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?"