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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9479-8.txt b/9479-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..30c462e --- /dev/null +++ b/9479-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4928 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Boy Life of Napoleon + Afterwards Emperor Of The French + +Author: Eugenie Foa + +Release Date: September 7, 2004 [EBook #9479] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS 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 +wide-open 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 be 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON *** + +***** This file should be named 9479-8.txt or 9479-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/7/9479/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/9479-8.zip b/9479-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f8f455 --- /dev/null +++ b/9479-8.zip diff --git a/9479-h.zip b/9479-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be995c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/9479-h.zip diff --git a/9479-h/9479-h.htm b/9479-h/9479-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9edca81 --- /dev/null +++ b/9479-h/9479-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5355 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + PRE { font-family: Times; font-size: 97%; margin-left: 15%;} + // --> +</style> + +</head> +<body> + +<h1>The Boy Life of Napoleon</h1> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Boy Life of Napoleon + Afterwards Emperor Of The French + +Author: Eugenie Foa + +Release Date: September 7, 2004 [EBook #9479] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS 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="images/005n.jpg" height="971" width="684"> +<br><br> +<img alt="titlepage.jpg (39K)" src="images/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> </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—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"—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"—Napoleon at the<br> +Battle of Jena. (From the Painting by Horace Vernet</i>.)]</a><br><br> +<a href="#209">"'The Emperor was—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!"—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"—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><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,—</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is this, Eliza?—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"—"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—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—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—Napoleon—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—Napoleon—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 +wide-open 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—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—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.</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="images/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,—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"—</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,—"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,—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,—</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—first, the republic of Genoa, and then against France.</p> + +<a name="027"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="027.jpg (138K)" src="images/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,—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—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—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,—and that was <i>very</i> 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.</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="images/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—of course I will—pardon you. +Why did you take my fruit?"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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,—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,—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"—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"—and here she laughed again—"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—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—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,"—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?"</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,—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—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—"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?"</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="images/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—yes"—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—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!"—"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.</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="images/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—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,—</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,—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—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—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,—</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—and Eliza," Panoria replied</p> + +<p>"You—and Eliza!"—"Eliza!"—"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—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—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"—</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—looked at +him—and went on as if there had been no interruption,—</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,—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.</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—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.</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—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.</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,—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.</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—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."</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—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—your leader," said the other boy. +"You say he is a fine commander—this—how do you call him?—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="images/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,—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:—</p> + + + + +<a name="103"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="103.jpg (69K)" src="images/103.jpg" height="388" width="636"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"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.</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—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—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!"</p> + + + +<a name="003n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="003n.jpg (135K)" src="images/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—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.</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"—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.</p> + +<p>"Your lists, unruly one," said the teacher—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="images/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="images/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—the same Bouquet who had scaled his +hedge and brought him into trouble—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—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"—</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="images/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—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—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="images/136.jpg" height="717" width="628"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"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.</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,—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—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—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—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:—</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,—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 be 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—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,—</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—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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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?"</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—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:</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—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.</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—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—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."</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—what are the +words?—'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—I'll tell you—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—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,—</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="images/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,—</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—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,"—here Napoleon dashed a hand to his forehead,—"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—ah, if, some day, I should ever be master! +However"—and the French shrug that is so eloquent completed the +sentence.</p> + +<p>"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?"</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:—</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,—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.</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,—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:—"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—</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—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,—</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—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="images/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—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."</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—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,—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."</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:—</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—paying out of +that for food, lodging, clothes, and books—is one of the mysteries.</p> + + + + +<a name="006n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="006n.jpg (119K)" src="images/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,—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,—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="images/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—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—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—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,—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—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.</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,—"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,"—here he +waved his trembling old hand excitedly,—"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"—</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—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,—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.</p> + +<p>"Well, what say thou, Nonesuch,—you and your histories?" persisted the +young admirer of the "Arabian Nights."</p> + +<p>"As for me,—my faith! I like only marvellous."</p> + + + +<a name="008n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="008n.jpg (106K)" src="images/008n.jpg" height="824" width="680"> +<p>[Illustration: "Beneath the great dome +he rests"—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!—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,—or rather to +his foot,—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—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—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."</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,—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!"</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—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"—"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"—</p> + + + + +<a name="009n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/009w.jpg"><img alt="009n.jpg (102K)" src="images/009n.jpg" height="562" width="694"></a> +<p>[Illustration: "<i>Pif! paf! pouf! That is the way I +read"—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—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."</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded the old veteran; "for there my father was the porter."</p> + +<p>"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."</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="images/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—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."</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—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"—</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"—</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="images/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,—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.'"</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,—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 <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,—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—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—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?"</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,"—puff—puff, "eh—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—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?'"</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—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.'</p> + + + + +<a name="010n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/010w.jpg"><img alt="010n.jpg (75K)" src="images/010n.jpg" height="424" width="692"></a> +<p>"<i>What fates, my comrades!"—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!"—puff—puff,—"Light my pipe, Stephen!"</p> + +<p>And Stephen again lighted the old veteran's pipe.</p> + +<p>"Yes; in the Tuileries"—puff—puff. "We gave ourselves up to <i>fêtes</i>. +Ah! there were grand times—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—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!"</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?—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 <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,—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—the emperor disappeared—he vanished," persisted +the scholar.</p> + + + +<a name="011n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/011w.jpg"><img alt="011n.jpg (74K)" src="images/011n.jpg" height="451" width="693"></a> +<p>"<i>Your Emperor was banished to a rock"—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,—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?"</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—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."</p> + + +<a name="012n"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<a href="images/012w.jpg"><img alt="012n.jpg (126K)" src="images/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,—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,—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.</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—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 <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,—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—the emperor disappeared—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,—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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON *** + +***** This file should be named 9479-h.htm or 9479-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/7/9479/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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b/9479-h/images/216.jpg diff --git a/9479-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/9479-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..78c183b --- /dev/null +++ b/9479-h/images/titlepage.jpg diff --git a/9479.txt b/9479.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6c1a5e --- /dev/null +++ b/9479.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4928 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Boy Life of Napoleon, by Eugenie Foa + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Boy Life of Napoleon + Afterwards Emperor Of The French + +Author: Eugenie Foa + +Release Date: September 7, 2004 [EBook #9479] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS 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 +wide-open 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 be 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON *** + +***** This file should be named 9479.txt or 9479.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/9/4/7/9479/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****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: 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 *** + +This file should be named 7bnap10.txt or 7bnap10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7bnap11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7bnap10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****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 + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON *** + +This file should be named 8bnap10.txt or 8bnap10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8bnap11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8bnap10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/8bnap10.zip b/old/8bnap10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d290f01 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8bnap10.zip diff --git a/old/8bnap10h.htm b/old/8bnap10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8db01df --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8bnap10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5315 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +img {border: 0;} +blockquote {font-size:14pt} +P {font-size:14pt} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<h1>The Boy Life of Napoleon</h1> +<pre> +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 +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****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> </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—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"— 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"—Napoleon at the<br> +Battle of Jena. (From the Painting by Horace Vernet</i>.)]</a><br><br> +<a href="#209">"'The Emperor was—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!"—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"—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,—</p> + +<p>"Oh, what is this, Eliza?—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"—"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—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—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—Napoleon—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—Napoleon—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—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—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.</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,—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"—</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,—"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,—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,—</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—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,—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—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—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,—and that was <i>very</i> 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.</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—of course I will—pardon you. +Why did you take my fruit?"</p> + +<p>"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.</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—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,—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,—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"—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"—and here she laughed again—"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—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—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,"—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?"</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,—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—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—"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?"</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—yes"—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—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!"—"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.</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—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,—</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,—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—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—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,—</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—and Eliza," Panoria replied</p> + +<p>"You—and Eliza!"—"Eliza!"—"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—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—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"—</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—looked at +him—and went on as if there had been no interruption,—</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,—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.</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—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.</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—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.</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,—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.</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—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."</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—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—your leader," said the other boy. +"You say he is a fine commander—this—how do you call him?—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,—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:—</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,—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 +—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— +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!"</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—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.</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"—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.</p> + +<p>"Your lists, unruly one," said the teacher—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—the same Bouquet who had scaled his +hedge and brought him into trouble—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—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"—</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—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—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—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.</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,—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—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—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—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:—</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,—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—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,—</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—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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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?"</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—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:</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—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.</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—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—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."</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—what are the +words?—'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—I'll tell you—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—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,—</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,—</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—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,"—here Napoleon dashed a hand to his forehead,—"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—ah, if, some day, I should ever be master! +However"—and the French shrug that is so eloquent completed the +sentence.</p> + +<p>"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?"</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:—</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,—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.</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,—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:—"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—</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—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,—</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—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—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."</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—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,—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."</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:—</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—paying out of +that for food, lodging, clothes, and books—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,—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,—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—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—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—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,—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—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.</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,—"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,"—here he +waved his trembling old hand excitedly,—"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"—</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—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,—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.</p> + +<p>"Well, what say thou, Nonesuch,—you and your histories?" persisted the +young admirer of the "Arabian Nights."</p> + +<p>"As for me,—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"—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!—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,—or rather to +his foot,—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 +—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—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."</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,—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!"</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—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"—"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"—</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"—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—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."</p> + +<p>"Yes," nodded the old veteran; "for there my father was the porter."</p> + +<p>"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."</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—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."</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—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"—</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"—</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,—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.'"</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,—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 <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,—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—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—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?"</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,"—puff—puff, "eh—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—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?'"</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—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.'</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!"—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!"—puff—puff,—"Light my pipe, Stephen!"</p> + +<p>And Stephen again lighted the old veteran's pipe.</p> + +<p>"Yes; in the Tuileries"—puff—puff. "We gave ourselves up to <i>fêtes</i>. +Ah! there were grand times—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—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!"</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?—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 <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,—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—the emperor disappeared—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"—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,—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?"</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— +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.</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,—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,—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.</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—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 <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,—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—the emperor disappeared—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,—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 + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOY LIFE OF NAPOLEON *** + +This file should be named 8bnap10h.htm or 8bnap10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8bnap11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8bnap10ah.htm + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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