs, and thinking how he would
+act if people tried to treat him thus when he became a man.
+
+The second day he dragged his toy cannon to his grotto, and made believe
+he was a Corsican patriot, intrenched in his fortifications, and
+holding the whole French army at bay; for though Corsica was a French
+possession, the people were still smarting under their wrongs, and hated
+their French oppressors, as they termed them. Some years after, when he
+was a young man, Napoleon, talking about the home of his boyhood and
+the troubles of Corsica, said, "I was born while my country was dying.
+Thirty thousand French thrown upon our shores, drowning the throne of
+liberty in blood--such was the horrid sight that first met my view.
+The cries of the dying, the groans of the oppressed, tears of despair,
+surrounded my cradle at my birth."
+
+It was not quite as bad as all that. But Napoleon liked to use big words
+and dramatic phrases. It had been, in fact, very much like this before
+Napoleon was born. He had heard all the stories of French tyranny and
+Corsican courage, and, like a true Corsican, was hot with wrath against
+the enslavers of his country, as he called the French. So he found an
+especial pleasure in bombarding all France with his toy gun from his
+grotto; and as he then felt very bitter indeed because of his treatment
+at home, you may be sure the French army was horribly butchered in the
+boy's make-believe battle before Napoleon's grotto.
+
+Then he went back for his bread and water.
+
+As he approached the house, he found that he was beginning to rebel at
+the bread and water diet.
+
+Bread and water alone, with just a little cheese, begin to grow
+monotonous to a healthy boy with a good appetite, after two or three
+days.
+
+Suddenly Napoleon had a brilliant idea. "The shepherd boys!" he
+exclaimed.
+
+He hurried to the house, took from Saveria the bread she had put aside
+for him, and was speedily out of the house again.
+
+This time he took his way to the grazing-lands, where, upon the slopes
+of the grand mountains that wall in the town of Ajaccio, the shepherd
+boys were tending their scattered herds.
+
+"Who will exchange chestnut bread for the best town bread in Ajaccio?"
+he demanded. "I will give piece for piece."
+
+Those shepherd boys led a lonely sort of life, and welcomed anything
+that was novel. Then, too, they were as tired of their bread, made from
+pounded chestnuts, as was Napoleon of Saveria's wheat bread.
+
+So Napoleon found a ready response to his offer.
+
+"Here! I'll do it!"--"and I"--"and I"--"and I"--came the answers, in
+such numbers that Napoleon saw that his little stock would soon be
+exhausted; and, indeed, he was not overfond of chestnut bread.
+
+So he improved on his idea.
+
+"Piece for piece, I will exchange, as I offered," he announced. "But
+there are too many of you. See! he who will give me the biggest slice of
+broccio shall have first choice for the bread, and the next biggest, the
+next."
+
+This put a different face on the transaction, but it added spice to the
+operation; and Napoleon actually succeeded in getting for his stale home
+bread, goodly sized pieces of fresh chestnut bread, and enough of the
+much-loved broccio, and bunches of luscious grapes, "to boot," to
+provide him with a generous meal. But the next day the shepherd boys
+rebelled; they told Napoleon that his bread was stale, and not good.
+They preferred their chestnut bread.
+
+"But if you will look after our sheep while we go into the town," said
+one of them, "we will give you some of our bread."
+
+[Illustration: _"He tossed his dry bread to the shepherd boys"_]
+
+This, however, did not suit Napoleon. "I am not one to tend sheep," he
+answered. "Keep your bread. It is not so good that one wishes to eat it
+twice; and--here, I pity you for having always to eat that stuff. Take
+mine!" With that, he tossed his store of dry bread to the shepherd boys,
+and, walking back to town, ran in to visit his foster mother; that is,
+the woman who had been his nurse when he was a baby.
+
+Nurse Camilla, as he called her, or sometimes "foster-mamma Camilla,"
+was now the widow Ilari; but since her husband had been killed in one of
+those terrible family quarrels known as a Corsican _vendetta_, she had
+lived in a little house on one of the narrow streets of Ajaccio, not far
+from the Bonapartes.
+
+She was very fond of her baby, as she called Napoleon; and when he told
+her of his disgrace at home, she said,--
+
+"Bah! the sillies! Do they not know a truth-teller when they see one?
+And so they would keep you on bread and water? Not if Nurse Camilla can
+prevent it. See, now! here is a plenty to eat, and just what my own boy
+likes, does he not? Eat, eat, my son, and never mind the stale bread of
+that stingy Saveria."
+
+Then she petted and caressed the boy she so adored; she gave him the
+best her house afforded, and sent him away to his own home satisfied and
+filled, but especially jubilant, I fear, because he had got the best, as
+he termed it, of the home tyranny, and shown how he was able to do for
+himself even when he was driven to extremities.
+
+It was this ability to use all the conditions of life for his own
+benefit, and to turn even privation and defeat into victory, that gave
+to Napoleon, when he became a man, that genius of mastery that made this
+neglected boy of Corsica the foremost man of all the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIVE.
+
+A WRONG RIGHTED.
+
+It was the third day of the family's absence from the Bonaparte house.
+Napoleon had been at his favorite resort,--the grotto that overlooked
+the sea. He had been brooding over his fancied wrongs, as well as his
+real ones; he had wished he could be a man to do as he pleased. He would
+free Corsica from French tyranny, make his father rich, and his mother
+free from worry, and, in fact, accomplish all those impossible things
+that every boy of spirit and ambition is certain he could do if he might
+but have the chance.
+
+As he approached his home, he saw little Panoria swinging on the gate.
+She was waiting for her friend Eliza; for she had learned from Pauline
+that the absent ones were to return that evening from their visit to
+Melilli.
+
+Panoria, as you have learned, was a bright little girl, who spoke her
+mind, and had no great awe for the Bonapartes--not even for the mighty
+Canon Lucien, the all-powerful Nurse Saveria, nor the masterful little
+Napoleon.
+
+In fact, Napoleon stood more in awe of Panoria than she did of him. For
+the boy was, as boys and girls say today, "sweet on" the little Panoria,
+to whom he gave the pet name "La Giacommetta." Many a battle royal he
+had fought because of her with the fun-loving boys of Ajaccio, who
+found that it enraged Napoleon to tease him about the little girl, and
+therefore never let the opportunity slip to tease and torment him.
+
+"Ah, Napoleon, it is you!" cried Panoria, as the boy approached her.
+"And what great stories have you been telling yourself today in your
+grotto?"
+
+"I tell no great stories to myself, little one," Napoleon replied with
+rather a lordly air. "I do but talk truth with myself."
+
+"Then should you talk truth with me, boy," the little lady replied, a
+trifle haughty also. "I am not to be called 'little one' by such a mite
+as you. See! I am taller than you!"
+
+"Yes; when one stands on a gate, one is taller than he who stands on the
+ground," Napoleon admitted. "But when we stand back to back, who then is
+the taller? See! Call Pauline! She shall tell us!"
+
+"That shall she not, then," said the little girl, who loved to tease
+quite as well as most girls. "It would be better to go and make yourself
+look fine, than to stand here saying how big you are. Go look in the
+glass. Your stockings are tumbling over your shoes, and your jacket is
+all awry. How will your Mamma Letitia like that? Run, then! I hear the
+carriage wheels! In with you, little Down-at-the-heel!"
+
+Smarting under the girl's teasing, and all the more because it came from
+her, Napoleon sulked into the house.
+
+But Panoria still swung on the gate. When the carriage stopped before
+the house, she ran to welcome her friend Eliza, and, with the returned
+family, entered the house.
+
+In the doorway the fat little canon, Uncle Lucien, received them.
+
+"Back again, uncle!" cried Mamma Letitia in welcome. "And how do you
+all? Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?" The woman who spoke was
+Madame Letitia Bonaparte, the mother of Napoleon. She was a remarkable
+woman--remarkable for beauty, for ability, and for position. Born a
+peasant, she became the mother of kings and queens; reared in poverty,
+she became the mistress of millions. In her Corsican home she was
+house-mother and care-taker; and when, made great by her great son, she
+had every comfort and every luxury, she still remained house-mother and
+care-taker, looking after her own household, and refusing to spend the
+money with which her son provided her, for fear that some day she or her
+family might need it. In all the troubles in Corsica she accompanied her
+husband to the mountain-retreat and the battle-field, encouraging him by
+her bravery, and urging him to patriotic purpose, until the end came,
+and Corsica was defeated and conquered. She carried all the worries and
+bore all the responsibilities of the Bonaparte household; and it was
+only by her management and carefulness that the family was kept from
+absolute poverty.
+
+Her children loved her; but they feared her too, and never thought of
+going contrary to her desires or commands. Late in life Napoleon
+once told a boy of whom he was fond the consequences of the only time he
+ever dared make fun of "Mamma Letitia."
+
+"Pauline and I tried it," he said; "but it was a great mistake on our
+part. It was the only time in my life that my mother herself ever
+whipped me. I don't believe Pauline ever forgot it. I never did."
+
+So it was Mamma Letitia who first spoke on the arrival at home; and her
+first question was as to the children who had remained behind.
+
+"Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?" she asked.
+
+Little Pauline sprang from behind her uncle the canon.
+
+"I am here, mamma," she said, and threw herself in her mother's arms.
+
+"But where is Napoleon?"
+
+"He has not been good, mamma," Pauline replied. "See! he is there,
+behind the door. He dare not come out. He pouts."
+
+"It is not so, mamma," said Napoleon, coming forward; "I do dare. I am
+sad; but I do not pout."
+
+"And is he obstinate still, Uncle Lucien?" Papa Charles asked. "Has he
+confessed, or asked your pardon?"
+
+"He has done neither," Uncle Lucien replied. "I have never seen, in any
+child, such obstinacy as his."
+
+"Napoleon! Obstinacy!" exclaimed Mamma Letitia. "Why, tell me; what has
+the boy done?"
+
+Then Uncle Lucien told the story of the rifled basket of fruit, excusing
+the lad as much as he could, although it must be confessed that the kind
+of canon was considerably "put out" by the reason of what he called
+Napoleon's obstinacy.
+
+When, however, he reached the part of his story that described how he
+wished Napoleon to confess his misdeed, little Panoria, having, as
+I have told you, none of that awe of the Canon Lucien that his grand
+nephews and nieces had, burst in upon him,--
+
+"Why, then!" she cried, "I should not think Napoleon would confess. Poor
+boy! He did not eat your fruit, Canon Lucien."
+
+"How, child! What do you say?" the canon exclaimed. "He did not? Who
+did, then?"
+
+"Why, I did--and Eliza," Panoria replied
+
+"You--and Eliza!"--"Eliza!"--"Why, she said nothing!" These were the
+exclamations of surprise and query that came from all present.
+
+"Why, surely!" said Panoria; "and was it wrong? Fruit is free to all
+here in Corsica. But Eliza was so afraid of her uncle the canon's fruit
+that I dared her to take some; and we did. Napoleon never touched it. He
+knew nothing of it."
+
+"My poor boy my good child!" said the Canon Lucien, taking Napoleon in
+his arms. "Why did you not tell me this?"
+
+"I thought it might have been Eliza who did it," replied the boy; "but
+I am no tattle-tale, uncle. Besides, I would have said nothing on
+Panoria's account. She did not lie."
+
+"No more did Eliza," said Joseph.
+
+"Bah, imbecile!" said Napoleon, turning on his brother. "Where, then, is
+the difference between telling a lie and acting one by keeping quiet, if
+both mislead?"
+
+You can readily believe that Napoleon was made much of by all his family
+because of his action. "That is the stuff that makes brave soldiers,
+leaders, and patriots, my son," his "Mamma Letitia" said. "Would that we
+all had more of it!"
+
+For Madame Bonaparte knew that there was but little of the heroic in her
+handsome husband, "Papa Charles." He would flame out with wrath, and
+tell every one how much he meant to do against tyranny and wrong; he
+would even act with courage for a while; but at last his love of ease
+and his dislike of trouble would get the better of his valor, and he
+would give up the struggle, bow before his opponents, and seek to gain
+by subserviency their favor and patronage.
+
+As for Eliza, she received a merited punishment--first, for her
+disobedience in taking what she had been told never to touch; next, for
+her bravado in daring to act insolently toward her uncle, the canon;
+then for her gluttony in eating so much of the fruit; and finally, for
+her "bad heart," as her mother called it, for allowing her brother
+to suffer in her stead, and be punished for the wrong that she had
+committed.
+
+As for Napoleon, I fear that this little incident in his life made him
+feel more important than ever. He assumed a yet more masterful tone
+toward his companions and playmates, lorded it over Joseph, his brother,
+and made repeated demands for loyalty upon Uncle Joey Fesch.
+
+But he did feel grateful toward Panoria for her timely word and generous
+conduct. He became more fond than ever of "La Giacommeta;" and he
+brought her fruit and flowers, told her of all the great things he meant
+to do "when he was a man," and even invited her into his much loved and
+jealously guarded grotto; and that, you may be sure, was a very great
+favor for Napoleon to grant. For his grotto was his own private and
+exclusive hermitage.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIX.
+
+THE BATTLE WITH THE SHEPHERD BOYS.
+
+The relations between Napoleon and the shepherd boys of the Ajaccio
+hillsides were not improved by his unsatisfactory food-trade during his
+bread-and-water days.
+
+Whenever he took his walks abroad in their direction, the belligerent
+shepherd boys made haste to annoy and attack him. They had no special
+love for the town boys; there was, in fact, a long-standing rivalry
+and quarrel between them, as there often is between boys of different
+sections, or between boys of the country and the town.
+
+So you may be sure that Napoleon's solitary tramps along the hillsides
+were often disturbed and made unpleasant.
+
+At last he determined upon the punishment or discomfiture of the
+shepherd boys. He roused his playmates to action; and one day they
+sallied forth in a body, to surprise and attack the shepherd boys. But
+there must have been a traitor in the camp of the town boys; for, when
+they reached the hill pastures, they not only found the shepherd boys
+prepared for them, but they found them arrayed in force. Before the town
+boys could rush to the attack, the shepherd boys, eager for the fray,
+"took the initiative," as the war records say, and making a dash upon
+the town boys, drove them ignominiously from the field.
+
+Napoleon disliked a check. Discomfited and mortified, he turned on big
+Andrew Pozzo, the leader of the town boys.
+
+"Why, you are no general!" he cried. "You should have massed us all
+together, and held up firm against the shepherds. But, instead, you
+scattered us all; and as for you--you ran faster than any of us!"
+
+"Ho! little gamecock! little boaster!" answered Pozzo hotly. "You
+know it all, do you not? You'd better try it yourself, Captain
+Down-at-the-heel."
+
+"And I will, then!" cried Napoleon. "Come, boys, try it again! Shall we
+be whipped by a lot of shepherd boys, garlic lovers, eaters of chestnut
+bread? Never! Follow me!" But the town boys had received all they
+wished, for one day. Only a portion of them followed Napoleon's lead;
+and they turned about and fled before they even met the shepherd boys,
+so formidable seemed the array of those warriors of the hills.
+
+"Why, this will never do!" Napoleon exclaimed. "It must not be said that
+we town boys have been whipped into slavery by these miserable ones of
+the mountains. At them again! What! You will not? Then let us arrange a
+careful plan of attack, and try them another day. Will you do so?"
+
+The boys promised; for it is always easy to agree to do a thing at some
+later day. But Napoleon did not intend that the matter should be given
+up or postponed. He went to his grotto, and carefully thought out a plan
+of campaign.
+
+The next day he gathered his forces about him, and endeavored to fire
+their hearts by a little theatrical effect.
+
+"What say you, boys, to a cartel?" he said.
+
+"A cartel?"
+
+"Yes; a challenge to those miserable ones of the hill, daring them to
+battle."
+
+"But those hill dwellers cannot read; do you not know that, you silly?"
+Andrew Pozzo cried. "How, then, can you send a challenge?"
+
+"How but by word of mouth?" replied Napoleon. "See, here are Uncle Joey
+Fesch and big Ilari; they shall go with their sticks, and stand before
+those shepherd boys, and shall cry aloud"--
+
+"Shall we, then?" broke in big Ilari. "I will do no crying."
+
+Napoleon said nothing. He simply looked at the big fellow--looked at
+him--and went on as if there had been no interruption,--
+
+"And shall cry aloud, 'Holo, miserable ones! holo, rascal shepherds! The
+town boys dare you to fight them. Are you cowards, or will you meet them
+in battle?' This shall Uncle Joey Fesch cry out. He has a mighty voice."
+
+"And of course they will fight," sneered Andrew Pozzo. "Did you think
+they would not? But shall we?"
+
+"Shall we not, then?" answered Napoleon. "And if you will but follow and
+obey me, we will conquer those hill boys, as you never could if Pozzo
+led you on. For I will show you the trick of mastery. Of mastery, do you
+hear? And those miserable boys of the sheep pastures shall never more
+play the victor over us boys of the town."
+
+It was worth trying, and the boys of that day and time were accustomed
+to give and take hard knocks.
+
+So Uncle Joey Fesch and big Tony Ilari, the bearers of the challenge,
+set off for the hill pastures; and while they were gone Napoleon
+directed the preparations of his forces.
+
+The heralds returned with an answer of defiance from the hill boys.
+
+"So! they boast, do they?" little Napoleon said. "We will show them
+how skill is better than strength. Remember my orders: stones in your
+pockets, the stick in your hand. Attention! In order! March!"
+
+In excellent order the little army set out for the hills. In the
+pastures where they had met defeat the day before they saw the
+straggling forces of the shepherd boys awaiting them.
+
+"Halt!" commanded the Captain Napoleon.
+
+"Let the challengers go forward again," he directed. "Summon them to
+surrender, and pass under the yoke. Tell them we will be masters in
+Ajaccio."
+
+The big boy challengers obeyed the little leader's command; and as they
+departed on their mission Napoleon ordered his soldiers to quietly drop
+the stones they carried in their pockets, in a line where they stood.
+Then he planted a stick in the ground as a guide-post.
+
+The challengers came rushing back, followed by the jeers and sticks of
+the hill boys.
+
+"So! they will not yield? Then will we conquer them," Napoleon cried.
+"In order! Charge!"
+
+And up the slope, brandishing their sticks, charged the town boys.
+
+The hill boys were ready for them. They were bigger and stronger than
+the town boys, and they expected to conquer by force.
+
+The two parties met. There was a brief rattle of stick against stick.
+But the hill boys were the stronger, and Napoleon gave the order to
+retreat.
+
+Down the hill rushed the town boys. After them, pell-mell, came the hill
+boys, flushed with victory and careless of consequences. Suddenly, as
+Napoleon reached his guide-post, he shouted in his shrill little voice,
+"Halt!" And his army, knowing his intentions, instantly obeyed.
+
+"Stones!" he cried, and they scooped up their supply of ammunition.
+
+"About!" They faced the oncoming foe.
+
+"Fire!" came his final order; and, so fast and furious fell the shower
+of stones upon the surprised and unprepared hill boys, that their
+victorious columns halted, wavered, turned, broke, and fled.
+
+"Now! upon them! follow them! drive them!" rang out the little Captain
+Napoleon's swiftly given orders.
+
+They followed his lead. The hill boys, utterly routed, scattered in
+dismay. One-half of them were captured and held as prisoners, until
+Napoleon's two big challengers, now acting as commissioners of
+conquest, received from the hill boys an unconditional surrender, an
+acknowledgment of the superiority of the town boys, and the humble
+promise to molest them no more.
+
+This was Napoleon's first taste of victorious war. But ever after he
+was an acknowledged leader of the boys of Ajaccio. Andrew Pozzo was
+unceremoniously deposed from his self-assumed post of commander in all
+street feuds and forays. The old rivalry was a sore point with him,
+however; and throughout his life he was the bitter and determined
+opponent of his famous fellow-Corsican, Napoleon. But you may be sure
+big Tony Ilari and the other boys paid court to the little Bonaparte's
+ability; while as for Uncle Joey Fesch, he was prouder than ever of his
+nine-year-old nephew and commander.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVEN.
+
+GOOD-BYE TO CORSICA.
+
+Meantime things were going from bad to worse in the Bonaparte home.
+
+Careless "Papa Charles" made but little money, and saved none; all the
+economy and planning of thrifty "Mamma Letitia" did not keep things from
+falling behind, and even the help of Uncle Lucien the canon was not
+sufficient.
+
+Charles Bonaparte had gained but little by his submission to the French.
+The people in power flattered him, and gave him office and titles, but
+these brought in no money; and yet, because of his position, he was
+forced to entertain and be hospitable to the French officers in Corsica.
+
+Now, this all took money; and there was but little money in the
+Bonaparte house to take. So, at last, after much discussion between the
+father and mother,--the father urging and the mother objecting,--the
+Bonapartes decided to sell a field to raise money; and you can
+scarcely understand how bitter a thing this is to a Corsican. To part
+with a piece of land is, to him, like cutting off an arm. It hurts.
+
+Napoleon heard all of these discussions, and was sadly aware of the
+poverty of his home. He worried over it; he wished he could know how to
+help his mother in her struggles; and he looked forward, more earnestly
+than ever, to the day when he should be a man, or should at least be
+able to do something toward helping out in his home.
+
+At last things took a turn. Old King Louis of France was dead; young
+King Louis--the sixteenth of the name--sat on the throne. There was
+trouble in the kingdom. There was a struggle between the men who wished
+to better things and those who wished things to stay as they were. Among
+these latter were the governors of the French provinces or departments.
+In order to have things fixed to suit themselves, they selected men to
+represent them in the nation's assembly at Paris.
+
+The governor of Corsica was one of these men; and by flattery and
+promises he won over to his side Papa Charles Bonaparte, and had him
+sent to Paris (or rather to Versailles, where the assembly met, not far
+from Paris) as a delegate from the nobility of Corsica. This sounded
+very fine; but the truth is, "Papa Charles" was simply nothing more
+than "the governor's man," to do as he told him, and to work in his
+interests.
+
+One result of this, however, was that it made things a little easier for
+the Bonapartes; and it gave them the opportunity of giving to the two
+older boys, Joseph and Napoleon, an education in France at the expense
+of the state.
+
+So when Charles Bonaparte was ready to sail to his duties in France, it
+was arranged that he should take with him Joseph, Napoleon, and Uncle
+Joey Fesch. Joseph was now eleven years old; Napoleon was nine, and
+Uncle Joey was fifteen.
+
+Joseph and Uncle Joey were to be educated as priests; Napoleon was to go
+to the military school at Brienne. But, at first, both the brothers were
+sent to a sort of preparatory school at Autun.
+
+Napoleon was delighted. He was to go out into the world. He was to be
+a man; and yet, when the time came, he hated to leave his home. He was
+fond of his family; indeed, his life was largely given up to remembering
+and helping his mother and brothers and sisters. He regretted leaving
+his dear grotto; he was sorry to say good-by to Panoria--his favorite
+"La Giacommetta." But his future had been decided upon by his father
+and mother, and he promised to do great things for them when he was old
+enough to be a captain in the army--even if it were the army of France.
+For, you see, he was still so earnest a Corsican patriot, that he wished
+rather to free Corsica than to defend France.
+
+"Who knows?" he boasted one day to Panoria; "perhaps I will become a
+colonel, and come back here and be a greater man than Paoli. Perhaps I
+may free Corsica. What would you think of that, Panoria?"
+
+"I should think it funny for a boy who went to school in France to come
+away and fight France," said practical Panoria.
+
+But Napoleon would not see it in this way. He dreamed of glory, and
+believed he would yet be able to strike a blow for the freedom of
+Corsica. At last the day of departure arrived. There was a lingering
+leave-taking and a sorrowful one. For the first time, the Bonaparte boys
+were leaving their mother and their home.
+
+"Be good boys," she said to them; "learn all you can, and try to be
+a credit to your family. Upon you we look for help in the future. Be
+thrifty, be saving, do not get sick, and remember that, upon your work
+now, will depend your success in life."
+
+"Good-bye!" cried Nurse Saveria. "When you come back I will have for you
+the biggest basket of fruit we can pick in the garden of your uncle the
+canon."
+
+"That you shall, boy," said Uncle Lucien, slipping his last piece of
+pocket-money into Napoleon's hand. "And take you this, for luck. You
+will do your best, I know you will, and you'll come back to us a great
+man. Don't forget your Uncle Lucien, you boy, when you are famous, will
+you?"
+
+Napoleon smiled through his tears, and made a laughing promise in reply
+to his uncle's laughing demand. But, for all the fun of the remark,
+there was yet a strong groundwork of belief beneath this assertion of
+the Canon Lucien Bonaparte; the old man was a shrewd observer. His
+friendship for the little Napoleon was strong. And in spite of all
+the boy's faults,--his temper, his ambition, his sullenness, his
+carelessness, and his selfishness,--Uncle Lucien still recognized in
+this nine-year-old nephew an ability that would carry him forward as he
+grew older.
+
+"Napoleon has his faults," he said, in talking over family matters
+with Mamma Letitia and Papa Charles the night before the departure for
+France; "the boy is not perfect--what child is? But those very faults
+will grow into action as he becomes acquainted with the world. I expect
+great things of the boy; and mark my words, Letitia and Charles, it is
+of no use for you to think on Napoleon's fortune or his future. He will
+make them for himself, and you will look to him for assistance, rather
+than he to you. Joseph is the eldest son; but, of this I am sure,
+Napoleon will be the head of this family. Remember what I say; for,
+though I may not live to see it, some of you will--and will profit by
+it."
+
+They were all on the dock as the vessel sailed away, bearing Papa
+Charles, Uncle Joey Fesch, and the two Bonaparte boys, from Ajaccio to
+Florence.
+
+Mamma Letitia was there, tearful, but smiling, with Eliza, and Pauline,
+and Baby Lucien; so were Uncle Lucien the canon, and Aunt Manuccia,
+who had been their mother's housekeeper, with Nurse Saveria, and Nurse
+Ilaria, whom Napoleon called foster-mother, and even little Panoria, to
+whom Napoleon cried "Good-by, Giacommeta mia! I'll come back some day."
+
+Then the vessel moved out into the harbor, and sailed away for Italy,
+while the tearful group on the dock and the tearful group on the deck
+threw kisses to one another until they could no longer make out faces or
+forms.
+
+The home tie was broken; and Napoleon Bonaparte, a boy of nine and a
+half years, was launched upon life--a life the world was never to
+forget.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHT.
+
+AT THE PREPARATORY SCHOOL.
+
+The Bonaparte boys and their father stopped a while in Florence, so that
+Charles Bonaparte could procure the proper papers to prove that he was
+of what is called noble birth. For it seems that only the children of
+nobles could enter the French military school at Brienne.
+
+He procured these at last, and also a letter of introduction to the
+French queen, Marie Antoinette whose sad story you all know so well.
+
+Then they set out for Autun, and reached that quaint old town on the
+last day of the year 1778. On New Year's Day, 1779, Napoleon was entered
+as a pupil in the preparatory school at Autun.
+
+Autun has been a school town tor hundreds of years. The old Druids had a
+school there, and so did the Romans. It is one of the oldest of French
+towns; and you will find it on your map of France, about one hundred and
+fifty miles south-east of Paris. It is a picturesque old town, placed
+on a sloping hillside, that runs down to the Arroux River. There is
+a cathedral in the town over nine hundred years old; and there, too,
+Napoleon found a college and a seminary, a museum and a library, with
+plenty of ruins, walls, and gateways, and such things, that told of its
+great age and old-time grandeur.
+
+It was a fine place in which to go to school, and the Bonaparte boys
+must have found it quite a change from their Corsican home. The bishop
+of Autun, who had charge of the cathedral and the schools, was the
+nephew of a friend of Charles Bonaparte, and he promised to look after
+the boys.
+
+Napoleon did not stay long in the school at Autun. His father went to
+Paris to enter upon his duties as delegate to the Assembly, intending,
+while there, to make arrangements for getting Napoleon into the military
+school at Brienne.
+
+But there was much need of the preparatory work at Autun. For you must
+know that, being a Corsican, Napoleon knew scarcely a word of French.
+The Corsicans speak Italian, and this would never do for a French
+schoolboy. So, for three months, Napoleon was drilled in French.
+
+He did not take kindly to it. But he did his best. For, you see, his
+journey from Florence to Marseilles, and on to Autun, had opened his
+eyes. He saw, for the first time, cities larger than Ajaccio, and
+learned that there were other places in the world besides Corsica.
+
+But he never really lost his Ajaccio tongue, and for most of his life he
+talked French with an Italian accent.
+
+It was a queer-looking little Italian boy who was thus studying French
+at Autun school. You would scarcely have looked at him twice; for his
+figure was small, his appearance insignificant, his face sober and
+solemn, his hair stiff and stringy, and his complexion sallow. The boys
+made fun of the way in which he talked, as boys are apt to make sport of
+those who do not talk as they do.
+
+"What is your name, new boy?" the big boy of Autun school called out to
+Napoleon, as on that first day of the new year, which was, as I have
+said, his first day at school, the Bonaparte brothers wandered about the
+schoolyard, strangers and shy.
+
+"Na-polle-o-nay!" answered the little new-comer, giving the Corsican
+pronunciation to his name of Napoleon.
+
+"Oho! so!" cried the big boy, mimicking him. "Na-pailli-au-nez, is it?
+See, fellows, see! this is Mr. Straw-Nose!"
+
+For, you see, the way Napoleon pronounced his name sounded very much
+like the French words that mean "the nose of straw." That, of course,
+gave the boys at the school a rare chance to nickname; and so poor
+Napoleon was called "Mr. Straw-Nose" all the time he was at that school.
+
+This was not very long, however; for in three months he had made
+sufficient progress in his study of French to permit him to pass into
+the military school at Brienne, into which his father was at last able
+to procure his admission.
+
+But, while he was at Autun, Napoleon seems to have been a favorite with
+his teachers. One of them, the Abbé Chardon, spoke of him as "a sober,
+thoughtful child." He wished very much to get into the military school;
+so he worked hard, learned quickly, and was proud of what he called his
+ability.
+
+But when the boys tried to plague him, or to twit him for being a
+Corsican, the boy was ready enough to talk back.
+
+The French boys knew but little about Corsica, and had a certain
+contempt for the little island which, so they declared, was the home of
+robbers, and which France had one day gone across and conquered.
+
+"Bah, Corsican!" one of the big boys called out to the new scholar, "and
+what is Corsica? Just an island of cowards. Just see how we Frenchmen
+whipped you out of your boots!"
+
+Napoleon clinched his little fist, and turned hotly on his tormentor.
+But he was already learning the lesson of self-control.
+
+"And how did you do it, Frenchman?" he replied. "By numbers. If you had
+been but four to one against us, you would never have conquered us. But,
+behold! you were ten to one! That is too much to struggle against."
+
+"And yet you boast of your general--your leader," said the other boy.
+"You say he is a fine commander--this--how do you call him?--this
+Paoli."
+
+"I say so; yes, sir," Napoleon replied sadly. Then, as if his ambition
+led him on, he added, "I would like to be like him. What could I not do
+then!"
+
+This feeling of being a Corsican, an outsider at the school, made the
+boy quiet and retiring. He kept by himself, just as he had at home when
+things did not suit him; he walked out alone, and played with no one. To
+be sure, he was more or less with his brother Joseph, who loved his
+ease and comfort, did not fire up when the other boys teased him, and
+smoothed over many a quarrel between them and his brother.
+
+Napoleon would often find fault with Joseph's lack of spirit, as he
+called it; but Joseph, all through life, liked to take things easy, and
+hated to face trouble. Most of us do, you know; but it was the readiness
+of Napoleon to boldly face danger, and to attempt what appeared to be
+the impossible, that made him the self-reliant boy, the successful man,
+the conqueror, the emperor, the hero.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINE
+
+THE LONELY SCHOOL-BOY
+
+While Napoleon was at Autun school, studying French, and preparing for
+entrance into the military academy, his father, Charles Bonaparte, was
+at Versailles, trying to get a little more money from the king, in
+return for his services as Corsica's delegate to France.
+
+At the same time he was working to complete the arrangements which
+should permit him to enter Napoleon at the military school, at the
+expense of the state. This he finally accomplished; and on the
+twenty-third of April, in the year 1779, Napoleon entered the royal
+military school at Brienne.
+
+There were ten of these military schools in France. They were started
+as training-schools for boys who were to become officers in the French
+army. The one at Brienne was a bare and ugly-looking lot of buildings
+in the midst of trees and gardens, looking down toward the little River
+Aube, and near to the fine old chateau, or nobleman's house, built, a
+hundred years before Napoleon's day, by the last Count of Brienne.
+
+There were a hundred and fifty boys at Brienne school, although there
+was scarcely room enough for a hundred and twenty.
+
+The new-comer was therefore crowded in with the others; and you may be
+sure that the old boys did not make life pleasant and easy for the new
+boy.
+
+Although he had learned to write and speak French during his three
+months' schooling at Autun, he could not, of course, speak it very well;
+so the boys plagued him for that. And when he told them his name,
+they, too, made fun of his pronunciation of Na-po-le-one, and at once
+nicknamed him, "straw-nose," just as the Autun boys had done.
+
+Most of the boys who attended Brienne school were the sons of French
+noblemen. They had plenty of money to spend; they made a show of it, and
+dressed and did things as finely as they could. Napoleon, you know, was
+poor. His father had scrimped and begged and borrowed to send his boys
+to school. He could not, therefore, give them much for themselves; so
+the French boys, with the money to spend and the manners to show, made
+no end of fun of the little Corsican, who had neither money nor manners.
+
+At once he got into trouble. He did not like, nor did he understand, the
+ways of the French boys; he was alone; he was homesick; and naturally he
+became sulky and uncompanionable. When the boys teased him, he tossed
+back a wrathful answer; when they made fun of his appearance, he grew
+angry and sullen; and when they tried to force him into their society,
+he went off by himself, and acted like a little hermit.
+
+But when they twitted him on his nationality, called him "Straw-nose,
+the Corsican," and made all manner of fun of that rocky and (as they
+called it) savage island, then all the patriotism in the boy's nature
+was aroused, and he called his tormentors French cowards, with whom he
+would one day get square.
+
+"Bah, Corsican! and what will you do?" asked Peter Bouquet. "I hope some
+day to give Corsica her liberty," said Napoleon; "and then all Frenchmen
+shall march into the sea."
+
+Upon which all the boys laughed loudly; and Napoleon, walking off in
+disgust, went into the school-building, and there vented his wrath upon
+a portrait of Choiseul, that hung upon the wall.
+
+"Ah, ha! blackguard, pawnbroker, traitor!" he cried, shaking his fist at
+this portrait of a stout and smiling-looking gentleman. "I loathe you! I
+despise you! I spit upon you!" And he did.
+
+Now, Monsieur the Count de Choiseul was the French nobleman who was
+one of the old King Louis's ministers and advisers. It was he who had
+planned the conquest of Corsica, and annexed it to France. You may not
+wonder, then, that the little Corsican, homesick for his native island,
+and hot with rage toward those who made fun of it, when he came upon
+this portrait of the man to whom, as he had been taught, all Corsica's
+troubles were due, should have vented his wrath upon it, and heaped
+insults upon it.
+
+
+[Illustration: "_What' you will not ask Monsieur the Count's pardon?"_]
+
+Unfortunately for him, however, the teachers at Brienne did not
+appreciate his patriotic wrath; so, when one of the tattle-tales
+reported Napoleon's actions, at once he was pounced upon, and ordered to
+ask pardon for what he had said and done, standing before the portrait
+of Corsica's enslaver.
+
+He approached the portrait so reluctantly and contemptuously, that one
+of the teachers scolded him sharply.
+
+"You are not worthy to be a French officer, foolish boy," the teacher
+declared; "you are no true son of France, thus to insult so great and
+noble a Frenchman as Monsieur the Count de Choiseul."
+
+"I am a son of Corsica," Napoleon replied proudly; "that noble country
+which this man ground in the dust."
+
+"As well he might," replied the teacher tauntingly. "He was Corsica's
+best friend. He was worth a thousand Paoli's."
+
+"It is not so!" cried Napoleon, hot with patriotic indignation. "You
+talk like all Frenchmen. Paoli was a great man. He loved his country.
+I admire him. I wish to be like him. I can never forgive my father for
+having been willing to desert the cause of Corsica, and agree to its
+union with France. He should have followed Paoli's lead, even though it
+took him with Paoli, into exile in England."
+
+"Bah! your father!" one of the big boys standing by exclaimed; "and who
+is your father, Straw-nose?"
+
+Napoleon turned upon his tormentor; "a better man than you, Frenchman!"
+he cried; "a better man than this Choiseul here. My father is a
+Corsican."
+
+"A stubborn rebel, this boy," said the teacher, now losing his temper.
+"What! you will not ask Monsieur the Count's pardon, as a rebel should?
+Then will we tame your spirit. Is a little arrogant Corsican to defy all
+France, and Brienne school besides? Go, sir! We will devise some
+fine punishment for you, that shall well repay your insolence and
+disobedience."
+
+So Napoleon, in disgrace, left the schoolroom, and pacing down his
+favorite walk, the pleasant avenue of chestnut-trees that lined the
+path from one of the schoolhouse doors, he sought his one retreat and
+hermitage,--his loved and bravely defended garden.
+
+That garden was a regular Napoleonic idea. I must tell you about it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TEN.
+
+IN NAPOLEON'S GARDEN.
+
+One of the rules of Brienne school was that each pupil should know
+something about agriculture. To illustrate this study, each one of the
+one hundred and fifty boys had a little garden-spot set aside for him to
+cultivate and keep in order.
+
+Some of the boys did this from choice, and because they loved to watch
+things grow; but many of them were careless, and had no love for fruit
+or flowers; so while some of the garden-plots were well kept, others
+were neglected.
+
+Napoleon was glad of this garden-plot, for it gave him something which
+he could call his own. He cared for it faithfully; but he wished to make
+it even more secluded. He remembered his dear grotto at Ajaccio, and
+studied over a plan to make his garden-plot just such a real retreat.
+But it was not large enough for this. He looked about him. The boys to
+whom belonged the garden-plots on either side of him were careless and
+neglectful. Their gardens received no attention; they were overgrown
+with weeds; their hedges were full of gaps and holes.
+
+"I will take them," said Napoleon; "what one cannot care for, another
+must."
+
+So the boy went systematically to work to "annex" his neighbors'
+kingdoms, and make from the three plots one ample retreat for himself.
+He cut down the separating borders; he trimmed and trained and filled
+in the stout outside hedge, until it completely surrounded his enlarged
+domain; and, in the centre of the paths and flower-beds and hedges, he
+put up a seat and a little summer-bower for his pleasure and protection.
+
+It took some time to get this into shape, of course. When he had
+completed it, and was beginning to enjoy it, the owners of the plots
+he had confiscated awoke to a sense of their loss and the excellent
+garden-spot this young Corsican had made for them. "For of course," they
+said, "the garden-plots are ours. Straw Nose has improved them at his
+own risk. What he has made we will keep for our own pleasure." So they
+attempted to occupy their property; but with Napoleon there was force in
+the old saying, "Possession is nine points of the law."
+
+When the dispossessed boys demanded their property, he refused it; when
+they spoke of their rights, he laughed at them; and when they attempted
+to enter the garden by force, he fell upon them, drove them flying from
+the field, and pommelled them so soundly that they judged discretion to
+be the better part of valor, and made no further attempt to disturb the
+conqueror.
+
+The other boys did attempt it, however, simply to tease and annoy the
+fiery Corsican. But it always resulted in their own damage; for Napoleon
+become so attached to his garden citadel, that he would grow furiously
+angry whenever he was disturbed. Rushing out, he would rout his
+assailants completely; until at last it was understood that it was
+safest to let him alone.
+
+As he sought his garden on this day of disgrace to which I have
+referred, he was full of bitter thoughts against the unfriendly boys and
+the unsympathetic teachers amid whom his lot was cast. Like most boys,
+he determined to do something that should free him from this tyranny;
+then, like many boys, he decided to run away. Where or how he could go
+he did not know; for he had no friends in France who would help him
+along, and he had no money in his pocket to enable him to help himself.
+
+"I will run away to sea," he said. For the sea, you know, is the first
+thought of boys who determine to be runaways.
+
+But Napoleon had a strong love for his family; he held high notions
+in regard to the honor of the family name; above all else, he was
+determined to do something that should help his family out of its sore
+straits, and become one element of its support.
+
+"If I should run away to sea," he thought, "I should bring discredit and
+shame to my family: I should annoy my father, and seriously interfere
+with my own plans. For, should I run away from Brienne, my father, who
+has been at such pains to place me here, would be distressed, and
+perhaps injured. No; I will brave it out. But I will write to my father,
+asking him to take me away, and place me in some school where I shall
+feel less like an outcast, where poverty would not be held as a crime,
+and where I shall have more agreeable surroundings. So he went into his
+garden fortress; he stretched himself at full length on his bench, and,
+using the cover of his favorite book, Plutarch's "Lives," as a desk, he
+wrote this letter to his father:--
+
+[Illustration: _Napoleon writing to his father_.]
+
+"MY FATHER,--If you or my protectors cannot give me the means of
+sustaining myself more honorably in the house where I am, please summon
+me home, and as soon as possible. I am tired of poverty, and of the
+smiles of the insolent scholars who are superior to me only in their
+fortune; for there is not one among them who feels one-hundredth part
+of the noble sentiments by which I am animated. Must your son, sir,
+continually be the butt of these boobies, who, vain of the luxuries
+which they enjoy, insult me with their laughter at the privations I am
+forced to endure? No, father; No! If fortune refuses to smile upon me,
+take me from Brienne, and make me, if you will, a mechanic. From these
+words you may judge of my despair. This letter, sir, please believe, is
+not dictated by a vain desire to enjoy expensive amusements. I have no
+such wish. I feel simply that it is necessary to show my companions that
+I can procure them as well as they, if I wish to do so.
+
+"Your respectful and affectionate son,
+
+"BONAPARTE."
+
+
+It took some time to write this letter; for, with Napoleon,
+letter-writing was always a detested task.
+
+When he had written and directed it, he felt better. We always do feel
+relieved, you know, if we speak out or write down our feelings. Then he
+read a chapter in Plutarch about Alexander the Great. This set him to
+thinking and planning how he would win a battle if he should ever become
+a leader and commander. He had a notion that he knew just what he would
+do; and, to prove that his plan was good, he threw himself on the garden
+walk, and gathering a lot of pebbles, he began to set them in array,
+as if they were soldiers, and to make all the moves and marches and
+counter-marches of a furious battle. He indicated the generals and chief
+officers in this army of stone by the larger pebbles; and you may be
+sure that the largest pebble of all represented the commander-in-chief
+--and that was Napoleon himself.
+
+As he marshalled his pebble army, under the lead of his generals and
+officers, shifting some, advancing others, rearranging certain of them
+in squares, and massing others as if to resist an attack, Napoleon was
+conscious of a snickering sort of laugh from somewhere above him.
+
+He looked up, and caught sight of a mocking face looking down at him
+from the top of the hedge that bordered his garden.
+
+"Ho, ho! Straw-nose!" the spy cried out; "and what is the baby doing?
+Is it playing with the pretty pebbles? Is it making mud-pies? It was a
+sweet child, so it was."
+
+Napoleon flushed with anger, enraged both at the intrusion and the
+teasing.
+
+"Pig! imbecile!" he cried; "get down from my hedge, or I will make you!"
+
+"Ho! hear the infant!" came back the taunting answer. "He will make me--
+this pretty Corsican baby who plays with pebbles. He will make me! That
+is good! I laugh; I--Oh, help! help! the Corsican has killed me!"
+
+[Illustration: "_'Get down from my hedge' cried Napoleon_"]
+
+For a moment Napoleon thought indeed he had; for a moment, too, I am
+afraid, he did not care. For so enraged was he at the boy's insults and
+actions, that he had caught up his biggest pebble, which happened to
+be Napoleon the general, and flung it at the intruder. It struck him
+squarely between the eyes, and so stunned him that he fell back from the
+hedge, and lay, first howling, and then terribly quiet, in the space
+outside Napoleon's garden. At once there was a hue and cry; Napoleon was
+summoned from his retreat, and dragged before his teacher.
+
+"Ah, miserable one!" cried the master. "And is it you again? You have
+perhaps killed your fellow-student. You will yet end in the Bastille, or
+on the block. Take him away, until we see what shall be the result of
+the last ill-doing of this wicked one."
+
+"When one plays the spy and the bully one must expect retribution," said
+Napoleon loftily. "This Bouquet is a rascal who will be more likely to
+end in the Bastille than I, who did but defend my own."
+
+This language, of course, did not help matters; so into the school-cage,
+or punishment "lock-up" for the school-boy offenders, young Napoleon was
+at once hurried, without an opportunity for explanation or protest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVEN.
+
+FRIENDS AND FOES.
+
+Napoleon, the prisoner in the school "lock-up," raged for a while like
+a caged lion. Then he calmed down into the sulks, returned to his
+determination to run away, concluded again that he would go to sea,
+thought of his family and his duties once more, and at last concluded to
+take his punishment without a word, though he knew that the boy who had
+mocked him into anger deserved the punishment fully as much as did he
+who had been the insulted one.
+
+"But then," he reasoned, "he paid well for his taunts and teasing. I
+wonder how he is now?"
+
+His schoolmate, the English boy, Lawley, was on duty outside the
+"lock-up" door, as a sort of monitor.
+
+"Say, you Lawley!" Napoleon called out, "and how is that brute of a
+Bouquet?"
+
+"None the better for seeing you, little one," replied the good-natured
+English boy, who had that love of fair play that is supposed to belong
+to all Englishmen, and, therefore, felt that young Bonaparte was
+suffering unjustly. Then he added:
+
+"Bouquet will no doubt die, and then what will you do?"
+
+"I will plead self-defence, my friend," said Napoleon. "Did not you tell
+me that an English judge did once declare that a man's home was his
+castle, which he was pledged to defend from invasion and assault. What
+else is my garden? That brute of a Bouquet came spying about my castle,
+and I did but defend myself. Is it not so?"
+
+"It may be so to you, young Bonaparte," Lawley replied; "but not to your
+judges. No, little one, you're in for it now; they'll make you smart for
+this, whatever happens to old Bouquet."
+
+For, like all English boys, this young Lawley mingled with his love of
+justice an equal love for teasing: and like most of the boys at Brienne
+school, he declared it to be "great fun to get the little Corsican mad."
+
+"Then must you help me to get away from here," Napoleon declared. "Look
+you, Lawley!" and the boy in great secrecy pulled a paper from his
+pocket; "see now what I have written."
+
+The English boy took the paper, ran his eye over it, and laughed as
+loudly as he dared while on duty.
+
+"My eye!" he said, "it's in English, and pretty fair English too. A
+letter to the British Admiralty? Permission to enter the British navy as
+a midshipman, eh? Well, you Bonaparte, you are a cool one. A Frenchman
+in the British navy! Fancy now!"
+
+"No, sir; a Corsican," replied Napoleon. "Why should it not be so? What
+have I received but scorn and insult from these Frenchmen? You English
+are more fair, and England is the friend of Corsica. Why should I not
+become a midshipman in your navy? The only difficulty, I am afraid, will
+be my religion."
+
+"Your religion!" cried Lawley, with a laugh; "why, you young rascal! I
+don't believe you have any religion at all."
+
+"But my family have," Napoleon protested. "My mother's race, the
+Ramolini" (and the boy rolled out the name as if that respectable farmer
+family were dukes or emperors at least), "are very strict. I should
+be disinherited if I showed any signs of becoming a heretic like you
+English; and if I joined the British navy, would I not be compelled to
+become a heretic, like you, Lawley?"
+
+Lawley burst into such a loud laugh over the boy's religious scruples,
+of which he had never before seen evidence, that he aroused one of the
+teachers with his noise, and had to scud away, for fear of being caught,
+and punished for neglect of duty.
+
+But he kept Napoleon's letter of application. He must have sent it,
+either in fun, or with some desire to befriend this badgered Corsican
+boy; for to-day Napoleon's letter still exists in the crowded English
+department, wherein are filed the archives of the British Admiralty.
+
+At last, by the interest of certain of the friends whom the boy's
+misfortune, if not his pluck, had made for him--such lads as Lawley, the
+English boy, Bourrienne, Lauriston, and Father Patrault, the teacher of
+mathematics,--Napoleon was liberated with a reprimand; while the boy who
+had caused all the trouble went unpunished, save for the headache that
+Napoleon's well-aimed stone had given him and the scar the blow had
+left.
+
+But the boy could not long stay out of trouble. The next time it came
+about, friendship, and not vindictiveness, was the cause.
+
+Napoleon did not forget the good offices of his friends. Indeed,
+Napoleon never forgot a benefit. His final fall from his great power
+came, largely, because of the very men whom he had honored and enriched,
+out of friendship or appreciation for services performed in his behalf.
+
+One day young Lauriston, who was on duty as a sort of sentry in the
+chestnut avenue that was one of Napoleon's favorite walks, left his
+post, and joining Napoleon, begged him to help him in a problem in
+mathematics which he had been too lazy or too stupid to solve.
+
+"We will go to your garden, Straw-nose," said Lauriston; for both friend
+and foe, after the manner of boys, used the nicknames that had by common
+consent been fastened upon their schoolfellows.
+
+"We will not, then," Napoleon returned. For, as you know, his garden was
+sacred, and not even his friends were allowed entrance. "See, we will
+go beyond, to the seat under the big chestnut. But are you not on duty
+here?"
+
+Lauriston snapped his fingers and shrugged his shoulders in contempt of
+duty. "That for duty!" he exclaimed. "My duty now is to get out this pig
+of a problem."
+
+Under the big chestnut, which was another of Napoleon's favorite
+resorts, the two boys put their heads together over Lauriston's problem,
+and it was soon made clear to the lad; for Napoleon was always good at
+mathematics.
+
+But the time spent over the problem exhausted Lauriston's limit of
+duty; and when the teacher came to relieve him at his post, the boy was
+nowhere to be seen.
+
+Now, at Brienne, military instruction was on military rules; and no
+crime against military discipline is much greater than "absence without
+leave."
+
+So when, at last, young Lauriston was found in Napoleon's company, away
+from his post of duty, and beneath the big chestnut-tree, the boy was in
+a "pretty mess." But Napoleon never deserted his friends.
+
+"Sir," he said to the teacher, "the fault is mine. I led young Lauriston
+away to"--he stopped: it would scarcely help his friend's cause to say
+that he had been helping him at his lessons; thus he continued, "to show
+him my lists"--which was not an untruth, for he had shown the copy to
+Lauriston.
+
+"Your lists, unruly one," said the teacher--one of Napoleon's chief
+persecutors. "And what lists, pray?"
+
+"My lists of the possessions of England, here in my copy-book," said
+Napoleon, drawing the badly scrawled blank-book from his pocket.
+
+He handed it to the teacher.
+
+"Ah, what handwriting! It is vilely done, young Bonaparte. Even I can
+scarcely read it," he said. "What is this? You would draw my portrait in
+your copy-book? Wretched one! have you no manners? So! Possessions of
+the English, is it? Would that the English possessed you! None then
+would be happier than I." Thereupon the teacher read through the list,
+making sarcastic comments on each entry, until he came to the end.
+"'Cabo Corso in Guinea, a pretty strong fort on the sea side of Fort
+Royal, a defence of sixteen cannons.' Bad spelling, worse writing, this!
+and the last, 'Saint Helena, a little island;' and where might it be,
+that Saint Helena, young Bonaparte?"
+
+"In the South Atlantic, well off the African coast," replied Napoleon.
+
+"Would you were there too, young malcontent!" said the teacher, "luring
+boys from their duty. This is worse than treason. See! you shall to the
+lockup once more. And you are no longer battalion captain."
+
+Young Lauriston would have protested against this injustice, and
+declared that he was at fault; but, like too many boys under similar
+circumstances, he was afraid, and accepted anything that should save him
+from punishment. Moreover, a glance at Napoleon's masterful eyes held
+his tongue mute, and he saw his friend borne away to the punishment that
+should have been his.
+
+"'Tis Saint Helena's fault, and not yours, my Lauriston," Napoleon
+whispered in his ear. "Bad writing is never forgiven."
+
+So, as if in a prophecy of the future, Napoleon suffered unjust disgrace
+in connection with Saint Helena's name; and to-day, in the splendid
+exhibition-room of the historical library at Florence, jealously guarded
+beneath a glass case, is Napoleon's blue paper copybook, the very last
+line of which reads, by the strangest of all strange coincidences,
+"Saint Helena, a little island."
+
+The boy's willingness to suffer for his friends, and, even more than
+this, the unjust taking away of his office in the school battalion, of
+which he was quite proud, turned the tide in young Napoleon's favor, so
+far as his schoolmates were concerned.
+
+"Little Straw-nose is a plucky one, is he not, though?" the boys
+declared; and when he came on the field again, they welcomed him with
+cheers, and made him leader for the day in their sports.
+
+They had great fun. Napoleon, full of his readings in Plutarch's
+"Lives," divided the boys into two camps; one camp was to be the
+Persians, the other the Greeks and Macedonians. Napoleon, of course, was
+Alexander; and, like the great Macedonian, he wrought such havoc on the
+Persians, that the school hall in which the battle was waged was filled
+with the uproar, and all the teachers at Brienne rushed pell-mell to the
+place, to quell what they were certain must be a school riot, led on by
+"that miserable Corsican."
+
+Day by day, however, "that miserable Corsican" made more and more
+friends among his schoolfellows. For boys grow tired at last of plaguing
+one who has both spirit and pluck; and these Napoleon certainly
+possessed. He had come to the school "a little savage," so the polished
+French boys declared.
+
+"I was in Brienne," he said years afterwards, as he thought over his
+school-days, "the poorest of all my schoolfellows. They always had money
+in their pockets; I, never. I was proud, and was most careful that
+nobody should perceive this. I could neither laugh nor amuse myself like
+the others. I was not one of them. I could not be popular."
+
+[Illustration: _Napoleon at the School
+of Brienne (From the Painting by M R Dumas_)]
+
+So he had to go through the same hard training that other poor boys at
+boarding-school have undergone. He, however was petulant, high-spirited,
+proud, and had something of that Corsican love of retaliation that has
+made that rocky island famous for its feuds and family rows, or
+"vendettas" as they are called.
+
+He showed the boys at last that they could not impose upon him; that
+he had plenty of spirit; that he was kind-hearted to those who showed
+themselves friendly; and, above all, that he was fitted to lead them in
+their sports, and could, in fact, help them toward having a jolly good
+time.
+
+So, gradually, they began to side with and follow him. They left him in
+undisturbed possession of his fortified garden, they asked his help over
+hard points in mathematics, until at last he began even to grow a little
+popular. And then, to crown all, came the great Snow-ball Fight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELVE.
+
+THE GREAT SNOW-BALL FIGHT AT BRIENNE SCHOOL.
+
+That Snow-ball Fight is now famous. It was in the winter of 1783.
+Snow fell heavily; drifts piled up in the schoolyard at Brienne. The
+schoolboys marvelled and exclaimed; for such a snow-fall was rare in
+France. Then they began to shiver and grumble. They shivered at the
+cold, to which they were not accustomed; they grumbled at the snow
+which, by covering their playground, kept them from their usual
+out-of-door sports, and held them for a time prisoners within the dark
+schoolrooms.
+
+Suddenly Napoleon had an inspiration.
+
+"What is snow for, my brothers," he exclaimed, "if not to be used? Let
+us use it. What say you to a snow fort and a siege? Who will join me?"
+
+It was a novel idea; and, with all the boyish love for something new and
+exciting, the boys of Brienne entered into the plan at once. "The fort,
+the fort, young Straw-nose!" they cried. "Show us what to do! Let us
+build it at once!"
+
+With Napoleon as director, they straightway set to work. The boy had an
+excellent head for such things; and his mathematical knowledge, together
+with the preparatory study in fortifications he had already pursued in
+the school, did him good service.
+
+He was not satisfied with simply piling up mounds of snow. He built
+regular works on a scientific plan. The snow "packed well," and the
+boys worked like beavers. With spades and brooms and hands and homemade
+wooden shovels, they built under Napoleon's directions a snow fort that
+set all Brienne wondering and admiring. There were intrenchments and
+redoubts, bastions and ramparts, and all the parts and divisions and
+defences that make up a real fort.
+
+It took some days to build this wonderful fort. For the boys could only
+work in their hours of recess. But at last, when all was ready, Napoleon
+divided the schoolboys into two unequal portions. The smaller number
+was to hold the fort as defenders; the larger number was to form the
+besieging force. At the head of the besiegers was Napoleon. Who was
+captain of the fort I do not know. His name has not come down to us.
+
+But the story of the Snow-ball Fight has. For days the battle raged. At
+every recess hour the forces gathered for the exciting sport. The rule
+was that when once the fort was captured, the besiegers were to become
+its possessors, and were, in turn, to defend it from its late occupants,
+who were now the attacking army, increased to the required number by
+certain of the less skilful fighters in the successful army.
+
+Napoleon was in his element. He was an impetuous leader; but he was
+skilful too; he never lost his head.
+
+[Illustration: "_As leader of the storming-party
+he would direct the attack_"]
+
+Again and again, as leader of the storming-party, he would direct
+the attack; and at just the right moment, in the face of a shower
+of snow-balls, he would dash from his post of observation, head the
+assaulting army, and scaling the walls with the fire of victory in his
+eye and the shout of encouragement on his lips, would lead his soldiers
+over the ramparts, and  with a last dash drive the defeated
+defenders out from the fortification.
+
+The snow held for nearly ten days; the fight kept up as long as the snow
+walls, often repaired and strengthened, would hold together.
+
+The thaw, that relentless enemy of all snow sports, came to the
+attack at last, and gradually dismantled the fortifications; snow for
+ammunition grew thin and poor, and gravel became more and more a part of
+the snow-ball manufacture.
+
+Napoleon tried to prevent this, for he knew the danger from such
+missiles. But often, in the heat of battle, his commands were
+disregarded. One boy especially--the same Bouquet who had scaled his
+hedge and brought him into trouble--was careless or vindictive in this
+matter.
+
+On the last day of the snow, Napoleon saw young Bouquet packing
+snow-balls with dirt and gravel, and commanded him to stop. But Bouquet
+only flung out a hot "I won't!" at the commander, and launched his
+gravel snow-ball against the decaying fort.
+
+Napoleon was just about to head the grand assault. "To the rear with
+you! to the rear, Bouquet! You are disqualified!" he cried.
+
+But Bouquet was insubordinate. He did not intend to be cheated out of
+his fun by any orders that "Straw-nose" should give him. Instead of
+obeying his commander, he sang out a contemptuous refusal, and dashed
+ahead, as if to supplant his general in the post of leader of the
+assault.
+
+Napoleon had no patience with disobedience. The insubordination and
+insolence of Bouquet angered him; and darting forward, he collared his
+rebellious subordinate, and flung him backward down the slushy rampart.
+
+"Imbecile!" he cried. "Learn to obey! Drag him to the rear, Lauriston."
+
+The fort was carried. But "General Thaw" was too strong for the young
+soldiers; and that night, a rain setting in, finished the destruction of
+the now historic snow-fort of Brienne School.
+
+Bouquet, smarting under what he considered the disgrace that had been
+put upon him before his playmates, accosted Napoleon that night in the
+hall. "Bah, then, smarty Straw-nose!" he cried; "you are a beast. How
+dare you lay hands on me, a Frenchman?"
+
+"Because you would not obey orders," Napoleon replied. "Was not I in
+command?"
+
+"You!" sneered Bouquet; "and who are you to command? A runaway Corsican,
+a brigand, and the son of a brigand, like all Corsicans."
+
+"My father is not a brigand," returned Napoleon. "He is a
+gentleman--which you are not."
+
+"I am no gentleman, say you?" cried the enraged French boy. "Why, young
+Straw-nose, my ancestors were gentlemen under great King Louis when
+yours were tending sheep on your Corsican hills. My father is an officer
+of France; yours is"--
+
+"Well, sir, and what is mine?" said Napoleon defiantly.
+
+"Yours," Bouquet laughed with a mocking and cruel sneer, "yours is but a
+lackey, a beggar in livery, a miserable tip-staff!"
+
+Napoleon flung himself at the insulter of his father in a fury; but he
+was caught back by those standing by, and saved from the disgrace of
+again breaking the rules by fighting in the school-hall.
+
+All night, however, he brooded over Bouquet's taunting words, and the
+desire for revenge grew hot within him.
+
+The boy had said his father was no gentleman. No gentleman, indeed!
+Bouquet should see that he knew how gentlemen should act. He would not
+fall upon him, and beat him as he deserved. He would conduct himself
+as all gentlemen did. He would challenge to a duel the insulter of his
+father.
+
+This was the custom. The refuge of all gentlemen who felt themselves
+insulted, disgraced, or persecuted in those days, was to seek vengeance
+in a personal encounter with deadly weapons, called a duel. It is a
+foolish and savage way of seeking redress; but even today it is resorted
+to by those who feel themselves ill treated by their "equals." So
+Napoleon felt that he was doing the only wise and gentlemanly thing
+possible.
+
+But, even then duelling was against the law. It was punished when men
+were caught at it; for schoolboys, it was considered an unheard-of
+crime.
+
+[Illustration: _Napoleon sends his Challenge_.]
+
+Still, though against the law, all men felt that it was the only way
+to salve their wounded honor. Napoleon felt it would be the only manly
+course open to him; so, early next morning, he despatched his friend
+Bourrienne with a note to Bouquet. That note was a "cartel," or
+challenge. It demanded that Mr. Bouquet should meet Mr. Bonaparte at
+such time and place as their seconds might select, there to fight with
+swords until the insult that Mr. Bouquet had put upon Mr. Bonaparte
+should be wiped out in blood.
+
+There was ferocity for you! But it was the fashion.
+
+"Mr. Bouquet," however, had no desire to meet the fiery young Corsican
+at swords' points. So, instead of meeting his adversary, he sneaked off
+to one of the teachers, who, as we know, most disliked Napoleon, and
+complained that the Corsican, Bonaparte, was seeking his life, and meant
+to kill him.
+
+At once Napoleon was summoned before the indignant instructor.
+
+"So, sir!" cried the teacher, "is this the way you seek to become a
+gentleman and officer of your king? You would murder a schoolmate; you
+would force him to a duel! No denial, sir; no explanation. Is this so,
+or not so?"
+
+Once more Napoleon saw that words or remonstrances would be in vain.
+
+"It is so," he replied. "Can we, then, never work out your Corsican
+brutality?" said the teacher. "Go, sir! you are to be imprisoned until
+fitting sentence for your crime can be considered."
+
+And once again poor Napoleon went into the school lock-up, while
+Bouquet, who was the most at fault, went free.
+
+There was almost a rebellion in school over the imprisonment of the
+successful general who had so bravely fought the battles of the
+snow-fort.
+
+Napoleon passed a day in the lock-up; then he was again summoned before
+the teacher who had thus punished him.
+
+"You are an incorrigible, young Bonaparte," said the teacher.
+"Imprisonment can never cure you. Through it, too, you go free from your
+studies and tasks. I have considered the proper punishment. It is this:
+you are to put on to-day the penitent's woollen gown; you are to kneel
+during dinner-time at the door of the dining-room, where all may see
+your disgrace and take warning therefrom; you are to eat your dinner on
+your knees. Thereafter, in presence of your schoolmates assembled in the
+dining-room, you are to apologize to Mr. Bouquet, and ask pardon from
+me, as representing the school, for thus breaking the laws and acting as
+a bully and a murderer. Go, sir, to your room, and assume the penitent's
+gown."
+
+Napoleon, as I have told you, was a high-spirited boy, and keenly felt
+disgrace. This sentence was as humiliating and mortifying as anything
+that could be put upon him. Rebel at it as he might, he knew that he
+would be forced to do it; and, distressed beyond measure at thought of
+what he must go through, he sought his room, and flung himself on his
+bed in an agony of tears. He actually had what in these days we call a
+fit of hysterics.
+
+While thus "broken up," his room door opened. Supposing that the
+teacher, or one of the monitors, had come to prepare him for the
+dreadful sentence, he refused to move.
+
+Then a voice, that certainly was not the one he expected, called to him.
+He raised a flushed and tearful face from the bed, and met the inquiring
+eyes of his father's old friend, and the "protector" of the Bonaparte
+family, General Marbeuf, formerly the French commander in Corsica.
+
+"Why, Napoleon, boy! what does all this mean?" inquired the general.
+"Have you been in mischief? What is the trouble?"
+
+The visit came as a climax to a most exciting event. In it Napoleon saw
+escape from the disgrace he so feared, and the injustice against which
+he so rebelled. With a joyful shout he flung himself impulsively at his
+friend's feet, clasped his knees, and begged for his protection. The
+boy, you see, was still unnerved and over-wrought, and was not as cool
+or self-possessed as usual.
+
+Gradually, however, he calmed down, and told General Marbeuf the whole
+story.
+
+The general was indignant at the sentence. But he laughed heartily at
+the idea of this fourteen-year-old boy challenging another to a duel.
+
+"Why, what a fire-eater it is!" he cried. "But you had provocation,
+boy. This Bouquet is a sneak, and your teacher is a tyrant. But we will
+change it all; see, now! I will seek out the principal. I will explain
+it all. He shall see it rightly, and you shall not be thus disgraced.
+No, sir! not if I, General Marbeuf, intrench myself alone with you
+behind what is left of your slushy snow-fort yonder, and fight all
+Brienne school in your behalf--teachers and all. So cheer up, lad! we
+will make it right."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
+
+RECOMMENDED FOR PROMOTION.
+
+General Marbeuf did make it all right. Bouquet was called to account;
+the teacher who had so often made it unpleasant for Napoleon was sharply
+reprimanded; and the principal, having his attention drawn to the
+persistent persecution of this boy from Corsica, consented to his
+release from imprisonment, while sternly lecturing him on the sin of
+duelling.
+
+The general also chimed in with the principal's lecture; although I am
+afraid, being a soldier, he was more in sympathy with Napoleon than he
+should have been.
+
+"A bad business this duelling, my son," he said, "a bad business--though
+I must say this rascal Bouquet deserved a good beating for his
+insolence. But a beating is hardly the thing between gentlemen."
+
+"And you have fought a duel, my General?" inquired Napoleon. "Have I?
+why, scores" the bluff soldier admitted.
+
+[Illustration: "_'And you have fought a duel, my General'? inquired
+Napoleon_"]
+
+"Let me see--I have fought one--two--four--why, when I was scarcely more
+than your age, my friend, I"--and then the general suddenly stopped.
+For he saw how his reminiscences would grow into admissions that would
+scarcely be a correction.
+
+So, with a hem and a haw, General Marbeuf wisely changed the subject,
+and began to inquire into the reasons for Napoleon's unpleasant
+experiences at Brienne. He speedily discovered that the cause lay in the
+pocket. As you have already learned from Napoleon's letter to his father
+and his own later reflections, the boy's poverty made him dissatisfied
+with his lot, while his companions, heedless and blundering as boys are
+apt to be in such matters, did not try to smooth over the difference
+between their plenty and this boy's need, but rather increased his
+bitterness by their thoughtless speech and action.
+
+"Brains do not lie in the pocket, Napoleon, boy," he said. "You have as
+much intelligence as any of your fellows, you should not be so touchy
+because you do not happen to have their spending-money. You must learn
+to be more charitable. Do not take offence so easily; remember that
+all boys admire ability, and look kindly on good fellowship in a
+comrade, whether he have much or little in his purse. Learn to be more
+companionable; accept things as they come; and if you are ever hard
+pushed for money,--call on me. I'll see you through."
+
+Any boy will take a lecture with so agreeable an ending, and Napoleon
+did not resent his good friend's advice.
+
+The general also introduced the boy to the great lady who lived in the
+big château near by--the Lady of Brienne. She interested herself in the
+lad's doings, gave him many a "tip," invited him to her home, and, by
+kindly words and motherly deeds, brought the boy out of his nervousness
+and solitude into something more like good manners and gentlemanly ways.
+
+So the school--life at Brienne went on more agreeably as the months
+passed by. Napoleon studied hard. He made good progress in mathematics
+and history, though he disliked the languages, and never wrote a good
+hand. He was always an "old boy" for his years; and, in time, many of
+his teachers became interested in him, and even grew fond of him.
+
+But he always kept his family in mind. He was continually planning how
+he might help his mother, and give his brothers and sisters a chance to
+get an education.
+
+He even treated Joseph as if he himself were the elder, and Joseph the
+younger brother. There is a letter in existence which he wrote to his
+father in 1783, in which he tries to arrange for Joseph's future, as
+that rather heavy boy had decided not to become a priest.
+
+"Joseph," so Napoleon wrote from Brienne to his father, "can come here
+to school. The principal says he can be received here; and Father
+Patrault, the teacher of mathematics, says he will be glad to undertake
+Joseph's instruction, and that, if he will work, we may both of us go
+together for our artillery examination. Never mind me. I can get along.
+But you must do something for Joseph. Good-by, my dear father. I hope
+you will decide to send Joseph here to Brienne, rather than to Metz. It
+will be a pleasure for us to be together; and, as Joseph knows nothing
+of mathematics, if you send him to Metz, he will have to begin with the
+little children; and that, I know, will disgust him. I hope, therefore,
+that before the end of October I shall embrace Joseph."
+
+That is a nice, brotherly letter, is it not? It does not sound like the
+boy who was always ready to quarrel and fight with brother Joseph,
+nor does it seem to be from a sulky, disagreeable boy. This spirit of
+looking out for his family was one of the traits of Napoleon's character
+that was noticeable alike in the boy, the soldier, the commander, and
+the emperor.
+
+Indeed, the very spirit of self-denial in which this letter, an extract
+from which you have just read, was written, was not only characteristic
+of this remarkable man of whose boy-life this story tells, but it led in
+his school-days at Brienne to a change that affected his whole life.
+
+One day there came to the school the Chevalier de Keralio, inspector of
+military schools--a sort of committee man as you would say in America.
+It was the duty of the inspector to look into the record, and arrange
+for the promotions, of "the king's wards," as the boys and girls were
+called who were educated at the expense of the state. He was, in some
+way, attracted to this sober, silent, and sad-eyed little Corsican, and
+inquired into his history. He rather liked the boy's appearance, odd as
+it was. He took quite a fancy to the young Napoleon, talked with him,
+questioned him, and outlined to the teachers at Brienne what he thought
+should be the future course of the lad.
+
+Charles Bonaparte had some thought of placing Napoleon in the naval
+service of France. The boy told Inspector Keralio this; but the
+chevalier declared that he intended to recommend the boy for promotion
+to the military school at Paris, and then have him assigned for service
+at Toulon. This was the nearest port to Corsica, and would place
+Napoleon nearer to his much-loved family home.
+
+The teachers objected to this.
+
+"There are other boys in the school much better fitted for such an honor
+than this young Bonaparte," they said.
+
+But the inspector thought otherwise.
+
+"I know boys," he said. "I know what I am doing."
+
+"But he is not ready yet," said the principal. "To do as you advise
+would be to change all the rules set down for promotion."
+
+"Well, what if it does?" replied the inspector.
+
+"But why should you favor this boy and his family? They are Corsicans."
+
+"I do not care anything about his family," the inspector declared. "If I
+put aside the rules in this case, it is not to do the Bonaparte family a
+favor. I do not know them. But I have studied this boy. It is because of
+him that I propose this action. I see a spark in him that cannot be too
+early cultivated. It shall not be extinguished if I can help it. This
+young Bonaparte will make his mark if he has a chance, and I shall give
+him that chance."
+
+So before he left Brienne the inspector wrote this strong recommendation
+of the boy whom he desired to befriend and put forward:--
+
+"Monsieur de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born August 15, 1769. Height,
+four feet, ten inches. Of good constitution, excellent health, mild
+disposition. Has finished the fourth form: is straightforward and
+obliging. His conduct has been most satisfactory. He has been
+distinguished for his application to mathematics; is fairly acquainted
+with history and geography; is weak in all accomplishments,--drawing,
+dancing, music, and the like. This boy would make an excellent sailor.
+He deserves promotion to the school in Paris."
+
+Napoleon had gained a powerful friend. His favor would put the boy well
+forward in his career. He felt quite elated. But, unfortunately for
+the plans proposed, the Inspector de Keralio died suddenly, before his
+recommendation could he acted upon; and with so many other applications
+that were backed up by influence, for boys with better opportunities,
+Napoleon's desired assignment to the naval service did not receive
+action by the government, and he was passed by in favor of less able but
+better befriended boys.
+
+So, when the examination--days came, the new Inspector, who came in
+place of the lad's friend Chevalier de Keralio, decided that young
+Napoleon Bonaparte was fitted for the artillery service; and at the age
+of fifteen the boy left the school at Brienne, and was ordered to enter
+upon a higher course of study at the military school at Paris. Nothing
+more was said about preparing him for the naval service, for which
+Inspector de Keralio had recommended him. And in the certificate
+which he carried from Brienne to Paris, Napoleon was described as a
+"masterful, impetuous and headstrong boy." Evidently the opinion of
+Napoleon's teachers was adopted, rather than the prophetic report of his
+dead friend, Inspector de Keralio.
+
+In after-years Napoleon forgot all the worries and troubles of his
+school-days at Brienne, and remembered only the pleasant times there.
+
+Once, when he was a man, he heard some bells chiming musically. He
+stopped, listened, and said to his old schoolmate, whom he had made his
+secretary,--
+
+"Ah, Bourrienne! that reminds me of my first years at Brienne; we were
+happy there, were we not?"
+
+To the chaplain who had prepared him for that most important occasion in
+the lives of all French children, his first communion, and who had taken
+a fatherly interest in him, Napoleon, when powerful and great, wrote:
+"I can never forget that to your virtuous example and wise lessons I am
+indebted for the great fortune that has come to me. Without religion, no
+happiness, no future, is possible. My dear friend, remember me in your
+prayers."
+
+Even his old adversary, Bouquet, whose mean ways had brought Napoleon
+into so many scrapes, was not forgotten. Bouquet was a bad fellow. Years
+after, he was caught doing some great mischief; and Napoleon, as his
+superior officer, would have been obliged to punish him. But when he
+heard that Bouquet had escaped from prison, he really felt relieved.
+
+"Bouquet was my old schoolfellow at Brienne," he said. "I am glad I did
+not have to punish him."
+
+Whenever he had the chance, after he had risen to honor and power, he
+would do his old schoolmates and teachers at Brienne school a service.
+Bourrienne and Lauriston were both advanced and honored. To one teacher
+he gave the post of palace librarian; another was appointed the head of
+the School of Fine Arts; Father Patrault, who had been his friend and
+had taught him mathematics, was made one of his secretaries; other
+teachers he helped with pensions or positions; and even the porter of
+the school was made porter of one of the palaces when Napoleon became an
+emperor.
+
+At last, as I have told you, when the opportunity came, Napoleon said
+good-by to Brienne school. He left before his time was up, in order to
+give his younger brother, Lucien, the chance for a scholarship in
+the school; he put aside with regret, but without complaining, the
+wished-for assignment to the naval service. He decided to become an
+artillery officer; and on October 17, in the year 1784, he started for
+Paris to enter upon his "king's scholarship" in the military school. He
+had been a schoolboy at Brienne five years and a half. He was now a boy
+of fifteen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
+
+NAPOLEON GOES TO PARIS.
+
+Some boys at fifteen are older than other boys at fifteen. Napoleon, as
+I have told you, was always an "old boy." So when, on that October day
+in 1784, he arrived at the capital to enter upon the king's scholarship
+which he had received, he was no longer a child, even though under-sized
+and somewhat "spindling."
+
+Here, however, as at Autun and Brienne, his appearance was against him,
+and created an unfavorable impression.
+
+As he got out of the Brienne coach, he ran almost into the arms of one
+of the boys he had known at Corsica--young Demetrius Compeno.
+
+"What, Demetrius! you here?" he cried, a smile of pleasure at sight of a
+familiar face lighting up his sallow features.
+
+"And why not, young Bonaparte," Demetrius laughed back in reply. "You
+did not suppose I was going to let you fall right into the lion's mouth,
+undefended. Why, you are so fresh and green looking, the beast would
+take you for Corsican grass, and eat you at once."
+
+Although Napoleon was inclined to resent this pleasantry, he was too
+delighted to meet an old friend to say much. And, the truth is, the
+great city did surprise him. For, even though he had been five years
+at Brienne school, he was still a country boy, and walked the streets
+gaping and staring at everything he saw, like a boy at his first circus.
+
+"Why, boy! if I were not with you," said Demetrius, with the superior
+air of the boy who knows city ways, "I don't know what snare you would
+not fall into. While you were staring at the City Hall, or the Soldier's
+Home, or that big statue of King Henry on the bridge, one of those
+street-boys who is laughing at you yonder would have picked your
+pockets, snatched your satchel, or perhaps (who knows?) cut your throat.
+Oh, yes! they do such things in Paris. You must learn to look out for
+yourself here."
+
+"I think I am big enough for that," cried Napoleon.
+
+"You big! why, you are but a child, young Bonaparte!" Demetrius
+exclaimed. "But we'll make a man of you at the Paris school."
+
+The boys at the Paris Military School--the West Point of France in those
+days--proceeded at once to try to "make a man" of Napoleon in the same
+way that all boys seem ever ready to do; as, indeed, the boys at Autun
+and Brienne had done--by poking fun at the new cadet, mimicking
+his manners, ridiculing his appearance, and making life generally
+unpleasant.
+
+But Napoleon had learned one thing by his bitter experiences at the
+other schools he had attended,--he had learned to control his temper,
+and take things as they came, with less of revenge and sullenness.
+The kindly criticism of his friends, General Marbeuf and Inspector de
+Keralio, had left their effect upon him; and besides the companionship
+of his fellow-countryman, Demetrius Comneno, he had the good fortune to
+make his first really boy-friend in his roommate at the military school.
+This was young Alexander des Mazes, a fine lad of his own age, "a noble
+by birth and nature," who conceived a liking for Napoleon at once, and
+was his friend for many years.
+
+In Paris, too, he had the advantage of the friendship of a fine Corsican
+family,--the Permous, relatives of Demetrius, and old acquaintances of
+the Bonaparte family. His sister Eliza was also at school at the girls'
+academy of St. Cyr; and Napoleon visited her frequently, and talked over
+home matters and other mutual interests. For Napoleon had long since
+forgiven and forgotten the trouble into which Eliza had once plunged him
+because of her love for the fruit of their uncle, the canon; and the
+brother and sister could now laugh over that childish experience, while
+Eliza dearly loved Napoleon, in spite of her selfishness, and even
+because of his so uncomplainingly bearing her punishment.
+
+Napoleon, though "an odd child," as people called him, was wide awake
+and critical. He observed everything, and thought much. He was not long
+in noticing one thing: that was, the recklessness, the extravagance, and
+the indifference of the boys who were being educated at the king's
+expense in the king's military school.
+
+Most of these boys were of high birth, accustomed to having their own
+way, and with extravagant tastes and notions. Napoleon spoke of this
+frequently to the friends he made; but both Demetrius and Alexander
+laughed at him, and said, "Well, what of it? Would you have us all digs
+and hermits--like you? Here is the chance to have a good time, to live
+high, and to let the king pay for it--the king or our fathers. Why
+shouldn't we do as we please?"
+
+"But, Demetrius!" Napoleon protested, "that is not the way to make
+soldiers. Do you think those fellows will be good officers, if they
+never know what it is to deny themselves, or to do the work that is
+their duty, but which they leave for servants to do?" For Napoleon, you
+see, had many of the saving ways of his practical mother, and rebelled
+at the unconcern of these luxury-loving and careless boys, who were
+supposed to be learning the discipline of soldiers in their Paris
+school.
+
+Demetrius only snapped his fingers, as Alexander shrugged his shoulders,
+in contempt of what they considered Napoleon's countrified way.
+
+But all this show of pomp and luxury really troubled this boy, who had
+long before learned the value of money and the need of self-denial.
+Indeed, it worried him so much that one day he sat down and wrote a
+letter which he intended to send as a protest to the minister of war,
+actually lecturing that high and mighty officer, and "giving him points"
+on the proper way to educate boys in the French military schools.
+
+Fortunately for him, he sent the letter first to his old instructor, the
+principal of the Brienne school. And the instructor--even though he,
+perhaps, agreed with this boy-critic--saw how foolish and hurtful for
+Napoleon's interest it would be to send such a surprising letter; and
+he promptly suppressed it. But the letter still exists; and a curious
+epistle it is for a fifteen-year-old boy to write. Here is a part of it:
+
+"The king's scholars," so Napoleon wrote to the minister, "could only
+learn in this school, in place of qualities of the heart, feelings of
+vanity and self-satisfaction to such an extent, that, on returning to
+their own homes, they would be far from sharing gladly in the simple
+comfort of their families, and would perhaps blush for their fathers
+and mothers, and despise their modest country surroundings. Instead of
+maintaining a large staff of servants for these pupils, and giving them
+every day meals of several courses, and keeping up an expensive stable
+full of horses and grooms, would it not be better, Mr. Minister--of
+course without interrupting their studies--to compel them to look after
+their own wants themselves? That is to say, without compelling them
+to really do their own cooking, would it not be wise to have them eat
+soldiers' bread or something no better, to accustom them to beat and
+brush their own clothes, to clean their own boots and shoes, and
+do other things equally useful and self-helpful? If they were thus
+accustomed to a sober life, and to be particular about their appearance,
+they would become healthier and stronger; they could support with
+courage the hardships of war, and inspire with respect and blind
+devotion the soldiers who would have to serve under their orders." How
+do you think the grand minister of war would have felt to get such a
+lecturing on discipline from a boy at school? and what do you imagine
+the boys would have done had they heard that one of their schoolmates
+had written a letter, suggesting that they be deprived of their
+pleasures and pamperings? It was lucky for young Napoleon that the
+principal at Brienne got hold of the letter before it was forwarded to
+the war minister.
+
+But then, as you have heard before, Napoleon was an odd boy. He thought
+so himself when he grew to be a man, and he laughed at the recollection
+of his manners. He laid it all, however, to the responsibility he had
+felt, even from the day when he was a little fellow, because of the
+needs of his hard-pushed family in Corsica. "All these cares," he once
+said, looking back over his boy-life, "spoiled my early years; they
+influenced my temper, and made me grave before my time."
+
+Even if he did not send that critical and most unwise letter for a boy
+of his standing, the insight he gained into the expensive ways of the
+pupils at the military school had its effect upon him; and the very
+criticisms of that remarkable letter were used for their original
+purpose when Napoleon came to authority and power. For, when he was
+emperor of France, he gave to the minister who had the military
+schools in charge this order: "No pupil is to cost the state more than
+twenty-five cents a day. These pupils are sons either of soldiers or
+of working-men; it is absolutely contrary to my intention to give them
+habits of life which can only be hurtful to them."
+
+If Napoleon was so critical as to the ways and style of his schoolmates,
+he certainly set the lesson in economy for himself that he suggested for
+them.
+
+To be sure, he had no money to waste or to spend; but he might have been
+hail-fellow with the other boys, and joined in their luxuries, had he
+but been willing to borrow, as did the rest of them. But Napoleon
+had always a horror of debt. He had acquired this from his mother's
+teachings and his father's spendthrift ways. Even as a boy, however,
+his will was so strong, his power of self-denial was so great, that
+he continued in what he considered the path of duty, unmindful of
+the boyish charges of "mean fellow" and "pauper" that the spoiled
+spendthrifts of the school had no hesitation in casting at him.
+
+At last, however, these culminated almost in an open row; and Napoleon
+found himself called upon either to explain his position, or become both
+unpopular and an "outcast" because of what his schoolmates considered
+his stinginess and parsimony.
+
+It was this way--But I had better tell you the story in a new chapter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
+
+A TROUBLE OVER POCKET MONEY.
+
+It was the twelfth of June in the year 1785 that a group of scholars was
+standing, during the recess hour, in a corner of the military school of
+Paris.
+
+They were all boys; but they assumed the manners and gave themselves the
+airs of princes of the blood.
+
+"Gentlemen," said one who seemed to be most prominent in the group, "I
+have called you together on a most important matter. Tomorrow is old
+Bauer's birthday. I propose that, as is our custom, we take some notice
+of it. What do you say to giving him a little supper, in the name of the
+school?"
+
+"A good idea; a capital idea, d'Hebonville!" exclaimed most of the boys,
+in ready acquiescence.
+
+"A gluttonous idea, I call it; and an expensive one," said one upon the
+outer edge of the circle, in a sharply critical tone. "Ah. our little
+joker has a word to say," exclaimed one of the boys sarcastically,
+drawing back, and pushing the speaker to the front; "hear him."
+
+"Oh, now, Napoleon! don't object," young Alexander des Mazes said. "Did
+you not hear why d'Hebonville proposed the supper? It is to honor the
+German teacher's birthday."
+
+"Oh, he heard it fast enough, des Mazes," rejoined d'Hebonville. "That
+is what makes him so cross."
+
+"Why do you say that?" Napoleon demanded.
+
+"You do not like the plan because it is to honor old Bauer; for you do
+not like him," d'Hebonville replied. "If, now, it were a supper to the
+history teacher, you would agree, I am sure. For de l'Equille praises
+you on 'the profundity of your reflections and the sagacity of your
+judgment.' Oh, I've read his notes; or you would agree if it were
+Domaisen, the rhetoric teacher, who is much impressed--those are
+his very words, are they not, gentlemen?--with 'your powers of
+generalization, which' he says, are even 'as granite heated at a
+volcano.' But as it is only dear old Bauer"--and d'Hebonville shrugged
+his shoulders significantly. "Well, and what about 'dear old Bauer,' as
+you call him?" cried Napoleon; "finish, sir; finish, I say."
+
+"I will tell you what Father Bauer says of you, Napoleon," said des
+Mazes laughingly, as he laid his arm familiarly about Napoleon's neck;
+"he says he does not think much of you, because you make no progress in
+your German; and as old Bauer thinks the world moves only for Germans,
+he has nothing good to say of one who makes no mark in his dear
+language. 'Ach!' says old Bauer, 'your Napoleon Bonaparte will never be
+anything but a fool. He knows no German.'"
+
+The boys laughed loudly at des Mazes's mimicry of the German teacher's
+manner and speech. But Napoleon smiled with the air of one who felt
+himself superior to the teacher of German.
+
+"Now, I should say," said Philip Mabille, "that here is the very reason
+why Napoleon should not refuse to join us. It will be--what are the
+words?--'heaping coals of fire' on old Bauer's head."
+
+"That might be so," Napoleon agreed, in a better humor. "But why give
+him a feast? Let us--I'll tell you--let us give him a spectacle. A
+battle, perhaps."
+
+"In which you should be a general, I suppose, as you were in that
+snow--ball fight at Brienne, of which we have heard once or twice," said
+d'Hebonville sarcastically.
+
+"And why not?" asked Napoleon haughtily.
+
+"Or the death of Caesar, like the tableaux we arranged at Brienne,"
+suggested Demetrius Comneno enthusiastically.
+
+"In which your great Napoleon played Brutus, I suppose," said
+d'Hebonville. "No, no; the birthday of old Bauer is not a solemn
+occasion to demand a battle or a spectacle; something much more simple
+will do for a professor of German. Let us make it a good collation.
+There are fifteen of us in his class. If each one of us contributes five
+dollars, we could get up quite a feast."
+
+"Oh, see here, d'Hebonville!" cried Mabille; "think a little. Five
+dollars is a good deal for some of us. Not all of the fifteen can
+afford so much. I don't believe I could; nor you, Napoleon, could you?"
+Napoleon's face grew sober, but he said nothing.
+
+"Oh, well! let only those pay then who can," said d'Hebonville.
+
+"Who, then, will take part in your feast?" demanded Napoleon.
+
+"Why, all of us, of course," replied d'Hebonville.
+
+"At the feast, or in giving the money," queried Mabille.
+
+"At the feast, to be sure," d'Hebonville answered.
+
+"Come, now; we should have no feeling in this matter," cried des Mazes.
+"We will decide for you, Mabille."
+
+"Old Bauer must not dream that there are any of his class who do not
+share in the matter," said Comneno. "That would be showing a preference,
+and a preference is never fair."
+
+"And do you wish, then," said Mabille, "that old Bauer should be under
+obligation to me, for example, who can pay little or nothing toward the
+feast?"
+
+"Certainly; to you as much as to the richest among us," said
+d'Hebonville.
+
+"Bah!" cried Napoleon. "That would imply a sentiment of gratitude toward
+my masters; and I, for one, have none to this Professor Bauer."
+
+"Some one to see Napoleon Bonaparte," said a porter of the school,
+appearing at the door of the schoolroom. "He waits in the parlor."
+
+Without a word Napoleon left his school-fellows; but they looked after
+him with faces expressive of disapproval or disappointment.
+
+The disagreeable impression produced by the discussion in which he had
+been taking part still remained with Napoleon as he entered the parlor
+to meet his visitor. It was the friend of his family, Monsieur de
+Permon.
+
+Napoleon, indeed, was scarce able to greet his visitor pleasantly. But
+Monsieur de Permon, without appearing to notice the boy's ill-humor,
+greeted him pleasantly, and said,--
+
+"Madame de Permon and I are on our way to the Academy of St. Cyr, to see
+your sister Eliza. Would you not like to go with us, Napoleon? I have
+permission for you to be absent"
+
+Napoleon brightened at this invitation, and gladly accepted it. The two
+proceeded to the carriage, in which Madame Permon was awaiting them; and
+the three were soon on the road to the school of St. Cyr, in which, as I
+have told you, Eliza Bonaparte was a scholar.
+
+They were ushered into the parlor, and Eliza was summoned. She soon
+appeared; but she entered the room slowly and disconsolately; her eyes
+were red with crying. Eliza was evidently in trouble.
+
+"Why, Eliza, my dear child, what is the matter?" Madame Permon
+exclaimed, drawing the girl toward her. "You have been crying. Have they
+been scolding you here?"
+
+"No, madame," Eliza replied in a low tone.
+
+"Are you afraid they may? Have you trouble with your lessons?" persisted
+Madame Permon.
+
+With the same dejected air, Eliza answered as before, "No, madame."
+
+"But what, then, is the matter, my dear?" cried Madame Permon; "such red
+eyes mean much crying."
+
+Eliza was silent.
+
+"Come, Eliza!" Napoleon demanded with an elder brother's authority;
+"speak! answer Madame here What is the matter?"
+
+But even to her brother, Eliza made no reply.
+
+[Illustration: _"'Come, Eliza! What is the matter?' demanded
+Napoleon."_]
+
+Then Madame Permon, as tenderly as if she had been the girl's mother,
+led her aside; and finding a remote seat in a corner, she drew the child
+into her lap.
+
+"Eliza," she said with gracious kindliness, "I must know why you are in
+sorrow. Think of me as your mother, dear; as one who must act in her
+place until you return to her. Speak to me as to your mother. Let me
+have your love and confidence. Tell me, my child, what troubles you."
+
+The tender solicitude of her mother's friend quite vanquished Eliza's
+stubbornness. Her tears burst out afresh; and between the sobs she
+stammered,--
+
+"You know, Madame, that Lucie de Montluc leaves the school in eight
+days."
+
+"I did not know it, Eliza," Madame Permon said, keeping back a smile;
+"but if that so overcomes you, then am I sorry too."
+
+"Oh, no, Madame'" Eliza said, just a bit indignant at being
+misunderstood; "it is not her leaving that makes me cry; but, you see,
+on the day she goes away her class will give her a good--by supper."
+
+"What! and you are not invited?" exclaimed Madame Permon. "Ah, that is
+the trouble, Madame," cried Eliza, the tears gathering again. "I am
+invited."
+
+"And yet you cry?"
+
+"It is because each girl is to contribute towards the supper; and I,
+Madame, can give nothing. My allowance is gone."
+
+"So!" Madame Permon whispered, glad to have at last reached the real
+cause of the trouble, "that is the matter. And you have nothing left?"
+
+"Only a dollar, Madame," replied Eliza. "But if I give that, I shall
+have no more money; and my allowance does not come to me for six weeks.
+Indeed, what I have is not enough for my needs until the six weeks are
+over. Am I not miserable?"
+
+Napoleon, who had gradually drawn nearer the corner, thrust his hand
+into his pocket as he heard Eliza's complaint. But he drew it out as
+quickly. His pocket was empty. Mortified and angry, he stamped his foot
+in despair. But no one noticed this pantomime.
+
+"How much, my dear, is necessary to quiet this great sorrow?" Madame
+Permon asked of Eliza with a smile. Eliza looked into her good friend's
+eyes.
+
+"Oh, Madame! it is an immense sum," she replied,
+
+"Let me know the worst," Madame Permon said, with affected distress.
+"How much is it?"
+
+"Two dollars!" confessed Eliza in despair.
+
+"Two dollars!" exclaimed Madame Permon; "what extravagant ladies we are
+at St. Cyr!" Then she hugged Eliza to her; and, as she did so, she slyly
+slipped a five-dollar piece into the girl's hand. "Hush! take it, and
+say nothing," she said; for, above all, she did not wish her action to
+be seen by Napoleon. For Madame Permon well knew the sensitive pride of
+the Bonaparte children.
+
+Soon after they left the school; and when once they were within the
+carriage Napoleon's ill-humor burst forth, in spite of himself.
+
+"Was ever anything more humiliating?" he cried; "was ever anything more
+unjust? See how it is with that poor child. The rich and poor are
+placed together, and the poor must suffer or be pensioners. Is it not
+abominable, the way these schools of St. Cyr and the Paris military are
+run? Two dollars for a scholars' picnic in a place where no child is
+supposed to have money. It is enormous!"
+
+His friends made no reply to this boyish outburst; but, when the
+military school was reached, Monsieur Permon followed Napoleon into the
+parlor.
+
+"Napoleon," he said, "at your age one is not furious against the world
+unless he has particular reason."
+
+"And are not my sister's tears a reason, sir, when I cannot remedy their
+cause?" Napoleon answered with emotion.
+
+"But when I came here for you," said Monsieur Permon, "you, too,
+appeared angry, as if some trouble had occurred between yourself and
+your schoolfellows."
+
+"I am unfortunate, sir, not to be able to conceal my feelings," said
+Napoleon; "but it does seem as if the boys here delighted in making me
+feel my poverty. They live in an insolent luxury; and whoever cannot
+imitate them,"--here Napoleon dashed a hand to his forehead,--"Oh, it is
+to die of humiliation!"
+
+"At your age, my Napoleon, one submits and blames no one," said Monsieur
+Permon, smiling, in spite of himself, at the boy's desperation.
+
+"At my age' yes, sir," Napoleon rejoined, as if keeping back some
+great thought. "But later--ah, if, some day, I should ever be master!
+However"--and the French shrug that is so eloquent completed the
+sentence.
+
+"However,"--Monsieur Permon took up his words--"while waiting, one may
+now and then find a friend. And you take your part here with the boys,
+do you not?"
+
+Napoleon was silent; and Monsieur Permon, remembering the trouble that
+had weighed Eliza down, concluded also that some such trial might be a
+part of Napoleon's school-life.
+
+"Let me help you, my boy," he said.
+
+At this unexpected proposition Napoleon flushed deeply; then the red
+tinge paled into the sallow one again, and he responded, "I thank you,
+sir, but I do not need it."
+
+"Napoleon," said Monsieur Permon, "your mother is my wife's dearest
+friend; your father has long been my good comrade. Is it right for
+sons to refuse the love of their fathers, or for boys to reject the
+friendships of their elders? Pride is excellent; but even pride may
+sometimes be pernicious. It is pride that sets a barrier between you and
+your companions. Do not permit it. Regard friendship as of more value
+than self-consideration; and, for my sake, let me help you to join in
+these occasions that may mean so much to you in the way of friendship."
+
+Thus deftly did good Monseiur Permon smooth over the bitterness that
+inequality in pocket allowances so often stirs between those who have
+little and those who have much.
+
+Napoleon fixed upon his father's friend one of his piercing looks, and
+taking his proffered money, said:--
+
+"I accept it, sir, as if it came from my father, as you wish me to
+consider it. But if it came as a loan, I could not receive it. My people
+have too many charges already; and I ought not to increase them by
+expenses which, as is often the case here, are put upon me by the folly
+of my schoolfellows."
+
+The Permons proved good friends to the Bonaparte children; and it
+was to their house at Montpellier that, in the spring of 1785, Charles
+Bonaparte was brought to die.
+
+For ill health and misfortune proved too much for this disheartened
+Corsican gentleman; and, before his boys were grown to manhood, he gave
+up his unsuccessful struggle for place and fortune. He had worked hard
+to do his best for his boys and girls; he had done much that the world
+considers unmanly; he had changed and shifted, sought favors from the
+great and rich, and taken service that he neither loved nor approved.
+But he had done all this that his children might be advanced in the
+world; and though he died in debt, leaving his family almost penniless,
+still he had spent himself in their behalf; and his children loved and
+honored his memory, and never forgot the struggles their father had
+made in their behalf. In fact, much of his spirit of family devotion
+descended to his famous son Napoleon, the schoolboy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
+
+LIEUTENANT PUSS-IN-BOOTS.
+
+Napoleon returned to his studies after his father's death, poorer than
+ever in pocket, and greatly distressed over his mother's condition.
+
+For Charles Bonaparte's death had taken away from the family its main
+support. The income of their uncle, the canon, was hardly sufficient
+for the family's needs. Joseph gave up his endeavors, and returned
+to Corsica to help his mother. But Napoleon remained at the military
+school; for his future depended upon his completing his studies, and
+securing a position in the army.
+
+How much the boy had his mother in his thoughts, you may judge from this
+letter which he wrote her a month after his father's death:
+
+MY DEAR MOTHER,--Now that time has begun to soften the first transports
+of my sorrow. I hasten to express to you the gratitude I feel for all
+the kindness you have always displayed toward us. Console yourself, dear
+mother, circumstances require that you should. We will redouble our care
+and our gratitude, happy if, by our obedience, we can make up to you in
+the smallest degree for the inestimable loss of a cherished husband I
+finish, dear mother,--my grief compels it--by praying you to calm yours.
+My health is perfect, and my daily prayer is that Heaven may grant you
+the same. Convey my respects to my Aunt Gertrude, to Nurse Saveria, and
+to my Aunt Fesch.
+
+Your very humble and affectionate son,
+
+NAPOLEON.
+
+
+At the same time he wrote to his kind old uncle, the Canon Lucien,
+saying: "It would be useless to tell you how deeply I have felt the blow
+that has just fallen upon us. We have lost a father; and God alone knows
+what a father, and what were his attachment and devotion to us. Alas!
+everything taught us to look to him as the support of our youth. But the
+will of God is unalterable. He alone can console us."
+
+These letters from a boy of sixteen would scarcely give one the idea
+that Napoleon was the selfish and sullen youth that his enemies are
+forever picturing; they rather show him as he was,--quiet, reserved,
+reticent, but with a heart that could feel for others, and a sympathy
+that strove to lessen, for the mother he loved, the burden of sorrow and
+of loss.
+
+That the death of his father, and the "hard times" that came upon the
+Bonapartes through the loss of their chief bread-winner, did sober the
+boy Napoleon, and made him even more retiring and reserved, there is no
+doubt. His old friend, General Marbeuf, was no longer in condition to
+help him; and, indeed, Napoleon's pride would not permit him to receive
+aid from friends, even when it was forced upon him.
+
+"I am too poor to run into debt," he declared.
+
+So he became again a hermit, as in the early days at Brienne school. He
+applied himself to his studies, read much, and longed for the day when
+he should be transferred from the school to the army.
+
+The day came sooner than even he expected. He had scarcely been a
+year at the Paris school when he was ordered to appear for his final
+examination. Whether it was because his teachers pitied his poverty, and
+wished him to have a chance for himself, or whether because, as some
+would have us believe, they wished to be rid of a scholar who criticised
+their methods, and was fault-finding, unsocial, and "exasperating," it
+is at least certain that the boy took his examinations, and passed them
+satisfactorily, standing number forty in a class of fifty-eight.
+
+"You are a lucky boy, my Napoleon," said his roommate, Alexander des
+Mazes; "see! you are ahead of me. I am number fifty-six; pretty near to
+the foot that, eh?"
+
+"Near enough, Alexander," Napoleon replied; "but I love you fifty-six
+times better than any of the other boys; and what would you have, my
+friend? Are not we two of the six selected for the artillery? That is
+some compensation. Now let us apply for an appointment in the same
+regiment."
+
+They did so, and secured each a lieutenancy in an artillery regiment.
+This, however, was not hard to secure; for the artillery service was
+considered the hardest in the army; and the lazy young nobles and
+gentlemen of the Paris military school had no desire for real work.
+
+The certificate given to Napoleon upon his graduation read thus:--"This
+young man is reserved and studious, he prefers study to any amusement,
+and enjoys reading the best authors, applies himself earnestly to the
+abstract sciences, cares little for anything else. He is silent, and
+loves solitude. He is capricious, haughty, and excessively egotisical,
+talks little, but is quick and energetic in his replies, prompt and
+severe in his repartees, has great pride and ambition, aspiring to any
+thing. The young man is worthy of patronage."
+
+And upon the margin of the report one of the examining officers wrote this
+extra indorsement--
+
+"A Corsican by character and by birth. If favored by circumstances, this
+young man will rise high."
+
+Napoleon's school-life was over. On the first of September, 1785, he
+received the papers appointing him second-lieutenant in the artillery
+regiment, named La Fère (or "the sword"), and was ordered to report at
+the garrison at Valence. His room-mate and friend, Alexander des Mazes,
+was appointed to the same regiment.
+
+It was a proud day for the boy of sixteen. At last his school-life was
+at an end. He was to go into the world as a man and a soldier.
+
+I am afraid he did not look very much like a man, even if he felt that
+he was one. But he put on his uniform of lieutenant, and in high spirits
+set off to visit his friends, the Permons.
+
+They lived in a house on one of the river streets--Monsieur and Madame
+Permon, and their two daughters, Cecilia and Laura.
+
+Now, both these daughters were little girls, and as ready to see the
+funny side of things as little girls usually are.
+
+So when Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte, aged sixteen, came into the room,
+proud of his new uniform, and feeling that he looked very smart, Laura
+glanced at Cecilia, and Cecilia smiled at Laura, and then both girls
+began to laugh.
+
+Madam Permon glanced at them reprovingly, while welcoming the young
+lieutenant with pleasant words.
+
+But the boy felt that the girls were laughing at him, and he turned to
+look at himself in the mirror to see what was wrong.
+
+Nothing was wrong. It was simply Napoleon; but Napoleon just then
+was not a handsome boy. Longhaired, large-headed, sallow-faced,
+stiff-stocked, and feeling very new in his new uniform (which could not
+be very gorgeous, however, because the boy's pocket would not admit of
+any extras in the way of adornment on decoration), he was, I expect,
+rather a pinched-looking, queer-looking boy; and, moreover, his boots
+were so big, and his legs were so thin, that the legs appeared lost in
+the boots.
+
+As he glanced at himself in the mirror, the girls giggled again, and
+their mother said,--
+
+"Silly ones, why do you laugh? Is our new uniform so marvellous a change
+that you do not recognize Lieutenant Bonaparte?"
+
+"Lieutenant Bonaparte, mamma!" cried fun-loving Laura. "No, no! not
+that. See! is not Napoleon for all the world like--like Lieutenant
+Puss-in-Boots?"
+
+Whereupon they laughed yet more merrily, and Napoleon laughed with them.
+
+"My boots are big, indeed," he said; "too big, perhaps; but I hope to
+grow into them. How was it with Puss-in-Boots, girls? He filled his well
+at last, did he not? You will be sorry you laughed at me, some day, when
+I march into your house, a big, fat general. Come, let us go and see
+Eliza. They may go with me, eh, Madame?"
+
+"Yes; go with the lieutenant, children," said Madame Permon.
+
+[Illustration: _"Like--like Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots!"_]
+
+So they all went to call on Eliza, at the school of St. Cyr, and you may
+be sure that she admired her brother, the new lieutenant, boots and all.
+And as they came home, Napoleon took the little girls into a toy-store,
+and bought for them a toy-carriage, in which he placed a doll dressed as
+Puss-in-boots.
+
+"It is the carriage of the Marquis of Carabas, my children," he said, as
+they went to the Permons' house by the river. "And when I am at Valence,
+you will look at this, and think again of your friend, Lieutenant
+Puss-in-Boots."
+
+But between the date of his commission and his orders to join his
+regiment at Valence a whole month passed, in which time Napoleon's funds
+ran very low. Indeed, he was so completely penniless, that, when the
+orders did come, Napoleon had nothing; and his friend Alexander had just
+enough to get them both to Lyons.
+
+"What shall we do? I have nothing left, Napoleon," said Alexander; "and
+Valence is still miles away."
+
+"We can walk, Alexander," said Napoleon.
+
+"But one must eat, my friend," Alexander replied ruefully. For boys of
+sixteen have good appetites, and do not like to go hungry.
+
+"True, one must eat," said Napoleon. "Ah, I have it! We will call upon
+Monsieur Barlet." Now, Monsieur Barlet was a friend of the Bonapartes,
+and had once lived in Corsica. So both boys hunted him up, and Napoleon
+told their story.
+
+"Well, my valiant soldiers of the king," laughed Monsieur Barlet, "what
+is the best way out? Come; fall back on your training at the military
+school. What line of conduct, my Napoleon, would you adopt, if you were
+besieged in a fortress and were destitute of provisions?"
+
+"My faith, sir," answered Napoleon promptly, "so long as there were any
+provisions in the enemy's camp I would never go hungry."
+
+Monsieur Barlet laughed heartily.
+
+"By which you mean," he said, "that I am the enemy's camp, and you
+propose to forage on me for provisions, eh? Good, very good, that! See,
+then, I surrender. Accept, most noble warriors, a tribute from the
+enemy."
+
+And with that he gave the boys a little money, and a letter of
+introduction to his friend at Valence, the Abbe (or Reverend) Saint
+Raff.
+
+But Lyons is a pleasant city, where there is much to see and plenty
+to do. So, when the boys left Lyons, they had spent most of Monsieur
+Barlet's "tip"; and, to keep the balance for future use, they fell
+back on their original intention, and walked all the way from Lyons to
+Valence.
+
+Thus it was that Napoleon joined his regiment; and on the fifth of
+November 1785, he and Alexander, foot-sore, but full of boyish spirits,
+entered the old garrison-town of Valence in Southern France, and were
+warmly welcomed by Alexander's older brother, Captain Gabriel des Mazes,
+of the La Fère regiment, who at once took the boys in charge, and
+introduced them to their new life as soldiers of the garrison of
+Valence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
+
+DARK DAYS.
+
+It does not take boys and girls long to find out that realization is not
+always equal to anticipation. Especially is this so with thoughtful,
+sober-minded boys like the young Napoleon.
+
+At first, on his arrival at Valence, as lieutenant in his regiment, he
+set out to have a good time.
+
+He took lodging with an old maid who let out rooms to young officers,
+in a house on Grand Street, in the town of Valence. Her name was
+Mademoiselle Bon. She kept a restaurant and billiard--room; and
+Napoleon's room was on the first floor, fronting the street, and next to
+the noisy billiard--room. This was not a particularly favorable place
+for a boy to pursue his studies; and at first Napoleon seem disposed to
+make the most of what boys would call his "freedom." He went to balls
+and parties; became a "great talker;" took dancing lessons of Professor
+Dautre, and tried to become what is called a "society man."
+
+But it suited neither his tastes nor his desires, and made a large hole
+in his small pay as lieutenant. Indeed, after paying for his board and
+lodging, he had left only about seven dollars a month to spend for
+clothes and "fun." So he soon tired of this attempt to keep up
+appearances on a little money. He took to his books again, studying
+philosophy, geography, history, and mathematics. He thought he might
+make a living by his pen, and concluded to become an author. So he began
+writing a history of his native island--Corsica.
+
+He even tried a novel, but boys of seventeen are not very well fitted
+for real literary work, and his first attempts were but poor affairs.
+His reading in history and geography drew his attention to Asia; and he
+always had a boyish dream of what he should like to attempt and achieve
+in the half-fabled land of India, where he believed great success and
+vast riches were to be secured by an ambitious young man, who had
+knowledge of military affairs, and the taste for leadership. At last he
+was ordered away on active service; first to suppress what was known as
+the "Two-cent Rebellion" in Lyons, and after that to the town of Douay
+in Belgium.
+
+If was while there that bad news came to him from Corsica. His family
+was again in trouble. His mother had tried silkworm raising, and failed;
+his uncle the canon was very sick; his good friend and the patron of the
+family, General Marbeuf, was dead; his brothers were unsuccessful in
+getting positions or employment; and something must be done to help
+matters in the big bare house in Ajaccio.
+
+Worried over the news, Napoleon tried to get leave of absence, so as to
+go to Corsica and see what he could do. But this favor was not granted
+him. His anxiety made him low-spirited; this brought on an attack of
+fever. The leave of absence was granted him because he was sick; and
+early in 1787 he went home to Corsica.
+
+He had been absent from home for eight years. At once he tried to set
+matters on a better footing. He fixed up the little house at Melilli,
+which had belonged to his mother's father; tried to help his mother in
+her attempts at mulberry-growing for the silkworms; saw that his brother
+Joseph was enabled to go into the oil-trade; brightened up his uncle the
+canon with his political discussions and a correspondence with a famous
+French physician as to the cure for his uncle's gout; and finally, being
+recalled to his regiment, went back to Paris, and joined his regiment at
+Auxonne.
+
+While in garrison at this place, he lodged with Professor Lombard, a
+teacher of mathematics, whom he sometimes assisted in his classes. He
+worked hard, kept out of debt, ate little, and was "poor, but proud." He
+gained the esteem of his superiors; for in a letter to Joey Fesch, who
+was now a priest, he wrote:
+
+  "The general here thinks very well of me; so much so, that he has
+  ordered me to construct a polygon,--works for which great calculations
+  are necessary,--and I am hard at work at the head of two hundred men.
+  This unheard-of mark of favor has somewhat irritated the captains
+  against me; they declare it is insulting to them that a lieutenant
+  should be intrusted with so important a work, and that, when more than
+  thirty men are employed, one of them should not have been sent out
+  also. My comrades also have shown some jealousy, but it will pass.
+  What troubles me is my health, which does not seem to me very good."
+
+Indeed, it was not very good. He was just at the age when a young fellow
+needs all the good food, healthful exercise, and restful sleep that are
+possible; and these Napoleon did not permit himself. The doctor of his
+regiment told him he must take better care of himself; but that he did
+not, we know from this scrap from a letter to his mother:--
+
+"I have no resources but work. I dress but once in eight days, for the
+Sunday parade. I sleep but little since my illness; it is incredible. I
+go to bed at ten o'clock, and get up at four in the morning. I take but
+one meal a day, at three o'clock. But that is good for my health."
+
+The boy probably added that last line to keep his mother from feeling
+anxious. But it was not true. Such a life for a growing boy is very
+bad for his health. Again Napoleon fell ill, obtained six months' sick
+leave, and went again to Corsica. This visit was a much longer one than
+the first. In fact, he overstayed his leave; got into trouble with the
+authorities because of this; smoothed it over; regained his health;
+wrote and worked; mixed himself up in Corsican politics; became a fiery
+young advocate of liberty; and at last, after a year's absence from
+France, returned to join his regiment at Auxonne, taking with him his
+young brother, Louis, whom he had agreed to support and educate.
+
+It was quite a burden for this young man of twenty to assume. But
+Napoleon undertook it cheerfully, he was glad to be able to do anything
+that should lighten his mother's burdens.
+
+The brothers did not have a particularly pleasant home at Auxonne. They
+lived in a bare room in the regimental barracks, "Number 16," up
+one flight of stairs. It was wretchedly furnished. It contained an
+uncurtained bed, a table, two chairs, and an old wooden box, which the
+boys used, both as bureau and bookcase. Louis slept on a little cot-bed
+near his brother; and how they lived on sixty cents a day--paying out of
+that for food, lodging, clothes, and books--is one of the mysteries.
+
+[Illustration: "_'I dreamed that I was a king,' said Louis_"]
+
+In fact, they nearly starved themselves. Napoleon made the broth;
+brushed and mended their clothes; sometimes had only dry bread for a
+meal; and, as Napoleon said later, "bolted the door on his poverty."
+That is to say, they went nowhere, and saw no one.
+
+It was hard on the young lieutenant; it was perhaps even harder on the
+little brother.
+
+One morning, after Napoleon had dressed himself and was preparing their
+poor breakfast, he knocked on the floor with his cane to arouse his
+brother and call him to breakfast and studies.
+
+Little Louis awoke so slowly that Napoleon was obliged to arouse him a
+second time.
+
+"Come, come, my Louis," he cried; "what is the matter this morning? It
+seems to me that you are very lazy."
+
+"Oh, brother!" answered the half-awaked child, "I was having such a
+beautiful dream!"
+
+"And what did you dream?" asked Napoleon.
+
+The little Louis sat upright on the edge of his cot. "I dreamed that I
+was a king," he replied.
+
+"A king! Well, well!" exclaimed his brother, laughing. Then he glanced
+around at the bare and poverty-stricken room. "And what, then, your
+Majesty, was I, your brother,--an emperor perhaps?" Then he shrugged his
+shoulders, and pinched his brother's ear.
+
+"Well, kings and emperors must eat and work," he said, "the same as
+lieutenants and schoolboys. Come, then, King Louis; some broth, and then
+to your duty."
+
+This was Napoleon at twenty,--a poverty-pinched, self-sacrificing,
+hard-working boy, a man before his time; knowing very little of fun and
+comfort, and very much of toil and trouble.
+
+He was an ill-proportioned young man, not yet having outgrown the
+"spindling" appearance of his boyhood, but even then he possessed
+certain of the remarkable features familiar to every boy and girl who
+has studied the portraits of Napoleon the emperor. His head was large
+and finely shaped, with a wide forehead, large mouth, and straight nose,
+a projecting chin, and large, steel-blue eyes, that were full of fire
+and power. His face was sallow, his hair brown and stringy, his cheeks
+lean from not too much over-feeding. His body and lees were thin and
+small, but his chest was broad, and his neck short and thick. His step
+was firm and steady, with nothing of the "wobbly" gait we often see in
+people who are not well-proportioned. His character was undoubtedly that
+of a young man who had the desire to get ahead faster than his
+opportunities would permit. Solitude had made him uncommunicative and
+secretive; anxiety and privation had made him self-helpful and self-
+reliant; lack of sympathy had made him calculating; but doing for others
+had made him kind-hearted and generous. His reading and study had made
+him ambitious; his knowledge that when he knew a thing he really knew
+it, made him masterful and desirous of leadership. He had few of the
+vices, and sowed but a small crop of what is called the "wild oats" of
+youth; he abhorred debt, and scarcely ever owed a penny, even when in
+sorest straits; and, while not a bright nor a great scholar, what he had
+learned he was able to store away in his brain, to be drawn upon for use
+when, in later years, this knowledge could be used to advantage.
+
+[Illustration: _Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte Aged 22 (from the
+portrait by Jean Baptiste Greuse, in the Museum at
+Versailles)_]
+
+Such at twenty years of age was Napoleon Bonaparte. Such he remained
+through the years of his young manhood, meeting all sorts of
+discouragements, facing the hardest poverty, becoming disgusted with
+many things that occurred in those changing days, when liberty was
+replacing tyranny, and the lesson of free America was being read and
+committed by the world.
+
+He saw the turmoil and terrors of the French Revolution--that season of
+blood, when a long-suffering people struck a blow at tyranny, murdered
+their king, and tried to build on the ruins of an overturned kingdom an
+impossible republic.
+
+You will understand all this better when you come to read the history of
+France, and see through how many noble but mistaken efforts that fair
+European land struggled from tyranny to freedom. In these efforts
+Napoleon had a share; and it was his boyhood of privation and his youth
+of discouragement that made him a man of purpose, of persistence and
+endeavor, raising him step by step, in the days when men needed leaders
+but found none, until this one finally proved himself a leader indeed,
+and, grasping the reins of command, advanced steadily from the barracks
+to a throne. All this is history; it is the story of the development and
+progress of the most remarkable man of modern times. You can read the
+story in countless books; for now, after Napoleon has been dead for over
+seventy years, the world is learning to sift the truth from all the
+chaff of falsehood and fable that so long surrounded him; it is
+endeavoring to place this marvellous leader of men in the place he
+should rightly occupy--that of a great man, led by ambition and swayed
+by selfishness, but moved also by a desire to do noble things for the
+nation that he had raised to greatness, and the men who looked to him
+for guidance and direction.
+
+Our story of his boyhood ends here. For years after he came to young
+manhood fate seemed against him, and privation held him down. But he
+broke loose from all entanglements; he surmounted all obstacles; he
+conquered all adverse circumstances. He rose to power by his own
+abilities. He led the armies of France to marvellous victories. He
+became the idol of his soldiers, the hero of the people, the chief man
+in the nation, the controlling power in Europe; and on the second of
+December, in the year 1804, he was crowned in the great church of
+Notre Dame, in Paris, Emperor of the French. "Straw-nose," the
+poverty-stricken little Corsican, had become the foremost man in all the
+world!
+
+But through all his marvellous career he never forgot his family. The
+same love and devotion that he bestowed upon them when a poor boy and
+a struggling lieutenant, he lavished upon them as general, consul,
+and emperor. Indeed, to them was due, to a certain extent, his later
+misfortunes, and his fall from power. The more generous he became, the
+more selfish did his brothers and sisters grow. For their interests he
+neglected his own safety and the welfare of France. His unselfishness
+was, indeed, his greatest selfishness; and the boy who uncomplainingly
+took his sister's punishment for the theft of the basket of fruit,
+stood also as the scapegoat for all the mistakes and stupidities and
+wrong-doings that were due to his self-seeking brothers and sisters, the
+Bonaparte children of Ajaccio in Corsica.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
+
+BY THE WALL OF THE SOLDIERS' HOME.
+
+The Emperor Napoleon had long been dead. A wasting disease and English
+indignities had worn his life away upon his prison-rock of St. Helena;
+and, after many years, his body had been brought back to France, and
+placed beneath a mighty monument in the splendid Home for Invalid
+Soldiers, in the beautiful city of Paris which he had loved so much, and
+where his days of greatness and power had been spent.
+
+There, beneath the dome, surrounded by all the life and brilliancy of
+the great city, he rests. His last wish has been gratified--the wish he
+expressed in the will he wrote on his prison-rock, so many miles away:
+"I desire that my ashes shall rest by the banks of the Seine, in the
+midst of the French people I have loved so well."
+
+That Home for Invalid Soldiers, in which now stands the tomb of
+Napoleon, has long been, as its name implies, a home for the maimed and
+aged veterans who have fought in the armies of France, and received as
+their portion, wounds, illness,--and glory.
+
+The sun shines brightly upon the walls of the great home; and the
+war-worn veterans dearly love to bask in its life-giving rays, or to
+rest in the shade of its towering walls.
+
+It was on a certain morning, many years ago, that I who write these
+lines--Eugenie Foa, friend to all the boys and girls who love to read of
+glorious and heroic deeds--was resting upon one of the seats near to the
+shade-giving walls of the Soldiers' Home. As I sat there, several of
+the old soldiers placed themselves on the adjoining seat. There were a
+half-dozen of them--all veterans, grizzled and gray, and ranging from
+the young veteran of fifty to the patriarch of ninety years.
+
+As is always the case with these scarred old fellows, their talk
+speedily turned upon the feats at arms at which they had assisted. And
+this dialogue was so enlivening, so picturesque, so full of the hero-
+spirit that lingers ever about the walls of that noble building which is
+a hero's resting-place, that I gladly listened to their talk, and try
+now to repeat it to you.
+
+"But those Egyptians whom Father Nonesuch, here, helped to conquer," one
+old fellow said,--"ah, they were great story-tellers! I have read of
+some of them in a mightily fine book. It was called the 'Tales of the
+Thousand and One Nights.'"
+
+"Bah!" cried the eldest of the group. "Bah! I say. Your 'Thousand and
+One Nights,' your fairy stories, all the wonders of nature,"--here he
+waved his trembling old hand excitedly,--"all these are but as nothing
+compared with what I have seen."
+
+"Hear him!" exclaimed the young fellow of fifty; "hear old Father
+Nonesuch, will you, comrades? He thinks, because he has seen the
+republic, the consulate, the empire, the hundred days, the kingdom"--
+
+"And is not that enough, youngster?" interrupted the old veteran they
+called Father Nonesuch.[1]
+
+      [1] Perhaps the correct rendering of this nickname would be
+      "The Remnant," and it applies to the battered veteran even
+      better than "Nonesuch."]
+
+He certainly merited the nickname given him by his comrades; for I saw,
+by glancing at him, that the old veteran had but one leg, one arm, and
+one eye.
+
+"Enough?" echoed the one called "the youngster," whose grizzled locks
+showed him to be at least fifty years old, "Enough? Well, perhaps--for
+you. But, my faith! I cannot see that they were finer than the 'Thousand
+and one Nights.'"
+
+"Bah!" again cried old Nonesuch contemptuously; "but those were fairy
+stories, I tell you, youngster,--untrue stories,--pagan stories.
+But when one can tell, as can I, of stories that are true,--of
+history--history this--history that--true histories every one--bah!"
+and, shrugging his shoulders, old Nonesuch tapped upon his neighbor's
+snuff-box, and, with his only hand, drew out a mighty pinch by way of
+emphasis.
+
+"Well, what say thou, Nonesuch,--you and your histories?" persisted the
+young admirer of the "Arabian Nights."
+
+"As for me,--my faith! I like only marvellous."
+
+[Illustration: "Beneath the great dome
+he rests"--The Hotel des Invalides (The 'Soldiers' Home' in Paris,
+containing the Tomb of Napoleon)]
+
+"And I tell you this, youngster," the old veteran cried, while his voice
+cracked into a tremble in his  excitement, "there is more of the
+marvellous in the one little finger of my history than in all the
+characters you can crowd together in your 'Thousand and One Nights.'
+Bah!--Stephen, boy; light my pipe."
+
+"And what is your history, Father Nonesuch?" demanded "the youngster,"
+while two-armed Stephen, a gray old "boy" of seventy, filled and lighted
+the old veteran's pipe.
+
+"My history?" cried old Nonesuch, struggling to his feet,--or rather to
+his foot,--and removing his hat, "it is, my son, that of the Emperor
+Napoleon!"
+
+And at the word, each old soldier sprang also to his feet, and removed
+his hat silently and in reverence.
+
+"Why, youngster!" old Father Nonesuch continued, dropping again to the
+bench, "if one wished to relate about my emperor a thousand and one
+stories a thousand and one nights; to see even a thousand and one days
+increased by a thousand and one battles, adding to that a thousand and
+one victories, one would have a thousand and a million million things
+--fine, glorious, delightful, to hear. For, remember, comrades," and the
+old man well-nigh exploded with his mathematical calculation, and the
+grandeur of his own recollections, "remember you this: I never left the
+great Napoleon!"
+
+"Ah, yes," another aged veteran chimed in; "ah, yes; he was a great
+man."
+
+Old Nonesuch clapped his hand to his ear.
+
+"Pardon me, comrade the Corsican," he said, with the air of one who had
+not heard aright; "excuse my question, but would you kindly tell me whom
+you call a great man?"
+
+"Whom, old deaf ears? Why, the Emperor Napoleon, of course," replied the
+Corsican.
+
+Old Nonesuch burst out laughing, and pounded the pavement with his heavy
+cane.
+
+"To call the emperor a man!" he exclaimed; "and what, then, will you
+call me?"
+
+"You? why, what should we?" said the Corsican veteran; "old Father
+Nonesuch, old 'Not Entire,' otherwise, Corporal Francis Haut of
+Brienne."
+
+"Ah, bah!" cried the persistent veteran; "I do not mean my name, stupid!
+I mean my quality, my--my title, my--well--my sex,--indeed, what am I?"
+"Well, what is left of you, I suppose," laughed the Corsican, "we might
+call a man."
+
+"A man! there you have it exactly!" cried old Nonesuch. "I am a man; and
+so are you, Corsican, and you, Stephen, and you,--almost so,--youngster.
+But my emperor--the Emperor Napoleon! was he a man? Away with you! It
+was the English who invented that story; they did not know what he was
+capable of, those English! The emperor a man? Bah!"
+
+"What was he, then? A woman?" queried the Corsican.
+
+"Ah, stupid one! where are your wits?" cried old Nonesuch, shaking pipe
+and cane excitedly. "Are you, then, as dull as those English? Why, the
+emperor was--the emperor! It is we, his soldiers, who were men."
+
+The Corsican veteran shook his head musingly.
+
+"It may be so; it may be so, good Nonesuch. I do not say no to you," he
+said. "Ah, my dear emperor! I have seen him often. I knew him when he
+was small; I knew him when he was grown. I saw him born; I saw him
+die"--"Halt there!" cried old Nonesuch; "let me stop you once more,
+good comrade Corsican. Do not make these other 'Not Entires' swallow
+such impossible and indigestible things. The emperor was never born; the
+emperor never died; the emperor has always been; the emperor always will
+be. To prove it," he added quickly, holding up his cane, as he saw that
+the Corsican was about to protest at this surprising statement, "to
+prove it, let me tell you. He fought at Constantine; he fought at St.
+Jean d'Ulloa; he fought at Sebastopol, and was conqueror."
+
+"Come, come, Father Nonesuch!" broke in "the youngster," and others
+of that group of veterans, "you are surely wandering. It was not the
+Emperor Napoleon who fought at those places. That was long after he was
+dead. It was the son of Louis Philippe, the Duke of Nemours, who fought
+at Constantine; it was the Prince of Joinville who led at Ulloa; and, at
+Sebastopol, the"--
+
+[Illustration: "_Pif! paf! pouf! That is the way I
+read"--Napoleon at the Battle of Jena. (From the Painting by Horace
+Vernet_.)]
+
+"Bah!" broke in the old veteran. "You are all owls, you! What if they
+did? I will not deny either the Duke of Nemours nor the Prince of
+Joinville, nor  Louis Philippe himself. But what then? You need not
+deny, you youngster, nor you, the other shouters, that when the cannons
+boom, when the battles rage, when, above all, one is conqueror for
+France, there is something of my emperor in that. Could they have
+conquered except for him? Ten thousand bullets! I say. He is
+everywhere."
+
+"But, see here, Father Nonesuch," protested the Corsican, "you must not
+deny to me the emperor's birth; for I know, I know all about it. Was not
+my mother, Saveria, Madame Letitia's servant? Was she not, too, nurse to
+the little Napoleon? She was, my faith! And she has told me a hundred
+times all about him. I know of what I speak. Our emperor, Napoleon
+Bonaparte, was born on the fifteenth of August, 1769, and when he was
+a baby, the cradle not being at hand, he was laid upon a rug in Madame
+Letitia's room. And on that rug was a fine representation of Mars, the
+god of war. And because his bed on that rug was on the very spot which
+represented Mars, that, old Nonesuch, is why our emperor was ever
+valiant in war. What say you to that?"
+
+"Oh, very well, very well," said old Nonesuch, as if he made a great
+concession; "if you say so from your own knowledge, if you insist that
+he was born, let it go so. I admit that he was born. But as to his being
+dead, eh? Will you insist on that too?"
+
+"And why not?" replied the Corsican, still harping on his personal
+knowledge of things in Ajaccio. "I knew the Bonapartes well, I tell you.
+There was the father, Papa Charles, a fine, noble-looking man; and their
+uncle, the canon--ah! he was a good man. He was short and fat and bald,
+with little eyes, but with a look like an eagle. And the children!
+how often I have seen them, though they were older than I--Joseph and
+Lucien, and little Louis, and Eliza and Pauline and Caroline. Yes; I saw
+them often. And Napoleon too. They say he never played much. But you
+knew him at Brienne school, old Nonesuch."
+
+"Yes," nodded the old veteran; "for there my father was the porter."
+
+"He was ever grave and stern, was Napoleon;--not wicked, though"--"No,
+no; never wicked," broke in old Nonesuch. "I remember his snow-ball
+fight."
+
+"A fight with snow-balls!" exclaimed the youngster. "Yes; with
+snow-balls, youngster," replied old None-such.
+
+[Illustration: "'The Emperor was--the Emperor' cried old Nonesuch"]
+
+"Did you never hear of it? But you are too young. Only the Corsican and
+I can remember that;" and the old man nodded to the Corsican with the
+superiority of old age over these "babies," as he called the younger
+veterans. "Let me see," said Nonesuch, crossing his wooden leg over his
+leg of flesh; "I was the porter's boy at Brienne school. I was there to
+blacken my shoes--not mine, you understand, but those of the scholars.
+There was much snow that winter. The scholars could not play in the
+courts nor out-of-doors. They were forced to walk in the halls. That
+wearied them, but it rejoiced me. Why? Because I had but few shoes to
+blacken. They could not get them dirty while they remained indoors. But,
+look you! one day at recess I saw the scholars all out-of-doors,--all
+out in the snow. 'Alas! alas! my poor shoes,' said I. It made me sad. I
+hid behind the greenhouse doors, to see the meaning of this disorder.
+Then I heard a sudden shout. 'Brooms, brooms! shovels, shovels!' they
+cried. They rushed into the greenhouse: they took whatever they could
+find; and one boy, who saw me standing idle, pushed me toward the door,
+crying, 'Here, lazy-bones! take a shovel, take a broom! Get to work,
+and help us!'--'Help you do what?' said I. 'To make the fort and roll
+snow-balls,' he replied. 'Not I; it is too cold,' I answered. Then the
+boys laughed at me. My faith! to-day I think they were right. Then they
+tried to push me out-of-doors, I resisted; I would not go. Suddenly
+appeared one whom I did not know. He said nothing. He simply looked at
+me. He signed to me to take a broom--to march into the garden--to set to
+work. And I obeyed. I dared not resist. I did whatever he told me; and,
+my faith! so, too, did all the boys. 'Is this one a teacher?' I asked
+one of the scholars. 'He does not look so; he is too small and pale
+and thin.'--'No,' replied the boy; 'it is Napoleon.'--'And who is
+Napoleon?' I asked; for at that time I was as ignorant as all of you
+here. 'Is he our patron? Is he the king? Is he the pope?'--'No; he is
+Napoleon,' the boy replied again, shrugging his shoulders. I did not ask
+more. The boy was right. Napoleon was neither boy nor man, patron,
+king, nor pope; he was Napoleon! You should have seen him while we
+were working. His hand was pointing continually,--here, there,
+everywhere,--indicating what he wished to have done; his clear voice was
+ever explaining or commanding. Then, when we had cut paths in the snow,
+and had built ramparts, dug trenches, raised fortifications, rolled
+snow-balls--then the attack began. I had nothing more to do, I looked
+on. But my heart beat fast; I wished that I might fight also. But I was
+the porter's son, and did not dare to join in the scholars' play. Every
+day for a week, while the snow lasted, the war was fought at each
+recess. Snow-balls flew through the air, striking heads, faces, breasts,
+backs. The shouting and the tumult gave me great pleasure; but, oh! the
+shoes I had to blacken! Then I said to myself, 'I wish to be a soldier.'
+And I kept my word."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEEN.
+
+THE LITTLE CORPORAL.
+
+"But why," asked the Corsican, as old Nonesuch concluded his story, and
+all the veterans applauded with cane and boot, "why did you not say, 'I
+wish to be a general,' and keep your word. Others like you have been
+soldiers of the emperor--and generals, marshals, princes."
+
+"Yes, Corsican," replied old Nonesuch sadly; "what you say is true. But
+I will tell you what prevented my advancement. I did not know how to
+read as well as a lot of the schemers who were in my regiment. In fact,"
+old Nonesuch confessed, "I could not write; I could not read at all."
+
+"Why did you not learn, then, father?" asked one of the veterans, who,
+because he sat up late every night to read the daily paper, was called
+by his comrades "the scholar."
+
+"I did try to learn, Mr. Scholar," replied old Nonesuch, taking a pinch
+of snuff from the Corsican's box; "but indeed it was not in the blood,
+don't you see? Not one of my family could read or write; and then I saw
+so much trouble over the pens and the books when I was blackening my
+boots at Brienne school, that then I had no wish to learn. 'It is all
+vexation,' I said. And when I became a soldier, what do you suppose
+prevented my learning?"
+
+"Were your brains shot away, old Nonesuch?" queried the scholar
+sarcastically.
+
+"My brains, say you!" the old man cried indignantly. "And if they had
+been, Mr. Scholar, I would still have more than you. No; it was an
+adventure I had after Austerlitz. Ah, what a battle was that! I had the
+good luck there to have this leg that I have not now, carried away by a
+cannon-ball"--
+
+"Good luck! says he," broke in the youngster. "And how good luck, Father
+Nonesuch?"
+
+"Tut, tut! boys are so impatient," said old Nonesuch with a frown. "Yes,
+youngster, good luck, said I. Well, one day, after I had my timber-toe
+put on, the emperor, who always had thoughts for those of his soldiers
+who had been wounded, gave notice that he had certain small places at
+his disposal which he wished to distribute among us crippled ones, in
+order that we might rest from war. Then all of us set to wondering,
+'What can I do? What shall I ask for? What do I like best to do?' My
+wish was never to leave my own general. He was General Junot"--
+
+"Ah, yes! I know of him," said the Corsican. "He married a Corsican
+girl, Laura Permon, a friend of the Bonaparte children."
+
+[Illustration: _I know not if I know,' said I_."]
+
+"The same," old Nonesuch said, with a nod at his comrade. "Now, I saw
+that the person who was nearest to my General Junot was his secretary.
+One day, when I was at Paris, the emperor, I was told, was to review his
+troops in the courtyard of the Tuileries; so I dressed myself in my
+best,--it was a grenadier's uniform,--a comrade wrote on a piece of
+paper my desire; and, with my paper in my hand, I posted myself near a
+battalion of lancers. 'The emperor will see me here,' said I. In truth,
+he did come; he did see me. He came towards me, and, with the look that
+pierced me through,--ten thousand bullets! as the plough cuts through
+the ground,--'Are you not an Egyptian, my grenadier?' he asked me. (You
+know, Corsican, he called all of us Egyptians who had fought with him in
+Egypt.) 'Yes, my Emperor,' I replied, so glorified to see that he
+recognized me, that, my faith! my heart swelled and swelled, so that I
+thought it would crack with pride, and burst my coat open. The emperor
+took the paper I held out toward him. He read it. "So, so, my Egyptian!
+you wish to be a secretary, eh?'--'Yes, my Emperor,' I answered. 'Do you
+know how to read and write?' said he. 'Eh? Why! I know not if I know,'
+said I. 'What! You do not know if you know?' he repeated. 'Why, no, my
+Emperor,' said I; 'for, look you! I have never tried; but perhaps I do
+know.' The emperor pulled my ear, as much as to say, 'Well, here is an
+odd one!' 'But,' said he, 'to be a secretary one must know how to read
+and write, comrade.' He called me his comrade, see you--me, who had
+blackened his shoes at Brienne. I was the emperor's comrade. He had said
+it. The tears came to my eyes for joy. 'Ah, then, my Emperor, let us say
+no more about it,' said I. 'But if you would promise to learn,' said he.
+'Oh, as for that, my Emperor,' I answered, 'by the faith of an Egyptian
+of the guard, second division, first battalion! I do not promise it to
+you.'--'Then ask me something else,' said he. I hesitated. I did not
+know how to say just what I wished to ask; for it was worth to me very
+much more than the place of secretary. 'Come, then, comrade; speak
+quickly,' said the emperor; 'what is it you wish?'--'I wish, my
+Emperor,' I stammered, 'to press my lips to your hand.'"
+
+"Ho! was that all?" cried the youngster.
+
+"All!" echoed the Nonesuch, turning upon the youngest veteran a look of
+scorn. "All! It was more than anything!"
+
+"Well, and what said the emperor?" asked Stephen breathlessly.
+
+"He said nothing," responded Nonesuch. "He smiled; then instantly I felt
+his hand in mine. I wonder I did not die with joy. I kissed his hand.
+He grasped mine firmly. 'Thanks, my comrade,' he said. 'My Emperor,' I
+said, 'I promise you never to learn to read and write.' And I said no
+more. And that, comrades, is why I never learned."
+
+"Which hand was it?" asked the youngster with interest.
+
+"This one, thank God!" cried the veteran. "The other I lost at Jena. No,
+I never learned to write; the hand that the emperor had clasped in his
+should never, I vowed, be dishonored by a pen. I look at this hand with
+veneration. See! it has been pressed by my emperor. I love it; I honor
+it. Indeed, at one time I thought of cutting it off,--that was before
+Jena,--and putting it in a frame, that I might have it always before my
+eyes. But my General Junot, to whom I told my plan, said that then it
+would be spoiled forever, and that the only way not to lose sight of it
+was to let it always hang to my arm; thus, he said, it would always
+be beside me. That is how you see it still, comrades. To write, to
+write--bah! It always troubles me," old Nonesuch continued musingly, as
+he regarded his precious hand, "when I see those poor fellows, their
+noses over a bit of paper, their bodies bent double! Writing is not
+a man's proper state; it does not agree with his valiant and warlike
+nature. Talk to me of a charge, of an onset! that is the true
+vocation; that is why the good God created the human race.
+One--two--three--shoulder arms! that is clear; that is easily
+understood. But to study a dozen letters; to remember which is _b_ and
+which is _o,_ and that _b_ and _o_ make _bo_! that is not meant for the
+head. I prefer to read a battle with my musket and my sword. Pif! paf!
+pouf! that is the way I read. And now that I can read no more, I have
+but one pleasure,--to tell of my battles. Is not that better than your
+'Thousand and One Nights,' youngster?"
+
+"You have, indeed, much to tell, old Nonesuch," replied the youngster
+guardedly, "and you have, indeed, seen much."
+
+"Ah, have I not, though!" old Nonesuch responded. "Do you not remember,
+Corsican, in the third year of the republic, as our government was then
+called, how the word came: 'The English are in Toulon! Soldiers of
+France, you must dislodge them!'?"
+
+"Ah, do I not, old Nonesuch! I was a conscript then," replied the
+Corsican.
+
+"So, too, was I," said the old veteran. "We marched to Toulon. The next
+day there was an action. I ate a kind of small pills I had never tasted
+at Paris. The English and the French kept up a conversation with these
+sugar-plums. Our dialogue went on for days. They would toss their
+sugar-plums into the town; we would throw these plums back to them,
+especially into one bonbon box. You remember that box--that fort,
+Corsican, do you not?"
+
+"What, the Little Gibraltar?" queried the Corsican.
+
+"The same," replied old Nonesuch, "for so the English called it. But
+they had to give it up. We filled the Little Gibraltar so full of our
+sugar-plums that the English had to get out. Then it was that I saw a
+thin little captain at the guns. I knew him at once. It was Bonaparte of
+Brienne school. This is what he did. An artillery man was killed while
+charging his piece. I do not know how many had been cut off at that same
+gun. It was warm--it was hot there, I can tell you! No one wished to
+approach it. Then my little captain--my Bonaparte of Brienne--dashed at
+the gun. He loaded it; he was not killed. Oh, what a pleasure-party that
+was! There he met two other tough ones like himself,--Duroc and Junot.
+Ah, that Junot! He became my general later. He was a cool joker.
+Napoleon wished some one to write for him. He asked for a corporal or a
+sergeant who could write and stand fire at the same time. Sergeant Junot
+came to him. 'Write!' said Napoleon. And as Junot wrote, look you a
+cannon-ball ploughed the earth at his feet, and scattered the dirt over
+his paper. 'Good!' cried this Junot, never looking up from his paper. 'I
+needed sand to blot my ink.' That made Napoleon his friend forever. Then
+those in power at Paris took offence at something Napoleon did. They
+called him back to Paris. He was disgraced. But he had courage, had my
+Napoleon. He cared nothing for those stupid ones at Paris. 'I will
+make them see,' said he, 'that I am master.' He took post for Paris.
+Everything was wrong there. Every one was hungry. They fought for bread,
+as horses when there is no hay in the rack. Then, crack! Napoleon came.
+In two moves he had established order. Then who so great as he? He was
+made general. He was sent to Italy. He fought at Lodi. You remember
+Lodi, Corsican?"
+
+"Ha! the fight on the bridge; do I not, though!" the Corsican answered
+excitedly. "It was there he led everything; it was there he conquered
+everything; it was there he sighted the cannon against the Austrians; it
+was there he led us straight across the bridge; it was there we cheered
+for him, and called him the 'Little Corporal!'"
+
+"Eh, was it not! Cheer for the Little Corporal, comrades!" cried old
+Nonesuch, swinging his hat; and all the veterans sprang up, and stamped
+and shouted: "Long live the Little Corporal!"
+
+"As he has!" said old Nonesuch. "See you, Corsican! what said I? The
+emperor lives, I tell you!"
+
+"And that was Italy, was it?" said the scholar.
+
+"Yes; that was Italy," the veteran replied. "It was there we were
+going; and, with our Little Corporal to lead us, turned everything into
+victory."
+
+"Tell us of it, Father Nonesuch," demanded the youngster.
+
+"Yes; tell us of it," echoed the younger veterans, their scarred old
+faces full of interest and excitement. "I will, my children. It was
+thus, you see,"--puff--puff, "eh--Stephen, fill my pipe again!"
+
+So Stephen filled the old fellow's pipe again, and set it aglow; and
+all the others waited, silently watchful, until, after a few puffs and
+whiffs, the old veteran began again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY.
+
+"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!"
+
+"It was thus, you see," said old Nonesuch, crossing his legs--the wooden
+one over the good one. "At that time our army in Italy was destitute of
+everything. We had nothing--no bread, no ammunition, no shoes, no coats.
+Ah, it was a poor army we were then! The people at Paris, called the
+Directory, were worried over our condition. The army must have bread,
+ammunition, shoes, coats, they said. We must send one to look after
+this. And, as I told you, they sent Napoleon. It was in March, in the
+year 1796, that he came to us at Nice. We were near by, in camp at
+Abbenya. There the new general held his first review. He looked at us;
+he pitied us. 'Soldiers!' he said to us, 'you are naked; you are badly
+fed. The government owes you much; it can give you nothing. You are in
+need of everything,--boots, bread, soup! Well, I will lead you into the
+most fertile plains in the world. I have come to take you into a country
+where you will find everything in plenty,--dollars, cattle, roast-meat,
+salads, honor, palaces, what you will. Soldiers of Italy, how do you
+like that?'"
+
+"Ah! but that was grand," cried the youngster; "and you said?"
+
+"We said, 'How do we like it, my general? Ten thousand bullets! March
+you at our head, and you will see how we like it.' His words gave us new
+heart; his promises seemed already to clothe us. We were ragged and
+tired; but it seemed, after that speech, as if we walked on air, and
+were dressed in silken robes. Forward, march! Boom--boom--boom! Ta-ra,
+ta-ra-ra! Hear the drums! See us marching! We marched through the day;
+we marched through the night. We were faint with hunger, but we marched.
+We were at Montenotte on the eleventh of April. We whacked the
+Austrians,--famous men, nevertheless; well furnished, good fighters!
+But, bah! what was that to us? We whacked them at Montenotte. They ran;
+we after them. We fell upon then at Millesimo, at Dego, at Mondovi, at
+Cherasco. We had a taste of the glory of being conquerors. We routed the
+Austrians in those fights that were called 'the Five Days' Campaign.' We
+had brave generals with us; and we had Napoleon! From the heights of
+Ceva he showed us the plains of Italy,--the rich, well-watered land
+which he had promised us. Then we crossed the Alps. Mighty mountains!
+Bah! what of that? We were Frenchmen; we had Napoleon! We turned the
+flank of the Alps. We fought at Fombio; we fought on the bridge of Lodi;
+we marched into Milan. We were Frenchmen; we had Napoleon! In fact, we
+conquered Italy! We fought at Arcola; we conquered at Rivoli. Then who
+so great as the Little Corporal? We planted the eagles upon the lion of
+Saint Mark, at Venice--a famous lion, nevertheless. But who could resist
+us? We had Napoleon! Then we returned to Toulon. Then Napoleon said,
+'Soldiers! two years ago you had nothing. I made promises to you; have I
+kept them?'--'You have; you have, my general!' every man of us shouted.
+'Will you follow me again?' said Napoleon. 'To the death, my general!'
+we shouted once more. Behold us now embarked in ships. 'And now, what
+place are we to conquer?' we asked our generals. 'Egypt,' they answered.
+'It is well,' we said. 'We will go to Egypt; we will take Egypt.'
+
+[Illustration: "_What fates, my comrades!"--A Review Day under the First
+Empire (From the Painting by H. Bellange_)]
+
+"My faith! but you were brave, you old soldiers," cried the youngster
+with enthusiasm. "But think of it, then! To Egypt!"
+
+"Well, we took Egypt," resumed old Nonesuch. "We were Frenchmen. We had
+Napoleon! And after that we undertook another little campaign in Italy.
+Then we returned to France, our beautiful France, to install ourselves
+in the Tuileries. Eh!"--puff--puff,--"Light my pipe, Stephen!"
+
+And Stephen again lighted the old veteran's pipe.
+
+"Yes; in the Tuileries"--puff--puff. "We gave ourselves up to _fêtes_.
+Ah! there were grand times--each one finer than the other. One might
+call them _fêtes_ indeed! Death of my life! Who was it said just now
+that the emperor was a man? Why, look you! his enemies--those villains
+of traitors--tried to kill him. They plotted against him. But, bah! they
+could not. He rode over infernal machines as if they were roses. They
+could not kill him. Those things are for men--for little kings. He was
+Napoleon!"
+
+"And at last he was crowned emperor," suggested the youngster.
+
+"Yes; on the second of December, in the year 1804," answered old
+Nonesuch. "And the Pope himself came from Rome to consecrate our
+emperor. Ah, then, what _fêtes_, my comrades! what _fêtes_ and _fêtes_
+and _fêtes_! It rained kings on all sides."
+
+"But there came an end of _fêtes_" said the scholar, who read in books
+and newspapers.
+
+"Well, what would you have?--always feasting? Perhaps you think that our
+emperor once an emperor, would rest at home. Yes? Well, that would have
+been good for you and me; but he had still to undertake battles and
+victories,--battles and victories; they were the same thing! We were at
+Austerlitz; there I left this leg. At Jena; there I dropped this hand.
+Then came the peace, made upon the raft at Tilsit; then the war in
+Spain--a villanous war, and one I did not like at all. Napoleon was not
+there. Where he was not, the sun did not shine. Then we returned to
+Paris. The emperor married a grand princess. He had a son--a baby
+son--the King of Rome! Then, too, what _fêtes!_ A fine child the King of
+Rome! I saw him often in his little goat-carriage at the Tuileries. I
+do not know what has become of him. They say he is dead; but I do not
+believe that, any more than I believe that my emperor is dead. Two
+deaths? Bah! old women's stories,--witch stories, good only to frighten
+children to sleep. When my emperor and his son come back, we shall be
+amazed that we ever believed them dead!"
+
+"But he disappeared--the emperor disappeared--he vanished," persisted
+the scholar.
+
+[Illustration: "_Your
+Emperor was banished to a rock"--The Exiled Emperor (From the Painting
+by W Q Orchardson, entitled "Napoleon on board the Bellerophon_.")]
+
+"Yes; he disappeared," the veteran admitted. "For after that came the
+Russian Campaign. Ah, but it was a cold one! Such snow, such ice; so
+cold, so cold! It was then I lost my eye. My leg I left at Austerlitz,
+my arm at Jena; my eye I dropped somewhere in the Beresina,--so much the
+better. I could not see that freeze-out. Then they sent me here. And
+since that I do not know what has happened. They tell me--you tell me--
+much. But to believe such foolish stories! Bah! I am not a baby. They
+tell me that the emperor--my emperor--was exiled to Elba; that he
+returned again to France; that he reigned a hundred days; that a battle
+was fought at--where was it?"
+
+"Waterloo," suggested the scholar.
+
+"Eh, yes, you say, at Waterloo; and you say we lost it? As if we could
+lose a battle, and Napoleon there! Then you will say that the empire was
+no longer an empire, but a kingdom; and that he who governed was called
+Louis the Eighteenth, and others after him, but not my emperor. Bah!
+foolish stories all!"
+
+"But they are true, old Nonesuch," said the youngster sadly.
+
+"Yes; they are true," echoed the other veterans. And the scholar added,
+"Yes; and your emperor was banished by those rascal English to a rock--
+the rock of St. Helena--a horrid rock, miles and miles out in the ocean.
+But he is here among us again."  the Soldiers' Home, in the midst of his
+veterans, in the heart of his beautiful Paris.
+
+[Illustration: Napoleon (1. The
+General 2. The Consul 3. The Conqueror 4. The Emperor.)]
+
+Old soldiers are apt to be boastful when they tell, as did the Nonesuch,
+of the deeds of a leader whom they so often followed to victory. Madame
+Foa's pen has long since stopped its task of writing of French heroism
+for the boys and girls of France; but it never wrote anything more
+attractive or inspiring than the delicious bit of boasting that it put
+into the mouth of this dear and battered old veteran of Napoleon's
+wars,--Corporal Nonesuch of the Soldiers' Home.
+
+For, if the American boys and girls who have followed this story will
+read, as I trust they will, the entire life-story of this marvellous
+man,--Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French,--they will learn that
+much of the boasting of old Nonesuch was true story, as he assured his
+comrades; while some of it, too, was,--let us say, the exaggeration of
+enthusiasm.
+
+But there was much in the career of the great Napoleon to inspire
+enthusiasm. The determined and persistent way in which, while but a
+boy, he climbed steadily up, using the obstacles in his path but as the
+rounds of a ladder to lift him higher, affords a lesson of pluck and
+energy that every boy and girl can take to heart; while the story of his
+later career, through the rapid changes that made him general, consul,
+conqueror, emperor, is as full of interest, marvel, and romance as
+any of those wonder-stories of the "Arabian Nights" for which "the
+youngster" expressed so much admiration, but which old Nonesuch so
+contemptuously cast aside.
+
+There were dark sides to his character; there were shadows on his
+career, there were blots on his name. Ambition, selfishness, and the
+love of success, were alike his inspiration and his ruin. But, with
+these, he possessed also the qualities that led men to follow him
+enthusiastically and love him devotedly.
+
+But people do not all see things alike in this world; and since the
+downfall and death of Napoleon, those who recall his name have either
+enshrined him as a hero or vilified him as a monster. Whichever side in
+this controversy you make take as, when you grow older, you read and
+ponder over the story of Napoleon, you will, I am sure, be ready to
+admit his greatness as an historic character his ability as a soldier,
+his energy as a ruler, and his eminence as a man. And in these you will
+see but the logical outgrowth of his self-reliance, his determination,
+and his pluck as a boy, when on the rocky shore of Corsica, or in the
+schools of France, he was turned aside by no obstacle, and conquered
+neither by privation nor persecution, but pressed steadily forward to
+his great and matchless career as leader, soldier, and ruler--the most
+commanding figure of the nineteenth century. I did not like at all.
+Napoleon was not there. Where he was not, the sun did not shine. Then we
+returned to Paris. The emperor married a grand princess. He had a son--a
+baby son--the King of Rome! Then, too, what _fêtes_! A fine child
+the King of Rome! I saw him often in his little goat-carriage at the
+Tuileries. I do not know what has become of him. They say he is dead;
+but I do not believe that, any more than I believe that my emperor is
+dead. Two deaths? Bah! old women's stories,--witch stories, good only to
+frighten children to sleep. When my emperor and his son come back, we
+shall be amazed that we ever believed them dead!"
+
+"But he disappeared--the emperor disappeared--he vanished," persisted
+the scholar.
+
+"Yes; he disappeared," the veteran admitted. "For after that came the
+Russian Campaign. Ah, but it was a cold one! Such snow, such ice; so
+cold, so cold! It was then I lost my eye. My leg I left at Austerlitz,
+my arm at Jena; my eye I dropped somewhere in the Beresina,--so much the
+better. I could not see that freeze-out.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa
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+<h1>The Boy Life of Napoleon</h1>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: The Boy Life of Napoleon
+       Afterwards Emperor Of The French
+
+Author: Eugenie Foa
+
+Release Date: December, 2005 [EBook #9479]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on October 4, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<center>
+<h1>BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON</h1>
+
+<h2>Afterwards Emperor Of The French</h2>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h3><i>Adapted And Extended For American Boys And Girls From The French Of</i></h3>
+
+<h2>Madame Eugénie Foa</h2>
+
+<h3>Author Of "Little Princes And Princesses Young Warriors,"</h3>
+
+<h3>"Little Robinson," Etc.</h3>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>Illustrated By Vesper L George</h2>
+<br><br><br><br>
+<h1>
+1895</h1>
+</center>
+<center>
+<br><br><br><br>
+<img alt="005n.jpg (138K)" src="005n.jpg" height="971" width="684">
+<br><br>
+<img alt="titlepage.jpg (39K)" src="titlepage.jpg" height="941" width="722">
+
+</center>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+<h2>
+PREFACE.</h2>
+
+<p>
+The name of Madame Eugenie Foa has been a familiar one in French homes
+for more than a generation. Forty years ago she was the most popular
+writer of historical stories and sketches, especially designed for the
+boys and girls of France. Her tone is pure, her morals are high, her
+teachings are direct and effective. She has, besides, historical
+accuracy and dramatic action; and her twenty books for children have
+found welcome and entrance into the most exclusive of French homes. The
+publishers of this American adaptation take pleasure in introducing
+Madame Foa's work to American boys and girls, and in this Napoleonic
+renaissance are particularly favored in being able to reproduce her
+excellent story of the boy Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The French original has been adapted and enlarged in the light of recent
+research, and all possible sources have been drawn upon to make a
+complete and rounded story of Napoleon's boyhood upon the basis
+furnished by Madame Foa's sketch. If this glimpse of the boy Napoleon
+shall lead young readers to the study of the later career of this
+marvellous man, unbiased by partisanship, and swayed neither by hatred
+nor hero worship, the publishers will feel that this presentation of the
+opening chapters of his life will not have been in vain.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>
+CONTENTS.</h2></center>
+
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+
+<p><a href="#c1">CHAPTER ONE.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>In Napoleon's Grotto</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c2">CHAPTER TWO.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>The Canon's Pears</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c3">CHAPTER THREE.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>The Accusation</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c4">CHAPTER FOUR.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Bread and Water</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c5">CHAPTER FIVE.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>A Wrong Righted</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c6">CHAPTER SIX.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>The Battle with the Shepherd Boys</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><a href="#c7">CHAPTER SEVEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Good-bye to Corsica</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c8">CHAPTER EIGHT.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>At the Preparatory School</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c9">CHAPTER NINE.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>The Lonely School-Boy</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c10">CHAPTER TEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>In Napoleon's Garden</i></p>
+
+
+</td><td>
+
+<p><a href="#c11">CHAPTER ELEVEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Friends and Foes</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c12">CHAPTER TWELVE.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>The Great Snow-ball Fight</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c13">CHAPTER THIRTEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Recommended for Promotion</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c14">CHAPTER FOURTEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Napoleon goes to Parts</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c15">CHAPTER FIFTEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>A Trouble over Pocket Money</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c16">CHAPTER SIXTEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c17">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>Dark Days</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c18">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>By the Wall of the Soldiers' Home</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c19">CHAPTER NINETEEN.</a></p>
+
+<p><i>The Little Corporal</i></p>
+
+<p><a href="#c20">CHAPTER TWENTY.</a></p>
+
+<p>"<i>Long Live the Emperor!</i>"</p>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2></center>
+<center>
+<table summary="">
+<tr><td>
+<a href="#018">Napoleon's Grotto</a><br><br>
+<a href="#027">House In Which Napoleon Was Born</a><br><br>
+<a href="#027">The Mother of Napoleon</a><br><br>
+<a href="#027">The Father of Napoleon</a><br><br>
+<a href="#027">Room In Which Napoleon Was Born</a><br><br>
+<a href="#002n">"'I never lie uncle, you know I never lie!' said Napoleon"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#051">"What! Stubborn still?"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#058">"He tossed his dry bread to the shepherd boys"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#096">"<i>What' you will not ask Monsieur the Count's pardon?"</i></a><br><br>
+<a href="#103"><i>Napoleon writing to his father</i></a><br><br>
+<a href="#003n">"<i>'Get down from my hedge' cried Napoleon</i>"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#004n"><i>Napoleon at the School of Brienne (From the Painting by M R Dumas</i>)</a><br><br>
+<a href="#005n">"<i>As leader of the storming-party he would direct the attack</i>"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#129"><i>Napoleon sends his Challenge</i></a><br><br>
+<a href="#136">"<i>'And you have fought a duel, my General'? inquired Napoleon</i>"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#164"><i>"'Come, Eliza! What is the matter?' demanded Napoleon."</i></a><br><br>
+<a href="#179"><i>"Like&mdash;like Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots!"</i></a><br><br>
+<a href="#006n">"<i>'I dreamed that I was a king,' said Louis</i>"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#007n"><i>Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte Aged 22 (from the<br>
+portrait by Jean Baptiste Greuse, in the Museum at Versailles)</i></a><br><br>
+<a href="#008n">"Beneath the great dome he rests"&mdash; The Hotel des Invalides<br>
+(The 'Soldiers' Home' in Paris, containing the Tomb of Napoleon)]</a><br><br>
+<a href="#009n">"<i>Pif! paf! pouf! That is the way I read"&mdash;Napoleon at the<br>
+Battle of Jena. (From the Painting by Horace Vernet</i>.)]</a><br><br>
+<a href="#209">"'The Emperor was&mdash;the Emperor' cried old Nonesuch"</a><br><br>
+<a href="#216"><i>I know not if I know,' said I</i>."</a><br><br>
+<a href="#010n">"<i>What fates, my comrades!"&mdash;A Review Day under the<br>
+First Empire (From the Painting by H. Bellange</i>)]</a><br><br>
+<a href="#011n">"<i>Your Emperor was banished to a rock"&mdash;The Exiled Emperor<br>
+(From the Painting by W Q Orchardson, entitled "Napoleon on board<br>
+the Bellerophon</i>.")]</a><br><br>
+<a href="#012n">Napoleon (1. The General 2. The Consul 3. The Conqueror 4. The Emperor.)]</a>  012n<br>
+
+</td></tr>
+</table>
+</center>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+<br><br><br><br>
+<center>
+<h1>
+THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON.</h1></center>
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="c1"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER ONE.</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>IN NAPOLEON'S GROTTO.</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+<p>On a certain August day, in the year 1776, two little girls were
+strolling hand in hand along the pleasant promenade that leads from the
+queer little town of Ajaccio out into the open country.</p>
+
+<p>The town of Ajaccio is on the western side of the beautiful island of
+Corsica, in the Mediterranean Sea. Back of it rise the great mountains,
+white with snowy tops; below it sparkles the Mediterranean, bluest of
+blue water. There are trees everywhere; there are flowers all about; the
+air is fragrant with the odor of fruit and foliage; and it was through
+this scented air, and amid these beautiful flowers, that these two
+little girls were wandering idly, picking here and there to add to their
+big bouquets, that August day so many years ago.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then the little girls would stop their flower-picking to
+cool off; for, though the August sun was hot, the western breezes came
+fresh across the wide Gulf of Ajaccio, down to whose shores ran broad
+and beautiful avenues of chestnut-trees, through which one could catch a
+glimpse, like a beautiful picture, of the little island of Sanguinarie,
+three miles away from shore.</p>
+
+<p>As they came out from the shadow of the chestnut-trees, one of the
+little girls suddenly caught her companion's arm, and, pointing at an
+opening in a pile of rocks that overlooked the sea, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, what is this, Eliza?&mdash;an oven?"</p>
+
+<p>"An oven, silly! Why, what do you mean?" Eliza answered. "Who would
+build an oven here, tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"But it opens like an oven," her friend declared. "See, it has a great
+mouth, as if to swallow one. Perhaps some of the black elves live there,
+that Nurse Camilla told us of. Do you think so, Eliza?"</p>
+
+<p>"What a baby you are, Panoria!" Eliza replied, with the superior air of
+one who knows all about things. "That is no oven; nor is it a black
+elf's house. It is Napoleon's grotto."</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon's!" cried Panoria. "And who gave it to him, then? Your great
+uncle, the Canon Lucien?"</p>
+
+<p>"No one gave it to him, child," Eliza replied. "Napoleon found it in the
+rocks, and teased Uncle Joey Fesch to fix it up for him. Uncle Joey did
+so, and Napoleon comes here so often now that we call it Napoleon's
+grotto."</p>
+
+<p>"Does he come here all alone?" asked Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Alone? Of course," answered Eliza. "Why should he not? He is big
+enough."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I mean does he not let any of you come here with him?"</p>
+
+<p>"That he will not!" replied Eliza. "Napoleon is such an odd boy! He will
+have no one but Uncle Joey Fesch come into his grotto, and that is only
+when he wishes Uncle Joey to teach him the primer. Brother Joseph tried
+to come in here one day, and Napoleon beat him and bit him, until Joseph
+was glad to run out, and has never since gone into the grotto."</p>
+
+<p>"What if we should go in there, Eliza?" queried Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never think of it!" cried Eliza. "Napoleon would never forgive us,
+and his nails are sharp."</p>
+
+<p>"And what does he do in his grotto?" asked the inquisitive Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he talks to himself," Eliza replied.</p>
+
+<p>"My! but that is foolish," cried Panoria; "and stupid too."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, so are you to say so," Eliza retorted. "I tell you what is true.
+My brother Napoleon comes here every day. He stays in his grotto for
+hours. He talks to himself. I know what I am saying for I have come here
+lots and lots of times just to listen. But I do not let him see me, or
+he would drive me away."</p>
+
+<p>"Is he in there now?" inquired Panoria with curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so; he always is," replied Eliza.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us hide and listen, then," suggested Panoria. "I should like to
+know what he can say when he talks to himself. Boys are bad enough,
+anyway; but a boy who just talks to himself must be crazy."</p>
+
+<p>Eliza was hardly ready to agree to her little friend's theory, so she
+said, "Wait here, Panoria, and I will go and peep into the grotto to see
+if Napoleon is there."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, do so," assented Panoria; "and I will run down to that garden and
+pick more flowers. See, there are many there."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, you must not," Eliza objected; "that is my uncle the Canon
+Lucien's garden."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and is your uncle the canon's garden more sacred than any one
+else's garden?" questioned Panoria flippantly.</p>
+
+<p>"What a goosie you are to ask that! Of course it is," declared Eliza.</p>
+
+<p>"But why?" Panoria persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" echoed Eliza; "just because it is. It is the garden of my great
+uncle the Canon Lucien; that is why."</p>
+
+<p>"It is, because it is! That is nothing," Panoria protested. "If I could
+not give a better reason"&mdash;"It is not my reason, Panoria," Eliza broke
+in. "It is Mamma Letitia's; therefore it must be right."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't care," Panoria declared; "even if it is your mamma's, it
+is&mdash;but how is it your mamma's?" she asked, changing protest to inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, we hear it whenever we do anything," replied Eliza. "If they
+wish to stop our play, they say, 'Stop! you will give your uncle the
+headache.' If we handle anything we should not, they say, 'Hands off!
+that belongs to your uncle the canon.' If we ask for a peach, they tell
+us, 'No! it is from the garden of your uncle the canon.' If they give us
+a hug or a kiss, when we have done well, they say, 'Oh, your uncle the
+canon will be so pleased with you!' Was I not right? Is not our uncle
+the canon beyond all others?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; to worry one," declared Panoria rebelliously. "But why? Is it
+because he is canon of the cathedral here at Ajaccio that they are all
+so afraid of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Afraid of him!" exclaimed Eliza indignantly. "Who is afraid of him? We
+are not. But, you see, Papa Charles is not rich enough to do for us what
+he would like. If he could but have the great estates in this island
+which are his by right, he would be rich enough to do everything for us.
+But some bad people have taken the land; and even though Papa Charles is
+a count, he is not rich enough to send us all to school; so our uncle,
+the Canon Lucien, teaches us many lessons. He is not cross, let me tell
+you, Panoria; but he is&mdash;well, a little severe."</p>
+
+<p>"What, then, does he whip you?" asked Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>"No, he does not; but if he says we should be whipped, then Mamma
+Letitia hands us over to Nurse Mina Saveria; and she, I promise you,
+does not let us off from the whipping."</p>
+
+<p>All this Eliza admitted as if with vivid recollections of the vigor of
+Nurse Saveria's arm.</p>
+
+<p>Panoria glanced toward the grotto amid the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>"Does he&mdash;Napoleon&mdash;ever get whipped?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed he does not," Eliza grumbled; "or not as often as the rest of
+us," she added. "And when he is whipped he does not even cry. You should
+hear Joseph, though. Joseph is the boy to cry; and so is Lucien. I'd be
+ashamed to cry as they do. Why, if you touch those boys just with your
+little finger, they go running to Mamma Letitia, crying that we've
+scratched the skin off."</p>
+
+<p>Panoria had her idea of such "cry-babies" of boys; but Napoleon
+interested her most.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Eliza," she said, "what does he say&mdash;Napoleon&mdash;when he talks to
+himself in his grotto over there?"</p>
+
+<p>"You shall hear," Eliza replied. "Let me go and peep in, to see if he is
+there. But no; hush! See, here he comes! Come; we will hide behind the
+lilac-bush, and hear what Napoleon says."</p>
+
+<p>"But will not your nurse, Saveria, come to look for us?" asked Panoria,
+who had not forgotten Eliza's reference to the nurse's heavy hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no; Saveria will be busy for an hour yet, picking fruit for our
+table from my uncle the canon's garden. We have time," Eliza explained.</p>
+
+<p>So the two little girls hid themselves behind the lilac-bushes that
+grew beside the rocks in which was the little cave which they called
+Napoleon's grotto. The bush concealed them from view; two pairs of
+wideopen black eyes peering curiously between the lilac-leaves were
+the only signs of the mischievous young eavesdroppers.</p>
+
+<p>The boy who was walking thoughtfully toward the grotto did not notice
+the little girls. He was about seven years old. In fact, he was seven
+that very day. For he was born in the big, bare house in Ajaccio, which
+was his home, on the fifteenth of August, 1776.</p>
+
+<p>He was an odd-looking boy. He was almost elf-like in appearance. His
+head was big, his body small, his arms and legs were thin and spindling.
+His long, dark hair fell about his face; his dress was careless and
+disordered; his stockings had tumbled down over his shoes, and he looked
+much like an untidy boy. But one scarcely noticed the dress of this boy.
+It was his face that held the attention.</p>
+
+<p>It was an Italian face; for this boy's ancestors had come, not so many
+generations before, from the Tuscan town of Sarzana, on the Gulf of
+Genoa&mdash;the very town from which "the brave Lord of Luna," of whom you
+may read in Macaulay's splendid poem of "Horatius," came to the sack
+of Rome. Save for his odd appearance, with his big head and his little
+body, there was nothing to particularly distinguish the boy Napoleon
+Bonaparte from other children of his own age.</p>
+
+<p>Now and then, indeed, his face would show all the shifting emotions
+of ambition, passion, and determination; and his eyes, though not
+beautiful, had in them a piercing and commanding gleam that, with a
+glance, could influence and attract his companions.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever happened, these wonderful eyes&mdash;even in the boy&mdash;never lost the
+power of control which they gave to their owner over those about him.
+With a look through those eyes, Napoleon would appear to conceal his own
+thoughts and learn those of others. They could flash in anger if need
+be, or smile in approval; but, before their fixed and piercing glance,
+even the boldest and most inquisitive of other eyes lowered their lids.</p>
+
+<p>Of course this eye-power, as we might call it, grew as the boy grew; but
+even as a little fellow in his Corsican home, this attraction asserted
+itself, as many a playfellow and foeman could testify, from Joey Fesch,
+his boy-uncle, to whom he was much attached, to Joseph his older
+brother, with whom he was always quarrelling, and Giacommetta, the
+little black-eyed girl, about whom the boys of Ajaccio teased him.</p>
+
+<p>The little girls behind the lilac-bush watched the boy curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Why does he walk like that?" asked Panoria, as she noted Napoleon's
+advance. He came slowly, his eyes fixed on the sea, his hands clasped
+behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>"Our uncle the canon," whispered Eliza; "he walks just that way, and
+Napoleon copies him."</p>
+
+<p>"My, he looks about fifty!" said Panoria. "What do you suppose he is
+thinking about?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not about us, be sure," Eliza declared.</p>
+
+<p>"I believe he's dreaming," said mischievous Panoria; "let us scream out,
+and see if we can frighten him."</p>
+
+<p>"Silly! you can't frighten Napoleon," Eliza asserted, clapping a hand
+over her companion's mouth. "But he could frighten you. I have tried
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon stood a moment looking seaward, and tossed back his long hair,
+as if to bathe his forehead in the cooling breezes. Then entering the
+grotto, he flung himself on its rocky floor, and, leaning his head upon
+his hand, seemed as lost in meditation as any gray old hermit of the
+hills, all unconscious of the four black eyes which, filled with
+curiosity and fun, were watching him from behind the lilac-bush.</p>
+
+<a name="018"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="018.jpg (129K)" src="018.jpg" height="758" width="630">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+<p>"Here, at least," the boy said, speaking aloud, as if he wished the
+broad sea to share his thoughts, "here I am master, here I am alone;
+here no one can command or control me. I am seven years old to-day.
+One is not a man at seven; that I know. But neither is one a child when
+he has my desires. Our uncle, the Canon Lucien, tells me that Spartan
+boys were taken away from the women when they were seven years old, and
+trained by men. I wish I were a Spartan. There are too many here to say
+what I may and may not do,&mdash;Mamma Letitia, our uncle the canon, Papa
+Charles, Nurse Saveria, Nurse Camilla, to say nothing of my boy-uncle
+Fesch, my brother Joseph, and sister Eliza; Uncle Joey Fesch is but four
+years older than I, my brother Joseph is but a year older, and Eliza is
+a year younger! Even little Pauline has her word to put in against me.
+Bah! why should they? If now I were but the master at home, as I am
+here"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, hermit! and what if you were the master?" cried Eliza from the
+lilac-bush.</p>
+
+<p>The two girls had kept silence as long as they could; and now, to keep
+Panoria from speaking out, Eliza had interrupted with her question.</p>
+
+<p>With that, they both ran into the grotto.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was silent a moment, as if protesting against this invasion of
+his privacy. Then he said,&mdash;"If I were the master, Eliza, I would make
+you both do penance for listening at doors;" for it especially mortified
+this boy to be overheard talking to himself.</p>
+
+<p>"But here are no doors, Napoleon!" cried Eliza, whirling about in the
+grotto.</p>
+
+<p>"So much the worse, then," Napoleon returned hotly. "When there are no
+doors, one should be even more careful about intruding."</p>
+
+<p>"Pho! hear the little lord," teased Eliza. "One would think he was the
+Emperor what's his name, or the Grand Turk."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was about to respond still more sharply, when just then a
+shrill voice rang through the grotto.</p>
+
+<p>"Eliza; Panoria! Panoria; Eliza!" the call came. "Where are you,
+runaways? Where are you hidden?"</p>
+
+<p>"Here we are, Saveria," Eliza cried in reply, but making no move to
+retire.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon would have put the girls out, but the next moment a tall and
+stout young woman appeared at the entrance of the grotto. She was
+dressed in black, with a black shawl draped over her high hair, and held
+by a silver pin. On her arm she carried a large basket filled with
+fine fruit,&mdash;pears, grapes, and figs. "So here you are, in Napoleon's
+grotto!" exclaimed Saveria the nurse, dropping with her basket on the
+ground. "Why did you run from me, naughty ones?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon noted the basket's luscious contents.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, a pear! Give me a pear, Saveria!" he cried, springing toward the
+nurse, and thrusting a hand into the basket.</p>
+
+<p>But Nurse Saveria hastily drew away the basket.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, child, child! what are you doing?" she exclaimed. "These are your
+uncle the canon's."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon withdrew his hand as sharply as if a bee amid the fruit had
+stung him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, is it so?" he cried; but Panoria, not having before her eyes the
+fear of the Bonapartes' bugbear, "their uncle the canon," laughed
+loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"What funny people you all are!" she exclaimed. "One needs but to cry,
+'Your uncle the canon,' and down you all tumble like a house of cards.
+What! is Saveria, too, afraid of him?"</p>
+
+<p>"No more than I am," said Napoleon stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>"No more than you!" laughed Panoria. "Why, Napoleon, you did not dare to
+even touch the pears of your uncle the canon."</p>
+
+<p>"Because I did not wish to, Panoria," replied Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"Did not dare to," corrected Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>"Did not wish to," insisted Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, wish it! I dare you to wish it!" cried Panoria, while Eliza
+looked on horrified at her little friend's suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Saveria had led the children from the grotto, and, walking
+on ahead, was returning toward their home. She did not hear Panoria's
+"dare."</p>
+
+<p>"You may dare me," Napoleon replied to the challenge of Panoria; "but if
+I do not wish it, you gain nothing by daring me."</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! you are afraid, little boy!" cried Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>"I afraid?" and Napoleon turned his piercing glance upon the little
+girl, so that she quailed before it.</p>
+
+<p>But Panoria was an obstinate child, and she returned to the charge.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you did wish it, would you do it, Napoleon?" she asked. "Of
+course," the boy replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, it is easy to brag," said Panoria; "but when your great man, your
+uncle the canon, is around, you are no braver, I'll be bound, than
+little Pauline, or even Eliza here."</p>
+
+<p>By this time Eliza, too, had grown brave; and she said stoutly to her
+friend, "What! I am not brave, you say? You shall see."</p>
+
+<p>Then as Saveria, turning, bade them hurry on, Eliza caught Panoria's
+hand, and ran toward the nurse; but as she did so, she said to Panoria,
+boastingly and rashly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Come into our house! If I do not eat some of those very pears out
+of that very basket of our uncle the canon's, then you may call me a
+coward, Panoria!"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you then dare?" cried Panoria. "I'll not believe it unless I see
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Eliza was "in for it" now. "Then you shall see me!" she declared. "Come
+to my house. Mamma Letitia is away visiting, and I shall have the best
+chance. I promise you; you shall see."</p>
+
+<p>"Hurry, then," said Panoria. "It is better than braving the black elves,
+this that you are to do, Eliza. For truly I think your uncle the canon
+must be an ogre."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall see," Eliza declared again; and, running after Nurse Saveria,
+they were soon in the narrow street in which, standing across the way
+from a little park, was the big, bare, yellowish-gray, four-story house
+in which lived the Bonaparte family, always hard pushed for money, and
+having but few of the fine things which so large a house seemed to call
+for. Indeed, they would have had scarcely anything to live on had it not
+been for this same important relative, "our uncle, the Canon Lucien,"
+who spent much of his yearly salary of fifteen hundred dollars upon this
+family of his nephew, "Papa Charles," one of whom was now about to make
+a raid upon his picked and particular pears.</p>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<br><br>
+<a name="c2"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER TWO.</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>THE CANON'S PEARS</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>When the little girls had left him, Napoleon remained for some moments
+standing in the mouth of his grotto. His hands were clasped behind his
+back, his head was bent, his eyes were fixed upon the sea.</p>
+
+<p>This, as I have told you, was a favorite attitude of the little boy,
+copied from his uncle the canon; it remained his favorite attitude
+through life, as almost any picture of this remarkable man will convince
+you.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was always thoughtful. But this day he was especially so. For he
+knew that it was his birthday; and while not so much notice was taken of
+children's birthdays when Napoleon was a boy as is now the custom, still
+a birthday <i>was</i> a birthday.</p>
+
+<p>So the day set the little fellow to thinking; and, young as he was, he
+had yet much to remember.</p>
+
+<p>He felt that he ought to be as rich and important as the other boys
+whom he knew round about Ajaccio There were Andrew Pozzo and Charles
+Abbatucci, for example. They had everything they wished, their fathers
+were rich and powerful; and they made fun of him, calling him "little
+frowsy head," and "down at the heel," just because his mother could not
+always look after his clothes, and keep him neat and clean.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon could not see why they should be better off than was he. His
+father, Charles Bonaparte, was, he had heard them say at home, a count,
+but of what good was it to be a count, or a duke, if one had not palaces
+and treasure to show for it?</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon knew that the big and bare four-story house in which he lived
+was by no means a palace; and so far from having any treasures to spend,
+he knew, instead, that if it were not for the help of their uncle, the
+Canon Lucien, they would often go hungry in the big house on the little
+park.</p>
+
+<p>But there was one consolation. If he was badly off, so, too, were many
+other boys and girls in that Mediterranean island. For when Napoleon
+Bonaparte was a boy, there was much trouble in Corsica. That rocky,
+sea-washed, forest-crowned island of mountains and valleys, queer
+customs and brave people, had been in rebellion, against its
+masters&mdash;first, the republic of Genoa, and then against France.</p>
+
+<a name="027"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="027.jpg (138K)" src="027.jpg" height="774" width="615">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Napoleon's father, Charles Bonaparte, had been a Corsican politician and
+patriot, a follower of the great Corsican leader, Paoli, who had spent
+many years of a glorious life in trying to lead his fellow-Corsicans to
+liberty and self-government. But the attempt had been a failure; and
+three months before the baby Napoleon was born, Charles Bonaparte had,
+with other Corsican leaders, given up the struggle. He submitted to the
+French power, took the oath of allegiance, and became a French citizen.
+And thus it came to pass that little Napoleon Bonaparte, though an
+Italian by blood and family, was really by birth a French citizen.</p>
+
+<p>Still, all that did not help him much, if, indeed, he thought anything
+about it as he stood in his grotto looking out to sea. He was thinking
+of other things,&mdash;of how he would like to be great and strong and rich,
+so that he could be a leader of other boys, rather than be teased by
+them; for little Napoleon Bonaparte did not take kindly to being teased,
+but would get very angry at his tormentors, and would bite and scratch
+and fight like any little savage. He had, as a child, what is known as
+an ungovernable temper, although he was able to keep it under control
+until the moment came when he could both say and do to his own
+satisfaction. He loved his father and mother; he loved his brothers and
+sisters; he loved his uncle, the Canon Lucien; he loved, more than all
+his other playmates and companions, his boy-uncle, fat, twelve-year-old
+Joey Fesch, who had taught him his letters, and been his admirer and
+follower from babyhood.</p>
+
+<p>But though he loved them all, he loved his own way best; and he was
+bound to have it, however much his father might talk, his mother chide,
+or his uncle the canon correct him. So, as he stood in the grotto,
+remembering that on that day he was seven years old, he determined to
+let all his family see that he knew what he wished to become and do.
+He would show them, he declared, that he was a little boy, a baby, no
+longer; they should know that he was a boy who would be a man long
+before other boys grew up, and would then show his family that they had
+never really understood him.</p>
+
+<p>At last he turned away and walked slowly toward home. The Bonaparte
+house was, as I have told you, a big, bare, four-story, yellow-gray
+house. It stood on a little narrow street, now called, after Napoleon's
+mother, Letitia Place, in the town of Ajaccio. The street was not over
+eight or ten feet wide; but opposite to the house was a little park that
+allowed the Bonapartes to get both light and air&mdash;something that would
+otherwise be hard to obtain in a street only ten feet wide.</p>
+
+<p>Tired and thirsty from his walk through the sunshine of the hot August
+afternoon, the boy started for the dining-room for a drink of water. As
+he opened the door in his quick, impetuous way, he heard a noise as of
+some one startled and fleeing. The swinging sash of the long French
+window opposite him shut with a bang, and Napoleon had a glimpse of a
+bit of white skirt, caught for an instant on the window-fastening.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, ha! it was not a bird, then, that fluttering," he said. "It was a
+girl. One of my sisters. Now, which one, I wonder? and why did she run?
+I do not care to catch her. It is no sport playing with girls."</p>
+
+<p>So little curiosity did he have in the matter, that he did not follow on
+the track of the fugitive, nor even go to the window to look out; but,
+walking up to the sideboard, he opened it to take the water-pitcher and
+get a drink.</p>
+
+<p>As he did so, he started. There stood the basket of fruit which Saveria
+had filled so carefully with fruit for his uncle the canon. But now the
+basket was only half filled. Who had taken the fruit?</p>
+
+<p>He clapped his hands together in surprise; for the fruit of his uncle
+the canon was something no one in the house dared to touch. Punishment
+swift and sure would descend upon the culprit.</p>
+
+<p>"But, look!" he said half-aloud; "who has dared to touch the fruit of
+my uncle the canon? Touch it? My faith! they have taken half of it. Ah,
+that skirt! Could it have been&mdash;it must have been one of my sisters. But
+which one?"</p>
+
+<p>As he stood thus wondering, his eyes still fixed upon the rifled basket
+of fruit, he heard behind him a voice that tried to be harsh and stern,
+calling his name.</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon!" cried the new-comer, "what are you doing at the sideboard?
+and why have you opened it? You know we have forbidden you to take
+anything to eat before mealtime. What have you done?"</p>
+
+<p>It was the voice of his uncle, the Canon Lucien. Napoleon, turning at
+the question, met the glance of his uncle fastened upon him. The Canon
+Lucien Bonaparte was a funny looking, fat little man, as bald as he
+was good-natured,&mdash;and that was <i>very</i> bald,&mdash;and with a smooth,
+ordinary-appearing face, only remarkable for the same sharp, eagle-like
+look that marked his nephew Napoleon when he, too, became a man.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon looked at his uncle the canon with indignation and denial on
+his face. "Why, my uncle, I have taken nothing!" he declared.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly he remembered how he had been discovered by his uncle
+standing before the half-emptied basket of fruit. Could it be that the
+old gentleman suspected him of pilfering? Would he dare accuse him of
+the crime?</p>
+
+<p>At the thought his face flushed red and hot. For you must know, boys and
+girls, that sometimes the fear of being suspected of a misdeed, even
+when one is absolutely innocent, brings to the face the flush that is
+considered a sign of guilt, and thus people are misunderstood and
+wrongfully accused. When one is high-spirited this is more liable to
+occur. It was so, at this moment, with the little Napoleon. His confused
+air, his flushed face, even his look of indignant denial, joined as
+evidence against him so strongly that his uncle the canon said sharply,
+"Come, you, Napoleon! do not lie to me now."</p>
+
+<p>At that remark all the boy's pride was on fire.</p>
+
+
+<a name="002n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="002n.jpg (128K)" src="002n.jpg" height="987" width="675">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<p>"I never lie, uncle; you know I never lie!" he cried hotly.</p>
+
+<p>But Uncle Lucien was so certain of the boy's guilt that he mistook his
+pride for impudence. And yet he was such a good-natured old fellow, and
+loved his nieces and nephews so dearly, that he tried to soften and
+belittle the theft of his precious fruit.</p>
+
+<p>"No harm is done," he said, "if you but tell me what you have done. The
+fruit can be replaced, and I will say nothing, though you know you are
+forbidden to meddle with my fruit. But I do not love to see you doing
+wrong. I will not tolerate a lie. I do not know just what you have done;
+but if you will tell me the truth, I will&mdash;of course I will&mdash;pardon you.
+Why did you take my fruit?"</p>
+
+<p>"I took nothing, uncle," the boy declared. "It was"&mdash;then he stopped.
+Suppose it had been taken by one of his sisters, or by Panoria, their
+guest? The flutter of the departing skirt, as he came into the room,
+assured him it was one of these. But which one? And why should he accuse
+the little girls? It was not manly, and he wished to be a man.</p>
+
+<p>More than this, he was angry to think that he had been suspected,
+more angry yet to think he had been accused by good Uncle Lucien, and
+furiously angry to think that his word was doubted; so he said nothing
+further.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, so! It was&mdash;you, then," the canon said, shaking his head in
+sorrowful belief.</p>
+
+<p>"No; I did not say so!" exclaimed Napoleon. "It was not I."</p>
+
+<p>"Take care, take care, my son," the canon said, very nearly losing his
+temper over what he considered Napoleon's insincerity. "You cannot
+deceive me. See! look at yourself in the glass. Your face betrays you.
+It is red with shame."</p>
+
+<p>"Then is my color a liar, uncle; but I am not," Napoleon insisted.</p>
+
+<p>"What were you doing here, all alone?" asked his uncle.</p>
+
+<p>"I was thirsty," replied the nephew. "I did but come for a drink of
+water."</p>
+
+<p>"That perhaps is so," said Uncle Lucien. "There is no harm in that. You
+came for a drink of water; but, how was it after that,&mdash;eh, my friend?"</p>
+
+<p>"That is all, uncle," replied Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"And the water? Have you taken a drink of it, yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, uncle; not yet."</p>
+
+<p>The canon again shook his head doubtingly.</p>
+
+<p>"See, then," he declared, "you came for a drink of water. You took no
+drink; the sideboard stands open; my fruit has disappeared. Napoleon,
+this is not right. You have done a wrong. Come, tell me the truth. If it
+is not as you say, if you have lied to me, much as I love you, I will
+have you punished. It is wicked in you, and I will not be merciful."</p>
+
+<p>As the canon said this with raised voice and warning finger,
+Napoleon's father, "Papa Charles," entered the room. With him
+came Napoleon's brother Joseph, two years older than he, and his
+twelve-year-old uncle-Joey Fesch. Joey was Mamma Letitia's half-brother,
+a Swiss-Corsican boy. He was, as I have told you, Napoleon's firm
+supporter.</p>
+
+<p>They looked in surprise at Uncle Lucien and Napoleon, and would have
+inquired as to the meaning of the attitude of the two. But the fact was,
+Napoleon had so many such moments of rebellion, that they gave it
+no immediate thought; and just then Charles Bonaparte had a serious
+political question which he wished to refer to the Canon Lucien.</p>
+
+<p>The two men at once began talking; the two boys saw through the open
+window something that engaged their attention, and Napoleon was
+unnoticed. But still the little boy stood, too proud to move away, too
+angry to speak, and so filled with a sense of the injustice that was
+done him, that he remained with downcast eyes, almost rooted to the
+spot, while still the sideboard stood open, and the tell-tale basket
+stood despoiled within it. The door opened again, and Saveria entered
+hastily. She went to the sideboard, took out the basket of fruit,
+and then you may be sure there was an exclamation that attracted the
+attention of all in the room.</p>
+
+<p>"For mercy's sake!" she cried. "Who has taken the canon's fruit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, who?" echoed Uncle Lucien, wheeling about, and laying his hand
+upon Napoleon's shoulder. "Behold, Saveria! here is the culprit. He has
+taken my fruit."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon pushed away his uncle's hand.</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so!" he said; but he grew pale as he spoke. "I have not
+touched it."</p>
+
+<p>"But some one has. Hear me, Saveria!" the canon commanded; for in that
+house he had quite as much to say as the Father and Mother Bonaparte.
+"Call in the other children. We will soon settle this."</p>
+
+<p>All were soon in the room,&mdash;the two little girls, Joseph, and Uncle Joey
+Fesch, even baby Lucien, who was named for his uncle the canon. The
+children made a charming group; but they looked at Napoleon with
+curiosity and surprise, wondering into what new trouble he had fallen.
+For the solemn manner in which they had been called together, the grave
+looks of Papa Charles, of Uncle Lucien, and of Nurse Saveria, led
+them all to believe that something really serious had happened in the
+Bonaparte household.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c3"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER THREE</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>THE ACCUSATION</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>"Now, then, children, listen to me, and answer, he who is the guilty
+one," Charles Bonaparte said, facing the group of children. "Who is it
+that has taken the fruit from the basket of your uncle the canon?"</p>
+
+<p>Each child declared his or her innocence, though one might imagine that
+Eliza's voice was not so outspoken as the others.</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you say, Napoleon?" asked Papa Charles, turning toward the
+suspected one.</p>
+
+<p>"I have already said, Papa Charles, that it was not I," Napoleon
+answered, this time calmly and coolly; for his composure had returned.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a lie, Napoleon!" exclaimed Nurse Saveria, who, as the trusted
+servant of the Bonaparte family, spoke just as she wished, and said
+precisely what she meant, while no one questioned her freedom. "That is
+a lie, Napoleon, and you know it!" The boy sprang toward the nurse in a
+rage, and, lifting his hand threateningly, cried, "Saveria! if you were
+not a woman, I would"&mdash;and he simply shook his little fist at her, too
+angry even to complete his threat.</p>
+
+<p>"How now, Napoleon! what would you do?" his father exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>But Saveria only laughed scornfully. "It must have been you, Napoleon,"
+she said. "I have not left the pantry since I placed the basket of fruit
+in this sideboard. No one has come in through the door except you and
+your uncle the canon. Who else, then, could have taken the fruit? You
+will not say"&mdash;and here she laughed again&mdash;"that it is your uncle the
+canon who has stolen his own fruit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, but I wish it had been I," said Uncle Lucien, smiling sadly; for
+it sorely disturbed his good-nature to have such a scene, and to be
+a witness of what he believed to be Napoleon's obstinacy and
+untruthfulness. "I would surely say so, even if I had to go without my
+supper for the disobedient act."</p>
+
+<p>"But," suggested Napoleon, in a broken voice, touched with the shame of
+appearing to be a tell-tale, "it is possible for some one to come in
+here through the window."</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" cried Saveria. "Do not be a silly too. No one has come through
+the window. You are the thief, Napoleon. You have taken the fruit. Come,
+I will punish you doubly&mdash;first for thieving, and then for lying."</p>
+
+<p>But as she crossed as if to seize the boy, Napoleon sprang toward his
+uncle for refuge.</p>
+
+<p>"Uncle Lucien! I did not do it!" he cried. "They must not punish me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell the truth, Napoleon," his father said. "That is better than
+lying."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, tell the truth, Napoleon," repeated his uncle; "only by confession
+can you escape punishment."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes; punishment&mdash;how does that sound, Napoleon?" whispered Joseph
+in his ear. "You had better tell the truth. Saveria's whip hurts."</p>
+
+<p>"And so does my hand, rascal!" cried Napoleon, enraged at the taunts of
+his brother. And he sprang upon Joseph, and beat and bit him so sharply
+that the elder boy howled for help, and Uncle Joey Fesch was obliged
+to pull the brothers apart. For Joseph and Napoleon were forever
+quarrelling; and Uncle Joey Fesch was kept busy separating them, or
+smoothing over their squabbles.</p>
+
+<p>As Uncle Joey Fesch drew Napoleon away, he said, "Tell them you took the
+fruit, and they will pardon you. Is it not so, Uncle Lucien?" he added,
+turning to the canon.</p>
+
+<p>"Assuredly, Joey Fesch," the Canon Lucien replied. "Sin confessed is
+half forgiven."</p>
+
+<p>But Napoleon only stamped his foot. "Why should I confess?" he cried.
+"What should I confess? I should lie if I did so. I will not lie! I tell
+you I did not take any of my uncle's fruit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Confess," urged Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"'Fess," lisped baby Lucien.</p>
+
+<p>"Confess, dear Napoleon," sister Pauline begged.</p>
+
+<p>Only Eliza remained quiet.</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon," said the Canon Lucien, who, as head of the Bonaparte
+family, and who, especially because he was its main support, was given
+leadership in all home affairs, "we waste time with you; for you are but
+an obstinate boy. At first I felt sorry for you, and would have excused
+you, but now I can do so no longer. See, now; I give you five minutes
+by my watch in which to confess your wrong-doing. You ask for my
+protection. I am certain of your guilt. But I open a door of escape.
+It is the door to pardon; it is confession. Profit by it. See,
+again,"&mdash;here the canon took out his watch,&mdash;"it is now five minutes
+before seven. If, when the clock strikes seven, you have not confessed,
+Saveria shall give you a whipping. Am I right, brother Charles?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Canon," replied Papa Charles. "If within five minutes by
+your watch Napoleon has not confessed, Saveria shall give him the whip."</p>
+
+<p>"The whip is for horses and dogs, but not for boys," Napoleon declared,
+upon whom this threat of the whip always had an extraordinary effect. "I
+am not a beast."</p>
+
+<p>"The whip is for liars, Napoleon," returned Papa Charles; "for liars and
+children who disobey."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, you are cruel to lay it over me; you are cruel and unjust,"
+declared the boy. "For I am not a liar; I am not disobedient. I will not
+be whipped!"</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, the boy's eyes flashed defiance. He crossed his arms on his
+breast, lifted his head proudly, planted himself sturdily on his feet,
+and flung at them all a look of mingled indignation and determination.</p>
+
+<p>Supper was ready; and the family, all save Napoleon, seated themselves
+at the table. The five minutes granted him by the canon had run into a
+longer time, when little Pauline, distressed at sight of her brother
+standing pale and grave in front of the open sideboard and the despoiled
+basket of fruit, rose from her chair; approaching him, she whispered,
+"Poor boy! they will give you the whip. I am sure of it. Hear me! While
+they are not looking, run away. See! the window is open."</p>
+
+<p>"Run away? Not I!" came Napoleon's answer in an indignant whisper. "I am
+not afraid."</p>
+
+<p>"But I am," said Pauline. "I do not wish them to whip you. I shall cry.
+Run, Napoleon! run away!"</p>
+
+<p>The perspiration stood in beads on the boy's sallow forehead; but he
+said nothing. "Ask Uncle Lucien's pardon, Napoleon; ask Papa Charles's
+pardon, if you will not run away," Pauline next whispered; "or let me.
+Come! may I not do it for you?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon's hand dropped upon Pauline's shoulder, as if to keep her back
+from such an action; but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline, leave your brother," Charles Bonaparte said. "He is a stubborn
+and undutiful boy. I forbid you to speak to him."</p>
+
+<p>Then turning to his son, he said, "Napoleon, we have given you more than
+the time offered you for reflection. Now, sir, come and ask pardon for
+your misdeed, and all will be over."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, come," said Uncle Lucien.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon remained silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not hear me, Napoleon?" his father said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, papa," replied the boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Well?"</p>
+
+<p>Pauline pushed her brother; but he would not move. "Go! do go!" she
+said. Instead, Napoleon drew away from her. Uncle Joey Fesch took
+Napoleon by the arm, and sought to draw him toward the table. Even
+Joseph rose and beckoned him to come. But the boy made no motion toward
+the proffered pardon.</p>
+
+<p>"Stupid boy! Obstinate pig!" cried Joseph; "why do you not ask pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I have done no evil," replied Napoleon. "You are the stupid
+one; you are the pig, I say. Did I not tell you I did not touch the
+fruit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Still obstinate!" exclaimed "Papa Charles," turning away from his
+son. "He does not wish for pardon. He is wicked. Saveria! take this
+headstrong boy to the kitchen, and lay the whip upon him well, do you
+hear? He has deserved it."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon fled to the corner, and stood at bay. Uncle Joey Fesch joined
+him, as if to protect and defend him. But when big and strong Nurse
+Saveria bore down upon them both, Uncle Joey, after an unsuccessful
+attempt to drag Napoleon with him, turned from the enemy, and sprang
+through the open window.</p>
+
+<p>Then Saveria flung her arms about the little Napoleon, and, in spite of
+his kickings and scratchings, bore him from the room, while all laughed
+except Pauline. She stuffed her fingers into her ears to shut out the
+sound of her brother's cries. But she had no need to do this. No sound
+came from the punishment chamber. For not a sound, not a cry, not even a
+sigh, escaped from the boy who was bearing an unmerited punishment.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="c4"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER FOUR </h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>BREAD AND WATER</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+
+<p>You will, no doubt, wonder what Napoleon's mother was doing while her
+little son was undergoing his unjust punishment. Perhaps if she had been
+at home things would not have turned out so badly with the boy; for
+"Mamma Letitia," as the Bonaparte children called their beautiful
+mother, had a way about her that none of them could resist. She had much
+more will and spirit, she saw things clearer and better, than did "Papa
+Charles."</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, Napoleon said when he was a man, recalling the days of his
+boyhood in Ajaccio, "I had to be quick when I wished to do anything
+naughty, for my Mamma Letitia would always restrain my warlike temper;
+she would not put up with my defiance and petulance. Her tenderness was
+severe, meting out punishment and reward with equal justice,&mdash;merit and
+demerit, she took both into account."</p>
+
+<p>So, you see, she would probably have understood that Napoleon spoke the
+truth, and that it was some one else who had taken the fruit from the
+basket of their uncle the canon. But Mamma Letitia was not at home. She
+had gone to Melilli, in the country beyond Ajaccio, to visit her mother
+and step-father&mdash;the father and mother of her half-brother, "Uncle Joey
+Fesch," as the Bonaparte children called him. Melilli was in the midst
+of fields and forests and luscious vineyards, and it was a great treat
+for the children to go there to visit their grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes their mother would take one or two of the children with her;
+but on this visit she had gone alone. That very evening her husband was
+to join her, and there had been great contention among the children as
+to which of them should accompany their father.</p>
+
+<p>Before leaving the supper-table "Papa Charles" announced that their
+Uncle Santa's carriage would be at the door in half an hour; that Uncle
+Joey Fesch would drive; and that Joseph and Lucien and Eliza&mdash;"the good
+children," as he called them&mdash;should go with him to Melilli to visit
+their Grandmother Fesch, and bring back Mamma Letitia. Joseph exulted
+loudly; Eliza said nothing; and baby Lucien crowed his delight. But
+Pauline slipped out into the pantry where Napoleon stood silent and
+still defiant. "I am to stay with you, brother," she said. "Will you be
+good to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon slipped his arm about his little sister's neck; but just then
+his father came from the dining-room, and the boy drew up again, haughty
+and hard.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Napoleon," said his father, stopping an instant before the boy,
+"I hope you are sorry and subdued. Will you now ask your Uncle Lucien's
+pardon?"</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="051"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="051.jpg (23K)" src="051.jpg" height="443" width="196">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Napoleon looked his father full in the face. "I did not take that fruit,
+papa," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What! stubborn still?" his father cried. "See, then; it shall not be
+said in my home that an obstinate little fellow like you can rule the
+house. Since the whip has not conquered you, we will try what starving
+will do. Listen! I am to go to Melilli for Mamma Letitia. Joseph, Eliza,
+and Lucien, our three good ones, shall go with me; we shall be gone for
+three days. As for you, Napoleon, you shall remain here, and shall have
+only bread and water, unless, indeed, before our return you ask pardon
+from your uncle the canon."</p>
+
+<p>Pauline looked sadly at Napoleon, and caught his hand. Then she asked
+her father, "But he may have a little cheese with his bread, may he not,
+papa?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;yes"&mdash;her father yielded. "But only common cheese, Pauline; not
+broccio."</p>
+
+<p>Now, broccio was the favorite cheese of the Corsican children, and
+Pauline protested.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, papa! let him have broccio, papa," she said. "Why, broccio is
+the best cheese in Corsica!"</p>
+
+<p>"And that is why Napoleon shall not have it," replied her father.
+"Broccio is for good boys and girls; and Napoleon is not good."</p>
+
+<p>As he said this he glanced at Napoleon sharply, as if he really hoped
+for and expected a word of repentance, a look of entreaty. But Napoleon
+said nothing. He looked even more haughty and unyielding than ever; and
+his father, with a word of farewell only to Pauline, left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Napoleon," said Pauline pityingly, as their father closed the
+door. "See, I will stay by you. But why will you not ask for pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because pardon is for the guilty, Pauline," Napoleon replied; "and I am
+not guilty."</p>
+
+<p>"And will you never ask it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never," her brother said firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"But, O Napoleon!" cried the little girl, "what if they should always
+give you just bread and water and cheese?"</p>
+
+<p>"And if they should, I would not give in," Napoleon answered. "What can
+I do? I am not master here."</p>
+
+<p>Pauline gave a great sigh of sympathy. The thought of never having
+anything to eat but bread and water and a little cheese was too much for
+her courage.</p>
+
+<p>"I could confess anything, rather," she said. "I would ask pardon three
+times a day."</p>
+
+<p>"And I would not," said Napoleon. "But then, I am a man."</p>
+
+<p>Just then the three children who were to accompany their father to
+Milelli, passed through the pantry, for they had been to bid Nurse
+Saveria good-by. Joseph caught the last word.</p>
+
+<p>"A man, are you!" he cried. "Then, why not be a man, and not a baby?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, rascal! and who is the greater baby?" his brother responded. "It
+is he who cries the loudest when things go wrong; and I never cry."</p>
+
+<p>Joseph said nothing further except, "Good-by, obstinate one!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good-by," lisped baby Lucien.</p>
+
+<p>But Eliza said nothing. She did not even glance at Napoleon as she
+passed him; and he simply looked at her, without a word of accusation or
+farewell.</p>
+
+<p>The three days passed quietly, though hungrily, for Napoleon. Uncle
+Lucien said nothing to influence the boy, though he looked sadly, and
+sometimes wistfully, at him; and Pauline tried to sweeten the bread and
+water and cheese as much as possible by her sympathy and companionship.</p>
+
+<p>Of this last, however, Napoleon did not wish much. He spent much of the
+time in his grotto, brooding over his wrongs, and thinking how he would
+act if people tried to treat him thus when he became a man.</p>
+
+<p>The second day he dragged his toy cannon to his grotto, and made believe
+he was a Corsican patriot, intrenched in his fortifications, and
+holding the whole French army at bay; for though Corsica was a French
+possession, the people were still smarting under their wrongs, and hated
+their French oppressors, as they termed them. Some years after, when he
+was a young man, Napoleon, talking about the home of his boyhood and
+the troubles of Corsica, said, "I was born while my country was dying.
+Thirty thousand French thrown upon our shores, drowning the throne of
+liberty in blood&mdash;such was the horrid sight that first met my view.
+The cries of the dying, the groans of the oppressed, tears of despair,
+surrounded my cradle at my birth."</p>
+
+<p>It was not quite as bad as all that. But Napoleon liked to use big words
+and dramatic phrases. It had been, in fact, very much like this before
+Napoleon was born. He had heard all the stories of French tyranny and
+Corsican courage, and, like a true Corsican, was hot with wrath against
+the enslavers of his country, as he called the French. So he found an
+especial pleasure in bombarding all France with his toy gun from his
+grotto; and as he then felt very bitter indeed because of his treatment
+at home, you may be sure the French army was horribly butchered in the
+boy's make-believe battle before Napoleon's grotto.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went back for his bread and water.</p>
+
+<p>As he approached the house, he found that he was beginning to rebel at
+the bread and water diet.</p>
+
+<p>Bread and water alone, with just a little cheese, begin to grow
+monotonous to a healthy boy with a good appetite, after two or three
+days.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Napoleon had a brilliant idea. "The shepherd boys!" he
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>He hurried to the house, took from Saveria the bread she had put aside
+for him, and was speedily out of the house again.</p>
+
+<p>This time he took his way to the grazing-lands, where, upon the slopes
+of the grand mountains that wall in the town of Ajaccio, the shepherd
+boys were tending their scattered herds.</p>
+
+<p>"Who will exchange chestnut bread for the best town bread in Ajaccio?"
+he demanded. "I will give piece for piece."</p>
+
+<p>Those shepherd boys led a lonely sort of life, and welcomed anything
+that was novel. Then, too, they were as tired of their bread, made from
+pounded chestnuts, as was Napoleon of Saveria's wheat bread.</p>
+
+<p>So Napoleon found a ready response to his offer.</p>
+
+<p>"Here! I'll do it!"&mdash;"and I"&mdash;"and I"&mdash;"and I"&mdash;came the answers, in
+such numbers that Napoleon saw that his little stock would soon be
+exhausted; and, indeed, he was not overfond of chestnut bread.</p>
+
+<p>So he improved on his idea.</p>
+
+<p>"Piece for piece, I will exchange, as I offered," he announced. "But
+there are too many of you. See! he who will give me the biggest slice of
+broccio shall have first choice for the bread, and the next biggest, the
+next."</p>
+
+<p>This put a different face on the transaction, but it added spice to the
+operation; and Napoleon actually succeeded in getting for his stale home
+bread, goodly sized pieces of fresh chestnut bread, and enough of the
+much-loved broccio, and bunches of luscious grapes, "to boot," to
+provide him with a generous meal. But the next day the shepherd boys
+rebelled; they told Napoleon that his bread was stale, and not good.
+They preferred their chestnut bread.</p>
+
+<p>"But if you will look after our sheep while we go into the town," said
+one of them, "we will give you some of our bread."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="058"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="058.jpg (55K)" src="058.jpg" height="398" width="669">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<p>This, however, did not suit Napoleon. "I am not one to tend sheep," he
+answered. "Keep your bread. It is not so good that one wishes to eat it
+twice; and&mdash;here, I pity you for having always to eat that stuff. Take
+mine!" With that, he tossed his store of dry bread to the shepherd boys,
+and, walking back to town, ran in to visit his foster mother; that is,
+the woman who had been his nurse when he was a baby.</p>
+
+<p>Nurse Camilla, as he called her, or sometimes "foster-mamma Camilla,"
+was now the widow Ilari; but since her husband had been killed in one of
+those terrible family quarrels known as a Corsican <i>vendetta</i>, she had
+lived in a little house on one of the narrow streets of Ajaccio, not far
+from the Bonapartes.</p>
+
+<p>She was very fond of her baby, as she called Napoleon; and when he told
+her of his disgrace at home, she said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! the sillies! Do they not know a truth-teller when they see one?
+And so they would keep you on bread and water? Not if Nurse Camilla can
+prevent it. See, now! here is a plenty to eat, and just what my own boy
+likes, does he not? Eat, eat, my son, and never mind the stale bread of
+that stingy Saveria."</p>
+
+<p>Then she petted and caressed the boy she so adored; she gave him the
+best her house afforded, and sent him away to his own home satisfied and
+filled, but especially jubilant, I fear, because he had got the best, as
+he termed it, of the home tyranny, and shown how he was able to do for
+himself even when he was driven to extremities.</p>
+
+<p>It was this ability to use all the conditions of life for his own
+benefit, and to turn even privation and defeat into victory, that gave
+to Napoleon, when he became a man, that genius of mastery that made this
+neglected boy of Corsica the foremost man of all the world.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c5"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER FIVE</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>A WRONG RIGHTED</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>It was the third day of the family's absence from the Bonaparte house.
+Napoleon had been at his favorite resort,&mdash;the grotto that overlooked
+the sea. He had been brooding over his fancied wrongs, as well as his
+real ones; he had wished he could be a man to do as he pleased. He would
+free Corsica from French tyranny, make his father rich, and his mother
+free from worry, and, in fact, accomplish all those impossible things
+that every boy of spirit and ambition is certain he could do if he might
+but have the chance.</p>
+
+<p>As he approached his home, he saw little Panoria swinging on the gate.
+She was waiting for her friend Eliza; for she had learned from Pauline
+that the absent ones were to return that evening from their visit to
+Melilli.</p>
+
+<p>Panoria, as you have learned, was a bright little girl, who spoke her
+mind, and had no great awe for the Bonapartes&mdash;not even for the mighty
+Canon Lucien, the all-powerful Nurse Saveria, nor the masterful little
+Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>In fact, Napoleon stood more in awe of Panoria than she did of him. For
+the boy was, as boys and girls say today, "sweet on" the little Panoria,
+to whom he gave the pet name "La Giacommetta." Many a battle royal he
+had fought because of her with the fun-loving boys of Ajaccio, who
+found that it enraged Napoleon to tease him about the little girl, and
+therefore never let the opportunity slip to tease and torment him.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Napoleon, it is you!" cried Panoria, as the boy approached her.
+"And what great stories have you been telling yourself today in your
+grotto?"</p>
+
+<p>"I tell no great stories to myself, little one," Napoleon replied with
+rather a lordly air. "I do but talk truth with myself."</p>
+
+<p>"Then should you talk truth with me, boy," the little lady replied, a
+trifle haughty also. "I am not to be called 'little one' by such a mite
+as you. See! I am taller than you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; when one stands on a gate, one is taller than he who stands on the
+ground," Napoleon admitted. "But when we stand back to back, who then is
+the taller? See! Call Pauline! She shall tell us!"</p>
+
+<p>"That shall she not, then," said the little girl, who loved to tease
+quite as well as most girls. "It would be better to go and make yourself
+look fine, than to stand here saying how big you are. Go look in the
+glass. Your stockings are tumbling over your shoes, and your jacket is
+all awry. How will your Mamma Letitia like that? Run, then! I hear the
+carriage wheels! In with you, little Down-at-the-heel!"</p>
+
+<p>Smarting under the girl's teasing, and all the more because it came from
+her, Napoleon sulked into the house.</p>
+
+<p>But Panoria still swung on the gate. When the carriage stopped before
+the house, she ran to welcome her friend Eliza, and, with the returned
+family, entered the house.</p>
+
+<p>In the doorway the fat little canon, Uncle Lucien, received them.</p>
+
+<p>"Back again, uncle!" cried Mamma Letitia in welcome. "And how do you
+all? Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?" The woman who spoke was
+Madame Letitia Bonaparte, the mother of Napoleon. She was a remarkable
+woman&mdash;remarkable for beauty, for ability, and for position. Born a
+peasant, she became the mother of kings and queens; reared in poverty,
+she became the mistress of millions. In her Corsican home she was
+house-mother and care-taker; and when, made great by her great son, she
+had every comfort and every luxury, she still remained house-mother and
+care-taker, looking after her own household, and refusing to spend the
+money with which her son provided her, for fear that some day she or her
+family might need it. In all the troubles in Corsica she accompanied her
+husband to the mountain-retreat and the battle-field, encouraging him by
+her bravery, and urging him to patriotic purpose, until the end came,
+and Corsica was defeated and conquered. She carried all the worries and
+bore all the responsibilities of the Bonaparte household; and it was
+only by her management and carefulness that the family was kept from
+absolute poverty.</p>
+
+<p>Her children loved her; but they feared her too, and never thought of
+going contrary to her desires or commands. Late in life Napoleon
+once told a boy of whom he was fond the consequences of the only time he
+ever dared make fun of "Mamma Letitia."</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline and I tried it," he said; "but it was a great mistake on our
+part. It was the only time in my life that my mother herself ever
+whipped me. I don't believe Pauline ever forgot it. I never did."</p>
+
+<p>So it was Mamma Letitia who first spoke on the arrival at home; and her
+first question was as to the children who had remained behind.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Little Pauline sprang from behind her uncle the canon.</p>
+
+<p>"I am here, mamma," she said, and threw herself in her mother's arms.</p>
+
+<p>"But where is Napoleon?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has not been good, mamma," Pauline replied. "See! he is there,
+behind the door. He dare not come out. He pouts."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so, mamma," said Napoleon, coming forward; "I do dare. I am
+sad; but I do not pout."</p>
+
+<p>"And is he obstinate still, Uncle Lucien?" Papa Charles asked. "Has he
+confessed, or asked your pardon?"</p>
+
+<p>"He has done neither," Uncle Lucien replied. "I have never seen, in any
+child, such obstinacy as his."</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon! Obstinacy!" exclaimed Mamma Letitia. "Why, tell me; what has
+the boy done?"</p>
+
+<p>Then Uncle Lucien told the story of the rifled basket of fruit, excusing
+the lad as much as he could, although it must be confessed that the kind
+of canon was considerably "put out" by the reason of what he called
+Napoleon's obstinacy.</p>
+
+<p>When, however, he reached the part of his story that described how he
+wished Napoleon to confess his misdeed, little Panoria, having, as
+I have told you, none of that awe of the Canon Lucien that his grand
+nephews and nieces had, burst in upon him,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then!" she cried, "I should not think Napoleon would confess. Poor
+boy! He did not eat your fruit, Canon Lucien."</p>
+
+<p>"How, child! What do you say?" the canon exclaimed. "He did not? Who
+did, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I did&mdash;and Eliza," Panoria replied</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;and Eliza!"&mdash;"Eliza!"&mdash;"Why, she said nothing!" These were the
+exclamations of surprise and query that came from all present.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, surely!" said Panoria; "and was it wrong? Fruit is free to all
+here in Corsica. But Eliza was so afraid of her uncle the canon's fruit
+that I dared her to take some; and we did. Napoleon never touched it. He
+knew nothing of it."</p>
+
+<p>"My poor boy my good child!" said the Canon Lucien, taking Napoleon in
+his arms. "Why did you not tell me this?"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought it might have been Eliza who did it," replied the boy; "but
+I am no tattle-tale, uncle. Besides, I would have said nothing on
+Panoria's account. She did not lie."</p>
+
+<p>"No more did Eliza," said Joseph.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, imbecile!" said Napoleon, turning on his brother. "Where, then, is
+the difference between telling a lie and acting one by keeping quiet, if
+both mislead?"</p>
+
+<p>You can readily believe that Napoleon was made much of by all his family
+because of his action. "That is the stuff that makes brave soldiers,
+leaders, and patriots, my son," his "Mamma Letitia" said. "Would that we
+all had more of it!"</p>
+
+<p>For Madame Bonaparte knew that there was but little of the heroic in her
+handsome husband, "Papa Charles." He would flame out with wrath, and
+tell every one how much he meant to do against tyranny and wrong; he
+would even act with courage for a while; but at last his love of ease
+and his dislike of trouble would get the better of his valor, and he
+would give up the struggle, bow before his opponents, and seek to gain
+by subserviency their favor and patronage.</p>
+
+<p>As for Eliza, she received a merited punishment&mdash;first, for her
+disobedience in taking what she had been told never to touch; next, for
+her bravado in daring to act insolently toward her uncle, the canon;
+then for her gluttony in eating so much of the fruit; and finally, for
+her "bad heart," as her mother called it, for allowing her brother
+to suffer in her stead, and be punished for the wrong that she had
+committed.</p>
+
+<p>As for Napoleon, I fear that this little incident in his life made him
+feel more important than ever. He assumed a yet more masterful tone
+toward his companions and playmates, lorded it over Joseph, his brother,
+and made repeated demands for loyalty upon Uncle Joey Fesch.</p>
+
+<p>But he did feel grateful toward Panoria for her timely word and generous
+conduct. He became more fond than ever of "La Giacommeta;" and he
+brought her fruit and flowers, told her of all the great things he meant
+to do "when he was a man," and even invited her into his much loved and
+jealously guarded grotto; and that, you may be sure, was a very great
+favor for Napoleon to grant. For his grotto was his own private and
+exclusive hermitage.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c6"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER SIX</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>THE BATTLE WITH THE SHEPHERD BOYS</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>The relations between Napoleon and the shepherd boys of the Ajaccio
+hillsides were not improved by his unsatisfactory food-trade during his
+bread-and-water days.</p>
+
+<p>Whenever he took his walks abroad in their direction, the belligerent
+shepherd boys made haste to annoy and attack him. They had no special
+love for the town boys; there was, in fact, a long-standing rivalry
+and quarrel between them, as there often is between boys of different
+sections, or between boys of the country and the town.</p>
+
+<p>So you may be sure that Napoleon's solitary tramps along the hillsides
+were often disturbed and made unpleasant.</p>
+
+<p>At last he determined upon the punishment or discomfiture of the
+shepherd boys. He roused his playmates to action; and one day they
+sallied forth in a body, to surprise and attack the shepherd boys. But
+there must have been a traitor in the camp of the town boys; for, when
+they reached the hill pastures, they not only found the shepherd boys
+prepared for them, but they found them arrayed in force. Before the town
+boys could rush to the attack, the shepherd boys, eager for the fray,
+"took the initiative," as the war records say, and making a dash upon
+the town boys, drove them ignominiously from the field.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon disliked a check. Discomfited and mortified, he turned on big
+Andrew Pozzo, the leader of the town boys.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you are no general!" he cried. "You should have massed us all
+together, and held up firm against the shepherds. But, instead, you
+scattered us all; and as for you&mdash;you ran faster than any of us!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! little gamecock! little boaster!" answered Pozzo hotly. "You
+know it all, do you not? You'd better try it yourself, Captain
+Down-at-the-heel."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will, then!" cried Napoleon. "Come, boys, try it again! Shall we
+be whipped by a lot of shepherd boys, garlic lovers, eaters of chestnut
+bread? Never! Follow me!" But the town boys had received all they
+wished, for one day. Only a portion of them followed Napoleon's lead;
+and they turned about and fled before they even met the shepherd boys,
+so formidable seemed the array of those warriors of the hills.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this will never do!" Napoleon exclaimed. "It must not be said that
+we town boys have been whipped into slavery by these miserable ones of
+the mountains. At them again! What! You will not? Then let us arrange a
+careful plan of attack, and try them another day. Will you do so?"</p>
+
+<p>The boys promised; for it is always easy to agree to do a thing at some
+later day. But Napoleon did not intend that the matter should be given
+up or postponed. He went to his grotto, and carefully thought out a plan
+of campaign.</p>
+
+<p>The next day he gathered his forces about him, and endeavored to fire
+their hearts by a little theatrical effect.</p>
+
+<p>"What say you, boys, to a cartel?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"A cartel?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; a challenge to those miserable ones of the hill, daring them to
+battle."</p>
+
+<p>"But those hill dwellers cannot read; do you not know that, you silly?"
+Andrew Pozzo cried. "How, then, can you send a challenge?"</p>
+
+<p>"How but by word of mouth?" replied Napoleon. "See, here are Uncle Joey
+Fesch and big Ilari; they shall go with their sticks, and stand before
+those shepherd boys, and shall cry aloud"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we, then?" broke in big Ilari. "I will do no crying."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon said nothing. He simply looked at the big fellow&mdash;looked at
+him&mdash;and went on as if there had been no interruption,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And shall cry aloud, 'Holo, miserable ones! holo, rascal shepherds! The
+town boys dare you to fight them. Are you cowards, or will you meet them
+in battle?' This shall Uncle Joey Fesch cry out. He has a mighty voice."</p>
+
+<p>"And of course they will fight," sneered Andrew Pozzo. "Did you think
+they would not? But shall we?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we not, then?" answered Napoleon. "And if you will but follow and
+obey me, we will conquer those hill boys, as you never could if Pozzo
+led you on. For I will show you the trick of mastery. Of mastery, do you
+hear? And those miserable boys of the sheep pastures shall never more
+play the victor over us boys of the town."</p>
+
+<p>It was worth trying, and the boys of that day and time were accustomed
+to give and take hard knocks.</p>
+
+<p>So Uncle Joey Fesch and big Tony Ilari, the bearers of the challenge,
+set off for the hill pastures; and while they were gone Napoleon
+directed the preparations of his forces.</p>
+
+<p>The heralds returned with an answer of defiance from the hill boys.</p>
+
+<p>"So! they boast, do they?" little Napoleon said. "We will show them
+how skill is better than strength. Remember my orders: stones in your
+pockets, the stick in your hand. Attention! In order! March!"</p>
+
+<p>In excellent order the little army set out for the hills. In the
+pastures where they had met defeat the day before they saw the
+straggling forces of the shepherd boys awaiting them.</p>
+
+<p>"Halt!" commanded the Captain Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"Let the challengers go forward again," he directed. "Summon them to
+surrender, and pass under the yoke. Tell them we will be masters in
+Ajaccio."</p>
+
+<p>The big boy challengers obeyed the little leader's command; and as they
+departed on their mission Napoleon ordered his soldiers to quietly drop
+the stones they carried in their pockets, in a line where they stood.
+Then he planted a stick in the ground as a guide-post.</p>
+
+<p>The challengers came rushing back, followed by the jeers and sticks of
+the hill boys.</p>
+
+<p>"So! they will not yield? Then will we conquer them," Napoleon cried.
+"In order! Charge!"</p>
+
+<p>And up the slope, brandishing their sticks, charged the town boys.</p>
+
+<p>The hill boys were ready for them. They were bigger and stronger than
+the town boys, and they expected to conquer by force.</p>
+
+<p>The two parties met. There was a brief rattle of stick against stick.
+But the hill boys were the stronger, and Napoleon gave the order to
+retreat.</p>
+
+<p>Down the hill rushed the town boys. After them, pell-mell, came the hill
+boys, flushed with victory and careless of consequences. Suddenly, as
+Napoleon reached his guide-post, he shouted in his shrill little voice,
+"Halt!" And his army, knowing his intentions, instantly obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>"Stones!" he cried, and they scooped up their supply of ammunition.</p>
+
+<p>"About!" They faced the oncoming foe.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire!" came his final order; and, so fast and furious fell the shower
+of stones upon the surprised and unprepared hill boys, that their
+victorious columns halted, wavered, turned, broke, and fled.</p>
+
+<p>"Now! upon them! follow them! drive them!" rang out the little Captain
+Napoleon's swiftly given orders.</p>
+
+<p>They followed his lead. The hill boys, utterly routed, scattered in
+dismay. One-half of them were captured and held as prisoners, until
+Napoleon's two big challengers, now acting as commissioners of
+conquest, received from the hill boys an unconditional surrender, an
+acknowledgment of the superiority of the town boys, and the humble
+promise to molest them no more.</p>
+
+<p>This was Napoleon's first taste of victorious war. But ever after he
+was an acknowledged leader of the boys of Ajaccio. Andrew Pozzo was
+unceremoniously deposed from his self-assumed post of commander in all
+street feuds and forays. The old rivalry was a sore point with him,
+however; and throughout his life he was the bitter and determined
+opponent of his famous fellow-Corsican, Napoleon. But you may be sure
+big Tony Ilari and the other boys paid court to the little Bonaparte's
+ability; while as for Uncle Joey Fesch, he was prouder than ever of his
+nine-year-old nephew and commander.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c7"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>GOOD-BYE TO CORSICA</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+<p>Meantime things were going from bad to worse in the Bonaparte home.</p>
+
+<p>Careless "Papa Charles" made but little money, and saved none; all the
+economy and planning of thrifty "Mamma Letitia" did not keep things from
+falling behind, and even the help of Uncle Lucien the canon was not
+sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>Charles Bonaparte had gained but little by his submission to the French.
+The people in power flattered him, and gave him office and titles, but
+these brought in no money; and yet, because of his position, he was
+forced to entertain and be hospitable to the French officers in Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>Now, this all took money; and there was but little money in the
+Bonaparte house to take. So, at last, after much discussion between the
+father and mother,&mdash;the father urging and the mother objecting,&mdash;the
+Bonapartes decided to sell a field to raise money; and you can
+scarcely understand how bitter a thing this is to a Corsican. To part
+with a piece of land is, to him, like cutting off an arm. It hurts.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon heard all of these discussions, and was sadly aware of the
+poverty of his home. He worried over it; he wished he could know how to
+help his mother in her struggles; and he looked forward, more earnestly
+than ever, to the day when he should be a man, or should at least be
+able to do something toward helping out in his home.</p>
+
+<p>At last things took a turn. Old King Louis of France was dead; young
+King Louis&mdash;the sixteenth of the name&mdash;sat on the throne. There was
+trouble in the kingdom. There was a struggle between the men who wished
+to better things and those who wished things to stay as they were. Among
+these latter were the governors of the French provinces or departments.
+In order to have things fixed to suit themselves, they selected men to
+represent them in the nation's assembly at Paris.</p>
+
+<p>The governor of Corsica was one of these men; and by flattery and
+promises he won over to his side Papa Charles Bonaparte, and had him
+sent to Paris (or rather to Versailles, where the assembly met, not far
+from Paris) as a delegate from the nobility of Corsica. This sounded
+very fine; but the truth is, "Papa Charles" was simply nothing more
+than "the governor's man," to do as he told him, and to work in his
+interests.</p>
+
+<p>One result of this, however, was that it made things a little easier for
+the Bonapartes; and it gave them the opportunity of giving to the two
+older boys, Joseph and Napoleon, an education in France at the expense
+of the state.</p>
+
+<p>So when Charles Bonaparte was ready to sail to his duties in France, it
+was arranged that he should take with him Joseph, Napoleon, and Uncle
+Joey Fesch. Joseph was now eleven years old; Napoleon was nine, and
+Uncle Joey was fifteen.</p>
+
+<p>Joseph and Uncle Joey were to be educated as priests; Napoleon was to go
+to the military school at Brienne. But, at first, both the brothers were
+sent to a sort of preparatory school at Autun.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was delighted. He was to go out into the world. He was to be
+a man; and yet, when the time came, he hated to leave his home. He was
+fond of his family; indeed, his life was largely given up to remembering
+and helping his mother and brothers and sisters. He regretted leaving
+his dear grotto; he was sorry to say good-by to Panoria&mdash;his favorite
+"La Giacommetta." But his future had been decided upon by his father
+and mother, and he promised to do great things for them when he was old
+enough to be a captain in the army&mdash;even if it were the army of France.
+For, you see, he was still so earnest a Corsican patriot, that he wished
+rather to free Corsica than to defend France.</p>
+
+<p>"Who knows?" he boasted one day to Panoria; "perhaps I will become a
+colonel, and come back here and be a greater man than Paoli. Perhaps I
+may free Corsica. What would you think of that, Panoria?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should think it funny for a boy who went to school in France to come
+away and fight France," said practical Panoria.</p>
+
+<p>But Napoleon would not see it in this way. He dreamed of glory, and
+believed he would yet be able to strike a blow for the freedom of
+Corsica. At last the day of departure arrived. There was a lingering
+leave-taking and a sorrowful one. For the first time, the Bonaparte boys
+were leaving their mother and their home.</p>
+
+<p>"Be good boys," she said to them; "learn all you can, and try to be
+a credit to your family. Upon you we look for help in the future. Be
+thrifty, be saving, do not get sick, and remember that, upon your work
+now, will depend your success in life."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye!" cried Nurse Saveria. "When you come back I will have for you
+the biggest basket of fruit we can pick in the garden of your uncle the
+canon."</p>
+
+<p>"That you shall, boy," said Uncle Lucien, slipping his last piece of
+pocket-money into Napoleon's hand. "And take you this, for luck. You
+will do your best, I know you will, and you'll come back to us a great
+man. Don't forget your Uncle Lucien, you boy, when you are famous, will
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon smiled through his tears, and made a laughing promise in reply
+to his uncle's laughing demand. But, for all the fun of the remark,
+there was yet a strong groundwork of belief beneath this assertion of
+the Canon Lucien Bonaparte; the old man was a shrewd observer. His
+friendship for the little Napoleon was strong. And in spite of all
+the boy's faults,&mdash;his temper, his ambition, his sullenness, his
+carelessness, and his selfishness,&mdash;Uncle Lucien still recognized in
+this nine-year-old nephew an ability that would carry him forward as he
+grew older.</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon has his faults," he said, in talking over family matters
+with Mamma Letitia and Papa Charles the night before the departure for
+France; "the boy is not perfect&mdash;what child is? But those very faults
+will grow into action as he becomes acquainted with the world. I expect
+great things of the boy; and mark my words, Letitia and Charles, it is
+of no use for you to think on Napoleon's fortune or his future. He will
+make them for himself, and you will look to him for assistance, rather
+than he to you. Joseph is the eldest son; but, of this I am sure,
+Napoleon will be the head of this family. Remember what I say; for,
+though I may not live to see it, some of you will&mdash;and will profit by
+it."</p>
+
+<p>They were all on the dock as the vessel sailed away, bearing Papa
+Charles, Uncle Joey Fesch, and the two Bonaparte boys, from Ajaccio to
+Florence.</p>
+
+<p>Mamma Letitia was there, tearful, but smiling, with Eliza, and Pauline,
+and Baby Lucien; so were Uncle Lucien the canon, and Aunt Manuccia,
+who had been their mother's housekeeper, with Nurse Saveria, and Nurse
+Ilaria, whom Napoleon called foster-mother, and even little Panoria, to
+whom Napoleon cried "Good-by, Giacommeta mia! I'll come back some day."</p>
+
+<p>Then the vessel moved out into the harbor, and sailed away for Italy,
+while the tearful group on the dock and the tearful group on the deck
+threw kisses to one another until they could no longer make out faces or
+forms.</p>
+
+<p>The home tie was broken; and Napoleon Bonaparte, a boy of nine and a
+half years, was launched upon life&mdash;a life the world was never to
+forget.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c8"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>AT THE PREPARATORY SCHOOL</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>The Bonaparte boys and their father stopped a while in Florence, so that
+Charles Bonaparte could procure the proper papers to prove that he was
+of what is called noble birth. For it seems that only the children of
+nobles could enter the French military school at Brienne.</p>
+
+<p>He procured these at last, and also a letter of introduction to the
+French queen, Marie Antoinette whose sad story you all know so well.</p>
+
+<p>Then they set out for Autun, and reached that quaint old town on the
+last day of the year 1778. On New Year's Day, 1779, Napoleon was entered
+as a pupil in the preparatory school at Autun.</p>
+
+<p>Autun has been a school town tor hundreds of years. The old Druids had a
+school there, and so did the Romans. It is one of the oldest of French
+towns; and you will find it on your map of France, about one hundred and
+fifty miles south-east of Paris. It is a picturesque old town, placed
+on a sloping hillside, that runs down to the Arroux River. There is
+a cathedral in the town over nine hundred years old; and there, too,
+Napoleon found a college and a seminary, a museum and a library, with
+plenty of ruins, walls, and gateways, and such things, that told of its
+great age and old-time grandeur.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fine place in which to go to school, and the Bonaparte boys
+must have found it quite a change from their Corsican home. The bishop
+of Autun, who had charge of the cathedral and the schools, was the
+nephew of a friend of Charles Bonaparte, and he promised to look after
+the boys.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon did not stay long in the school at Autun. His father went to
+Paris to enter upon his duties as delegate to the Assembly, intending,
+while there, to make arrangements for getting Napoleon into the military
+school at Brienne.</p>
+
+<p>But there was much need of the preparatory work at Autun. For you must
+know that, being a Corsican, Napoleon knew scarcely a word of French.
+The Corsicans speak Italian, and this would never do for a French
+schoolboy. So, for three months, Napoleon was drilled in French.</p>
+
+<p>He did not take kindly to it. But he did his best. For, you see, his
+journey from Florence to Marseilles, and on to Autun, had opened his
+eyes. He saw, for the first time, cities larger than Ajaccio, and
+learned that there were other places in the world besides Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>But he never really lost his Ajaccio tongue, and for most of his life he
+talked French with an Italian accent.</p>
+
+<p>It was a queer-looking little Italian boy who was thus studying French
+at Autun school. You would scarcely have looked at him twice; for his
+figure was small, his appearance insignificant, his face sober and
+solemn, his hair stiff and stringy, and his complexion sallow. The boys
+made fun of the way in which he talked, as boys are apt to make sport of
+those who do not talk as they do.</p>
+
+<p>"What is your name, new boy?" the big boy of Autun school called out to
+Napoleon, as on that first day of the new year, which was, as I have
+said, his first day at school, the Bonaparte brothers wandered about the
+schoolyard, strangers and shy.</p>
+
+<p>"Na-polle-o-nay!" answered the little new-comer, giving the Corsican
+pronunciation to his name of Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"Oho! so!" cried the big boy, mimicking him. "Na-pailli-au-nez, is it?
+See, fellows, see! this is Mr. Straw-Nose!"</p>
+
+<p>For, you see, the way Napoleon pronounced his name sounded very much
+like the French words that mean "the nose of straw." That, of course,
+gave the boys at the school a rare chance to nickname; and so poor
+Napoleon was called "Mr. Straw-Nose" all the time he was at that school.</p>
+
+<p>This was not very long, however; for in three months he had made
+sufficient progress in his study of French to permit him to pass into
+the military school at Brienne, into which his father was at last able
+to procure his admission.</p>
+
+<p>But, while he was at Autun, Napoleon seems to have been a favorite with
+his teachers. One of them, the Abbé Chardon, spoke of him as "a sober,
+thoughtful child." He wished very much to get into the military school;
+so he worked hard, learned quickly, and was proud of what he called his
+ability.</p>
+
+<p>But when the boys tried to plague him, or to twit him for being a
+Corsican, the boy was ready enough to talk back.</p>
+
+<p>The French boys knew but little about Corsica, and had a certain
+contempt for the little island which, so they declared, was the home of
+robbers, and which France had one day gone across and conquered.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, Corsican!" one of the big boys called out to the new scholar, "and
+what is Corsica? Just an island of cowards. Just see how we Frenchmen
+whipped you out of your boots!"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon clinched his little fist, and turned hotly on his tormentor.
+But he was already learning the lesson of self-control.</p>
+
+<p>"And how did you do it, Frenchman?" he replied. "By numbers. If you had
+been but four to one against us, you would never have conquered us. But,
+behold! you were ten to one! That is too much to struggle against."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you boast of your general&mdash;your leader," said the other boy.
+"You say he is a fine commander&mdash;this&mdash;how do you call him?&mdash;this
+Paoli."</p>
+
+<p>"I say so; yes, sir," Napoleon replied sadly. Then, as if his ambition
+led him on, he added, "I would like to be like him. What could I not do
+then!"</p>
+
+<p>This feeling of being a Corsican, an outsider at the school, made the
+boy quiet and retiring. He kept by himself, just as he had at home when
+things did not suit him; he walked out alone, and played with no one. To
+be sure, he was more or less with his brother Joseph, who loved his
+ease and comfort, did not fire up when the other boys teased him, and
+smoothed over many a quarrel between them and his brother.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon would often find fault with Joseph's lack of spirit, as he
+called it; but Joseph, all through life, liked to take things easy, and
+hated to face trouble. Most of us do, you know; but it was the readiness
+of Napoleon to boldly face danger, and to attempt what appeared to be
+the impossible, that made him the self-reliant boy, the successful man,
+the conqueror, the emperor, the hero.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c9"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER NINE</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>THE LONELY SCHOOL-BOY</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+<p>While Napoleon was at Autun school, studying French, and preparing for
+entrance into the military academy, his father, Charles Bonaparte, was
+at Versailles, trying to get a little more money from the king, in
+return for his services as Corsica's delegate to France.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time he was working to complete the arrangements which
+should permit him to enter Napoleon at the military school, at the
+expense of the state. This he finally accomplished; and on the
+twenty-third of April, in the year 1779, Napoleon entered the royal
+military school at Brienne.</p>
+
+<p>There were ten of these military schools in France. They were started
+as training-schools for boys who were to become officers in the French
+army. The one at Brienne was a bare and ugly-looking lot of buildings
+in the midst of trees and gardens, looking down toward the little River
+Aube, and near to the fine old chateau, or nobleman's house, built, a
+hundred years before Napoleon's day, by the last Count of Brienne.</p>
+
+<p>There were a hundred and fifty boys at Brienne school, although there
+was scarcely room enough for a hundred and twenty.</p>
+
+<p>The new-comer was therefore crowded in with the others; and you may be
+sure that the old boys did not make life pleasant and easy for the new
+boy.</p>
+
+<p>Although he had learned to write and speak French during his three
+months' schooling at Autun, he could not, of course, speak it very well;
+so the boys plagued him for that. And when he told them his name,
+they, too, made fun of his pronunciation of Na-po-le-one, and at once
+nicknamed him, "straw-nose," just as the Autun boys had done.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the boys who attended Brienne school were the sons of French
+noblemen. They had plenty of money to spend; they made a show of it, and
+dressed and did things as finely as they could. Napoleon, you know, was
+poor. His father had scrimped and begged and borrowed to send his boys
+to school. He could not, therefore, give them much for themselves; so
+the French boys, with the money to spend and the manners to show, made
+no end of fun of the little Corsican, who had neither money nor manners.</p>
+
+<p>At once he got into trouble. He did not like, nor did he understand, the
+ways of the French boys; he was alone; he was homesick; and naturally he
+became sulky and uncompanionable. When the boys teased him, he tossed
+back a wrathful answer; when they made fun of his appearance, he grew
+angry and sullen; and when they tried to force him into their society,
+he went off by himself, and acted like a little hermit.</p>
+
+<p>But when they twitted him on his nationality, called him "Straw-nose,
+the Corsican," and made all manner of fun of that rocky and (as they
+called it) savage island, then all the patriotism in the boy's nature
+was aroused, and he called his tormentors French cowards, with whom he
+would one day get square.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, Corsican! and what will you do?" asked Peter Bouquet. "I hope some
+day to give Corsica her liberty," said Napoleon; "and then all Frenchmen
+shall march into the sea."</p>
+
+<p>Upon which all the boys laughed loudly; and Napoleon, walking off in
+disgust, went into the school-building, and there vented his wrath upon
+a portrait of Choiseul, that hung upon the wall.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, ha! blackguard, pawnbroker, traitor!" he cried, shaking his fist at
+this portrait of a stout and smiling-looking gentleman. "I loathe you! I
+despise you! I spit upon you!" And he did.</p>
+
+<p>Now, Monsieur the Count de Choiseul was the French nobleman who was
+one of the old King Louis's ministers and advisers. It was he who had
+planned the conquest of Corsica, and annexed it to France. You may not
+wonder, then, that the little Corsican, homesick for his native island,
+and hot with rage toward those who made fun of it, when he came upon
+this portrait of the man to whom, as he had been taught, all Corsica's
+troubles were due, should have vented his wrath upon it, and heaped
+insults upon it.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="096"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="096.jpg (117K)" src="096.jpg" height="660" width="635">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Unfortunately for him, however, the teachers at Brienne did not
+appreciate his patriotic wrath; so, when one of the tattle-tales
+reported Napoleon's actions, at once he was pounced upon, and ordered to
+ask pardon for what he had said and done, standing before the portrait
+of Corsica's enslaver.</p>
+
+<p>He approached the portrait so reluctantly and contemptuously, that one
+of the teachers scolded him sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not worthy to be a French officer, foolish boy," the teacher
+declared; "you are no true son of France, thus to insult so great and
+noble a Frenchman as Monsieur the Count de Choiseul."</p>
+
+<p>"I am a son of Corsica," Napoleon replied proudly; "that noble country
+which this man ground in the dust."</p>
+
+<p>"As well he might," replied the teacher tauntingly. "He was Corsica's
+best friend. He was worth a thousand Paoli's."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not so!" cried Napoleon, hot with patriotic indignation. "You
+talk like all Frenchmen. Paoli was a great man. He loved his country.
+I admire him. I wish to be like him. I can never forgive my father for
+having been willing to desert the cause of Corsica, and agree to its
+union with France. He should have followed Paoli's lead, even though it
+took him with Paoli, into exile in England."</p>
+
+<p>"Bah! your father!" one of the big boys standing by exclaimed; "and who
+is your father, Straw-nose?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon turned upon his tormentor; "a better man than you, Frenchman!"
+he cried; "a better man than this Choiseul here. My father is a
+Corsican."</p>
+
+<p>"A stubborn rebel, this boy," said the teacher, now losing his temper.
+"What! you will not ask Monsieur the Count's pardon, as a rebel should?
+Then will we tame your spirit. Is a little arrogant Corsican to defy all
+France, and Brienne school besides? Go, sir! We will devise some
+fine punishment for you, that shall well repay your insolence and
+disobedience."</p>
+
+<p>So Napoleon, in disgrace, left the schoolroom, and pacing down his
+favorite walk, the pleasant avenue of chestnut-trees that lined the
+path from one of the schoolhouse doors, he sought his one retreat and
+hermitage,&mdash;his loved and bravely defended garden.</p>
+
+<p>That garden was a regular Napoleonic idea. I must tell you about it.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c10"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER TEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>IN NAPOLEON'S GARDEN</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>One of the rules of Brienne school was that each pupil should know
+something about agriculture. To illustrate this study, each one of the
+one hundred and fifty boys had a little garden-spot set aside for him to
+cultivate and keep in order.</p>
+
+<p>Some of the boys did this from choice, and because they loved to watch
+things grow; but many of them were careless, and had no love for fruit
+or flowers; so while some of the garden-plots were well kept, others
+were neglected.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was glad of this garden-plot, for it gave him something which
+he could call his own. He cared for it faithfully; but he wished to make
+it even more secluded. He remembered his dear grotto at Ajaccio, and
+studied over a plan to make his garden-plot just such a real retreat.
+But it was not large enough for this. He looked about him. The boys to
+whom belonged the garden-plots on either side of him were careless and
+neglectful. Their gardens received no attention; they were overgrown
+with weeds; their hedges were full of gaps and holes.</p>
+
+<p>"I will take them," said Napoleon; "what one cannot care for, another
+must."</p>
+
+<p>So the boy went systematically to work to "annex" his neighbors'
+kingdoms, and make from the three plots one ample retreat for himself.
+He cut down the separating borders; he trimmed and trained and filled
+in the stout outside hedge, until it completely surrounded his enlarged
+domain; and, in the centre of the paths and flower-beds and hedges, he
+put up a seat and a little summer-bower for his pleasure and protection.</p>
+
+<p>It took some time to get this into shape, of course. When he had
+completed it, and was beginning to enjoy it, the owners of the plots
+he had confiscated awoke to a sense of their loss and the excellent
+garden-spot this young Corsican had made for them. "For of course," they
+said, "the garden-plots are ours. Straw Nose has improved them at his
+own risk. What he has made we will keep for our own pleasure." So they
+attempted to occupy their property; but with Napoleon there was force in
+the old saying, "Possession is nine points of the law."</p>
+
+<p>When the dispossessed boys demanded their property, he refused it; when
+they spoke of their rights, he laughed at them; and when they attempted
+to enter the garden by force, he fell upon them, drove them flying from
+the field, and pommelled them so soundly that they judged discretion to
+be the better part of valor, and made no further attempt to disturb the
+conqueror.</p>
+
+<p>The other boys did attempt it, however, simply to tease and annoy the
+fiery Corsican. But it always resulted in their own damage; for Napoleon
+become so attached to his garden citadel, that he would grow furiously
+angry whenever he was disturbed. Rushing out, he would rout his
+assailants completely; until at last it was understood that it was
+safest to let him alone.</p>
+
+<p>As he sought his garden on this day of disgrace to which I have
+referred, he was full of bitter thoughts against the unfriendly boys and
+the unsympathetic teachers amid whom his lot was cast. Like most boys,
+he determined to do something that should free him from this tyranny;
+then, like many boys, he decided to run away. Where or how he could go
+he did not know; for he had no friends in France who would help him
+along, and he had no money in his pocket to enable him to help himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I will run away to sea," he said. For the sea, you know, is the first
+thought of boys who determine to be runaways.</p>
+
+<p>But Napoleon had a strong love for his family; he held high notions
+in regard to the honor of the family name; above all else, he was
+determined to do something that should help his family out of its sore
+straits, and become one element of its support.</p>
+
+<p>"If I should run away to sea," he thought, "I should bring discredit and
+shame to my family: I should annoy my father, and seriously interfere
+with my own plans. For, should I run away from Brienne, my father, who
+has been at such pains to place me here, would be distressed, and
+perhaps injured. No; I will brave it out. But I will write to my father,
+asking him to take me away, and place me in some school where I shall
+feel less like an outcast, where poverty would not be held as a crime,
+and where I shall have more agreeable surroundings. So he went into his
+garden fortress; he stretched himself at full length on his bench, and,
+using the cover of his favorite book, Plutarch's "Lives," as a desk, he
+wrote this letter to his father:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="103"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="103.jpg (69K)" src="103.jpg" height="388" width="636">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"MY FATHER,&mdash;If you or my protectors cannot give me the means of
+sustaining myself more honorably in the house where I am, please summon
+me home, and as soon as possible. I am tired of poverty, and of the
+smiles of the insolent scholars who are superior to me only in their
+fortune; for there is not one among them who feels one-hundredth part
+of the noble sentiments by which I am animated. Must your son, sir,
+continually be the butt of these boobies, who, vain of the luxuries
+which they enjoy, insult me with their laughter at the privations I am
+forced to endure? No, father; No! If fortune refuses to smile upon me,
+take me from Brienne, and make me, if you will, a mechanic. From these
+words you may judge of my despair. This letter, sir, please believe, is
+not dictated by a vain desire to enjoy expensive amusements. I have no
+such wish. I feel simply that it is necessary to show my companions that
+I can procure them as well as they, if I wish to do so.</p>
+
+<p>"Your respectful and affectionate son,</p>
+
+<p>"BONAPARTE."</p>
+
+<p>
+It took some time to write this letter; for, with Napoleon,
+letter-writing was always a detested task.</p>
+
+<p>When he had written and directed it, he felt better. We always do feel
+relieved, you know, if we speak out or write down our feelings. Then he
+read a chapter in Plutarch about Alexander the Great. This set him to
+thinking and planning how he would win a battle if he should ever become
+a leader and commander. He had a notion that he knew just what he would
+do; and, to prove that his plan was good, he threw himself on the garden
+walk, and gathering a lot of pebbles, he began to set them in array,
+as if they were soldiers, and to make all the moves and marches and
+counter-marches of a furious battle. He indicated the generals and chief
+officers in this army of stone by the larger pebbles; and you may be
+sure that the largest pebble of all represented the commander-in-chief
+&mdash;and that was Napoleon himself.</p>
+
+<p>As he marshalled his pebble army, under the lead of his generals and
+officers, shifting some, advancing others, rearranging certain of them
+in squares, and massing others as if to resist an attack, Napoleon was
+conscious of a snickering sort of laugh from somewhere above him.</p>
+
+<p>He looked up, and caught sight of a mocking face looking down at him
+from the top of the hedge that bordered his garden.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho, ho! Straw-nose!" the spy cried out; "and what is the baby doing?
+Is it playing with the pretty pebbles? Is it making mud-pies? It was a
+sweet child, so it was."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon flushed with anger, enraged both at the intrusion and the
+teasing.</p>
+
+<p>"Pig! imbecile!" he cried; "get down from my hedge, or I will make you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! hear the infant!" came back the taunting answer. "He will make me&mdash;
+this pretty Corsican baby who plays with pebbles. He will make me! That
+is good! I laugh; I&mdash;Oh, help! help! the Corsican has killed me!"</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="003n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="003n.jpg (135K)" src="003n.jpg" height="921" width="682">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>For a moment Napoleon thought indeed he had; for a moment, too, I am
+afraid, he did not care. For so enraged was he at the boy's insults and
+actions, that he had caught up his biggest pebble, which happened to
+be Napoleon the general, and flung it at the intruder. It struck him
+squarely between the eyes, and so stunned him that he fell back from the
+hedge, and lay, first howling, and then terribly quiet, in the space
+outside Napoleon's garden. At once there was a hue and cry; Napoleon was
+summoned from his retreat, and dragged before his teacher.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, miserable one!" cried the master. "And is it you again? You have
+perhaps killed your fellow-student. You will yet end in the Bastille, or
+on the block. Take him away, until we see what shall be the result of
+the last ill-doing of this wicked one."</p>
+
+<p>"When one plays the spy and the bully one must expect retribution," said
+Napoleon loftily. "This Bouquet is a rascal who will be more likely to
+end in the Bastille than I, who did but defend my own."</p>
+
+<p>This language, of course, did not help matters; so into the school-cage,
+or punishment "lock-up" for the school-boy offenders, young Napoleon was
+at once hurried, without an opportunity for explanation or protest.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c11"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>FRIENDS AND FOES</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>Napoleon, the prisoner in the school "lock-up," raged for a while like
+a caged lion. Then he calmed down into the sulks, returned to his
+determination to run away, concluded again that he would go to sea,
+thought of his family and his duties once more, and at last concluded to
+take his punishment without a word, though he knew that the boy who had
+mocked him into anger deserved the punishment fully as much as did he
+who had been the insulted one.</p>
+
+<p>"But then," he reasoned, "he paid well for his taunts and teasing. I
+wonder how he is now?"</p>
+
+<p>His schoolmate, the English boy, Lawley, was on duty outside the
+"lock-up" door, as a sort of monitor.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, you Lawley!" Napoleon called out, "and how is that brute of a
+Bouquet?"</p>
+
+<p>"None the better for seeing you, little one," replied the good-natured
+English boy, who had that love of fair play that is supposed to belong
+to all Englishmen, and, therefore, felt that young Bonaparte was
+suffering unjustly. Then he added:</p>
+
+<p>"Bouquet will no doubt die, and then what will you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will plead self-defence, my friend," said Napoleon. "Did not you tell
+me that an English judge did once declare that a man's home was his
+castle, which he was pledged to defend from invasion and assault. What
+else is my garden? That brute of a Bouquet came spying about my castle,
+and I did but defend myself. Is it not so?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may be so to you, young Bonaparte," Lawley replied; "but not to your
+judges. No, little one, you're in for it now; they'll make you smart for
+this, whatever happens to old Bouquet."</p>
+
+<p>For, like all English boys, this young Lawley mingled with his love of
+justice an equal love for teasing: and like most of the boys at Brienne
+school, he declared it to be "great fun to get the little Corsican mad."</p>
+
+<p>"Then must you help me to get away from here," Napoleon declared. "Look
+you, Lawley!" and the boy in great secrecy pulled a paper from his
+pocket; "see now what I have written."</p>
+
+<p>The English boy took the paper, ran his eye over it, and laughed as
+loudly as he dared while on duty.</p>
+
+<p>"My eye!" he said, "it's in English, and pretty fair English too. A
+letter to the British Admiralty? Permission to enter the British navy as
+a midshipman, eh? Well, you Bonaparte, you are a cool one. A Frenchman
+in the British navy! Fancy now!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir; a Corsican," replied Napoleon. "Why should it not be so? What
+have I received but scorn and insult from these Frenchmen? You English
+are more fair, and England is the friend of Corsica. Why should I not
+become a midshipman in your navy? The only difficulty, I am afraid, will
+be my religion."</p>
+
+<p>"Your religion!" cried Lawley, with a laugh; "why, you young rascal! I
+don't believe you have any religion at all."</p>
+
+<p>"But my family have," Napoleon protested. "My mother's race, the
+Ramolini" (and the boy rolled out the name as if that respectable farmer
+family were dukes or emperors at least), "are very strict. I should
+be disinherited if I showed any signs of becoming a heretic like you
+English; and if I joined the British navy, would I not be compelled to
+become a heretic, like you, Lawley?"</p>
+
+<p>Lawley burst into such a loud laugh over the boy's religious scruples,
+of which he had never before seen evidence, that he aroused one of the
+teachers with his noise, and had to scud away, for fear of being caught,
+and punished for neglect of duty.</p>
+
+<p>But he kept Napoleon's letter of application. He must have sent it,
+either in fun, or with some desire to befriend this badgered Corsican
+boy; for to-day Napoleon's letter still exists in the crowded English
+department, wherein are filed the archives of the British Admiralty.</p>
+
+<p>At last, by the interest of certain of the friends whom the boy's
+misfortune, if not his pluck, had made for him&mdash;such lads as Lawley, the
+English boy, Bourrienne, Lauriston, and Father Patrault, the teacher of
+mathematics,&mdash;Napoleon was liberated with a reprimand; while the boy who
+had caused all the trouble went unpunished, save for the headache that
+Napoleon's well-aimed stone had given him and the scar the blow had
+left.</p>
+
+<p>But the boy could not long stay out of trouble. The next time it came
+about, friendship, and not vindictiveness, was the cause.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon did not forget the good offices of his friends. Indeed,
+Napoleon never forgot a benefit. His final fall from his great power
+came, largely, because of the very men whom he had honored and enriched,
+out of friendship or appreciation for services performed in his behalf.</p>
+
+<p>One day young Lauriston, who was on duty as a sort of sentry in the
+chestnut avenue that was one of Napoleon's favorite walks, left his
+post, and joining Napoleon, begged him to help him in a problem in
+mathematics which he had been too lazy or too stupid to solve.</p>
+
+<p>"We will go to your garden, Straw-nose," said Lauriston; for both friend
+and foe, after the manner of boys, used the nicknames that had by common
+consent been fastened upon their schoolfellows.</p>
+
+<p>"We will not, then," Napoleon returned. For, as you know, his garden was
+sacred, and not even his friends were allowed entrance. "See, we will
+go beyond, to the seat under the big chestnut. But are you not on duty
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>Lauriston snapped his fingers and shrugged his shoulders in contempt of
+duty. "That for duty!" he exclaimed. "My duty now is to get out this pig
+of a problem."</p>
+
+<p>Under the big chestnut, which was another of Napoleon's favorite
+resorts, the two boys put their heads together over Lauriston's problem,
+and it was soon made clear to the lad; for Napoleon was always good at
+mathematics.</p>
+
+<p>But the time spent over the problem exhausted Lauriston's limit of
+duty; and when the teacher came to relieve him at his post, the boy was
+nowhere to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>Now, at Brienne, military instruction was on military rules; and no
+crime against military discipline is much greater than "absence without
+leave."</p>
+
+<p>So when, at last, young Lauriston was found in Napoleon's company, away
+from his post of duty, and beneath the big chestnut-tree, the boy was in
+a "pretty mess." But Napoleon never deserted his friends.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," he said to the teacher, "the fault is mine. I led young Lauriston
+away to"&mdash;he stopped: it would scarcely help his friend's cause to say
+that he had been helping him at his lessons; thus he continued, "to show
+him my lists"&mdash;which was not an untruth, for he had shown the copy to
+Lauriston.</p>
+
+<p>"Your lists, unruly one," said the teacher&mdash;one of Napoleon's chief
+persecutors. "And what lists, pray?"</p>
+
+<p>"My lists of the possessions of England, here in my copy-book," said
+Napoleon, drawing the badly scrawled blank-book from his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>He handed it to the teacher.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, what handwriting! It is vilely done, young Bonaparte. Even I can
+scarcely read it," he said. "What is this? You would draw my portrait in
+your copy-book? Wretched one! have you no manners? So! Possessions of
+the English, is it? Would that the English possessed you! None then
+would be happier than I." Thereupon the teacher read through the list,
+making sarcastic comments on each entry, until he came to the end.
+"'Cabo Corso in Guinea, a pretty strong fort on the sea side of Fort
+Royal, a defence of sixteen cannons.' Bad spelling, worse writing, this!
+and the last, 'Saint Helena, a little island;' and where might it be,
+that Saint Helena, young Bonaparte?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the South Atlantic, well off the African coast," replied Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you were there too, young malcontent!" said the teacher, "luring
+boys from their duty. This is worse than treason. See! you shall to the
+lockup once more. And you are no longer battalion captain."</p>
+
+<p>Young Lauriston would have protested against this injustice, and
+declared that he was at fault; but, like too many boys under similar
+circumstances, he was afraid, and accepted anything that should save him
+from punishment. Moreover, a glance at Napoleon's masterful eyes held
+his tongue mute, and he saw his friend borne away to the punishment that
+should have been his.</p>
+
+<p>"'Tis Saint Helena's fault, and not yours, my Lauriston," Napoleon
+whispered in his ear. "Bad writing is never forgiven."</p>
+
+<p>So, as if in a prophecy of the future, Napoleon suffered unjust disgrace
+in connection with Saint Helena's name; and to-day, in the splendid
+exhibition-room of the historical library at Florence, jealously guarded
+beneath a glass case, is Napoleon's blue paper copybook, the very last
+line of which reads, by the strangest of all strange coincidences,
+"Saint Helena, a little island."</p>
+
+<p>The boy's willingness to suffer for his friends, and, even more than
+this, the unjust taking away of his office in the school battalion, of
+which he was quite proud, turned the tide in young Napoleon's favor, so
+far as his schoolmates were concerned.</p>
+
+<p>"Little Straw-nose is a plucky one, is he not, though?" the boys
+declared; and when he came on the field again, they welcomed him with
+cheers, and made him leader for the day in their sports.</p>
+
+<p>They had great fun. Napoleon, full of his readings in Plutarch's
+"Lives," divided the boys into two camps; one camp was to be the
+Persians, the other the Greeks and Macedonians. Napoleon, of course, was
+Alexander; and, like the great Macedonian, he wrought such havoc on the
+Persians, that the school hall in which the battle was waged was filled
+with the uproar, and all the teachers at Brienne rushed pell-mell to the
+place, to quell what they were certain must be a school riot, led on by
+"that miserable Corsican."</p>
+
+<p>Day by day, however, "that miserable Corsican" made more and more
+friends among his schoolfellows. For boys grow tired at last of plaguing
+one who has both spirit and pluck; and these Napoleon certainly
+possessed. He had come to the school "a little savage," so the polished
+French boys declared.</p>
+
+<p>"I was in Brienne," he said years afterwards, as he thought over his
+school-days, "the poorest of all my schoolfellows. They always had money
+in their pockets; I, never. I was proud, and was most careful that
+nobody should perceive this. I could neither laugh nor amuse myself like
+the others. I was not one of them. I could not be popular."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="004n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="004n.jpg (96K)" src="004n.jpg" height="499" width="700">
+<p><i>Napoleon at the School of Brienne (From the Painting by M R Dumas</i>)]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>So he had to go through the same hard training that other poor boys at
+boarding-school have undergone. He, however was petulant, high-spirited,
+proud, and had something of that Corsican love of retaliation that has
+made that rocky island famous for its feuds and family rows, or
+"vendettas" as they are called.</p>
+
+<p>He showed the boys at last that they could not impose upon him; that
+he had plenty of spirit; that he was kind-hearted to those who showed
+themselves friendly; and, above all, that he was fitted to lead them in
+their sports, and could, in fact, help them toward having a jolly good
+time.</p>
+
+<p>So, gradually, they began to side with and follow him. They left him in
+undisturbed possession of his fortified garden, they asked his help over
+hard points in mathematics, until at last he began even to grow a little
+popular. And then, to crown all, came the great Snow-ball Fight.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c12"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>THE GREAT SNOW-BALL FIGHT AT BRIENNE SCHOOL</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>That Snow-ball Fight is now famous. It was in the winter of 1783.
+Snow fell heavily; drifts piled up in the schoolyard at Brienne. The
+schoolboys marvelled and exclaimed; for such a snow-fall was rare in
+France. Then they began to shiver and grumble. They shivered at the
+cold, to which they were not accustomed; they grumbled at the snow
+which, by covering their playground, kept them from their usual
+out-of-door sports, and held them for a time prisoners within the dark
+schoolrooms.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Napoleon had an inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>"What is snow for, my brothers," he exclaimed, "if not to be used? Let
+us use it. What say you to a snow fort and a siege? Who will join me?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a novel idea; and, with all the boyish love for something new and
+exciting, the boys of Brienne entered into the plan at once. "The fort,
+the fort, young Straw-nose!" they cried. "Show us what to do! Let us
+build it at once!"</p>
+
+<p>With Napoleon as director, they straightway set to work. The boy had an
+excellent head for such things; and his mathematical knowledge, together
+with the preparatory study in fortifications he had already pursued in
+the school, did him good service.</p>
+
+<p>He was not satisfied with simply piling up mounds of snow. He built
+regular works on a scientific plan. The snow "packed well," and the
+boys worked like beavers. With spades and brooms and hands and homemade
+wooden shovels, they built under Napoleon's directions a snow fort that
+set all Brienne wondering and admiring. There were intrenchments and
+redoubts, bastions and ramparts, and all the parts and divisions and
+defences that make up a real fort.</p>
+
+<p>It took some days to build this wonderful fort. For the boys could only
+work in their hours of recess. But at last, when all was ready, Napoleon
+divided the schoolboys into two unequal portions. The smaller number
+was to hold the fort as defenders; the larger number was to form the
+besieging force. At the head of the besiegers was Napoleon. Who was
+captain of the fort I do not know. His name has not come down to us.</p>
+
+<p>But the story of the Snow-ball Fight has. For days the battle raged. At
+every recess hour the forces gathered for the exciting sport. The rule
+was that when once the fort was captured, the besiegers were to become
+its possessors, and were, in turn, to defend it from its late occupants,
+who were now the attacking army, increased to the required number by
+certain of the less skilful fighters in the successful army.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was in his element. He was an impetuous leader; but he was
+skilful too; he never lost his head.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="005n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="005n.jpg (138K)" src="005n.jpg" height="971" width="684">
+<p>["<i>As leader of the storming-party he would direct the attack</i>"]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Again and again, as leader of the storming-party, he would direct
+the attack; and at just the right moment, in the face of a shower
+of snow-balls, he would dash from his post of observation, head the
+assaulting army, and scaling the walls with the fire of victory in his
+eye and the shout of encouragement on his lips, would lead his soldiers
+over the ramparts, and  with a last dash drive the defeated
+defenders out from the fortification.</p>
+
+<p>The snow held for nearly ten days; the fight kept up as long as the snow
+walls, often repaired and strengthened, would hold together.</p>
+
+<p>The thaw, that relentless enemy of all snow sports, came to the
+attack at last, and gradually dismantled the fortifications; snow for
+ammunition grew thin and poor, and gravel became more and more a part of
+the snow-ball manufacture.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon tried to prevent this, for he knew the danger from such
+missiles. But often, in the heat of battle, his commands were
+disregarded. One boy especially&mdash;the same Bouquet who had scaled his
+hedge and brought him into trouble&mdash;was careless or vindictive in this
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>On the last day of the snow, Napoleon saw young Bouquet packing
+snow-balls with dirt and gravel, and commanded him to stop. But Bouquet
+only flung out a hot "I won't!" at the commander, and launched his
+gravel snow-ball against the decaying fort.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was just about to head the grand assault. "To the rear with
+you! to the rear, Bouquet! You are disqualified!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>But Bouquet was insubordinate. He did not intend to be cheated out of
+his fun by any orders that "Straw-nose" should give him. Instead of
+obeying his commander, he sang out a contemptuous refusal, and dashed
+ahead, as if to supplant his general in the post of leader of the
+assault.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon had no patience with disobedience. The insubordination and
+insolence of Bouquet angered him; and darting forward, he collared his
+rebellious subordinate, and flung him backward down the slushy rampart.</p>
+
+<p>"Imbecile!" he cried. "Learn to obey! Drag him to the rear, Lauriston."</p>
+
+<p>The fort was carried. But "General Thaw" was too strong for the young
+soldiers; and that night, a rain setting in, finished the destruction of
+the now historic snow-fort of Brienne School.</p>
+
+<p>Bouquet, smarting under what he considered the disgrace that had been
+put upon him before his playmates, accosted Napoleon that night in the
+hall. "Bah, then, smarty Straw-nose!" he cried; "you are a beast. How
+dare you lay hands on me, a Frenchman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because you would not obey orders," Napoleon replied. "Was not I in
+command?"</p>
+
+<p>"You!" sneered Bouquet; "and who are you to command? A runaway Corsican,
+a brigand, and the son of a brigand, like all Corsicans."</p>
+
+<p>"My father is not a brigand," returned Napoleon. "He is a
+gentleman&mdash;which you are not."</p>
+
+<p>"I am no gentleman, say you?" cried the enraged French boy. "Why, young
+Straw-nose, my ancestors were gentlemen under great King Louis when
+yours were tending sheep on your Corsican hills. My father is an officer
+of France; yours is"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, and what is mine?" said Napoleon defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yours," Bouquet laughed with a mocking and cruel sneer, "yours is but a
+lackey, a beggar in livery, a miserable tip-staff!"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon flung himself at the insulter of his father in a fury; but he
+was caught back by those standing by, and saved from the disgrace of
+again breaking the rules by fighting in the school-hall.</p>
+
+<p>All night, however, he brooded over Bouquet's taunting words, and the
+desire for revenge grew hot within him.</p>
+
+<p>The boy had said his father was no gentleman. No gentleman, indeed!
+Bouquet should see that he knew how gentlemen should act. He would not
+fall upon him, and beat him as he deserved. He would conduct himself
+as all gentlemen did. He would challenge to a duel the insulter of his
+father.</p>
+
+<p>This was the custom. The refuge of all gentlemen who felt themselves
+insulted, disgraced, or persecuted in those days, was to seek vengeance
+in a personal encounter with deadly weapons, called a duel. It is a
+foolish and savage way of seeking redress; but even today it is resorted
+to by those who feel themselves ill treated by their "equals." So
+Napoleon felt that he was doing the only wise and gentlemanly thing
+possible.</p>
+
+<p>But, even then duelling was against the law. It was punished when men
+were caught at it; for schoolboys, it was considered an unheard-of
+crime.</p>
+
+
+<a name="129"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="129.jpg (111K)" src="129.jpg" height="750" width="636">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Still, though against the law, all men felt that it was the only way
+to salve their wounded honor. Napoleon felt it would be the only manly
+course open to him; so, early next morning, he despatched his friend
+Bourrienne with a note to Bouquet. That note was a "cartel," or
+challenge. It demanded that Mr. Bouquet should meet Mr. Bonaparte at
+such time and place as their seconds might select, there to fight with
+swords until the insult that Mr. Bouquet had put upon Mr. Bonaparte
+should be wiped out in blood.</p>
+
+<p>There was ferocity for you! But it was the fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Bouquet," however, had no desire to meet the fiery young Corsican
+at swords' points. So, instead of meeting his adversary, he sneaked off
+to one of the teachers, who, as we know, most disliked Napoleon, and
+complained that the Corsican, Bonaparte, was seeking his life, and meant
+to kill him.</p>
+
+<p>At once Napoleon was summoned before the indignant instructor.</p>
+
+<p>"So, sir!" cried the teacher, "is this the way you seek to become a
+gentleman and officer of your king? You would murder a schoolmate; you
+would force him to a duel! No denial, sir; no explanation. Is this so,
+or not so?"</p>
+
+<p>Once more Napoleon saw that words or remonstrances would be in vain.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so," he replied. "Can we, then, never work out your Corsican
+brutality?" said the teacher. "Go, sir! you are to be imprisoned until
+fitting sentence for your crime can be considered."</p>
+
+<p>And once again poor Napoleon went into the school lock-up, while
+Bouquet, who was the most at fault, went free.</p>
+
+<p>There was almost a rebellion in school over the imprisonment of the
+successful general who had so bravely fought the battles of the
+snow-fort.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon passed a day in the lock-up; then he was again summoned before
+the teacher who had thus punished him.</p>
+
+<p>"You are an incorrigible, young Bonaparte," said the teacher.
+"Imprisonment can never cure you. Through it, too, you go free from your
+studies and tasks. I have considered the proper punishment. It is this:
+you are to put on to-day the penitent's woollen gown; you are to kneel
+during dinner-time at the door of the dining-room, where all may see
+your disgrace and take warning therefrom; you are to eat your dinner on
+your knees. Thereafter, in presence of your schoolmates assembled in the
+dining-room, you are to apologize to Mr. Bouquet, and ask pardon from
+me, as representing the school, for thus breaking the laws and acting as
+a bully and a murderer. Go, sir, to your room, and assume the penitent's
+gown."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, as I have told you, was a high-spirited boy, and keenly felt
+disgrace. This sentence was as humiliating and mortifying as anything
+that could be put upon him. Rebel at it as he might, he knew that he
+would be forced to do it; and, distressed beyond measure at thought of
+what he must go through, he sought his room, and flung himself on his
+bed in an agony of tears. He actually had what in these days we call a
+fit of hysterics.</p>
+
+<p>While thus "broken up," his room door opened. Supposing that the
+teacher, or one of the monitors, had come to prepare him for the
+dreadful sentence, he refused to move.</p>
+
+<p>Then a voice, that certainly was not the one he expected, called to him.
+He raised a flushed and tearful face from the bed, and met the inquiring
+eyes of his father's old friend, and the "protector" of the Bonaparte
+family, General Marbeuf, formerly the French commander in Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Napoleon, boy! what does all this mean?" inquired the general.
+"Have you been in mischief? What is the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>The visit came as a climax to a most exciting event. In it Napoleon saw
+escape from the disgrace he so feared, and the injustice against which
+he so rebelled. With a joyful shout he flung himself impulsively at his
+friend's feet, clasped his knees, and begged for his protection. The
+boy, you see, was still unnerved and over-wrought, and was not as cool
+or self-possessed as usual.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually, however, he calmed down, and told General Marbeuf the whole
+story.</p>
+
+<p>The general was indignant at the sentence. But he laughed heartily at
+the idea of this fourteen-year-old boy challenging another to a duel.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what a fire-eater it is!" he cried. "But you had provocation,
+boy. This Bouquet is a sneak, and your teacher is a tyrant. But we will
+change it all; see, now! I will seek out the principal. I will explain
+it all. He shall see it rightly, and you shall not be thus disgraced.
+No, sir! not if I, General Marbeuf, intrench myself alone with you
+behind what is left of your slushy snow-fort yonder, and fight all
+Brienne school in your behalf&mdash;teachers and all. So cheer up, lad! we
+will make it right."</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c13"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>RECOMMENDED FOR PROMOTION</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>General Marbeuf did make it all right. Bouquet was called to account;
+the teacher who had so often made it unpleasant for Napoleon was sharply
+reprimanded; and the principal, having his attention drawn to the
+persistent persecution of this boy from Corsica, consented to his
+release from imprisonment, while sternly lecturing him on the sin of
+duelling.</p>
+
+<p>The general also chimed in with the principal's lecture; although I am
+afraid, being a soldier, he was more in sympathy with Napoleon than he
+should have been.</p>
+
+<p>"A bad business this duelling, my son," he said, "a bad business&mdash;though
+I must say this rascal Bouquet deserved a good beating for his
+insolence. But a beating is hardly the thing between gentlemen."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have fought a duel, my General?" inquired Napoleon. "Have I?
+why, scores" the bluff soldier admitted.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="136"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="136.jpg (118K)" src="136.jpg" height="717" width="628">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Let me see&mdash;I have fought one&mdash;two&mdash;four&mdash;why, when I was scarcely more
+than your age, my friend, I"&mdash;and then the general suddenly stopped.
+For he saw how his reminiscences would grow into admissions that would
+scarcely be a correction.</p>
+
+<p>So, with a hem and a haw, General Marbeuf wisely changed the subject,
+and began to inquire into the reasons for Napoleon's unpleasant
+experiences at Brienne. He speedily discovered that the cause lay in the
+pocket. As you have already learned from Napoleon's letter to his father
+and his own later reflections, the boy's poverty made him dissatisfied
+with his lot, while his companions, heedless and blundering as boys are
+apt to be in such matters, did not try to smooth over the difference
+between their plenty and this boy's need, but rather increased his
+bitterness by their thoughtless speech and action.</p>
+
+<p>"Brains do not lie in the pocket, Napoleon, boy," he said. "You have as
+much intelligence as any of your fellows, you should not be so touchy
+because you do not happen to have their spending-money. You must learn
+to be more charitable. Do not take offence so easily; remember that
+all boys admire ability, and look kindly on good fellowship in a
+comrade, whether he have much or little in his purse. Learn to be more
+companionable; accept things as they come; and if you are ever hard
+pushed for money,&mdash;call on me. I'll see you through."</p>
+
+<p>Any boy will take a lecture with so agreeable an ending, and Napoleon
+did not resent his good friend's advice.</p>
+
+<p>The general also introduced the boy to the great lady who lived in the
+big château near by&mdash;the Lady of Brienne. She interested herself in the
+lad's doings, gave him many a "tip," invited him to her home, and, by
+kindly words and motherly deeds, brought the boy out of his nervousness
+and solitude into something more like good manners and gentlemanly ways.</p>
+
+<p>So the school&mdash;life at Brienne went on more agreeably as the months
+passed by. Napoleon studied hard. He made good progress in mathematics
+and history, though he disliked the languages, and never wrote a good
+hand. He was always an "old boy" for his years; and, in time, many of
+his teachers became interested in him, and even grew fond of him.</p>
+
+<p>But he always kept his family in mind. He was continually planning how
+he might help his mother, and give his brothers and sisters a chance to
+get an education.</p>
+
+<p>He even treated Joseph as if he himself were the elder, and Joseph the
+younger brother. There is a letter in existence which he wrote to his
+father in 1783, in which he tries to arrange for Joseph's future, as
+that rather heavy boy had decided not to become a priest.</p>
+
+<p>"Joseph," so Napoleon wrote from Brienne to his father, "can come here
+to school. The principal says he can be received here; and Father
+Patrault, the teacher of mathematics, says he will be glad to undertake
+Joseph's instruction, and that, if he will work, we may both of us go
+together for our artillery examination. Never mind me. I can get along.
+But you must do something for Joseph. Good-by, my dear father. I hope
+you will decide to send Joseph here to Brienne, rather than to Metz. It
+will be a pleasure for us to be together; and, as Joseph knows nothing
+of mathematics, if you send him to Metz, he will have to begin with the
+little children; and that, I know, will disgust him. I hope, therefore,
+that before the end of October I shall embrace Joseph."</p>
+
+<p>That is a nice, brotherly letter, is it not? It does not sound like the
+boy who was always ready to quarrel and fight with brother Joseph,
+nor does it seem to be from a sulky, disagreeable boy. This spirit of
+looking out for his family was one of the traits of Napoleon's character
+that was noticeable alike in the boy, the soldier, the commander, and
+the emperor.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, the very spirit of self-denial in which this letter, an extract
+from which you have just read, was written, was not only characteristic
+of this remarkable man of whose boy-life this story tells, but it led in
+his school-days at Brienne to a change that affected his whole life.</p>
+
+<p>One day there came to the school the Chevalier de Keralio, inspector of
+military schools&mdash;a sort of committee man as you would say in America.
+It was the duty of the inspector to look into the record, and arrange
+for the promotions, of "the king's wards," as the boys and girls were
+called who were educated at the expense of the state. He was, in some
+way, attracted to this sober, silent, and sad-eyed little Corsican, and
+inquired into his history. He rather liked the boy's appearance, odd as
+it was. He took quite a fancy to the young Napoleon, talked with him,
+questioned him, and outlined to the teachers at Brienne what he thought
+should be the future course of the lad.</p>
+
+<p>Charles Bonaparte had some thought of placing Napoleon in the naval
+service of France. The boy told Inspector Keralio this; but the
+chevalier declared that he intended to recommend the boy for promotion
+to the military school at Paris, and then have him assigned for service
+at Toulon. This was the nearest port to Corsica, and would place
+Napoleon nearer to his much-loved family home.</p>
+
+<p>The teachers objected to this.</p>
+
+<p>"There are other boys in the school much better fitted for such an honor
+than this young Bonaparte," they said.</p>
+
+<p>But the inspector thought otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>"I know boys," he said. "I know what I am doing."</p>
+
+<p>"But he is not ready yet," said the principal. "To do as you advise
+would be to change all the rules set down for promotion."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what if it does?" replied the inspector.</p>
+
+<p>"But why should you favor this boy and his family? They are Corsicans."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not care anything about his family," the inspector declared. "If I
+put aside the rules in this case, it is not to do the Bonaparte family a
+favor. I do not know them. But I have studied this boy. It is because of
+him that I propose this action. I see a spark in him that cannot be too
+early cultivated. It shall not be extinguished if I can help it. This
+young Bonaparte will make his mark if he has a chance, and I shall give
+him that chance."</p>
+
+<p>So before he left Brienne the inspector wrote this strong recommendation
+of the boy whom he desired to befriend and put forward:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur de Bonaparte (Napoleon), born August 15, 1769. Height,
+four feet, ten inches. Of good constitution, excellent health, mild
+disposition. Has finished the fourth form: is straightforward and
+obliging. His conduct has been most satisfactory. He has been
+distinguished for his application to mathematics; is fairly acquainted
+with history and geography; is weak in all accomplishments,&mdash;drawing,
+dancing, music, and the like. This boy would make an excellent sailor.
+He deserves promotion to the school in Paris."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon had gained a powerful friend. His favor would put the boy well
+forward in his career. He felt quite elated. But, unfortunately for
+the plans proposed, the Inspector de Keralio died suddenly, before his
+recommendation could he acted upon; and with so many other applications
+that were backed up by influence, for boys with better opportunities,
+Napoleon's desired assignment to the naval service did not receive
+action by the government, and he was passed by in favor of less able but
+better befriended boys.</p>
+
+<p>So, when the examination&mdash;days came, the new Inspector, who came in
+place of the lad's friend Chevalier de Keralio, decided that young
+Napoleon Bonaparte was fitted for the artillery service; and at the age
+of fifteen the boy left the school at Brienne, and was ordered to enter
+upon a higher course of study at the military school at Paris. Nothing
+more was said about preparing him for the naval service, for which
+Inspector de Keralio had recommended him. And in the certificate
+which he carried from Brienne to Paris, Napoleon was described as a
+"masterful, impetuous and headstrong boy." Evidently the opinion of
+Napoleon's teachers was adopted, rather than the prophetic report of his
+dead friend, Inspector de Keralio.</p>
+
+<p>In after-years Napoleon forgot all the worries and troubles of his
+school-days at Brienne, and remembered only the pleasant times there.</p>
+
+<p>Once, when he was a man, he heard some bells chiming musically. He
+stopped, listened, and said to his old schoolmate, whom he had made his
+secretary,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Bourrienne! that reminds me of my first years at Brienne; we were
+happy there, were we not?"</p>
+
+<p>To the chaplain who had prepared him for that most important occasion in
+the lives of all French children, his first communion, and who had taken
+a fatherly interest in him, Napoleon, when powerful and great, wrote:
+"I can never forget that to your virtuous example and wise lessons I am
+indebted for the great fortune that has come to me. Without religion, no
+happiness, no future, is possible. My dear friend, remember me in your
+prayers."</p>
+
+<p>Even his old adversary, Bouquet, whose mean ways had brought Napoleon
+into so many scrapes, was not forgotten. Bouquet was a bad fellow. Years
+after, he was caught doing some great mischief; and Napoleon, as his
+superior officer, would have been obliged to punish him. But when he
+heard that Bouquet had escaped from prison, he really felt relieved.</p>
+
+<p>"Bouquet was my old schoolfellow at Brienne," he said. "I am glad I did
+not have to punish him."</p>
+
+<p>Whenever he had the chance, after he had risen to honor and power, he
+would do his old schoolmates and teachers at Brienne school a service.
+Bourrienne and Lauriston were both advanced and honored. To one teacher
+he gave the post of palace librarian; another was appointed the head of
+the School of Fine Arts; Father Patrault, who had been his friend and
+had taught him mathematics, was made one of his secretaries; other
+teachers he helped with pensions or positions; and even the porter of
+the school was made porter of one of the palaces when Napoleon became an
+emperor.</p>
+
+<p>At last, as I have told you, when the opportunity came, Napoleon said
+good-by to Brienne school. He left before his time was up, in order to
+give his younger brother, Lucien, the chance for a scholarship in
+the school; he put aside with regret, but without complaining, the
+wished-for assignment to the naval service. He decided to become an
+artillery officer; and on October 17, in the year 1784, he started for
+Paris to enter upon his "king's scholarship" in the military school. He
+had been a schoolboy at Brienne five years and a half. He was now a boy
+of fifteen.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c14"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>NAPOLEON GOES TO PARIS</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>Some boys at fifteen are older than other boys at fifteen. Napoleon, as
+I have told you, was always an "old boy." So when, on that October day
+in 1784, he arrived at the capital to enter upon the king's scholarship
+which he had received, he was no longer a child, even though under-sized
+and somewhat "spindling."</p>
+
+<p>Here, however, as at Autun and Brienne, his appearance was against him,
+and created an unfavorable impression.</p>
+
+<p>As he got out of the Brienne coach, he ran almost into the arms of one
+of the boys he had known at Corsica&mdash;young Demetrius Compeno.</p>
+
+<p>"What, Demetrius! you here?" he cried, a smile of pleasure at sight of a
+familiar face lighting up his sallow features.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not, young Bonaparte," Demetrius laughed back in reply. "You
+did not suppose I was going to let you fall right into the lion's mouth,
+undefended. Why, you are so fresh and green looking, the beast would
+take you for Corsican grass, and eat you at once."</p>
+
+<p>Although Napoleon was inclined to resent this pleasantry, he was too
+delighted to meet an old friend to say much. And, the truth is, the
+great city did surprise him. For, even though he had been five years
+at Brienne school, he was still a country boy, and walked the streets
+gaping and staring at everything he saw, like a boy at his first circus.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, boy! if I were not with you," said Demetrius, with the superior
+air of the boy who knows city ways, "I don't know what snare you would
+not fall into. While you were staring at the City Hall, or the Soldier's
+Home, or that big statue of King Henry on the bridge, one of those
+street-boys who is laughing at you yonder would have picked your
+pockets, snatched your satchel, or perhaps (who knows?) cut your throat.
+Oh, yes! they do such things in Paris. You must learn to look out for
+yourself here."</p>
+
+<p>"I think I am big enough for that," cried Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"You big! why, you are but a child, young Bonaparte!" Demetrius
+exclaimed. "But we'll make a man of you at the Paris school."</p>
+
+<p>The boys at the Paris Military School&mdash;the West Point of France in those
+days&mdash;proceeded at once to try to "make a man" of Napoleon in the same
+way that all boys seem ever ready to do; as, indeed, the boys at Autun
+and Brienne had done&mdash;by poking fun at the new cadet, mimicking
+his manners, ridiculing his appearance, and making life generally
+unpleasant.</p>
+
+<p>But Napoleon had learned one thing by his bitter experiences at the
+other schools he had attended,&mdash;he had learned to control his temper,
+and take things as they came, with less of revenge and sullenness.
+The kindly criticism of his friends, General Marbeuf and Inspector de
+Keralio, had left their effect upon him; and besides the companionship
+of his fellow-countryman, Demetrius Comneno, he had the good fortune to
+make his first really boy-friend in his roommate at the military school.
+This was young Alexander des Mazes, a fine lad of his own age, "a noble
+by birth and nature," who conceived a liking for Napoleon at once, and
+was his friend for many years.</p>
+
+<p>In Paris, too, he had the advantage of the friendship of a fine Corsican
+family,&mdash;the Permous, relatives of Demetrius, and old acquaintances of
+the Bonaparte family. His sister Eliza was also at school at the girls'
+academy of St. Cyr; and Napoleon visited her frequently, and talked over
+home matters and other mutual interests. For Napoleon had long since
+forgiven and forgotten the trouble into which Eliza had once plunged him
+because of her love for the fruit of their uncle, the canon; and the
+brother and sister could now laugh over that childish experience, while
+Eliza dearly loved Napoleon, in spite of her selfishness, and even
+because of his so uncomplainingly bearing her punishment.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, though "an odd child," as people called him, was wide awake
+and critical. He observed everything, and thought much. He was not long
+in noticing one thing: that was, the recklessness, the extravagance, and
+the indifference of the boys who were being educated at the king's
+expense in the king's military school.</p>
+
+<p>Most of these boys were of high birth, accustomed to having their own
+way, and with extravagant tastes and notions. Napoleon spoke of this
+frequently to the friends he made; but both Demetrius and Alexander
+laughed at him, and said, "Well, what of it? Would you have us all digs
+and hermits&mdash;like you? Here is the chance to have a good time, to live
+high, and to let the king pay for it&mdash;the king or our fathers. Why
+shouldn't we do as we please?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Demetrius!" Napoleon protested, "that is not the way to make
+soldiers. Do you think those fellows will be good officers, if they
+never know what it is to deny themselves, or to do the work that is
+their duty, but which they leave for servants to do?" For Napoleon, you
+see, had many of the saving ways of his practical mother, and rebelled
+at the unconcern of these luxury-loving and careless boys, who were
+supposed to be learning the discipline of soldiers in their Paris
+school.</p>
+
+<p>Demetrius only snapped his fingers, as Alexander shrugged his shoulders,
+in contempt of what they considered Napoleon's countrified way.</p>
+
+<p>But all this show of pomp and luxury really troubled this boy, who had
+long before learned the value of money and the need of self-denial.
+Indeed, it worried him so much that one day he sat down and wrote a
+letter which he intended to send as a protest to the minister of war,
+actually lecturing that high and mighty officer, and "giving him points"
+on the proper way to educate boys in the French military schools.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately for him, he sent the letter first to his old instructor, the
+principal of the Brienne school. And the instructor&mdash;even though he,
+perhaps, agreed with this boy-critic&mdash;saw how foolish and hurtful for
+Napoleon's interest it would be to send such a surprising letter; and
+he promptly suppressed it. But the letter still exists; and a curious
+epistle it is for a fifteen-year-old boy to write. Here is a part of it:</p>
+
+<p>"The king's scholars," so Napoleon wrote to the minister, "could only
+learn in this school, in place of qualities of the heart, feelings of
+vanity and self-satisfaction to such an extent, that, on returning to
+their own homes, they would be far from sharing gladly in the simple
+comfort of their families, and would perhaps blush for their fathers
+and mothers, and despise their modest country surroundings. Instead of
+maintaining a large staff of servants for these pupils, and giving them
+every day meals of several courses, and keeping up an expensive stable
+full of horses and grooms, would it not be better, Mr. Minister&mdash;of
+course without interrupting their studies&mdash;to compel them to look after
+their own wants themselves? That is to say, without compelling them
+to really do their own cooking, would it not be wise to have them eat
+soldiers' bread or something no better, to accustom them to beat and
+brush their own clothes, to clean their own boots and shoes, and
+do other things equally useful and self-helpful? If they were thus
+accustomed to a sober life, and to be particular about their appearance,
+they would become healthier and stronger; they could support with
+courage the hardships of war, and inspire with respect and blind
+devotion the soldiers who would have to serve under their orders." How
+do you think the grand minister of war would have felt to get such a
+lecturing on discipline from a boy at school? and what do you imagine
+the boys would have done had they heard that one of their schoolmates
+had written a letter, suggesting that they be deprived of their
+pleasures and pamperings? It was lucky for young Napoleon that the
+principal at Brienne got hold of the letter before it was forwarded to
+the war minister.</p>
+
+<p>But then, as you have heard before, Napoleon was an odd boy. He thought
+so himself when he grew to be a man, and he laughed at the recollection
+of his manners. He laid it all, however, to the responsibility he had
+felt, even from the day when he was a little fellow, because of the
+needs of his hard-pushed family in Corsica. "All these cares," he once
+said, looking back over his boy-life, "spoiled my early years; they
+influenced my temper, and made me grave before my time."</p>
+
+<p>Even if he did not send that critical and most unwise letter for a boy
+of his standing, the insight he gained into the expensive ways of the
+pupils at the military school had its effect upon him; and the very
+criticisms of that remarkable letter were used for their original
+purpose when Napoleon came to authority and power. For, when he was
+emperor of France, he gave to the minister who had the military
+schools in charge this order: "No pupil is to cost the state more than
+twenty-five cents a day. These pupils are sons either of soldiers or
+of working-men; it is absolutely contrary to my intention to give them
+habits of life which can only be hurtful to them."</p>
+
+<p>If Napoleon was so critical as to the ways and style of his schoolmates,
+he certainly set the lesson in economy for himself that he suggested for
+them.</p>
+
+<p>To be sure, he had no money to waste or to spend; but he might have been
+hail-fellow with the other boys, and joined in their luxuries, had he
+but been willing to borrow, as did the rest of them. But Napoleon
+had always a horror of debt. He had acquired this from his mother's
+teachings and his father's spendthrift ways. Even as a boy, however,
+his will was so strong, his power of self-denial was so great, that
+he continued in what he considered the path of duty, unmindful of
+the boyish charges of "mean fellow" and "pauper" that the spoiled
+spendthrifts of the school had no hesitation in casting at him.</p>
+
+<p>At last, however, these culminated almost in an open row; and Napoleon
+found himself called upon either to explain his position, or become both
+unpopular and an "outcast" because of what his schoolmates considered
+his stinginess and parsimony.</p>
+
+<p>It was this way&mdash;But I had better tell you the story in a new chapter.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c15"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>A TROUBLE OVER POCKET MONEY</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>It was the twelfth of June in the year 1785 that a group of scholars was
+standing, during the recess hour, in a corner of the military school of
+Paris.</p>
+
+<p>They were all boys; but they assumed the manners and gave themselves the
+airs of princes of the blood.</p>
+
+<p>"Gentlemen," said one who seemed to be most prominent in the group, "I
+have called you together on a most important matter. Tomorrow is old
+Bauer's birthday. I propose that, as is our custom, we take some notice
+of it. What do you say to giving him a little supper, in the name of the
+school?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good idea; a capital idea, d'Hebonville!" exclaimed most of the boys,
+in ready acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p>"A gluttonous idea, I call it; and an expensive one," said one upon the
+outer edge of the circle, in a sharply critical tone. "Ah. our little
+joker has a word to say," exclaimed one of the boys sarcastically,
+drawing back, and pushing the speaker to the front; "hear him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, now, Napoleon! don't object," young Alexander des Mazes said. "Did
+you not hear why d'Hebonville proposed the supper? It is to honor the
+German teacher's birthday."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he heard it fast enough, des Mazes," rejoined d'Hebonville. "That
+is what makes him so cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you say that?" Napoleon demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not like the plan because it is to honor old Bauer; for you do
+not like him," d'Hebonville replied. "If, now, it were a supper to the
+history teacher, you would agree, I am sure. For de l'Equille praises
+you on 'the profundity of your reflections and the sagacity of your
+judgment.' Oh, I've read his notes; or you would agree if it were
+Domaisen, the rhetoric teacher, who is much impressed&mdash;those are
+his very words, are they not, gentlemen?&mdash;with 'your powers of
+generalization, which' he says, are even 'as granite heated at a
+volcano.' But as it is only dear old Bauer"&mdash;and d'Hebonville shrugged
+his shoulders significantly. "Well, and what about 'dear old Bauer,' as
+you call him?" cried Napoleon; "finish, sir; finish, I say."</p>
+
+<p>"I will tell you what Father Bauer says of you, Napoleon," said des
+Mazes laughingly, as he laid his arm familiarly about Napoleon's neck;
+"he says he does not think much of you, because you make no progress in
+your German; and as old Bauer thinks the world moves only for Germans,
+he has nothing good to say of one who makes no mark in his dear
+language. 'Ach!' says old Bauer, 'your Napoleon Bonaparte will never be
+anything but a fool. He knows no German.'"</p>
+
+<p>The boys laughed loudly at des Mazes's mimicry of the German teacher's
+manner and speech. But Napoleon smiled with the air of one who felt
+himself superior to the teacher of German.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, I should say," said Philip Mabille, "that here is the very reason
+why Napoleon should not refuse to join us. It will be&mdash;what are the
+words?&mdash;'heaping coals of fire' on old Bauer's head."</p>
+
+<p>"That might be so," Napoleon agreed, in a better humor. "But why give
+him a feast? Let us&mdash;I'll tell you&mdash;let us give him a spectacle. A
+battle, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"In which you should be a general, I suppose, as you were in that
+snow&mdash;ball fight at Brienne, of which we have heard once or twice," said
+d'Hebonville sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" asked Napoleon haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>"Or the death of Caesar, like the tableaux we arranged at Brienne,"
+suggested Demetrius Comneno enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>"In which your great Napoleon played Brutus, I suppose," said
+d'Hebonville. "No, no; the birthday of old Bauer is not a solemn
+occasion to demand a battle or a spectacle; something much more simple
+will do for a professor of German. Let us make it a good collation.
+There are fifteen of us in his class. If each one of us contributes five
+dollars, we could get up quite a feast."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, see here, d'Hebonville!" cried Mabille; "think a little. Five
+dollars is a good deal for some of us. Not all of the fifteen can
+afford so much. I don't believe I could; nor you, Napoleon, could you?"
+Napoleon's face grew sober, but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well! let only those pay then who can," said d'Hebonville.</p>
+
+<p>"Who, then, will take part in your feast?" demanded Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, all of us, of course," replied d'Hebonville.</p>
+
+<p>"At the feast, or in giving the money," queried Mabille.</p>
+
+<p>"At the feast, to be sure," d'Hebonville answered.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, now; we should have no feeling in this matter," cried des Mazes.
+"We will decide for you, Mabille."</p>
+
+<p>"Old Bauer must not dream that there are any of his class who do not
+share in the matter," said Comneno. "That would be showing a preference,
+and a preference is never fair."</p>
+
+<p>"And do you wish, then," said Mabille, "that old Bauer should be under
+obligation to me, for example, who can pay little or nothing toward the
+feast?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly; to you as much as to the richest among us," said
+d'Hebonville.</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" cried Napoleon. "That would imply a sentiment of gratitude toward
+my masters; and I, for one, have none to this Professor Bauer."</p>
+
+<p>"Some one to see Napoleon Bonaparte," said a porter of the school,
+appearing at the door of the schoolroom. "He waits in the parlor."</p>
+
+<p>Without a word Napoleon left his school-fellows; but they looked after
+him with faces expressive of disapproval or disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>The disagreeable impression produced by the discussion in which he had
+been taking part still remained with Napoleon as he entered the parlor
+to meet his visitor. It was the friend of his family, Monsieur de
+Permon.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, indeed, was scarce able to greet his visitor pleasantly. But
+Monsieur de Permon, without appearing to notice the boy's ill-humor,
+greeted him pleasantly, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Madame de Permon and I are on our way to the Academy of St. Cyr, to see
+your sister Eliza. Would you not like to go with us, Napoleon? I have
+permission for you to be absent"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon brightened at this invitation, and gladly accepted it. The two
+proceeded to the carriage, in which Madame Permon was awaiting them; and
+the three were soon on the road to the school of St. Cyr, in which, as I
+have told you, Eliza Bonaparte was a scholar.</p>
+
+<p>They were ushered into the parlor, and Eliza was summoned. She soon
+appeared; but she entered the room slowly and disconsolately; her eyes
+were red with crying. Eliza was evidently in trouble.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Eliza, my dear child, what is the matter?" Madame Permon
+exclaimed, drawing the girl toward her. "You have been crying. Have they
+been scolding you here?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, madame," Eliza replied in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you afraid they may? Have you trouble with your lessons?" persisted
+Madame Permon.</p>
+
+<p>With the same dejected air, Eliza answered as before, "No, madame."</p>
+
+<p>"But what, then, is the matter, my dear?" cried Madame Permon; "such red
+eyes mean much crying."</p>
+
+<p>Eliza was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Eliza!" Napoleon demanded with an elder brother's authority;
+"speak! answer Madame here What is the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>But even to her brother, Eliza made no reply.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="164"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="164.jpg (119K)" src="164.jpg" height="637" width="628">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Then Madame Permon, as tenderly as if she had been the girl's mother,
+led her aside; and finding a remote seat in a corner, she drew the child
+into her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"Eliza," she said with gracious kindliness, "I must know why you are in
+sorrow. Think of me as your mother, dear; as one who must act in her
+place until you return to her. Speak to me as to your mother. Let me
+have your love and confidence. Tell me, my child, what troubles you."</p>
+
+<p>The tender solicitude of her mother's friend quite vanquished Eliza's
+stubbornness. Her tears burst out afresh; and between the sobs she
+stammered,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Madame, that Lucie de Montluc leaves the school in eight
+days."</p>
+
+<p>"I did not know it, Eliza," Madame Permon said, keeping back a smile;
+"but if that so overcomes you, then am I sorry too."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, Madame'" Eliza said, just a bit indignant at being
+misunderstood; "it is not her leaving that makes me cry; but, you see,
+on the day she goes away her class will give her a good&mdash;by supper."</p>
+
+<p>"What! and you are not invited?" exclaimed Madame Permon. "Ah, that is
+the trouble, Madame," cried Eliza, the tears gathering again. "I am
+invited."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you cry?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is because each girl is to contribute towards the supper; and I,
+Madame, can give nothing. My allowance is gone."</p>
+
+<p>"So!" Madame Permon whispered, glad to have at last reached the real
+cause of the trouble, "that is the matter. And you have nothing left?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only a dollar, Madame," replied Eliza. "But if I give that, I shall
+have no more money; and my allowance does not come to me for six weeks.
+Indeed, what I have is not enough for my needs until the six weeks are
+over. Am I not miserable?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon, who had gradually drawn nearer the corner, thrust his hand
+into his pocket as he heard Eliza's complaint. But he drew it out as
+quickly. His pocket was empty. Mortified and angry, he stamped his foot
+in despair. But no one noticed this pantomime.</p>
+
+<p>"How much, my dear, is necessary to quiet this great sorrow?" Madame
+Permon asked of Eliza with a smile. Eliza looked into her good friend's
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Madame! it is an immense sum," she replied,</p>
+
+<p>"Let me know the worst," Madame Permon said, with affected distress.
+"How much is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Two dollars!" confessed Eliza in despair.</p>
+
+<p>"Two dollars!" exclaimed Madame Permon; "what extravagant ladies we are
+at St. Cyr!" Then she hugged Eliza to her; and, as she did so, she slyly
+slipped a five-dollar piece into the girl's hand. "Hush! take it, and
+say nothing," she said; for, above all, she did not wish her action to
+be seen by Napoleon. For Madame Permon well knew the sensitive pride of
+the Bonaparte children.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after they left the school; and when once they were within the
+carriage Napoleon's ill-humor burst forth, in spite of himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Was ever anything more humiliating?" he cried; "was ever anything more
+unjust? See how it is with that poor child. The rich and poor are
+placed together, and the poor must suffer or be pensioners. Is it not
+abominable, the way these schools of St. Cyr and the Paris military are
+run? Two dollars for a scholars' picnic in a place where no child is
+supposed to have money. It is enormous!"</p>
+
+<p>His friends made no reply to this boyish outburst; but, when the
+military school was reached, Monsieur Permon followed Napoleon into the
+parlor.</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon," he said, "at your age one is not furious against the world
+unless he has particular reason."</p>
+
+<p>"And are not my sister's tears a reason, sir, when I cannot remedy their
+cause?" Napoleon answered with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"But when I came here for you," said Monsieur Permon, "you, too,
+appeared angry, as if some trouble had occurred between yourself and
+your schoolfellows."</p>
+
+<p>"I am unfortunate, sir, not to be able to conceal my feelings," said
+Napoleon; "but it does seem as if the boys here delighted in making me
+feel my poverty. They live in an insolent luxury; and whoever cannot
+imitate them,"&mdash;here Napoleon dashed a hand to his forehead,&mdash;"Oh, it is
+to die of humiliation!"</p>
+
+<p>"At your age, my Napoleon, one submits and blames no one," said Monsieur
+Permon, smiling, in spite of himself, at the boy's desperation.</p>
+
+<p>"At my age' yes, sir," Napoleon rejoined, as if keeping back some
+great thought. "But later&mdash;ah, if, some day, I should ever be master!
+However"&mdash;and the French shrug that is so eloquent completed the
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>"However,"&mdash;Monsieur Permon took up his words&mdash;"while waiting, one may
+now and then find a friend. And you take your part here with the boys,
+do you not?"</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon was silent; and Monsieur Permon, remembering the trouble that
+had weighed Eliza down, concluded also that some such trial might be a
+part of Napoleon's school-life.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me help you, my boy," he said.</p>
+
+<p>At this unexpected proposition Napoleon flushed deeply; then the red
+tinge paled into the sallow one again, and he responded, "I thank you,
+sir, but I do not need it."</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon," said Monsieur Permon, "your mother is my wife's dearest
+friend; your father has long been my good comrade. Is it right for
+sons to refuse the love of their fathers, or for boys to reject the
+friendships of their elders? Pride is excellent; but even pride may
+sometimes be pernicious. It is pride that sets a barrier between you and
+your companions. Do not permit it. Regard friendship as of more value
+than self-consideration; and, for my sake, let me help you to join in
+these occasions that may mean so much to you in the way of friendship."</p>
+
+<p>Thus deftly did good Monseiur Permon smooth over the bitterness that
+inequality in pocket allowances so often stirs between those who have
+little and those who have much.</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon fixed upon his father's friend one of his piercing looks, and
+taking his proffered money, said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I accept it, sir, as if it came from my father, as you wish me to
+consider it. But if it came as a loan, I could not receive it. My people
+have too many charges already; and I ought not to increase them by
+expenses which, as is often the case here, are put upon me by the folly
+of my schoolfellows."</p>
+
+<p>The Permons proved good friends to the Bonaparte children; and it
+was to their house at Montpellier that, in the spring of 1785, Charles
+Bonaparte was brought to die.</p>
+
+<p>For ill health and misfortune proved too much for this disheartened
+Corsican gentleman; and, before his boys were grown to manhood, he gave
+up his unsuccessful struggle for place and fortune. He had worked hard
+to do his best for his boys and girls; he had done much that the world
+considers unmanly; he had changed and shifted, sought favors from the
+great and rich, and taken service that he neither loved nor approved.
+But he had done all this that his children might be advanced in the
+world; and though he died in debt, leaving his family almost penniless,
+still he had spent himself in their behalf; and his children loved and
+honored his memory, and never forgot the struggles their father had
+made in their behalf. In fact, much of his spirit of family devotion
+descended to his famous son Napoleon, the schoolboy.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c16"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER SIXTEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>LIEUTENANT PUSS-IN-BOOTS</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>Napoleon returned to his studies after his father's death, poorer than
+ever in pocket, and greatly distressed over his mother's condition.</p>
+
+<p>For Charles Bonaparte's death had taken away from the family its main
+support. The income of their uncle, the canon, was hardly sufficient
+for the family's needs. Joseph gave up his endeavors, and returned
+to Corsica to help his mother. But Napoleon remained at the military
+school; for his future depended upon his completing his studies, and
+securing a position in the army.</p>
+
+<p>How much the boy had his mother in his thoughts, you may judge from this
+letter which he wrote her a month after his father's death:</p>
+
+<p>MY DEAR MOTHER,&mdash;Now that time has begun to soften the first transports
+of my sorrow. I hasten to express to you the gratitude I feel for all
+the kindness you have always displayed toward us. Console yourself, dear
+mother, circumstances require that you should. We will redouble our care
+and our gratitude, happy if, by our obedience, we can make up to you in
+the smallest degree for the inestimable loss of a cherished husband I
+finish, dear mother,&mdash;my grief compels it&mdash;by praying you to calm yours.
+My health is perfect, and my daily prayer is that Heaven may grant you
+the same. Convey my respects to my Aunt Gertrude, to Nurse Saveria, and
+to my Aunt Fesch.</p>
+
+<p>Your very humble and affectionate son,</p>
+
+<p>NAPOLEON.</p>
+
+<p>
+At the same time he wrote to his kind old uncle, the Canon Lucien,
+saying: "It would be useless to tell you how deeply I have felt the blow
+that has just fallen upon us. We have lost a father; and God alone knows
+what a father, and what were his attachment and devotion to us. Alas!
+everything taught us to look to him as the support of our youth. But the
+will of God is unalterable. He alone can console us."</p>
+
+<p>These letters from a boy of sixteen would scarcely give one the idea
+that Napoleon was the selfish and sullen youth that his enemies are
+forever picturing; they rather show him as he was,&mdash;quiet, reserved,
+reticent, but with a heart that could feel for others, and a sympathy
+that strove to lessen, for the mother he loved, the burden of sorrow and
+of loss.</p>
+
+<p>That the death of his father, and the "hard times" that came upon the
+Bonapartes through the loss of their chief bread-winner, did sober the
+boy Napoleon, and made him even more retiring and reserved, there is no
+doubt. His old friend, General Marbeuf, was no longer in condition to
+help him; and, indeed, Napoleon's pride would not permit him to receive
+aid from friends, even when it was forced upon him.</p>
+
+<p>"I am too poor to run into debt," he declared.</p>
+
+<p>So he became again a hermit, as in the early days at Brienne school. He
+applied himself to his studies, read much, and longed for the day when
+he should be transferred from the school to the army.</p>
+
+<p>The day came sooner than even he expected. He had scarcely been a
+year at the Paris school when he was ordered to appear for his final
+examination. Whether it was because his teachers pitied his poverty, and
+wished him to have a chance for himself, or whether because, as some
+would have us believe, they wished to be rid of a scholar who criticised
+their methods, and was fault-finding, unsocial, and "exasperating," it
+is at least certain that the boy took his examinations, and passed them
+satisfactorily, standing number forty in a class of fifty-eight.</p>
+
+<p>"You are a lucky boy, my Napoleon," said his roommate, Alexander des
+Mazes; "see! you are ahead of me. I am number fifty-six; pretty near to
+the foot that, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Near enough, Alexander," Napoleon replied; "but I love you fifty-six
+times better than any of the other boys; and what would you have, my
+friend? Are not we two of the six selected for the artillery? That is
+some compensation. Now let us apply for an appointment in the same
+regiment."</p>
+
+<p>They did so, and secured each a lieutenancy in an artillery regiment.
+This, however, was not hard to secure; for the artillery service was
+considered the hardest in the army; and the lazy young nobles and
+gentlemen of the Paris military school had no desire for real work.</p>
+
+<p>The certificate given to Napoleon upon his graduation read thus:&mdash;"This
+young man is reserved and studious, he prefers study to any amusement,
+and enjoys reading the best authors, applies himself earnestly to the
+abstract sciences, cares little for anything else. He is silent, and
+loves solitude. He is capricious, haughty, and excessively egotisical,
+talks little, but is quick and energetic in his replies, prompt and
+severe in his repartees, has great pride and ambition, aspiring to any
+thing. The young man is worthy of patronage."</p>
+
+<p>And upon the margin of the report one of the examining officers wrote this
+extra indorsement&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"A Corsican by character and by birth. If favored by circumstances, this
+young man will rise high."</p>
+
+<p>Napoleon's school-life was over. On the first of September, 1785, he
+received the papers appointing him second-lieutenant in the artillery
+regiment, named La Fère (or "the sword"), and was ordered to report at
+the garrison at Valence. His room-mate and friend, Alexander des Mazes,
+was appointed to the same regiment.</p>
+
+<p>It was a proud day for the boy of sixteen. At last his school-life was
+at an end. He was to go into the world as a man and a soldier.</p>
+
+<p>I am afraid he did not look very much like a man, even if he felt that
+he was one. But he put on his uniform of lieutenant, and in high spirits
+set off to visit his friends, the Permons.</p>
+
+<p>They lived in a house on one of the river streets&mdash;Monsieur and Madame
+Permon, and their two daughters, Cecilia and Laura.</p>
+
+<p>Now, both these daughters were little girls, and as ready to see the
+funny side of things as little girls usually are.</p>
+
+<p>So when Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte, aged sixteen, came into the room,
+proud of his new uniform, and feeling that he looked very smart, Laura
+glanced at Cecilia, and Cecilia smiled at Laura, and then both girls
+began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Madam Permon glanced at them reprovingly, while welcoming the young
+lieutenant with pleasant words.</p>
+
+<p>But the boy felt that the girls were laughing at him, and he turned to
+look at himself in the mirror to see what was wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing was wrong. It was simply Napoleon; but Napoleon just then
+was not a handsome boy. Longhaired, large-headed, sallow-faced,
+stiff-stocked, and feeling very new in his new uniform (which could not
+be very gorgeous, however, because the boy's pocket would not admit of
+any extras in the way of adornment on decoration), he was, I expect,
+rather a pinched-looking, queer-looking boy; and, moreover, his boots
+were so big, and his legs were so thin, that the legs appeared lost in
+the boots.</p>
+
+<p>As he glanced at himself in the mirror, the girls giggled again, and
+their mother said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Silly ones, why do you laugh? Is our new uniform so marvellous a change
+that you do not recognize Lieutenant Bonaparte?"</p>
+
+<p>"Lieutenant Bonaparte, mamma!" cried fun-loving Laura. "No, no! not
+that. See! is not Napoleon for all the world like&mdash;like Lieutenant
+Puss-in-Boots?"</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon they laughed yet more merrily, and Napoleon laughed with them.</p>
+
+<p>"My boots are big, indeed," he said; "too big, perhaps; but I hope to
+grow into them. How was it with Puss-in-Boots, girls? He filled his well
+at last, did he not? You will be sorry you laughed at me, some day, when
+I march into your house, a big, fat general. Come, let us go and see
+Eliza. They may go with me, eh, Madame?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; go with the lieutenant, children," said Madame Permon.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="179"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="179.jpg (88K)" src="179.jpg" height="517" width="573">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>So they all went to call on Eliza, at the school of St. Cyr, and you may
+be sure that she admired her brother, the new lieutenant, boots and all.
+And as they came home, Napoleon took the little girls into a toy-store,
+and bought for them a toy-carriage, in which he placed a doll dressed as
+Puss-in-boots.</p>
+
+<p>"It is the carriage of the Marquis of Carabas, my children," he said, as
+they went to the Permons' house by the river. "And when I am at Valence,
+you will look at this, and think again of your friend, Lieutenant
+Puss-in-Boots."</p>
+
+<p>But between the date of his commission and his orders to join his
+regiment at Valence a whole month passed, in which time Napoleon's funds
+ran very low. Indeed, he was so completely penniless, that, when the
+orders did come, Napoleon had nothing; and his friend Alexander had just
+enough to get them both to Lyons.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall we do? I have nothing left, Napoleon," said Alexander; "and
+Valence is still miles away."</p>
+
+<p>"We can walk, Alexander," said Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>"But one must eat, my friend," Alexander replied ruefully. For boys of
+sixteen have good appetites, and do not like to go hungry.</p>
+
+<p>"True, one must eat," said Napoleon. "Ah, I have it! We will call upon
+Monsieur Barlet." Now, Monsieur Barlet was a friend of the Bonapartes,
+and had once lived in Corsica. So both boys hunted him up, and Napoleon
+told their story.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my valiant soldiers of the king," laughed Monsieur Barlet, "what
+is the best way out? Come; fall back on your training at the military
+school. What line of conduct, my Napoleon, would you adopt, if you were
+besieged in a fortress and were destitute of provisions?"</p>
+
+<p>"My faith, sir," answered Napoleon promptly, "so long as there were any
+provisions in the enemy's camp I would never go hungry."</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur Barlet laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>"By which you mean," he said, "that I am the enemy's camp, and you
+propose to forage on me for provisions, eh? Good, very good, that! See,
+then, I surrender. Accept, most noble warriors, a tribute from the
+enemy."</p>
+
+<p>And with that he gave the boys a little money, and a letter of
+introduction to his friend at Valence, the Abbe (or Reverend) Saint
+Raff.</p>
+
+<p>But Lyons is a pleasant city, where there is much to see and plenty
+to do. So, when the boys left Lyons, they had spent most of Monsieur
+Barlet's "tip"; and, to keep the balance for future use, they fell
+back on their original intention, and walked all the way from Lyons to
+Valence.</p>
+
+<p>Thus it was that Napoleon joined his regiment; and on the fifth of
+November 1785, he and Alexander, foot-sore, but full of boyish spirits,
+entered the old garrison-town of Valence in Southern France, and were
+warmly welcomed by Alexander's older brother, Captain Gabriel des Mazes,
+of the La Fère regiment, who at once took the boys in charge, and
+introduced them to their new life as soldiers of the garrison of
+Valence.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c17"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>DARK DAYS</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+
+<p>It does not take boys and girls long to find out that realization is not
+always equal to anticipation. Especially is this so with thoughtful,
+sober-minded boys like the young Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>At first, on his arrival at Valence, as lieutenant in his regiment, he
+set out to have a good time.</p>
+
+<p>He took lodging with an old maid who let out rooms to young officers,
+in a house on Grand Street, in the town of Valence. Her name was
+Mademoiselle Bon. She kept a restaurant and billiard&mdash;room; and
+Napoleon's room was on the first floor, fronting the street, and next to
+the noisy billiard&mdash;room. This was not a particularly favorable place
+for a boy to pursue his studies; and at first Napoleon seem disposed to
+make the most of what boys would call his "freedom." He went to balls
+and parties; became a "great talker;" took dancing lessons of Professor
+Dautre, and tried to become what is called a "society man."</p>
+
+<p>But it suited neither his tastes nor his desires, and made a large hole
+in his small pay as lieutenant. Indeed, after paying for his board and
+lodging, he had left only about seven dollars a month to spend for
+clothes and "fun." So he soon tired of this attempt to keep up
+appearances on a little money. He took to his books again, studying
+philosophy, geography, history, and mathematics. He thought he might
+make a living by his pen, and concluded to become an author. So he began
+writing a history of his native island&mdash;Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>He even tried a novel, but boys of seventeen are not very well fitted
+for real literary work, and his first attempts were but poor affairs.
+His reading in history and geography drew his attention to Asia; and he
+always had a boyish dream of what he should like to attempt and achieve
+in the half-fabled land of India, where he believed great success and
+vast riches were to be secured by an ambitious young man, who had
+knowledge of military affairs, and the taste for leadership. At last he
+was ordered away on active service; first to suppress what was known as
+the "Two-cent Rebellion" in Lyons, and after that to the town of Douay
+in Belgium.</p>
+
+<p>If was while there that bad news came to him from Corsica. His family
+was again in trouble. His mother had tried silkworm raising, and failed;
+his uncle the canon was very sick; his good friend and the patron of the
+family, General Marbeuf, was dead; his brothers were unsuccessful in
+getting positions or employment; and something must be done to help
+matters in the big bare house in Ajaccio.</p>
+
+<p>Worried over the news, Napoleon tried to get leave of absence, so as to
+go to Corsica and see what he could do. But this favor was not granted
+him. His anxiety made him low-spirited; this brought on an attack of
+fever. The leave of absence was granted him because he was sick; and
+early in 1787 he went home to Corsica.</p>
+
+<p>He had been absent from home for eight years. At once he tried to set
+matters on a better footing. He fixed up the little house at Melilli,
+which had belonged to his mother's father; tried to help his mother in
+her attempts at mulberry-growing for the silkworms; saw that his brother
+Joseph was enabled to go into the oil-trade; brightened up his uncle the
+canon with his political discussions and a correspondence with a famous
+French physician as to the cure for his uncle's gout; and finally, being
+recalled to his regiment, went back to Paris, and joined his regiment at
+Auxonne.</p>
+
+<p>While in garrison at this place, he lodged with Professor Lombard, a
+teacher of mathematics, whom he sometimes assisted in his classes. He
+worked hard, kept out of debt, ate little, and was "poor, but proud." He
+gained the esteem of his superiors; for in a letter to Joey Fesch, who
+was now a priest, he wrote:</p>
+
+<p>  "The general here thinks very well of me; so much so, that he has
+  ordered me to construct a polygon,&mdash;works for which great calculations
+  are necessary,&mdash;and I am hard at work at the head of two hundred men.
+  This unheard-of mark of favor has somewhat irritated the captains
+  against me; they declare it is insulting to them that a lieutenant
+  should be intrusted with so important a work, and that, when more than
+  thirty men are employed, one of them should not have been sent out
+  also. My comrades also have shown some jealousy, but it will pass.
+  What troubles me is my health, which does not seem to me very good."</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, it was not very good. He was just at the age when a young fellow
+needs all the good food, healthful exercise, and restful sleep that are
+possible; and these Napoleon did not permit himself. The doctor of his
+regiment told him he must take better care of himself; but that he did
+not, we know from this scrap from a letter to his mother:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"I have no resources but work. I dress but once in eight days, for the
+Sunday parade. I sleep but little since my illness; it is incredible. I
+go to bed at ten o'clock, and get up at four in the morning. I take but
+one meal a day, at three o'clock. But that is good for my health."</p>
+
+<p>The boy probably added that last line to keep his mother from feeling
+anxious. But it was not true. Such a life for a growing boy is very
+bad for his health. Again Napoleon fell ill, obtained six months' sick
+leave, and went again to Corsica. This visit was a much longer one than
+the first. In fact, he overstayed his leave; got into trouble with the
+authorities because of this; smoothed it over; regained his health;
+wrote and worked; mixed himself up in Corsican politics; became a fiery
+young advocate of liberty; and at last, after a year's absence from
+France, returned to join his regiment at Auxonne, taking with him his
+young brother, Louis, whom he had agreed to support and educate.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite a burden for this young man of twenty to assume. But
+Napoleon undertook it cheerfully, he was glad to be able to do anything
+that should lighten his mother's burdens.</p>
+
+<p>The brothers did not have a particularly pleasant home at Auxonne. They
+lived in a bare room in the regimental barracks, "Number 16," up
+one flight of stairs. It was wretchedly furnished. It contained an
+uncurtained bed, a table, two chairs, and an old wooden box, which the
+boys used, both as bureau and bookcase. Louis slept on a little cot-bed
+near his brother; and how they lived on sixty cents a day&mdash;paying out of
+that for food, lodging, clothes, and books&mdash;is one of the mysteries.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="006n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="006n.jpg (119K)" src="006n.jpg" height="933" width="678">
+<p>["<i>'I dreamed that I was a king,' said Louis</i>"]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>In fact, they nearly starved themselves. Napoleon made the broth;
+brushed and mended their clothes; sometimes had only dry bread for a
+meal; and, as Napoleon said later, "bolted the door on his poverty."
+That is to say, they went nowhere, and saw no one.</p>
+
+<p>It was hard on the young lieutenant; it was perhaps even harder on the
+little brother.</p>
+
+<p>One morning, after Napoleon had dressed himself and was preparing their
+poor breakfast, he knocked on the floor with his cane to arouse his
+brother and call him to breakfast and studies.</p>
+
+<p>Little Louis awoke so slowly that Napoleon was obliged to arouse him a
+second time.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, my Louis," he cried; "what is the matter this morning? It
+seems to me that you are very lazy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, brother!" answered the half-awaked child, "I was having such a
+beautiful dream!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you dream?" asked Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The little Louis sat upright on the edge of his cot. "I dreamed that I
+was a king," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"A king! Well, well!" exclaimed his brother, laughing. Then he glanced
+around at the bare and poverty-stricken room. "And what, then, your
+Majesty, was I, your brother,&mdash;an emperor perhaps?" Then he shrugged his
+shoulders, and pinched his brother's ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, kings and emperors must eat and work," he said, "the same as
+lieutenants and schoolboys. Come, then, King Louis; some broth, and then
+to your duty."</p>
+
+<p>This was Napoleon at twenty,&mdash;a poverty-pinched, self-sacrificing,
+hard-working boy, a man before his time; knowing very little of fun and
+comfort, and very much of toil and trouble.</p>
+
+<p>He was an ill-proportioned young man, not yet having outgrown the
+"spindling" appearance of his boyhood, but even then he possessed
+certain of the remarkable features familiar to every boy and girl who
+has studied the portraits of Napoleon the emperor. His head was large
+and finely shaped, with a wide forehead, large mouth, and straight nose,
+a projecting chin, and large, steel-blue eyes, that were full of fire
+and power. His face was sallow, his hair brown and stringy, his cheeks
+lean from not too much over-feeding. His body and lees were thin and
+small, but his chest was broad, and his neck short and thick. His step
+was firm and steady, with nothing of the "wobbly" gait we often see in
+people who are not well-proportioned. His character was undoubtedly that
+of a young man who had the desire to get ahead faster than his
+opportunities would permit. Solitude had made him uncommunicative and
+secretive; anxiety and privation had made him self-helpful and self-
+reliant; lack of sympathy had made him calculating; but doing for others
+had made him kind-hearted and generous. His reading and study had made
+him ambitious; his knowledge that when he knew a thing he really knew
+it, made him masterful and desirous of leadership. He had few of the
+vices, and sowed but a small crop of what is called the "wild oats" of
+youth; he abhorred debt, and scarcely ever owed a penny, even when in
+sorest straits; and, while not a bright nor a great scholar, what he had
+learned he was able to store away in his brain, to be drawn upon for use
+when, in later years, this knowledge could be used to advantage.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="007n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="007n.jpg (114K)" src="007n.jpg" height="876" width="686">
+<p><i>Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte Aged 22 (from the
+portrait by Jean Baptiste Greuse, in the Museum at
+Versailles)</i>]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<p>Such at twenty years of age was Napoleon Bonaparte. Such he remained
+through the years of his young manhood, meeting all sorts of
+discouragements, facing the hardest poverty, becoming disgusted with
+many things that occurred in those changing days, when liberty was
+replacing tyranny, and the lesson of free America was being read and
+committed by the world.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the turmoil and terrors of the French Revolution&mdash;that season of
+blood, when a long-suffering people struck a blow at tyranny, murdered
+their king, and tried to build on the ruins of an overturned kingdom an
+impossible republic.</p>
+
+<p>You will understand all this better when you come to read the history of
+France, and see through how many noble but mistaken efforts that fair
+European land struggled from tyranny to freedom. In these efforts
+Napoleon had a share; and it was his boyhood of privation and his youth
+of discouragement that made him a man of purpose, of persistence and
+endeavor, raising him step by step, in the days when men needed leaders
+but found none, until this one finally proved himself a leader indeed,
+and, grasping the reins of command, advanced steadily from the barracks
+to a throne. All this is history; it is the story of the development and
+progress of the most remarkable man of modern times. You can read the
+story in countless books; for now, after Napoleon has been dead for over
+seventy years, the world is learning to sift the truth from all the
+chaff of falsehood and fable that so long surrounded him; it is
+endeavoring to place this marvellous leader of men in the place he
+should rightly occupy&mdash;that of a great man, led by ambition and swayed
+by selfishness, but moved also by a desire to do noble things for the
+nation that he had raised to greatness, and the men who looked to him
+for guidance and direction.</p>
+
+<p>Our story of his boyhood ends here. For years after he came to young
+manhood fate seemed against him, and privation held him down. But he
+broke loose from all entanglements; he surmounted all obstacles; he
+conquered all adverse circumstances. He rose to power by his own
+abilities. He led the armies of France to marvellous victories. He
+became the idol of his soldiers, the hero of the people, the chief man
+in the nation, the controlling power in Europe; and on the second of
+December, in the year 1804, he was crowned in the great church of
+Notre Dame, in Paris, Emperor of the French. "Straw-nose," the
+poverty-stricken little Corsican, had become the foremost man in all the
+world!</p>
+
+<p>But through all his marvellous career he never forgot his family. The
+same love and devotion that he bestowed upon them when a poor boy and
+a struggling lieutenant, he lavished upon them as general, consul,
+and emperor. Indeed, to them was due, to a certain extent, his later
+misfortunes, and his fall from power. The more generous he became, the
+more selfish did his brothers and sisters grow. For their interests he
+neglected his own safety and the welfare of France. His unselfishness
+was, indeed, his greatest selfishness; and the boy who uncomplainingly
+took his sister's punishment for the theft of the basket of fruit,
+stood also as the scapegoat for all the mistakes and stupidities and
+wrong-doings that were due to his self-seeking brothers and sisters, the
+Bonaparte children of Ajaccio in Corsica.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c18"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>BY THE WALL OF THE SOLDIERS' HOME</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+<p>The Emperor Napoleon had long been dead. A wasting disease and English
+indignities had worn his life away upon his prison-rock of St. Helena;
+and, after many years, his body had been brought back to France, and
+placed beneath a mighty monument in the splendid Home for Invalid
+Soldiers, in the beautiful city of Paris which he had loved so much, and
+where his days of greatness and power had been spent.</p>
+
+<p>There, beneath the dome, surrounded by all the life and brilliancy of
+the great city, he rests. His last wish has been gratified&mdash;the wish he
+expressed in the will he wrote on his prison-rock, so many miles away:
+"I desire that my ashes shall rest by the banks of the Seine, in the
+midst of the French people I have loved so well."</p>
+
+<p>That Home for Invalid Soldiers, in which now stands the tomb of
+Napoleon, has long been, as its name implies, a home for the maimed and
+aged veterans who have fought in the armies of France, and received as
+their portion, wounds, illness,&mdash;and glory.</p>
+
+<p>The sun shines brightly upon the walls of the great home; and the
+war-worn veterans dearly love to bask in its life-giving rays, or to
+rest in the shade of its towering walls.</p>
+
+<p>It was on a certain morning, many years ago, that I who write these
+lines&mdash;Eugenie Foa, friend to all the boys and girls who love to read of
+glorious and heroic deeds&mdash;was resting upon one of the seats near to the
+shade-giving walls of the Soldiers' Home. As I sat there, several of
+the old soldiers placed themselves on the adjoining seat. There were a
+half-dozen of them&mdash;all veterans, grizzled and gray, and ranging from
+the young veteran of fifty to the patriarch of ninety years.</p>
+
+<p>As is always the case with these scarred old fellows, their talk
+speedily turned upon the feats at arms at which they had assisted. And
+this dialogue was so enlivening, so picturesque, so full of the hero-
+spirit that lingers ever about the walls of that noble building which is
+a hero's resting-place, that I gladly listened to their talk, and try
+now to repeat it to you.</p>
+
+<p>"But those Egyptians whom Father Nonesuch, here, helped to conquer," one
+old fellow said,&mdash;"ah, they were great story-tellers! I have read of
+some of them in a mightily fine book. It was called the 'Tales of the
+Thousand and One Nights.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" cried the eldest of the group. "Bah! I say. Your 'Thousand and
+One Nights,' your fairy stories, all the wonders of nature,"&mdash;here he
+waved his trembling old hand excitedly,&mdash;"all these are but as nothing
+compared with what I have seen."</p>
+
+<p>"Hear him!" exclaimed the young fellow of fifty; "hear old Father
+Nonesuch, will you, comrades? He thinks, because he has seen the
+republic, the consulate, the empire, the hundred days, the kingdom"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"And is not that enough, youngster?" interrupted the old veteran they
+called Father Nonesuch.[1]</p>
+
+<p>      [1] Perhaps the correct rendering of this nickname would be
+      "The Remnant," and it applies to the battered veteran even
+      better than "Nonesuch."]</p>
+
+<p>He certainly merited the nickname given him by his comrades; for I saw,
+by glancing at him, that the old veteran had but one leg, one arm, and
+one eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Enough?" echoed the one called "the youngster," whose grizzled locks
+showed him to be at least fifty years old, "Enough? Well, perhaps&mdash;for
+you. But, my faith! I cannot see that they were finer than the 'Thousand
+and one Nights.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah!" again cried old Nonesuch contemptuously; "but those were fairy
+stories, I tell you, youngster,&mdash;untrue stories,&mdash;pagan stories.
+But when one can tell, as can I, of stories that are true,&mdash;of
+history&mdash;history this&mdash;history that&mdash;true histories every one&mdash;bah!"
+and, shrugging his shoulders, old Nonesuch tapped upon his neighbor's
+snuff-box, and, with his only hand, drew out a mighty pinch by way of
+emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what say thou, Nonesuch,&mdash;you and your histories?" persisted the
+young admirer of the "Arabian Nights."</p>
+
+<p>"As for me,&mdash;my faith! I like only marvellous."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="008n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="008n.jpg (106K)" src="008n.jpg" height="824" width="680">
+<p>[Illustration: "Beneath the great dome
+he rests"&mdash;The Hotel des Invalides<br>
+(The 'Soldiers' Home' in Paris,
+containing the Tomb of Napoleon)]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<p>"And I tell you this, youngster," the old veteran cried, while his voice
+cracked into a tremble in his  excitement, "there is more of the
+marvellous in the one little finger of my history than in all the
+characters you can crowd together in your 'Thousand and One Nights.'
+Bah!&mdash;Stephen, boy; light my pipe."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is your history, Father Nonesuch?" demanded "the youngster,"
+while two-armed Stephen, a gray old "boy" of seventy, filled and lighted
+the old veteran's pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"My history?" cried old Nonesuch, struggling to his feet,&mdash;or rather to
+his foot,&mdash;and removing his hat, "it is, my son, that of the Emperor
+Napoleon!"</p>
+
+<p>And at the word, each old soldier sprang also to his feet, and removed
+his hat silently and in reverence.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, youngster!" old Father Nonesuch continued, dropping again to the
+bench, "if one wished to relate about my emperor a thousand and one
+stories a thousand and one nights; to see even a thousand and one days
+increased by a thousand and one battles, adding to that a thousand and
+one victories, one would have a thousand and a million million things
+&mdash;fine, glorious, delightful, to hear. For, remember, comrades," and the
+old man well-nigh exploded with his mathematical calculation, and the
+grandeur of his own recollections, "remember you this: I never left the
+great Napoleon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes," another aged veteran chimed in; "ah, yes; he was a great
+man."</p>
+
+<p>Old Nonesuch clapped his hand to his ear.</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, comrade the Corsican," he said, with the air of one who had
+not heard aright; "excuse my question, but would you kindly tell me whom
+you call a great man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whom, old deaf ears? Why, the Emperor Napoleon, of course," replied the
+Corsican.</p>
+
+<p>Old Nonesuch burst out laughing, and pounded the pavement with his heavy
+cane.</p>
+
+<p>"To call the emperor a man!" he exclaimed; "and what, then, will you
+call me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You? why, what should we?" said the Corsican veteran; "old Father
+Nonesuch, old 'Not Entire,' otherwise, Corporal Francis Haut of
+Brienne."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, bah!" cried the persistent veteran; "I do not mean my name, stupid!
+I mean my quality, my&mdash;my title, my&mdash;well&mdash;my sex,&mdash;indeed, what am I?"
+"Well, what is left of you, I suppose," laughed the Corsican, "we might
+call a man."</p>
+
+<p>"A man! there you have it exactly!" cried old Nonesuch. "I am a man; and
+so are you, Corsican, and you, Stephen, and you,&mdash;almost so,&mdash;youngster.
+But my emperor&mdash;the Emperor Napoleon! was he a man? Away with you! It
+was the English who invented that story; they did not know what he was
+capable of, those English! The emperor a man? Bah!"</p>
+
+<p>"What was he, then? A woman?" queried the Corsican.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, stupid one! where are your wits?" cried old Nonesuch, shaking pipe
+and cane excitedly. "Are you, then, as dull as those English? Why, the
+emperor was&mdash;the emperor! It is we, his soldiers, who were men."</p>
+
+<p>The Corsican veteran shook his head musingly.</p>
+
+<p>"It may be so; it may be so, good Nonesuch. I do not say no to you," he
+said. "Ah, my dear emperor! I have seen him often. I knew him when he
+was small; I knew him when he was grown. I saw him born; I saw him
+die"&mdash;"Halt there!" cried old Nonesuch; "let me stop you once more,
+good comrade Corsican. Do not make these other 'Not Entires' swallow
+such impossible and indigestible things. The emperor was never born; the
+emperor never died; the emperor has always been; the emperor always will
+be. To prove it," he added quickly, holding up his cane, as he saw that
+the Corsican was about to protest at this surprising statement, "to
+prove it, let me tell you. He fought at Constantine; he fought at St.
+Jean d'Ulloa; he fought at Sebastopol, and was conqueror."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Father Nonesuch!" broke in "the youngster," and others
+of that group of veterans, "you are surely wandering. It was not the
+Emperor Napoleon who fought at those places. That was long after he was
+dead. It was the son of Louis Philippe, the Duke of Nemours, who fought
+at Constantine; it was the Prince of Joinville who led at Ulloa; and, at
+Sebastopol, the"&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="009n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="009w.jpg"><img alt="009n.jpg (102K)" src="009n.jpg" height="562" width="694"></a>
+<p>[Illustration: "<i>Pif! paf! pouf! That is the way I
+read"&mdash;Napoleon at the Battle of Jena.<br>
+(From the Painting by Horace
+Vernet</i>.)]<br>
+[Click on the image to enlarge it]
+</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+
+<p>"Bah!" broke in the old veteran. "You are all owls, you! What if they
+did? I will not deny either the Duke of Nemours nor the Prince of
+Joinville, nor  Louis Philippe himself. But what then? You need not
+deny, you youngster, nor you, the other shouters, that when the cannons
+boom, when the battles rage, when, above all, one is conqueror for
+France, there is something of my emperor in that. Could they have
+conquered except for him? Ten thousand bullets! I say. He is
+everywhere."</p>
+
+<p>"But, see here, Father Nonesuch," protested the Corsican, "you must not
+deny to me the emperor's birth; for I know, I know all about it. Was not
+my mother, Saveria, Madame Letitia's servant? Was she not, too, nurse to
+the little Napoleon? She was, my faith! And she has told me a hundred
+times all about him. I know of what I speak. Our emperor, Napoleon
+Bonaparte, was born on the fifteenth of August, 1769, and when he was
+a baby, the cradle not being at hand, he was laid upon a rug in Madame
+Letitia's room. And on that rug was a fine representation of Mars, the
+god of war. And because his bed on that rug was on the very spot which
+represented Mars, that, old Nonesuch, is why our emperor was ever
+valiant in war. What say you to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well, very well," said old Nonesuch, as if he made a great
+concession; "if you say so from your own knowledge, if you insist that
+he was born, let it go so. I admit that he was born. But as to his being
+dead, eh? Will you insist on that too?"</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?" replied the Corsican, still harping on his personal
+knowledge of things in Ajaccio. "I knew the Bonapartes well, I tell you.
+There was the father, Papa Charles, a fine, noble-looking man; and their
+uncle, the canon&mdash;ah! he was a good man. He was short and fat and bald,
+with little eyes, but with a look like an eagle. And the children!
+how often I have seen them, though they were older than I&mdash;Joseph and
+Lucien, and little Louis, and Eliza and Pauline and Caroline. Yes; I saw
+them often. And Napoleon too. They say he never played much. But you
+knew him at Brienne school, old Nonesuch."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," nodded the old veteran; "for there my father was the porter."</p>
+
+<p>"He was ever grave and stern, was Napoleon;&mdash;not wicked, though"&mdash;"No,
+no; never wicked," broke in old Nonesuch. "I remember his snow-ball
+fight."</p>
+
+<p>"A fight with snow-balls!" exclaimed the youngster. "Yes; with
+snow-balls, youngster," replied old None-such.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="209"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="209.jpg (59K)" src="209.jpg" height="446" width="607">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"Did you never hear of it? But you are too young. Only the Corsican and
+I can remember that;" and the old man nodded to the Corsican with the
+superiority of old age over these "babies," as he called the younger
+veterans. "Let me see," said Nonesuch, crossing his wooden leg over his
+leg of flesh; "I was the porter's boy at Brienne school. I was there to
+blacken my shoes&mdash;not mine, you understand, but those of the scholars.
+There was much snow that winter. The scholars could not play in the
+courts nor out-of-doors. They were forced to walk in the halls. That
+wearied them, but it rejoiced me. Why? Because I had but few shoes to
+blacken. They could not get them dirty while they remained indoors. But,
+look you! one day at recess I saw the scholars all out-of-doors,&mdash;all
+out in the snow. 'Alas! alas! my poor shoes,' said I. It made me sad. I
+hid behind the greenhouse doors, to see the meaning of this disorder.
+Then I heard a sudden shout. 'Brooms, brooms! shovels, shovels!' they
+cried. They rushed into the greenhouse: they took whatever they could
+find; and one boy, who saw me standing idle, pushed me toward the door,
+crying, 'Here, lazy-bones! take a shovel, take a broom! Get to work,
+and help us!'&mdash;'Help you do what?' said I. 'To make the fort and roll
+snow-balls,' he replied. 'Not I; it is too cold,' I answered. Then the
+boys laughed at me. My faith! to-day I think they were right. Then they
+tried to push me out-of-doors, I resisted; I would not go. Suddenly
+appeared one whom I did not know. He said nothing. He simply looked at
+me. He signed to me to take a broom&mdash;to march into the garden&mdash;to set to
+work. And I obeyed. I dared not resist. I did whatever he told me; and,
+my faith! so, too, did all the boys. 'Is this one a teacher?' I asked
+one of the scholars. 'He does not look so; he is too small and pale
+and thin.'&mdash;'No,' replied the boy; 'it is Napoleon.'&mdash;'And who is
+Napoleon?' I asked; for at that time I was as ignorant as all of you
+here. 'Is he our patron? Is he the king? Is he the pope?'&mdash;'No; he is
+Napoleon,' the boy replied again, shrugging his shoulders. I did not ask
+more. The boy was right. Napoleon was neither boy nor man, patron,
+king, nor pope; he was Napoleon! You should have seen him while we
+were working. His hand was pointing continually,&mdash;here, there,
+everywhere,&mdash;indicating what he wished to have done; his clear voice was
+ever explaining or commanding. Then, when we had cut paths in the snow,
+and had built ramparts, dug trenches, raised fortifications, rolled
+snow-balls&mdash;then the attack began. I had nothing more to do, I looked
+on. But my heart beat fast; I wished that I might fight also. But I was
+the porter's son, and did not dare to join in the scholars' play. Every
+day for a week, while the snow lasted, the war was fought at each
+recess. Snow-balls flew through the air, striking heads, faces, breasts,
+backs. The shouting and the tumult gave me great pleasure; but, oh! the
+shoes I had to blacken! Then I said to myself, 'I wish to be a soldier.'
+And I kept my word."</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c19"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER NINETEEN</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>THE LITTLE CORPORAL</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+<p>"But why," asked the Corsican, as old Nonesuch concluded his story, and
+all the veterans applauded with cane and boot, "why did you not say, 'I
+wish to be a general,' and keep your word. Others like you have been
+soldiers of the emperor&mdash;and generals, marshals, princes."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Corsican," replied old Nonesuch sadly; "what you say is true. But
+I will tell you what prevented my advancement. I did not know how to
+read as well as a lot of the schemers who were in my regiment. In fact,"
+old Nonesuch confessed, "I could not write; I could not read at all."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you not learn, then, father?" asked one of the veterans, who,
+because he sat up late every night to read the daily paper, was called
+by his comrades "the scholar."</p>
+
+<p>"I did try to learn, Mr. Scholar," replied old Nonesuch, taking a pinch
+of snuff from the Corsican's box; "but indeed it was not in the blood,
+don't you see? Not one of my family could read or write; and then I saw
+so much trouble over the pens and the books when I was blackening my
+boots at Brienne school, that then I had no wish to learn. 'It is all
+vexation,' I said. And when I became a soldier, what do you suppose
+prevented my learning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Were your brains shot away, old Nonesuch?" queried the scholar
+sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>"My brains, say you!" the old man cried indignantly. "And if they had
+been, Mr. Scholar, I would still have more than you. No; it was an
+adventure I had after Austerlitz. Ah, what a battle was that! I had the
+good luck there to have this leg that I have not now, carried away by a
+cannon-ball"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Good luck! says he," broke in the youngster. "And how good luck, Father
+Nonesuch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut! boys are so impatient," said old Nonesuch with a frown. "Yes,
+youngster, good luck, said I. Well, one day, after I had my timber-toe
+put on, the emperor, who always had thoughts for those of his soldiers
+who had been wounded, gave notice that he had certain small places at
+his disposal which he wished to distribute among us crippled ones, in
+order that we might rest from war. Then all of us set to wondering,
+'What can I do? What shall I ask for? What do I like best to do?' My
+wish was never to leave my own general. He was General Junot"&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes! I know of him," said the Corsican. "He married a Corsican
+girl, Laura Permon, a friend of the Bonaparte children."</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="216"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<img alt="216.jpg (52K)" src="216.jpg" height="595" width="467">
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"The same," old Nonesuch said, with a nod at his comrade. "Now, I saw
+that the person who was nearest to my General Junot was his secretary.
+One day, when I was at Paris, the emperor, I was told, was to review his
+troops in the courtyard of the Tuileries; so I dressed myself in my
+best,&mdash;it was a grenadier's uniform,&mdash;a comrade wrote on a piece of
+paper my desire; and, with my paper in my hand, I posted myself near a
+battalion of lancers. 'The emperor will see me here,' said I. In truth,
+he did come; he did see me. He came towards me, and, with the look that
+pierced me through,&mdash;ten thousand bullets! as the plough cuts through
+the ground,&mdash;'Are you not an Egyptian, my grenadier?' he asked me. (You
+know, Corsican, he called all of us Egyptians who had fought with him in
+Egypt.) 'Yes, my Emperor,' I replied, so glorified to see that he
+recognized me, that, my faith! my heart swelled and swelled, so that I
+thought it would crack with pride, and burst my coat open. The emperor
+took the paper I held out toward him. He read it. "So, so, my Egyptian!
+you wish to be a secretary, eh?'&mdash;'Yes, my Emperor,' I answered. 'Do you
+know how to read and write?' said he. 'Eh? Why! I know not if I know,'
+said I. 'What! You do not know if you know?' he repeated. 'Why, no, my
+Emperor,' said I; 'for, look you! I have never tried; but perhaps I do
+know.' The emperor pulled my ear, as much as to say, 'Well, here is an
+odd one!' 'But,' said he, 'to be a secretary one must know how to read
+and write, comrade.' He called me his comrade, see you&mdash;me, who had
+blackened his shoes at Brienne. I was the emperor's comrade. He had said
+it. The tears came to my eyes for joy. 'Ah, then, my Emperor, let us say
+no more about it,' said I. 'But if you would promise to learn,' said he.
+'Oh, as for that, my Emperor,' I answered, 'by the faith of an Egyptian
+of the guard, second division, first battalion! I do not promise it to
+you.'&mdash;'Then ask me something else,' said he. I hesitated. I did not
+know how to say just what I wished to ask; for it was worth to me very
+much more than the place of secretary. 'Come, then, comrade; speak
+quickly,' said the emperor; 'what is it you wish?'&mdash;'I wish, my
+Emperor,' I stammered, 'to press my lips to your hand.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Ho! was that all?" cried the youngster.</p>
+
+<p>"All!" echoed the Nonesuch, turning upon the youngest veteran a look of
+scorn. "All! It was more than anything!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, and what said the emperor?" asked Stephen breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"He said nothing," responded Nonesuch. "He smiled; then instantly I felt
+his hand in mine. I wonder I did not die with joy. I kissed his hand.
+He grasped mine firmly. 'Thanks, my comrade,' he said. 'My Emperor,' I
+said, 'I promise you never to learn to read and write.' And I said no
+more. And that, comrades, is why I never learned."</p>
+
+<p>"Which hand was it?" asked the youngster with interest.</p>
+
+<p>"This one, thank God!" cried the veteran. "The other I lost at Jena. No,
+I never learned to write; the hand that the emperor had clasped in his
+should never, I vowed, be dishonored by a pen. I look at this hand with
+veneration. See! it has been pressed by my emperor. I love it; I honor
+it. Indeed, at one time I thought of cutting it off,&mdash;that was before
+Jena,&mdash;and putting it in a frame, that I might have it always before my
+eyes. But my General Junot, to whom I told my plan, said that then it
+would be spoiled forever, and that the only way not to lose sight of it
+was to let it always hang to my arm; thus, he said, it would always
+be beside me. That is how you see it still, comrades. To write, to
+write&mdash;bah! It always troubles me," old Nonesuch continued musingly, as
+he regarded his precious hand, "when I see those poor fellows, their
+noses over a bit of paper, their bodies bent double! Writing is not
+a man's proper state; it does not agree with his valiant and warlike
+nature. Talk to me of a charge, of an onset! that is the true
+vocation; that is why the good God created the human race.
+One&mdash;two&mdash;three&mdash;shoulder arms! that is clear; that is easily
+understood. But to study a dozen letters; to remember which is <i>b</i> and
+which is <i>o,</i> and that <i>b</i> and <i>o</i> make <i>bo</i>! that is not meant for the
+head. I prefer to read a battle with my musket and my sword. Pif! paf!
+pouf! that is the way I read. And now that I can read no more, I have
+but one pleasure,&mdash;to tell of my battles. Is not that better than your
+'Thousand and One Nights,' youngster?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have, indeed, much to tell, old Nonesuch," replied the youngster
+guardedly, "and you have, indeed, seen much."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, have I not, though!" old Nonesuch responded. "Do you not remember,
+Corsican, in the third year of the republic, as our government was then
+called, how the word came: 'The English are in Toulon! Soldiers of
+France, you must dislodge them!'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, do I not, old Nonesuch! I was a conscript then," replied the
+Corsican.</p>
+
+<p>"So, too, was I," said the old veteran. "We marched to Toulon. The next
+day there was an action. I ate a kind of small pills I had never tasted
+at Paris. The English and the French kept up a conversation with these
+sugar-plums. Our dialogue went on for days. They would toss their
+sugar-plums into the town; we would throw these plums back to them,
+especially into one bonbon box. You remember that box&mdash;that fort,
+Corsican, do you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"What, the Little Gibraltar?" queried the Corsican.</p>
+
+<p>"The same," replied old Nonesuch, "for so the English called it. But
+they had to give it up. We filled the Little Gibraltar so full of our
+sugar-plums that the English had to get out. Then it was that I saw a
+thin little captain at the guns. I knew him at once. It was Bonaparte of
+Brienne school. This is what he did. An artillery man was killed while
+charging his piece. I do not know how many had been cut off at that same
+gun. It was warm&mdash;it was hot there, I can tell you! No one wished to
+approach it. Then my little captain&mdash;my Bonaparte of Brienne&mdash;dashed at
+the gun. He loaded it; he was not killed. Oh, what a pleasure-party that
+was! There he met two other tough ones like himself,&mdash;Duroc and Junot.
+Ah, that Junot! He became my general later. He was a cool joker.
+Napoleon wished some one to write for him. He asked for a corporal or a
+sergeant who could write and stand fire at the same time. Sergeant Junot
+came to him. 'Write!' said Napoleon. And as Junot wrote, look you a
+cannon-ball ploughed the earth at his feet, and scattered the dirt over
+his paper. 'Good!' cried this Junot, never looking up from his paper. 'I
+needed sand to blot my ink.' That made Napoleon his friend forever. Then
+those in power at Paris took offence at something Napoleon did. They
+called him back to Paris. He was disgraced. But he had courage, had my
+Napoleon. He cared nothing for those stupid ones at Paris. 'I will
+make them see,' said he, 'that I am master.' He took post for Paris.
+Everything was wrong there. Every one was hungry. They fought for bread,
+as horses when there is no hay in the rack. Then, crack! Napoleon came.
+In two moves he had established order. Then who so great as he? He was
+made general. He was sent to Italy. He fought at Lodi. You remember
+Lodi, Corsican?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ha! the fight on the bridge; do I not, though!" the Corsican answered
+excitedly. "It was there he led everything; it was there he conquered
+everything; it was there he sighted the cannon against the Austrians; it
+was there he led us straight across the bridge; it was there we cheered
+for him, and called him the 'Little Corporal!'"</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, was it not! Cheer for the Little Corporal, comrades!" cried old
+Nonesuch, swinging his hat; and all the veterans sprang up, and stamped
+and shouted: "Long live the Little Corporal!"</p>
+
+<p>"As he has!" said old Nonesuch. "See you, Corsican! what said I? The
+emperor lives, I tell you!"</p>
+
+<p>"And that was Italy, was it?" said the scholar.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; that was Italy," the veteran replied. "It was there we were
+going; and, with our Little Corporal to lead us, turned everything into
+victory."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell us of it, Father Nonesuch," demanded the youngster.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; tell us of it," echoed the younger veterans, their scarred old
+faces full of interest and excitement. "I will, my children. It was
+thus, you see,"&mdash;puff&mdash;puff, "eh&mdash;Stephen, fill my pipe again!"</p>
+
+<p>So Stephen filled the old fellow's pipe again, and set it aglow; and
+all the others waited, silently watchful, until, after a few puffs and
+whiffs, the old veteran began again.</p>
+
+<br><br><br><br>
+
+
+<a name="c20"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<h2>CHAPTER TWENTY</h2>
+<br><br>
+<h3>"LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!"</h3>
+</center>
+<br>
+
+<p>"It was thus, you see," said old Nonesuch, crossing his legs&mdash;the wooden
+one over the good one. "At that time our army in Italy was destitute of
+everything. We had nothing&mdash;no bread, no ammunition, no shoes, no coats.
+Ah, it was a poor army we were then! The people at Paris, called the
+Directory, were worried over our condition. The army must have bread,
+ammunition, shoes, coats, they said. We must send one to look after
+this. And, as I told you, they sent Napoleon. It was in March, in the
+year 1796, that he came to us at Nice. We were near by, in camp at
+Abbenya. There the new general held his first review. He looked at us;
+he pitied us. 'Soldiers!' he said to us, 'you are naked; you are badly
+fed. The government owes you much; it can give you nothing. You are in
+need of everything,&mdash;boots, bread, soup! Well, I will lead you into the
+most fertile plains in the world. I have come to take you into a country
+where you will find everything in plenty,&mdash;dollars, cattle, roast-meat,
+salads, honor, palaces, what you will. Soldiers of Italy, how do you
+like that?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! but that was grand," cried the youngster; "and you said?"</p>
+
+<p>"We said, 'How do we like it, my general? Ten thousand bullets! March
+you at our head, and you will see how we like it.' His words gave us new
+heart; his promises seemed already to clothe us. We were ragged and
+tired; but it seemed, after that speech, as if we walked on air, and
+were dressed in silken robes. Forward, march! Boom&mdash;boom&mdash;boom! Ta-ra,
+ta-ra-ra! Hear the drums! See us marching! We marched through the day;
+we marched through the night. We were faint with hunger, but we marched.
+We were at Montenotte on the eleventh of April. We whacked the
+Austrians,&mdash;famous men, nevertheless; well furnished, good fighters!
+But, bah! what was that to us? We whacked them at Montenotte. They ran;
+we after them. We fell upon then at Millesimo, at Dego, at Mondovi, at
+Cherasco. We had a taste of the glory of being conquerors. We routed the
+Austrians in those fights that were called 'the Five Days' Campaign.' We
+had brave generals with us; and we had Napoleon! From the heights of
+Ceva he showed us the plains of Italy,&mdash;the rich, well-watered land
+which he had promised us. Then we crossed the Alps. Mighty mountains!
+Bah! what of that? We were Frenchmen; we had Napoleon! We turned the
+flank of the Alps. We fought at Fombio; we fought on the bridge of Lodi;
+we marched into Milan. We were Frenchmen; we had Napoleon! In fact, we
+conquered Italy! We fought at Arcola; we conquered at Rivoli. Then who
+so great as the Little Corporal? We planted the eagles upon the lion of
+Saint Mark, at Venice&mdash;a famous lion, nevertheless. But who could resist
+us? We had Napoleon! Then we returned to Toulon. Then Napoleon said,
+'Soldiers! two years ago you had nothing. I made promises to you; have I
+kept them?'&mdash;'You have; you have, my general!' every man of us shouted.
+'Will you follow me again?' said Napoleon. 'To the death, my general!'
+we shouted once more. Behold us now embarked in ships. 'And now, what
+place are we to conquer?' we asked our generals. 'Egypt,' they answered.
+'It is well,' we said. 'We will go to Egypt; we will take Egypt.'</p>
+
+
+
+
+<a name="010n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="010w.jpg"><img alt="010n.jpg (75K)" src="010n.jpg" height="424" width="692"></a>
+<p>"<i>What fates, my comrades!"&mdash;A Review Day under the First
+Empire<br>
+(From the Painting by H. Bellange</i>)]<br>
+[Click on the image to enlarge it.]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>"My faith! but you were brave, you old soldiers," cried the youngster
+with enthusiasm. "But think of it, then! To Egypt!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we took Egypt," resumed old Nonesuch. "We were Frenchmen. We had
+Napoleon! And after that we undertook another little campaign in Italy.
+Then we returned to France, our beautiful France, to install ourselves
+in the Tuileries. Eh!"&mdash;puff&mdash;puff,&mdash;"Light my pipe, Stephen!"</p>
+
+<p>And Stephen again lighted the old veteran's pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; in the Tuileries"&mdash;puff&mdash;puff. "We gave ourselves up to <i>fêtes</i>.
+Ah! there were grand times&mdash;each one finer than the other. One might
+call them <i>fêtes</i> indeed! Death of my life! Who was it said just now
+that the emperor was a man? Why, look you! his enemies&mdash;those villains
+of traitors&mdash;tried to kill him. They plotted against him. But, bah! they
+could not. He rode over infernal machines as if they were roses. They
+could not kill him. Those things are for men&mdash;for little kings. He was
+Napoleon!"</p>
+
+<p>"And at last he was crowned emperor," suggested the youngster.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; on the second of December, in the year 1804," answered old
+Nonesuch. "And the Pope himself came from Rome to consecrate our
+emperor. Ah, then, what <i>fêtes</i>, my comrades! what <i>fêtes</i> and <i>fêtes</i>
+and <i>fêtes</i>! It rained kings on all sides."</p>
+
+<p>"But there came an end of <i>fêtes</i>" said the scholar, who read in books
+and newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what would you have?&mdash;always feasting? Perhaps you think that our
+emperor once an emperor, would rest at home. Yes? Well, that would have
+been good for you and me; but he had still to undertake battles and
+victories,&mdash;battles and victories; they were the same thing! We were at
+Austerlitz; there I left this leg. At Jena; there I dropped this hand.
+Then came the peace, made upon the raft at Tilsit; then the war in
+Spain&mdash;a villanous war, and one I did not like at all. Napoleon was not
+there. Where he was not, the sun did not shine. Then we returned to
+Paris. The emperor married a grand princess. He had a son&mdash;a baby
+son&mdash;the King of Rome! Then, too, what <i>fêtes!</i> A fine child the King of
+Rome! I saw him often in his little goat-carriage at the Tuileries. I
+do not know what has become of him. They say he is dead; but I do not
+believe that, any more than I believe that my emperor is dead. Two
+deaths? Bah! old women's stories,&mdash;witch stories, good only to frighten
+children to sleep. When my emperor and his son come back, we shall be
+amazed that we ever believed them dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"But he disappeared&mdash;the emperor disappeared&mdash;he vanished," persisted
+the scholar.</p>
+
+
+
+<a name="011n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="011w.jpg"><img alt="011n.jpg (74K)" src="011n.jpg" height="451" width="693"></a>
+<p>"<i>Your Emperor was banished to a rock"&mdash;The Exiled Emperor<br>
+(From the Painting by W Q Orchardson, entitled "Napoleon on board the Bellerophon</i>.")]<br>
+[Click on the image to enlarge it.]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+
+<p>"Yes; he disappeared," the veteran admitted. "For after that came the
+Russian Campaign. Ah, but it was a cold one! Such snow, such ice; so
+cold, so cold! It was then I lost my eye. My leg I left at Austerlitz,
+my arm at Jena; my eye I dropped somewhere in the Beresina,&mdash;so much the
+better. I could not see that freeze-out. Then they sent me here. And
+since that I do not know what has happened. They tell me&mdash;you tell me&mdash;
+much. But to believe such foolish stories! Bah! I am not a baby. They
+tell me that the emperor&mdash;my emperor&mdash;was exiled to Elba; that he
+returned again to France; that he reigned a hundred days; that a battle
+was fought at&mdash;where was it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Waterloo," suggested the scholar.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh, yes, you say, at Waterloo; and you say we lost it? As if we could
+lose a battle, and Napoleon there! Then you will say that the empire was
+no longer an empire, but a kingdom; and that he who governed was called
+Louis the Eighteenth, and others after him, but not my emperor. Bah!
+foolish stories all!"</p>
+
+<p>"But they are true, old Nonesuch," said the youngster sadly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; they are true," echoed the other veterans. And the scholar added,
+"Yes; and your emperor was banished by those rascal English to a rock&mdash;
+the rock of St. Helena&mdash;a horrid rock, miles and miles out in the ocean.
+But he is here among us again."  the Soldiers' Home, in the midst of his
+veterans, in the heart of his beautiful Paris.</p>
+
+
+<a name="012n"></a>
+<br><br>
+<center>
+<a href="012w.jpg"><img alt="012n.jpg (126K)" src="012n.jpg" height="893" width="680"></a>
+<p>[Illustration: Napoleon (1. The General 2. The Consul 3. The Conqueror 4. The Emperor.)]<br>
+[Click on the image to enlarge it.]</p>
+</center>
+<br><br>
+
+
+<p>Old soldiers are apt to be boastful when they tell, as did the Nonesuch,
+of the deeds of a leader whom they so often followed to victory. Madame
+Foa's pen has long since stopped its task of writing of French heroism
+for the boys and girls of France; but it never wrote anything more
+attractive or inspiring than the delicious bit of boasting that it put
+into the mouth of this dear and battered old veteran of Napoleon's
+wars,&mdash;Corporal Nonesuch of the Soldiers' Home.</p>
+
+<p>For, if the American boys and girls who have followed this story will
+read, as I trust they will, the entire life-story of this marvellous
+man,&mdash;Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French,&mdash;they will learn that
+much of the boasting of old Nonesuch was true story, as he assured his
+comrades; while some of it, too, was,&mdash;let us say, the exaggeration of
+enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>But there was much in the career of the great Napoleon to inspire
+enthusiasm. The determined and persistent way in which, while but a
+boy, he climbed steadily up, using the obstacles in his path but as the
+rounds of a ladder to lift him higher, affords a lesson of pluck and
+energy that every boy and girl can take to heart; while the story of his
+later career, through the rapid changes that made him general, consul,
+conqueror, emperor, is as full of interest, marvel, and romance as
+any of those wonder-stories of the "Arabian Nights" for which "the
+youngster" expressed so much admiration, but which old Nonesuch so
+contemptuously cast aside.</p>
+
+<p>There were dark sides to his character; there were shadows on his
+career, there were blots on his name. Ambition, selfishness, and the
+love of success, were alike his inspiration and his ruin. But, with
+these, he possessed also the qualities that led men to follow him
+enthusiastically and love him devotedly.</p>
+
+<p>But people do not all see things alike in this world; and since the
+downfall and death of Napoleon, those who recall his name have either
+enshrined him as a hero or vilified him as a monster. Whichever side in
+this controversy you make take as, when you grow older, you read and
+ponder over the story of Napoleon, you will, I am sure, be ready to
+admit his greatness as an historic character his ability as a soldier,
+his energy as a ruler, and his eminence as a man. And in these you will
+see but the logical outgrowth of his self-reliance, his determination,
+and his pluck as a boy, when on the rocky shore of Corsica, or in the
+schools of France, he was turned aside by no obstacle, and conquered
+neither by privation nor persecution, but pressed steadily forward to
+his great and matchless career as leader, soldier, and ruler&mdash;the most
+commanding figure of the nineteenth century. I did not like at all.
+Napoleon was not there. Where he was not, the sun did not shine. Then we
+returned to Paris. The emperor married a grand princess. He had a son&mdash;a
+baby son&mdash;the King of Rome! Then, too, what <i>fêtes</i>! A fine child
+the King of Rome! I saw him often in his little goat-carriage at the
+Tuileries. I do not know what has become of him. They say he is dead;
+but I do not believe that, any more than I believe that my emperor is
+dead. Two deaths? Bah! old women's stories,&mdash;witch stories, good only to
+frighten children to sleep. When my emperor and his son come back, we
+shall be amazed that we ever believed them dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"But he disappeared&mdash;the emperor disappeared&mdash;he vanished," persisted
+the scholar.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; he disappeared," the veteran admitted. "For after that came the
+Russian Campaign. Ah, but it was a cold one! Such snow, such ice; so
+cold, so cold! It was then I lost my eye. My leg I left at Austerlitz,
+my arm at Jena; my eye I dropped somewhere in the Beresina,&mdash;so much the
+better. I could not see that freeze-out.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa
+
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