LONDON: G. BELL & SONS, LIMITED,
PORTUGAL STREET, KINGSWAY, W.C.
CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL & CO.
NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN CO.
BOMBAY: A.H. WHEELER & CO
THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON I
INCLUDING NEW MATERIALS FROM THE BRITISH OFFICIAL RECORDS
BY JOHN HOLLAND ROSE, LITT.D.
LATE SCHOLAR OF CHRIST'S COLLEGE,
CAMBRIDGE
"Let my son often read and reflect on history: this is the only
true philosophy."--_Napoleon's last Instructions for the King of
Rome_.
VOL, I
LONDON G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.
1910
POST 8VO EDITION, ILLUSTRATED
First Published, December 1901.
Second Edition, revised, March 1902.
Third Edition, revised, January 1903.
Fourth Edition, revised, September 1907.
Reprinted, January 1910.
CROWN 8VO EDITION
First Published, September 1904.
Reprinted, October 1907; July 1910.
DEDICATED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD ACTON,
K.C.V.O., D.C.L., LL.D. REGIUS PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN ADMIRATION OF HIS PROFOUND HISTORICAL
LEARNING, AND IN GRATITUDE FOR ADVICE AND HELP GENEROUSLY GIVEN.
PREFACE
An apology seems to be called for from anyone who gives to the world a
new Life of Napoleon I. My excuse must be that for many years I have
sought to revise the traditional story of his career in the light of
facts gleaned from the British Archives and of the many valuable
materials that have recently been published by continental historians.
To explain my manner of dealing with these sources would require an
elaborate critical Introduction; but, as the limits of my space
absolutely preclude any such attempt, I can only briefly refer to the
most important topics.
To deal with the published sources first, I would name as of chief
importance the works of MM. Aulard, Chuquet, Houssaye, Sorel, and
Vandal in France; of Herren Beer, Delbrück, Fournier, Lehmann, Oncken,
and Wertheimer in Germany and Austria; and of Baron Lumbroso in Italy.
I have also profited largely by the scholarly monographs or
collections of documents due to the labours of the "Société d'Histoire
Contemporaine," the General Staff of the French Army, of MM. Bouvier,
Caudrillier, Capitaine "J.G.," Lévy, Madelin, Sagnac, Sciout, Zivy,
and others in France; and of Herren Bailleu, Demelitsch, Hansing,
Klinkowstrom, Luckwaldt, Ulmann, and others in Germany. Some of the
recently published French Memoirs dealing with those times are not
devoid of value, though this class of literature is to be used with
caution. The new letters of Napoleon published by M. Léon Lecestre and
M. Léonce de Brotonne have also opened up fresh vistas into the life
of the great man; and the time seems to have come when we may safely
revise our judgments on many of its episodes.
But I should not have ventured on this great undertaking, had I not
been able to contribute something new to Napoleonic literature. During
a study of this period for an earlier work published in the "Cambridge
Historical Series," I ascertained the great value of the British
records for the years 1795-1815. It is surely discreditable to our
historical research that, apart from the fruitful labours of the Navy
Records Society, of Messrs. Oscar Browning and Hereford George, and of
Mr. Bowman of Toronto, scarcely any English work has appeared that is
based on the official records of this period. Yet they are of great
interest and value. Our diplomatic agents then had the knack of
getting at State secrets in most foreign capitals, even when we were
at war with their Governments; and our War Office and Admiralty
Records have also yielded me some interesting "finds." M. Lévy, in the
preface to his "Napoléon intime" (1893), has well remarked that "the
documentary history of the wars of the Empire has not yet been
written. To write it accurately, it will be more important thoroughly
to know foreign archives than those of France." Those of Russia,
Austria, and Prussia have now for the most part been examined; and I
think that I may claim to have searched all the important parts of our
Foreign Office Archives for the years in question, as well as for part
of the St. Helena period. I have striven to embody the results of this
search in the present volumes as far as was compatible with limits of
space and with the narrative form at which, in my judgment, history
ought always to aim.
On the whole, British policy comes out the better the more fully it is
known. Though often feeble and vacillating, it finally attained to
firmness and dignity; and Ministers closed the cycle of war with acts
of magnanimity towards the French people which are studiously ignored
by those who bid us shed tears over the martyrdom of St. Helena.
Nevertheless, the splendour of the finale must not blind us to the
flaccid eccentricities that made British statesmanship the laughing
stock of Europe in 1801-3, 1806-7, and 1809. Indeed, it is
questionable whether the renewal of war between England and Napoleon
in 1803 was due more to his innate forcefulness or to the contempt
which he felt for the Addington Cabinet. When one also remembers our
extraordinary blunders in the war of the Third Coalition, it seems a
miracle that the British Empire survived that life and death struggle
against a man of superhuman genius who was determined to effect its
overthrow. I have called special attention to the extent and
pertinacity of Napoleon's schemes for the foundation of a French
Colonial Empire in India, Egypt, South Africa, and Australia; and
there can be no doubt that the events of the years 1803-13 determined,
not only the destinies of Europe and Napoleon, but the general trend
of the world's colonization.
As it has been necessary to condense the story of Napoleon's life in
some parts, I have chosen to treat with special brevity the years
1809-11, which may be called the _constans aetas_ of his career, in
order to have more space for the decisive events that followed; but
even in these less eventful years I have striven to show how his
Continental System was setting at work mighty economic forces that
made for his overthrow, so that after the _débâcle_ of 1812 it came to
be a struggle of Napoleon and France _contra mundum_.
While not neglecting the personal details of the great man's life, I
have dwelt mainly on his public career. Apart from his brilliant
conversations, his private life has few features of abiding interest,
perhaps because he early tired of the shallowness of Josephine and the
Corsican angularity of his brothers and sisters. But the cause also
lay in his own disposition. He once said to M. Gallois: "Je n'aime pas
beaucoup les femmes, ni le jeu--enfin rien: _je suis tout à fait un
être politique_." In dealing with him as a warrior and statesman, and
in sparing my readers details as to his bolting his food, sleeping at
concerts, and indulging in amours where for him there was no glamour
of romance, I am laying stress on what interested him most--in a word,
I am taking him at his best.
I could not have accomplished this task, even in the present
inadequate way, but for the help generously accorded from many
quarters. My heartfelt thanks are due to Lord Acton, Regius Professor
of Modern History in the University of Cambridge, for advice of the
highest importance; to Mr. Hubert Hall of the Public Record Office,
for guidance in my researches there; to Baron Lumbroso of Rome,
editor of the "Bibliografia ragionata dell' Epoca Napoleonica," for
hints on Italian and other affairs; to Dr. Luckwaldt, Privat Docent of
the University of Bonn, and author of "Oesterreich und die Anfänge des
Befreiungs-Krieges," for his very scholarly revision of the chapters
on German affairs; to Mr. F.H.E. Cunliffe, M.A., Fellow of All Souls'
College, Oxford, for valuable advice on the campaigns of 1800, 1805,
and 1806; to Professor Caudrillier of Grenoble, author of "Pichegru,"
for information respecting the royalist plot; and to Messrs. J.E.
Morris, M.A., and E.L.S. Horsburgh, B.A., for detailed communications
concerning Waterloo, The nieces of the late Professor Westwood of
Oxford most kindly allowed the facsimile of the new Napoleon letter,
printed opposite p. 156 of vol. i., to be made from the original in
their possession; and Miss Lowe courteously placed at my disposal the
papers of her father relating to the years 1813-15, as well as to the
St. Helena period. I wish here to record my grateful obligations for
all these friendly courtesies, which have given value to the book,
besides saving me from many of the pitfalls with which the subject
abounds. That I have escaped them altogether is not to be imagined;
but I can honestly say, in the words of the late Bishop of London,
that "I have tried to write true history."
J.H.R.
[NOTE.--The references to Napoleon's "Correspondence" in the notes are
to the official French edition, published under the auspices of
Napoleon III. The "New Letters of Napoleon" are those edited by Léon
Lecestre, and translated into English by Lady Mary Loyd, except in a
very few cases where M. Léonce de Brotonne's still more recent edition
is cited under his name. By "F.O.," France, No.----, and "F.O.,"
Prussia, No.----, are meant the volumes of _our_ Foreign Office
despatches relating to France and Prussia. For the sake of brevity I
have called Napoleon's Marshals and high officials by their names, not
by their titles: but a list of these is given at the close of vol.
ii.]
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION
The demand for this work so far exceeded my expectations that I was
unable to make any considerable changes in the second edition, issued
in March, 1902; and circumstances again make it impossible for me to
give the work that thorough recension which I should desire. I have,
however, carefully considered the suggestions offered by critics, and
have adopted them in some cases. Professor Fournier of Vienna has most
kindly furnished me with details which seem to relegate to the domain
of legend the famous ice catastrophe at Austerlitz; and I have added a
note to this effect on p. 50 of vol. ii. On the other hand, I may
justly claim that the publication of Count Balmain's reports relating
to St. Helena has served to corroborate, in all important details, my
account of Napoleon's captivity.
It only remains to add that I much regret the omission of Mr. Oman's
name from II. 12-13 of page viii of the Preface, an omission rendered
all the more conspicuous by the appearance of the first volume of his
"History of the Peninsular War" in the spring of this year.
J.H.R.
_October, 1902._
Notes have been added at the end of ch. v., vol. i.; chs. xxii.,
xxiii., xxviii., xxix., xxxv., vol. ii.; and an Appendix on the Battle
of Waterloo has been added on p. 577, vol. ii.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
NOTE ON THE REPUBLICAN CALENDAR
I. PARENTAGE AND EARLY YEARS
II. THE FRENCH REVOLUTION AND CORSICA
III. TOULON
IV. VENDÉMIAIRE
V. THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN (1796)
VI. THE FIGHTS FOR MANTUA
VII. LEOBEN TO CAMPO FORMIO
VIII. EGYPT
IX. SYRIA
X. BRUMAIRE
XI. MARENGO: LUNÉVILLE
XII. THE NEW INSTITUTIONS OF FRANCE
XIII. THE CONSULATE FOR LIFE
XIV. THE PEACE OF AMIENS
XV. A FRENCH COLONIAL EMPIRE: ST.
DOMINGO--LOUISIANA--INDIA--AUSTRALIA
XVI. NAPOLEON'S INTERVENTIONS
XVII. THE RENEWAL OF WAR
XVIII. EUROPE AND THE BONAPARTES
XIX. THE ROYALIST PLOT
XX. THE DAWN OF THE EMPIRE
XXI. THE BOULOGNE FLOTILLA
APPENDIX: REPORTS HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED
ON
(_a_) THE SALE OF LOUISIANA;
(_b_) THE IRISH DIVISION IN NAPOLEON'S SERVICE
ILLUSTRATIONS, MAPS, AND PLANS
THE SIEGE OF TOULON, 1793
MAP TO ILLUSTRATE THE CAMPAIGNS IN NORTH ITALY
PLAN TO ILLUSTRATE THE VICTORY OF ARCOLA
THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF RIVOLI
FACSIMILE OF A LETTER OF NAPOLEON TO "LA CITOYENNE
TALLIEN," 1797
CENTRAL EUROPE, after the Peace of Campo Formio, 1797
PLAN OF THE SIEGE OF ACRE, from a contemporary sketch
THE BATTLE OF MARENGO, to illustrate Kellermann's charge
FRENCH MAP OF THE SOUTH OF AUSTRALIA, 1807
NOTE ON THE REPUBLICAN CALENDAR
The republican calendar consisted of twelve months of thirty days
each, each month being divided into three "decades" of ten days. Five
days (in leap years six) were added at the end of the year to bring it
into coincidence with the solar year.
An I began Sept. 22, 1792.
" II " " 1793.
" III " " 1794.
" IV (leap year) 1795.
* * * * *
" VIII began Sept. 22, 1799.
" IX " Sept. 23, 1800.
" X " " 1801.
* * * * *
" XIV " " 1805.
The new computation, though reckoned from Sept. 22, 1792, was not
introduced until Nov. 26, 1793 (An II). It ceased after Dec. 31, 1805.
The months are as follows:
Vendémiaire Sept. 22 to Oct. 21.
Brumaire Oct. 22 " Nov. 20.
Frimaire Nov. 21 " Dec. 20.
Nivôse Dec. 21 " Jan. 19.
Pluviôse Jan. 20 " Feb. 18.
Ventôse Feb. 19 " Mar. 20.
Germinal Mar. 21 " April 19.
Floréal April 20 " May 19.
Prairial May 20 " June 18.
Messidor June 19 " July 18.
Thermidor July 19 " Aug. 17.
Fructidor Aug. 18 " Sept. 16.
Add five (in leap years six) "Sansculottides" or "Jours
complémentaires."
In 1796 (leap year) the numbers in the table of months, so far as
concerns all dates between Feb. 28 and Sept. 22, will have to be
_reduced by one_, owing to the intercalation of Feb. 29, which is not
compensated for until the end of the republican year.
The matter is further complicated by the fact that the republicans
reckoned An VIII as a leap year, though it is not one in the Gregorian
Calendar. Hence that year ended on Sept. 22, and An IX and succeeding
years began on Sept. 23. Consequently in the above table of months the
numbers of all days from Vendémiaire 1, An IX (Sept. 23, 1800), to
Nivôse 10, An XIV (Dec. 31, 1805), inclusive, will have to be
_increased by one_, except only in the next leap year between Ventôse
9, An XII, and Vendémiaire 1, An XIII (Feb. 28-Sept, 23, 1804), when
the two Revolutionary aberrations happen to neutralize each other.
* * * * *
THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON I
CHAPTER I
PARENTAGE AND EARLY YEARS
"I was born when my country was perishing. Thirty thousand French
vomited upon our coasts, drowning the throne of Liberty in waves of
blood, such was the sight which struck my eyes." This passionate
utterance, penned by Napoleon Buonaparte at the beginning of the
French Revolution, describes the state of Corsica in his natal year.
The words are instinct with the vehemence of the youth and the
extravagant sentiment of the age: they strike the keynote of his
career. His life was one of strain and stress from his cradle to his
grave.
In his temperament as in the circumstances of his time the young
Buonaparte was destined for an extraordinary career. Into a tottering
civilization he burst with all the masterful force of an Alaric. But
he was an Alaric of the south, uniting the untamed strength of his
island kindred with the mental powers of his Italian ancestry. In his
personality there is a complex blending of force and grace, of animal
passion and mental clearness, of northern common sense with the
promptings of an oriental imagination; and this union in his nature of
seeming opposites explains many of the mysteries of his life.
Fortunately for lovers of romance, genius cannot be wholly analyzed,
even by the most adroit historical philosophizer or the most exacting
champion of heredity. But in so far as the sources of Napoleon's power
can be measured, they may be traced to the unexampled needs of mankind
in the revolutionary epoch and to his own exceptional endowments.
Evidently, then, the characteristics of his family claim some
attention from all who would understand the man and the influence
which he was to wield over modern Europe.
It has been the fortune of his House to be the subject of dispute from
first to last. Some writers have endeavoured to trace its descent back
to the Cæsars of Rome, others to the Byzantine Emperors; one
genealogical explorer has tracked the family to Majorca, and, altering
its name to Bonpart, has discovered its progenitor in the Man of the
Iron Mask; while the Duchesse d'Abrantès, voyaging eastwards in quest
of its ancestors, has confidently claimed for the family a Greek
origin. Painstaking research has dispelled these romancings of
historical _trouveurs_, and has connected this enigmatic stock with a
Florentine named "William, who in the year 1261 took the surname of
_Bonaparte_ or _Buonaparte_. The name seems to have been assumed when,
amidst the unceasing strifes between Guelfs and Ghibellines that rent
the civic life of Florence, William's party, the Ghibellines, for a
brief space gained the ascendancy. But perpetuity was not to be found
in Florentine politics; and in a short time he was a fugitive at a
Tuscan village, Sarzana, beyond the reach of the victorious Guelfs.
Here the family seems to have lived for wellnigh three centuries,
maintaining its Ghibelline and aristocratic principles with surprising
tenacity. The age was not remarkable for the virtue of constancy, or
any other virtue. Politics and private life were alike demoralized by
unceasing intrigues; and amidst strifes of Pope and Emperor, duchies
and republics, cities and autocrats, there was formed that type of
Italian character which is delineated in the pages of Macchiavelli.
From the depths of debasement of that cynical age the Buonapartes
were saved by their poverty, and by the isolation of their life at
Sarzana. Yet the embassies discharged at intervals by the more
talented members of the family showed that the gifts for intrigue were
only dormant; and they were certainly transmitted in their intensity
to the greatest scion of the race.
In the year 1529 Francis Buonaparte, whether pressed by poverty or
distracted by despair at the misfortunes which then overwhelmed Italy,
migrated to Corsica. There the family was grafted upon a tougher
branch of the Italian race. To the vulpine characteristics developed
under the shadow of the Medici there were now added qualities of a
more virile stamp. Though dominated in turn by the masters of the
Mediterranean, by Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, by the men of Pisa,
and finally by the Genoese Republic, the islanders retained a striking
individuality. The rock-bound coast and mountainous interior helped to
preserve the essential features of primitive life. Foreign Powers
might affect the towns on the sea-board, but they left the clans of
the interior comparatively untouched. Their life centred around the
family. The Government counted for little or nothing; for was it not
the symbol of the detested foreign rule? Its laws were therefore as
naught when they conflicted with the unwritten but omnipotent code of
family honour. A slight inflicted on a neighbour would call forth the
warning words--"Guard thyself: I am on my guard." Forthwith there
began a blood feud, a vendetta, which frequently dragged on its dreary
course through generations of conspiracy and murder, until, the
principals having vanished, the collateral branches of the families
were involved. No Corsican was so loathed as the laggard who shrank
from avenging the family honour, even on a distant relative of the
first offender. The murder of the Duc d'Enghien by Napoleon in 1804
sent a thrill of horror through the Continent. To the Corsicans it
seemed little more than an autocratic version of the _vendetta
traversale_.[1]
The vendetta was the chief law of Corsican society up to comparatively
recent times; and its effects are still visible in the life of the
stern islanders. In his charming romance, "Colomba," M. Prosper
Mérimée has depicted the typical Corsican, even of the towns, as
preoccupied, gloomy, suspicious, ever on the alert, hovering about his
dwelling, like a falcon over his nest, seemingly in preparation for
attack or defence. Laughter, the song, the dance, were rarely heard in
the streets; for the women, after acting as the drudges of the
household, were kept jealously at home, while their lords smoked and
watched. If a game at hazard were ventured upon, it ran its course in
silence, which not seldom was broken by the shot or the stab--first
warning that there had been underhand play. The deed always preceded
the word.
In such a life, where commerce and agriculture were despised, where
woman was mainly a drudge and man a conspirator, there grew up the
typical Corsican temperament, moody and exacting, but withal keen,
brave, and constant, which looked on the world as a fencing-school for
the glorification of the family and the clan[2]. Of this type Napoleon
was to be the supreme exemplar; and the fates granted him as an arena
a chaotic France and a distracted Europe.
Amidst that grim Corsican existence the Buonapartes passed their lives
during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Occupied as advocates
and lawyers with such details of the law as were of any practical
importance, they must have been involved in family feuds and the
oft-recurring disputes between Corsica and the suzerain Power, Genoa.
As became dignitaries in the municipality of Ajaccio, several of the
Buonapartes espoused the Genoese side; and the Genoese Senate in a
document of the year 1652 styled one of them, Jérome, "Egregius
Hieronimus di Buonaparte, procurator Nobilium." These distinctions
they seem to have little coveted. Very few families belonged to the
Corsican _noblesse_, and their fiefs were unimportant. In Corsica, as
in the Forest Cantons of Switzerland and the Highlands of Scotland,
class distinctions were by no means so coveted as in lands that had
been thoroughly feudalized; and the Buonapartes, content with their
civic dignities at Ajaccio and the attachment of their partisans on
their country estates, seem rarely to have used the prefix which
implied nobility. Their life was not unlike that of many an old
Scottish laird, who, though possibly _bourgeois_ in origin, yet by
courtesy ranked as chieftain among his tenants, and was ennobled by
the parlance of the countryside, perhaps all the more readily because
he refused to wear the honours that came from over the Border.
But a new influence was now to call forth all the powers of this tough
stock. In the middle of the eighteenth century we find the head of the
family, Charles Marie Buonaparte, aglow with the flame of Corsican
patriotism then being kindled by the noble career of Paoli. This
gifted patriot, the champion of the islanders, first against the
Genoese and later against the French, desired to cement by education
the framework of the Corsican Commonwealth and founded a university.
It was here that the father of the future French Emperor received a
training in law, and a mental stimulus which was to lift his family
above the level of the _caporali_ and attorneys with whom its lot had
for centuries been cast. His ambition is seen in the endeavour,
successfully carried out by his uncle, Lucien, Archdeacon of Ajaccio,
to obtain recognition of kinship with the Buonapartes of Tuscany who
had been ennobled by the Grand Duke. His patriotism is evinced in his
ardent support of Paoli, by whose valour and energy the Genoese were
finally driven from the island. Amidst these patriotic triumphs
Charles confronted his destiny in the person of Letizia Ramolino, a
beautiful girl, descended from an honourable Florentine family which
had for centuries been settled in Corsica. The wedding took place in
1764, the bridegroom being then eighteen, and the bride fifteen years
of age. The union, if rashly undertaken in the midst of civil strifes,
was yet well assorted. Both parties to it were of patrician, if not
definitely noble descent, and came of families which combined the
intellectual gifts of Tuscany with the vigour of their later island
home[3]. From her mother's race, the Pietra Santa family, Letizia
imbibed the habits of the most backward and savage part of Corsica,
where vendettas were rife and education was almost unknown. Left in
ignorance in her early days, she yet was accustomed to hardships, and
often showed the fertility of resource which such a life always
develops. Hence, at the time of her marriage, she possessed a firmness
of will far beyond her years; and her strength and fortitude enabled
her to survive the terrible adversities of her early days, as also to
meet with quiet matronly dignity the extraordinary honours showered on
her as the mother of the French Emperor. She was inured to habits of
frugality, which reappeared in the personal tastes of her son. In
fact, she so far retained her old parsimonious habits, even amidst the
splendours of the French Imperial Court, as to expose herself to the
charge of avarice. But there is a touching side to all this. She seems
ever to have felt that after the splendour there would come again the
old days of adversity, and her instincts were in one sense correct.
She lived on to the advanced age of eighty-six, and died twenty-one
years after the break-up of her son's empire--a striking proof of the
vitality and tenacity of her powers.
A kindly Providence veiled the future from the young couple. Troubles
fell swiftly upon them both in private and in public life. Their first
two children died in infancy. The third, Joseph, was born in 1768,
when the Corsican patriots were making their last successful efforts
against their new French oppressors: the fourth, the famous Napoleon,
saw the light on August 15th, 1769, when the liberties of Corsica were
being finally extinguished. Nine other children were born before the
outbreak of the French Revolution reawakened civil strifes, amidst
which the then fatherless family was tossed to and fro and finally
whirled away to France.
Destiny had already linked the fortunes of the young Napoleon
Buonaparte with those of France. After the downfall of Genoese rule in
Corsica, France had taken over, for empty promises, the claims of the
hard-pressed Italian republic to its troublesome island possession. It
was a cheap and practical way of restoring, at least in the
Mediterranean the shattered prestige of the French Bourbons. They had
previously intervened in Corsican affairs on the side of the Genoese.
Yet in 1764 Paoli appealed to Louis XV. for protection. It was
granted, in the form of troops that proceeded quietly to occupy the
coast towns of the island under cover of friendly assurances. In 1768,
before the expiration of an informal truce, Marbeuf, the French
commander, commenced hostilities against the patriots[4]. In vain did
Rousseau and many other champions of popular liberty protest against
this bartering away of insular freedom: in vain did Paoli rouse his
compatriots to another and more unequal struggle, and seek to hold the
mountainous interior. Poor, badly equipped, rent by family feuds and
clan schisms, his followers were no match for the French troops; and
after the utter break-up of his forces Paoli fled to England, taking
with him three hundred and forty of the most determined patriots. With
these irreconcilables Charles Buonaparte did not cast in his lot, but
accepted the pardon offered to those who should recognize the French
sway. With his wife and their little child Joseph he returned to
Ajaccio; and there, shortly afterwards, Napoleon was born. As the
patriotic historian, Jacobi, has finely said, "The Corsican people,
when exhausted by producing martyrs to the cause of liberty, produced
Napoleon Buonaparte[5]."
Seeing that Charles Buonaparte had been an ardent adherent of Paoli,
his sudden change of front has exposed him to keen censure. He
certainly had not the grit of which heroes are made. His seems to have
been an ill-balanced nature, soon buoyed up by enthusiasms, and as
speedily depressed by their evaporation; endowed with enough of
learning and culture to be a Voltairean and write second-rate
verses; and with a talent for intrigue which sufficed to embarrass
his never very affluent fortunes. Napoleon certainly derived no
world-compelling qualities from his father: for these he was indebted
to the wilder strain which ran in his mother's blood. The father
doubtless saw in the French connection a chance of worldly advancement
and of liberation from pecuniary difficulties; for the new rulers now
sought to gain over the patrician families of the island. Many of them
had resented the dictatorship of Paoli; and they now gladly accepted
the connection with France, which promised to enrich their country and
to open up a brilliant career in the French army, where commissions
were limited to the scions of nobility.
Much may be said in excuse of Charles Buonaparte's decision, and no
one can deny that Corsica has ultimately gained much by her connection
with France. But his change of front was open to the charge that it
was prompted by self-interest rather than by philosophic foresight. At
any rate, his second son throughout his boyhood nursed a deep
resentment against his father for his desertion of the patriots'
cause. The youth's sympathies were with the peasants, whose allegiance
was not to be bought by baubles, whose constancy and bravery long held
out against the French in a hopeless guerilla warfare. His hot
Corsican blood boiled at the stories of oppression and insult which he
heard from his humbler compatriots. When, at eleven years of age, he
saw in the military college at Brienne the portrait of Choiseul, the
French Minister who had urged on the conquest of Corsica, his passion
burst forth in a torrent of imprecations against the traitor; and,
even after the death of his father in 1785, he exclaimed that he could
never forgive him for not following Paoli into exile.
What trifles seem, at times, to alter the current of human affairs!
Had his father acted thus, the young Napoleon would in all probability
have entered the military or naval service of Great Britain; he might
have shared Paoli's enthusiasm for the land of his adoption, and have
followed the Corsican hero in his enterprises against the French
Revolution, thenceforth figuring in history merely as a greater
Marlborough, crushing the military efforts of democratic France, and
luring England into a career of Continental conquest. Monarchy and
aristocracy would have gone unchallenged, except within the "natural
limits" of France; and the other nations, never shaken to their
inmost depths, would have dragged on their old inert fragmentary
existence.
The decision of Charles Buonaparte altered the destiny of Europe. He
determined that his eldest boy, Joseph, should enter the Church, and
that Napoleon should be a soldier. His perception of the characters of
his boys was correct. An anecdote, for which the elder brother is
responsible, throws a flood of light on their temperaments. The master
of their school arranged a mimic combat for his pupils--Romans against
Carthaginians. Joseph, as the elder was ranged under the banner of
Rome, while Napoleon was told off among the Carthaginians; but, piqued
at being chosen for the losing side, the child fretted, begged, and
stormed until the less bellicose Joseph agreed to change places with
his exacting junior. The incident is prophetic of much in the later
history of the family.
Its imperial future was opened up by the deft complaisance now shown
by Charles Buonaparte. The reward for his speedy submission to France
was soon forthcoming. The French commander in Corsica used his
influence to secure the admission of the young Napoleon to the
military school of Brienne in Champagne; and as the father was able to
satisfy the authorities not only that he was without fortune, but also
that his family had been noble for four generations, Napoleon was
admitted to this school to be educated at the charges of the King of
France (April, 1779). He was now, at the tender age of nine, a
stranger in a strange land, among a people whom he detested as the
oppressors of his countrymen. Worst of all, he had to endure the taunt
of belonging to a subject race. What a position for a proud and
exacting child! Little wonder that the official report represented him
as silent and obstinate; but, strange to say, it added the word
"imperious." It was a tough character which could defy repression
amidst such surroundings. As to his studies, little need be said. In
his French history he read of the glories of the distant past (when
"Germany was part of the French Empire"), the splendours of the reign
of Louis XIV., the disasters of France in the Seven Years' War, and
the "prodigious conquests of the English in India." But his
imagination was kindled from other sources. Boys of pronounced
character have always owed far more to their private reading than to
their set studies; and the young Buonaparte, while grudgingly learning
Latin and French grammar, was feeding his mind on Plutarch's
"Lives"--in a French translation. The artful intermingling of the
actual and the romantic, the historic and the personal, in those vivid
sketches of ancient worthies and heroes, has endeared them to many
minds. Rousseau derived unceasing profit from their perusal; and
Madame Roland found in them "the pasture of great souls." It was so
with the lonely Corsican youth. Holding aloof from his comrades in
gloomy isolation, he caught in the exploits of Greeks and Romans a
distant echo of the tragic romance of his beloved island home. The
librarian of the school asserted that even then the young soldier had
modelled his future career on that of the heroes of antiquity; and we
may well believe that, in reading of the exploits of Leonidas,
Curtius, and Cincinnatus, he saw the figure of his own antique
republican hero, Paoli. To fight side by side with Paoli against the
French was his constant dream. "Paoli will return," he once exclaimed,
"and as soon as I have strength, I will go to help him: and perhaps
together we shall be able to shake the odious yoke from off the neck
of Corsica."
But there was another work which exercised a great influence on his
young mind--the "Gallic War" of Cæsar. To the young Italian the
conquest of Gaul by a man of his own race must have been a congenial
topic, and in Cæsar himself the future conqueror may dimly have
recognized a kindred spirit. The masterful energy and all-conquering
will of the old Roman, his keen insight into the heart of a problem,
the wide sweep of his mental vision, ranging over the intrigues of the
Roman Senate, the shifting politics of a score of tribes, and the
myriad administrative details of a great army and a mighty
province--these were the qualities that furnished the chief mental
training to the young cadet. Indeed, the career of Cæsar was destined
to exert a singular fascination over the Napoleonic dynasty, not only
on its founder, but also on Napoleon III.; and the change in the
character and career of Napoleon the Great may be registered mentally
in the effacement of the portraits of Leonidas and Paoli by those of
Cæsar and Alexander. Later on, during his sojourn at Ajaccio in 1790,
when the first shadows were flitting across his hitherto unclouded
love for Paoli, we hear that he spent whole nights poring over Cæsar's
history, committing many passages to memory in his passionate
admiration of those wondrous exploits. Eagerly he took Cæsar's side as
against Pompey, and no less warmly defended him from the charge of
plotting against the liberties of the commonwealth[6]. It was a
perilous study for a republican youth in whom the military instincts
were as ingrained as the genius for rule.
Concerning the young Buonaparte's life at Brienne there exist few
authentic records and many questionable anecdotes. Of these last, that
which is the most credible and suggestive relates his proposal to his
schoolfellows to construct ramparts of snow during the sharp winter of
1783-4. According to his schoolfellow, Bourrienne, these mimic
fortifications were planned by Buonaparte, who also directed the
methods of attack and defence: or, as others say, he reconstructed
the walls according to the needs of modern war. In either case, the
incident bespeaks for him great power of organization and control. But
there were in general few outlets for his originality and vigour. He
seems to have disliked all his comrades, except Bourrienne, as much as
they detested him for his moody humours and fierce outbreaks of
temper. He is even reported to have vowed that he would do as much
harm as possible to the French people; but the remark smacks of the
story-book. Equally doubtful are the two letters in which he prays to
be removed from the indignities to which he was subjected at
Brienne[7]. In other letters which are undoubtedly genuine, he refers
to his future career with ardour, and writes not a word as to the
bullying to which his Corsican zeal subjected him. Particularly
noteworthy is the letter to his uncle begging him to intervene so as
to prevent Joseph Buonaparte from taking up a military career. Joseph,
writes the younger brother, would make a good garrison officer, as he
was well formed and clever at frivolous compliments--"good therefore
for society, but for a fight--?"
Napoleon's determination had been noticed by his teachers. They had
failed to bend his will, at least on important points. In lesser
details his Italian adroitness seems to have been of service; for the
officer who inspected the school reported of him: "Constitution,
health excellent: character submissive, sweet, honest, grateful:
conduct very regular: has always distinguished himself by his
application to mathematics: knows history and geography passably: very
weak in accomplishments. He will be an excellent seaman: is worthy to
enter the School at Paris." To the military school at Paris he was
accordingly sent in due course, entering there in October, 1784. The
change from the semi-monastic life at Brienne to the splendid edifice
which fronts the Champ de Mars had less effect than might have
been expected in a youth of fifteen years. Not yet did he become
French in sympathy. His love of Corsica and hatred of the French
monarchy steeled him against the luxuries of his new surroundings.
Perhaps it was an added sting that he was educated at the expense of
the monarchy which had conquered his kith and kin. He nevertheless
applied himself with energy to his favourite studies, especially
mathematics. Defective in languages he still was, and ever remained;
for his critical acumen in literature ever fastened on the matter
rather than on style. To the end of his days he could never write
Italian, much less French, with accuracy; and his tutor at Paris not
inaptly described his boyish composition as resembling molten granite.
The same qualities of directness and impetuosity were also fatal to
his efforts at mastering the movements of the dance. In spite of
lessons at Paris and private lessons which he afterwards took at
Valence, he was never a dancer: his bent was obviously for the exact
sciences rather than the arts, for the geometrical rather than the
rhythmical: he thought, as he moved, in straight lines, never in
curves.
The death of his father during the year which the youth spent at Paris
sharpened his sense of responsibility towards his seven younger
brothers and sisters. His own poverty must have inspired him with
disgust at the luxury which he saw around him; but there are good
reasons for doubting the genuineness of the memorial which he is
alleged to have sent from Paris to the second master at Brienne on
this subject. The letters of the scholars at Paris were subject to
strict surveillance; and, if he had taken the trouble to draw up a
list of criticisms on his present training, most assuredly it would
have been destroyed. Undoubtedly, however, he would have sympathized
with the unknown critic in his complaint of the unsuitableness of
sumptuous meals to youths who were destined for the hardships of the
camp. At Brienne he had been dubbed "the Spartan," an instance of that
almost uncanny faculty of schoolboys to dash off in a nickname the
salient features of character. The phrase was correct, almost for
Napoleon's whole life. At any rate, the pomp of Paris served but to
root his youthful affections more tenaciously in the rocks of Corsica.
In September, 1785, that is, at the age of sixteen, Buonaparte was
nominated for a commision as junior lieutenant in La Fère regiment of
artillery quartered at Valence on the Rhone. This was his first close
contact with real life. The rules of the service required him to
spend three months of rigorous drill before he was admitted to his
commission. The work was exacting: the pay was small, viz., 1,120
francs, or less than £45, a year; but all reports agree as to his keen
zest for his profession and the recognition of his transcendent
abilities by his superior officers.[8] There it was that he mastered
the rudiments of war, for lack of which many generals of noble birth
have quickly closed in disaster careers that began with promise:
there, too, he learnt that hardest and best of all lessons, prompt
obedience. "To learn obeying is the fundamental art of governing,"
says Carlyle. It was so with Napoleon: at Valence he served his
apprenticeship in the art of conquering and the art of governing.
This spring-time of his life is of interest and importance in many
ways: it reveals many amiable qualities, which had hitherto been
blighted by the real or fancied scorn of the wealthy cadets. At
Valence, while shrinking from his brother officers, he sought society
more congenial to his simple tastes and restrained demeanour. In a few
of the best bourgeois families of Valence he found happiness. There,
too, blossomed the tenderest, purest idyll of his life. At the country
house of a cultured lady who had befriended him in his solitude, he
saw his first love, Caroline de Colombier. It was a passing fancy;
but to her all the passion of his southern nature welled forth. She
seems to have returned his love; for in the stormy sunset of his life
at St. Helena he recalled some delicious walks at dawn when Caroline
and he had--eaten cherries together. One lingers fondly over these
scenes of his otherwise stern career, for they reveal his capacity for
social joys and for deep and tender affection, had his lot been
otherwise cast. How different might have been his life, had France
never conquered Corsica, and had the Revolution never burst forth! But
Corsica was still his dominant passion. When he was called away from
Valence to repress a riot at Lyons, his feelings, distracted for a
time by Caroline, swerved back towards his island home; and in
September, 1786, he had the joy of revisiting the scenes of his
childhood. Warmly though he greeted his mother, brothers and sisters,
after an absence of nearly eight years, his chief delight was in the
rocky shores, the verdant dales and mountain heights of Corsica. The
odour of the forests, the setting of the sun in the sea "as in the
bosom of the infinite," the quiet proud independence of the
mountaineers themselves, all enchanted him. His delight reveals almost
Wertherian powers of "sensibility." Even the family troubles could not
damp his ardour. His father had embarked on questionable speculations,
which now threatened the Buonapartes with bankruptcy, unless the
French Government proved to be complacent and generous. With the hope
of pressing one of the family claims on the royal exchequer, the
second son procured an extension of furlough and sped to Paris. There
at the close of 1787 he spent several weeks, hopefully endeavouring to
extract money from the bankrupt Government. It was a season of
disillusionment in more senses than one; for there he saw for himself
the seamy side of Parisian life, and drifted for a brief space about
the giddy vortex of the Palais Royal. What a contrast to the limpid
life of Corsica was that turbid frothy existence--already swirling
towards its mighty plunge!
After a furlough of twenty-one months he rejoined his regiment, now at
Auxonne. There his health suffered considerably, not only from the
miasma of the marshes of the river Saône, but also from family
anxieties and arduous literary toils. To these last it is now needful
to refer. Indeed, the external events of his early life are of value
only as they reveal the many-sidedness of his nature and the growth of
his mental powers.
How came he to outgrow the insular patriotism of his early years? The
foregoing recital of facts must have already suggested one obvious
explanation. Nature had dowered him so prodigally with diverse gifts,
mainly of an imperious order, that he could scarcely have limited his
sphere of action to Corsica. Profoundly as he loved his island, it
offered no sphere commensurate with his varied powers and masterful
will. It was no empty vaunt which his father had uttered on his
deathbed that his Napoleon would one day overthrow the old monarchies
and conquer Europe.[9] Neither did the great commander himself
overstate the peculiarity of his temperament, when he confessed that
his instincts had ever prompted him that his will must prevail, and
that what pleased him must of necessity belong to him. Most spoilt
children harbour the same illusion, for a brief space. But all the
buffetings of fortune failed to drive it from the young Buonaparte;
and when despair as to his future might have impaired the vigour of
his domineering instincts, his mind and will acquired a fresh rigidity
by coming under the spell of that philosophizing doctrinaire,
Rousseau.
There was every reason why he should early be attracted by this
fantastic thinker. In that notable work, "Le Contrat Social" (1762),
Rousseau called attention to the antique energy shown by the Corsicans
in defence of their liberties, and in a startlingly prophetic phrase
he exclaimed that the little island would one day astonish Europe. The
source of this predilection of Rousseau for Corsica is patent. Born
and reared at Geneva, he felt a Switzer's love for a people which was<
"neither rich nor poor but self-sufficing "; and in the simple life
and fierce love of liberty of the hardy islanders he saw traces of
that social contract which he postulated as the basis of society.
According to him, the beginnings of all social and political
institutions are to be found in some agreement or contract between
men. Thus arise the clan, the tribe, the nation. The nation may
delegate many of its powers to a ruler; but if he abuse such powers,
the contract between him and his people is at an end, and they may
return to the primitive state, which is founded on an agreement of
equals with equals. Herein lay the attractiveness of Rousseau for all
who were discontented with their surroundings. He seemed infallibly
to demonstrate the absurdity of tyranny and the need of returning to
the primitive bliss of the social contract. It mattered not that the
said contract was utterly unhistorical and that his argument teemed
with fallacies. He inspired a whole generation with detestation of the
present and with longings for the golden age. Poets had sung of it,
but Rousseau seemed to bring it within the grasp of long-suffering
mortals.
The first extant manuscript of Napoleon, written at Valence in April,
1786, shows that he sought in Rousseau's armoury the logical weapons
for demonstrating the "right" of the Corsicans to rebel against the
French. The young hero-worshipper begins by noting that it is the
birthday of Paoli. He plunges into a panegyric on the Corsican
patriots, when he is arrested by the thought that many censure them
for rebelling at all. "The divine laws forbid revolt. But what have
divine laws to do with a purely human affair? Just think of the
absurdity--divine laws universally forbidding the casting off of a
usurping yoke! ... As for human laws, there cannot be any after the
prince violates them." He then postulates two origins for government
as alone possible. Either the people has established laws and
submitted itself to the prince, or the prince has established laws. In
the first case, the prince is engaged by the very nature of his office
to execute the covenants. In the second case, the laws tend, or do not
tend, to the welfare of the people, which is the aim of all
government: if they do not, the contract with the prince dissolves of
itself, for the people then enters again into its primitive state.
Having thus proved the sovereignty of the people, Buonaparte uses his
doctrine to justify Corsican revolt against France, and thus concludes
his curious medley: "The Corsicans, following all the laws of justice,
have been able to shake off the yoke of the Genoese, and may do the
same with that of the French. Amen."
Five days later he again gives the reins to his melancholy. "Always
alone, though in the midst of men," he faces the thought of suicide.
With an innate power of summarizing and balancing thoughts and
sensations, he draws up arguments for and against this act. He is in
the dawn of his days and in four months' time he will see "la patrie,"
which he has not seen since childhood. What joy! And yet--how men have
fallen away from nature: how cringing are his compatriots to their
conquerors: they are no longer the enemies of tyrants, of luxury, of
vile courtiers: the French have corrupted their morals, and when "la
patrie" no longer survives, a good patriot ought to die. Life among
the French is odious: their modes of life differ from his as much as
the light of the moon differs from that of the sun.--A strange
effusion this for a youth of seventeen living amidst the full glories
of the spring in Dauphiné. It was only a few weeks before the ripening
of cherries. Did that cherry-idyll with Mdlle. de Colombier lure him
back to life? Or did the hope of striking a blow for Corsica stay his
suicidal hand? Probably the latter; for we find him shortly afterwards
tilting against a Protestant minister of Geneva who had ventured to
criticise one of the dogmas of Rousseau's evangel.
The Genevan philosopher had asserted that Christianity, by enthroning
in the hearts of Christians the idea of a Kingdom not of this world,
broke the unity of civil society, because it detached the hearts of
its converts from the State, as from all earthly things. To this the
Genevan minister had successfully replied by quoting Christian
teachings on the subject at issue. But Buonaparte fiercely accuses
the pastor of neither having understood, nor even read, "Le Contrat
Social": he hurls at his opponent texts of Scripture which enjoin
obedience to the laws: he accuses Christianity of rendering men slaves
to an anti-social tyranny, because its priests set up an authority in
opposition to civil laws; and as for Protestantism, it propagated
discords between its followers, and thereby violated civic unity.
Christianity, he argues, is a foe to civil government, for it aims at
making men happy in this life by inspiring them with hope of a future
life; while the aim of civil government is "to lend assistance to the
feeble against the strong, and by this means to allow everyone to
enjoy a sweet tranquillity, the road of happiness." He therefore
concludes that Christianity and civil government are diametrically
opposed.
In this tirade we see the youth's spirit of revolt flinging him not
only against French law, but against the religion which sanctions it.
He sees none of the beauty of the Gospels which Rousseau had
admitted. His views are more rigid than those of his teacher.
Scarcely can he conceive of two influences, the spiritual and the
governmental, working on parallel lines, on different parts of man's
nature. His conception of human society is that of an indivisible,
indistinguishable whole, wherein materialism, tinged now and again by
religious sentiment and personal honour, is the sole noteworthy
influence. He finds no worth in a religion which seeks to work from
within to without, which aims at transforming character, and thus
transforming the world. In its headlong quest of tangible results his
eager spirit scorns so tardy a method: he will "compel men to be
happy," and for this result there is but one practicable means, the
Social Contract, the State. Everything which mars the unity of the
Social Contract shall be shattered, so that the State may have a clear
field for the exercise of its beneficent despotism. Such is
Buonaparte's political and religious creed at the age of seventeen,
and such it remained (with many reservations suggested by maturer
thought and self-interest) to the end of his days. It reappears in his
policy anent the Concordat of 1802, by which religion was reduced to
the level of handmaid to the State, as also in his frequent assertions
that he would never have quite the same power as the Czar and the
Sultan, because he had not undivided sway over the consciences of his
people.[10] In this boyish essay we may perhaps discern the
fundamental reason of his later failures. He never completely
understood religion, or the enthusiasm which it can evoke; neither did
he ever fully realize the complexity of human nature, the
many-sidedness of social life, and the limitations that beset the
action even of the most intelligent law-maker.[11]
His reading of Rousseau having equipped him for the study of human
society and government, he now, during his first sojourn at Auxonne
(June, 1788--September, 1789), proceeds to ransack the records of the
ancient and modern world. Despite ill-health, family troubles, and the
outbreak of the French Revolution, he grapples with this portentous
task. The history, geography, religion, and social customs of the
ancient Persians, Scythians, Thracians, Athenians, Spartans,
Egyptians, and Carthaginians--all furnished materials for his
encyclopædic note-books. Nothing came amiss to his summarizing genius.
Here it was that he gained that knowledge of the past which was to
astonish his contemporaries. Side by side with suggestions on
regimental discipline and improvements in artillery, we find notes on
the opening episodes of Plato's "Republic," and a systematic summary
of English history from the earliest times down to the Revolution of
1688. This last event inspired him with special interest, because the
Whigs and their philosophic champion, Locke, maintained that James II.
had violated the original contract between prince and people.
Everywhere in his notes Napoleon emphasizes the incidents which led to
conflicts between dynasties or between rival principles. In fact,
through all these voracious studies there appear signs of his
determination to write a history of Corsica; and, while inspiriting
his kinsmen by recalling the glorious past, he sought to weaken the
French monarchy by inditing a "Dissertation sur l'Autorité Royale."
His first sketch of this work runs as follows:
"23 October, 1788. Auxonne.
"This work will begin with general ideas as to the origin and the
enhanced prestige of the name of king. Military rule is favourable
to it: this work will afterwards enter into the details of the
usurped authority enjoyed by the Kings of the twelve Kingdoms of
Europe.
"There are very few Kings who have not deserved dethronement[12]."
This curt pronouncement is all that remains of the projected work. It
sufficiently indicates, however, the aim of Napoleon's studies. One
and all they were designed to equip him for the great task of
re-awakening the spirit of the Corsicans and of sapping the base of
the French monarchy.
But these reams of manuscript notes and crude literary efforts have an
even wider source of interest. They show how narrow was his outlook on
life. It all turned on the regeneration of Corsica by methods which he
himself prescribed. We are therefore able to understand why, when his
own methods of salvation for Corsica were rejected, he tore himself
away and threw his undivided energies into the Revolution.
Yet the records of his early life show that in his character there was
a strain of true sentiment and affection. In him Nature carved out a
character of rock-like firmness, but she adorned it with flowers of
human sympathy and tendrils of family love. At his first parting from
his brother Joseph at Autun, when the elder brother was weeping
passionately, the little Napoleon dropped a tear: but that, said the
tutor, meant as much as the flood of tears from Joseph. Love of his
relatives was a potent factor of his policy in later life; and slander
has never been able wholly to blacken the character of a man who loved
and honoured his mother, who asserted that her advice had often been
of the highest service to him, and that her justice and firmness of
spirit marked her out as a natural ruler of men. But when these
admissions are freely granted, it still remains true that his
character was naturally hard; that his sense of personal superiority
made him, even as a child, exacting and domineering; and the sequel
was to show that even the strongest passion of his youth, his
determination to free Corsica from France, could be abjured if
occasion demanded, all the force of his nature being thenceforth
concentrated on vaster adventures.
* * * * *