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."