Soon after Napoleon reached home, the rich uncle, the archdeacon,
died, and the Bonapartes got his money. The bulk of it was invested in
the confiscated lands of the Church. Some of it was probably spent in
Napoleon’s political enterprises.
Officers of the Corsican National Guard were soon to be elected,
and Napoleon formed his plans to secure for himself a lieutenant
colonelship. The leaders of the opposing faction were Peraldi and Pozzo
di Borgo.
Three commissioners, appointed by the Directory of the Island, had the
supervision of the election, and the influence of these officers would
have great weight in deciding the contest. Napoleon had recently been
over the island in company with Volney, inspector of agriculture and
manufactures, and had personally canvassed for votes among the country
people. He had made many friends; and, in spite of powerful opposition
in the towns, it appeared probable that he would win. It is said that
he resorted to the usual electioneering methods, including bribes,
threats, promises, and hospitality. Napoleon made a good combination
with Peretti and Quenza, yielding to that interest the first lieutenant
colonelship. The second was to his own. But one of the commissioners,
Murati, took up lodgings with Bonaparte’s rival candidate, Peraldi.
This was an ominous sign for Napoleon. On the night before the
election, he got together some of his more violent partisans, sent
them against the house of Peraldi, and had Murati seized and brought
to the house of the Bonapartes. “You were not free at Peraldi’s,” said
Napoleon to the amazed commissioner; “here you enjoy liberty.” Murati
enjoyed it so much that he was afraid to stir out of the house till the
election was over.
Next morning Pozzo di Borgo commenced a public and violent harangue,
denouncing the seizure of the commissioner. He was not allowed to
finish. The Bonaparte faction rushed upon the speaker, knocked
him down, kicked him, and would have killed him had not Napoleon
interfered. In this episode is said to have originated the deadly
hatred with which Pozzo ever afterward pursued Napoleon, who triumphed
over him in the election.
Ajaccio was torn by revolutionary passion and faction. Resisting the
decrees of the National Assembly of France, the Capuchin friars refused
to vacate their quarters. Riotous disputes between the revolutionists
and the partisans of the Old Order ensued. The public peace was
disturbed. The military ousted the friars, and took possession of the
cloister. This added fuel to the flames, and on Easter day there was a
collision between the factions. One of the officers of the militia was
killed. Next morning, reënforcements from outside the town poured in to
the military. Between the volunteer guards on the one hand, the citadel
garrison and the clerical faction on the other, a pitched battle seemed
inevitable. Commissioners, sent by Paoli, arrived, dismissed the
militia, and restored quiet by thus virtually deciding in favor of the
Capuchins.
Napoleon was believed by the victorious faction to have been the
instigator of all the trouble. The commander of the garrison bitterly
denounced him to the war office in Paris. Napoleon, on the contrary,
published a manifesto in his own defence, hotly declaring that the
whole town government of Ajaccio was rotten, and should have been
overthrown. Unless Ajaccio differed radically from most towns, then and
now, the indictment was well founded.
At all events, his career in Corsica was at an end, for the time. He
had strained his relations with the French war office, had ignored
positive orders to rejoin his command, had been stricken off the list
for his disobedience, had exhausted every resource on his Corsican
schemes, and was now at the end of his rope. And what had he gained?
He had squandered much money, wasted much precious time, established
a character for trickiness, violence, and unscrupulous self-seeking;
and had aroused implacable enmities, one of which (that of Pozzo) had
no trifling share in giving him the death-wound in his final struggles
in 1814–15. What, after it all, must he now do? He must get up a lot
of certificates to his good conduct during the long time he had been
absent from France; he must go to Paris and petition the central
authority to be taken back to the French army. There was no trouble
in getting the certificates. Paoli and his party, the priests and the
wealthy towns-people, were so eager to get rid of this dangerous young
man that they were ready to sign any sort of paper, if only he would go
away. Armed with documentary evidence of his good behavior, Napoleon
left Corsica in May, 1792, and reached Paris on the 28th of that month.
Things were in a whirl in France. War had been declared against
Austria. Officers of royalist principles were resigning and fleeing the
country. Excitement, suspicion, alarm, uncertainty, were everywhere. No
attention could be given to Napoleon and his petition just then. He saw
that he would have to wait, be patient and persistent, if ever he won
reinstatement. Meanwhile he lived in great distress. With no money, no
work, no powerful friends, Paris was a cold place for the suppliant.
He sauntered about with Bourrienne, ate at the cheapest restaurants,
discussed many plans for putting money in his purse--none of which put
any there. He pawned his watch to get the bare necessaries of life.
Bearing in mind that Napoleon had been so active in the republican
clubs at Valence and Ajaccio, and recalling the urgent appeal for three
hundred francs which he had made to his great-uncle in order that he
might go to Paris and push himself to the front, his attitude now that
he was in Paris is a puzzle. According to his own account and that
of Bourrienne, he was a mere spectator. A royal officer, he felt no
inclination to defend the King. A violent democratic agitator, he took
no part in the revolutionary movements. Seeing the mob marching to the
Tuileries in June, his only thought was to get a good view of what was
going on; therefore he ran to the terrace on the bank of the river
and climbed an iron fence. He saw the rabble burst into the palace,
saw the King appear at the window with the red cap on his head. “The
poor driveller!” cried Napoleon. And according to Bourrienne he said
that four or five hundred of the mob should have been swept away with
cannon, and that the others would have taken to their heels.
During the exciting month of July, Napoleon was still in Paris. He
was promenading the streets daily, mingling with the people; he was
idle, discontented, ambitious; he was a violent revolutionist, and was
not in the habit of concealing his views: therefore the conclusion is
well-nigh irresistible that he kept in touch with events, and knew
what was in preparation. Where was Napoleon when the battalion from
Marseilles arrived? What was his attitude during Danton’s preparation
for the great day on which the throne was to be overturned? Was an
ardent, intensely active man like Napoleon listless and unconcerned,
while the tramp of the gathering thousands shook the city? He had long
since written “Most kings deserve to be dethroned”: did he by any
chance hear what Danton said at the Cordeliers,--said with flaming
eyes, thundering voice, and wild gesticulation,--“Let the tocsin sound
the last hour of kings. Let it peal forth the first hour of vengeance,
and of the liberty of the people! To arms! and it will go!”
However much we may wish for light on this epoch of Napoleon’s career,
we have no record of his movements. We only know that on the 10th of
August he went to see the spectacle, and saw it. From a window in
a neighboring house, he looked down upon the Westermann attack and
the Swiss defence. He saw the devoted guards of the palace drive the
assailants out, doubtless heard Westermann and the brave courtesan,
Théroigne de Méricourt, rally their forces and renew the assault; was
amazed perhaps, when the Swiss ceased firing; and looked on while the
triumphant Marseillaise broke into the palace. After the massacre, he
walked through the Tuileries, piled with the Swiss dead, and was more
impressed by the sight than he ever was by the dead on his own fields
of battle. He sauntered through the crowds and the neighboring cafés,
and was so cool and indifferent that he aroused suspicion. He met a
gang of patriots bearing a head on a pike. His manner did not, to this
gang, indicate sufficient enthusiasm. “Shout, ‘Live the nation,’”
demanded the gang; and Napoleon shouted, “Live the nation!”
He saw a man of Marseilles about to murder a wounded Swiss. He
said, “Southron, let us spare the unfortunate.”--“Art thou from the
South?”--“Yes.”--“Then we will spare him.”
According to Napoleon, if the King had appeared on horseback,--that is,
dared to come forth and lead the defence,--he would have won the day.
Other days of wrath Napoleon spent in Paris--the days of the September
massacres. What he saw, heard, and felt is not known. Only in a general
way is it known that during the idle summer in Paris, Napoleon lost
many of his republican illusions. He conceived a horror of mob violence
and popular license, which exerted a tremendous influence over him
throughout his career. He lost faith in the purity and patriotism of
the revolutionary leaders. He reached the conclusion that each man
was for himself, that each one sought only his own advantage. For the
people themselves, seeing them so easily led by lies, prejudices, and
passions, he expressed contempt. The Jacobins were, he thought, a
“parcel of fools”; the leaders of the Revolution “a sorry lot.”
This sweepingly severe judgment was most unfortunate; it bore bitter
fruit for Napoleon and for France. He never ceased to believe that each
man was governed by his interest--an opinion which is near the truth,
but is not the truth. If the truth at all, it is certainly not the
whole truth.
Napoleon, with the independence of his native land ever in mind, wrote
to his brother Joseph to cling to Paoli; that events were tending to
make him the all-powerful man, and might also evolve the independence
of Corsica.
During this weary period of waiting, Napoleon was often at the home
of the Permons. On the 7th or 8th of August an emissary of the
revolutionary government made his way into the Permon house without a
warrant, and, because M. Permon refused to recognize his authority and
threatened to take a stick to him, left in a rage to report against
Permon. Napoleon, happening to call at this time, learned the fact,
and hurried off to the section where he boldly denounced the illegal
conduct of the officer. Permon was not molested further.
* * * * *
The King became a prisoner of the revolutionists, the moderates fell
from power, the radicals took the lead. Napoleon’s case had already
received attention, he had already been pronounced blameless, and
he was now, August 30, 1792, restored to his place in the army, and
promoted. He was not only made captain, but his commission and pay were
made to date from February 6, 1792, at which time he would have been
entitled to his promotion had he not fallen under official displeasure.
Such prompt and flattering treatment of the needy officer by the
radicals who had just upset the monarchy, gives one additional cause to
suspect that Napoleon’s relation to current events and Jacobin leaders
was closer than the record shows. It became good policy for him in
after years to suppress the evidence of his revolutionary period. Thus
he burnt the Lyons essay, and bought up, as he supposed, all copies
of _The Supper of Beaucaire_. The conclusion is irresistible that the
efforts to suppress have been more successful as to the summer of 1792
than in the other instances. It is impossible to believe that Napoleon,
who had been so hot in the garrison towns where he was stationed in
France, and who had turned all Corsica topsy-turvy with democratic
harangues and revolutionary plots, should have become a passionless
gazer at the show in Paris.
Whatever share he took, or did not take, in the events of the summer,
he now turned homeward. The Assembly having abolished the St. Cyr
school, where his sister Elisa was, Napoleon asked and was given leave
to escort her back to Corsica. Travelling expenses were liberally
provided by the State. Stopping at Valence, where he was warmly greeted
by local friends, including Mademoiselle Bou to whom he owed a board
bill, Napoleon and Elisa journeyed down the Rhone to Marseilles, and
sailed for Corsica, which they reached on the 17th of September, 1792.
The situation of the Bonaparte family was much improved. The estate was
larger, the revenues more satisfactory. Joseph was in office. Lucien
was a leading agitator in the Jacobin club. The estate of the rich
uncle had helped things wonderfully. It must have been from this source
that Napoleon derived the fine vineyard of which he spoke to Las Cases,
at St. Helena, as supplying him with funds--which vineyard he afterward
gave to his old nurse. The position which his promotion in the army
gave him ended the persecution which had virtually driven him from
home; and a reconciliation was patched up between him and Paoli.
Napoleon insisted upon holding both his offices,--the captaincy in the
regular army and the lieutenant colonelship in the Corsican National
Guard. Paoli strongly objected; but the younger man, partly by threats,
carried his point. It may have been at this period that Paoli slightly
modified the Plutarch opinion; he is said to have remarked: “You see
that little fellow? Well, he has in him the making of two or three men
like Marius and one like Sulla!”
During his sojourn in Corsica, Napoleon took part in the luckless
expedition which the French government sent against the island of
Sardinia. The Corsican forces were put under the command of Paoli’s
nephew, Colonna-Cæsari, whose orders, issued to him by Paoli, who
strongly opposed the enterprise, were, “See that this expedition ends
in smoke.” The nephew obeyed the uncle to the letter. In spite of
Napoleon’s good plan, in spite of his successful attack on the hostile
forts, Colonna declared that his troops were about to mutiny, and he
sailed back home.
Loudly denouncing Colonna as a traitor, Napoleon bade adieu to his
volunteers, and returned to Ajaccio.
There was great indignation felt by the Jacobins against Paoli. He
was blamed for the failure of the Sardinian expedition, for his
luke-warmness toward the French Revolution, and for his alleged leaning
to England. The September massacres, and the beheading of the King, had
been openly denounced by the old hero, and he had exerted his influence
in favor of conservatism in Corsica. The Bonaparte faction was much
too rabid, and the Bonaparte brothers altogether too feverishly eager
to push themselves forward. The friendship and mutual admiration which
Napoleon and Paoli had felt for each other had cooled. Paoli had thrown
ice water on the _History of Corsica_, and had refused to supply the
author with certain documents needed in the preparation of that work.
Neither had he approved the publication of the _Letter to Buttafuoco_;
it was too bitter and violent. Again, his influence seems to have been
thrown against the Bonapartes at the Orezzo assembly. All these things
had doubtless had their effect; but the radical difference between
the two men, Napoleon and Paoli, was one of Corsican policy. Napoleon
wished to revolutionize the island, and Paoli did not. If Corsican
independence could not be won, Napoleon favored the French connection.
Paoli, dismayed by the violence of the Revolution in France, favored
connection with England.
It is said that Lucien Bonaparte, in the club at Ajaccio, denounced
Paoli as a traitor. The club selected a delegation to go to Marseilles
and denounce the old hero to the Jacobin clubs there. Lucien was a
member of the delegation; but after delivering himself a wild tirade
against Paoli in Marseilles, he returned to Corsica. The delegation
went on to Paris. In April, 1793, Paoli was formally denounced in the
National Convention, and summoned to its bar for trial.
At first Napoleon warmly defended Paoli, and drew up an impassioned
address to the Convention in his favor. In this paper he expressly
defends his old chief from the accusation of wishing to put Corsica
into the hands of the English.
Within two weeks after writing the defence of Paoli, Napoleon joined
his enemies. What brought about this sudden change is not certain. His
own excuse was that Paoli was seeking to throw the island to England.
As a matter of fact, however, Napoleon’s course at this period seems
full of double dealing. For a time he did not have the confidence of
either faction.
Sémonville, one of the French commissioners then in Corsica, related to
Chancellor Pasquier, many years later, how Napoleon had come and roused
him, in the middle of the night, to say: “Mr. Commissioner, I have
come to say that I and mine will defend the cause of the union between
Corsica and France. People here are on the point of committing follies;
the Convention has doubtless committed a great crime”--in guillotining
the King--“which I deplore more than any one; but whatever may happen,
Corsica must always remain a part of France.”
As soon as this decision of the Bonapartes became known, the Paolists
turned upon them savagely, and their position became difficult. The
French commissioners, of whom the leader was Salicetti, appointed
Napoleon inspector general of artillery for Corsica. He immediately
set about the capture of the citadel of Ajaccio, the object of so much
of his toil. Force failed, stratagem availed not, attempted bribery
did not succeed; the citadel remained untaken. Ajaccians bitterly
resented his desertion of Paoli, and his life being in danger, Napoleon
in disguise fled to Bastia. Indomitable in his purpose, he proposed
to Salicetti’s commission another plan for the seizure of the coveted
citadel. Some French war vessels then at St. Florent were to surprise
Ajaccio, land men and guns, and with the help of some Swiss troops,
and of such Corsicans as felt disposed to help, the citadel was to be
taken.
Paoli was warned, and he prepared for the struggle. The French war
vessels sailed from St. Florent, Napoleon on board, and reached Ajaccio
on May 29. It was too late. The Paolists, fully prepared, received the
assailants with musketry. Napoleon captured an outpost, and held it
for two days; but the vessels could not coöperate efficiently, and the
assailants abandoned the attempt. Napoleon joined his family at Calvi.
They had fled from Ajaccio as Napoleon sailed to the attack, and the
Paolists were so furiously enraged against them that their estates were
pillaged and their home sacked. Paoli had made a last effort to conquer
the resolution of Madame Letitia, but she was immovable. On June 11
the fugitives left Corsica for France, escaping from their enemies by
hiding near the seashore till a boat could approach in the darkness
of night and take them away. Jerome and Caroline were left behind,
concealed by the Ramolinos.
Napoleon himself narrowly escaped with his life. He was saved from
a trap the Peraldis had set by the faithfulness of the Bonaparte
tenants. He was forced to disguise himself, and lay concealed till
arrangements could be made for his flight. Far-seeing was the judgment
and inflexible the courage which must have sustained him in cutting
loose entirely from his first love, Corsica, and casting himself upon
revolutionary France. For it would have been an easy matter for him to
have gone with the crowd and been a great man in Corsica.
In his will Napoleon left 100,000 francs to Costa, the loyal friend to
whom he owed life at the time the Paolists were hounding him down as a
traitor.