THE STORY OF
NAPOLEON
_Uniform with this Volume_
THE STORY OF NAPOLEON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER, F.R.Hist.S.
THE STORY OF NELSON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER, F.R.Hist.S.
THE STORY OF WELLINGTON
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER, F.R.Hist.S.
FAMOUS VOYAGES OF THE GREAT DISCOVERERS
By ERIC WOOD.
THE STORY OF THE CRUSADES
By E. M. WILMOT-BUXTON, F.R.Hist.S.
STORIES OF THE SCOTTISH BORDER
By Mr and Mrs WILLIAM PLATT.
HEROES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
By E. M. TAPPAN, Ph.D.
HEROES OF MODERN EUROPE
By ALICE BIRKHEAD, B.A.
THE CONQUERORS OF PERU
Retold from Prescott by HENRY GILBERT.
THE NORTHMEN IN BRITAIN
By ELEANOR HULL.
STORIES FROM DUTCH HISTORY
By ARTHUR H. DAWSON.
THE STORY OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
By ALICE BIRKHEAD, B.A.
THE CONQUERORS OF MEXICO
Retold from Prescott by HENRY GILBERT.
STORIES FROM GERMAN HISTORY
By FLORENCE ASTON.
THE STORY OF LORD ROBERTS
By HAROLD F. B. WHEELER, F.R.Hist.S.
[Illustration: Napoleon I., Emperor of the French
From the painting by David
_Fr._
]
THE STORY OF
NAPOLEON
_BY_
HAROLD F. B. WHEELER
F.R.HIST.S.
JOINT-AUTHOR OF
‘NAPOLEON AND THE INVASION OF ENGLAND’
AND ‘THE WAR IN WEXFORD’
AUTHOR OF ‘THE MIND OF NAPOLEON’ ETC.
‘_There was an eye to see in this
man, a soul to dare and do. He rose
naturally to be the King. All men
saw that he_ was _such_.’ CARLYLE
LONDON
GEORGE G. HARRAP & COMPANY
2 & 3 PORTSMOUTH STREET KINGSWAY W.C.
DEDICATED
TO
WINIFRED AND JOAN
_Printed in Great Britain
by Turnbull & Spears, Edinburgh_
Foreword
There is no more marvellous story in human history than that
of Napoleon I., Emperor of the French. His career is one long
demonstration of the reality of the proverb, “Truth is stranger than
fiction.” So fascinating are the details of a life in which so much
was attempted and accomplished that many thousands of volumes have
been published dealing with its various phases. The demand is by no
means exhausted, the supply continuous, as witness the present work.
Busy pens are still employed in reviewing the almost superhuman
activities of the once obscure Corsican, whose genius for war and
conquest upset many a throne, secured for him the Overlordship of
Europe, and eventually consigned him to an island prison. Indeed, there
seems little likelihood of a lull in interest while the chief source
of instruction and amusement of human nature is humanity--in other
words itself. Most of us are content to be pupils in the school of
experience, willing to sit at the feet of such a master as Napoleon,
and learn the lessons he has to teach. The result cannot be other than
profitable.
Napoleon has been dead nearly ninety years, but the dazzling brilliancy
of his exploits has left a rich afterglow which enables us to get a
much less distorted view of him than were our forefathers who were his
contemporaries. A subdued light is more useful than one so strong that
it almost blinds. With the former we can see details more distinctly,
note faults and flaws if there be any, get a clearer idea of an object
in every way. Within living memory the name of Napoleon, particularly
in Great Britain, was associated with everything that was base and
vile, now we know that he was neither the Borgia of his enemies nor the
Arch-Patriot of his friends. Nevertheless it is easier for a sightless
person to thread a needle than for the most conscientious historian
to arrive at an absolutely just summing-up of the case. The “Memoirs”
of those with whom the Emperor was intimately acquainted are seldom
impartial; the majority of the writers are either definitely for or
against him. Take those of Baron Méneval as a typical example. The
author was one of Napoleon’s secretaries, and every page of his work
is a defence of his master. In the matter of the execution of the Duc
d’Enghien, for instance, he takes up the cudgels on behalf of the man
who was responsible for the tragedy at Vincennes, boldly stating that
“One is forced to admit that Napoleon fulfilled a painful duty, as
Head of the Government, and that instead of charging him with a crime,
one should rather pity him for having been placed in the necessity
of accepting all the odium of an act, the deplorable consequences of
which, in the future, his foresight only too clearly pointed out to
him.”
Far from Napoleon being concerned as to probable political
consequences, he asserted it would teach the Bourbons a lesson. On the
other hand, the “Memoirs” of Barras, a prominent figure in the French
Revolution, might have been of considerable service to us in gathering
information as to Bonaparte’s early career, had it not been proved
beyond question that much he tells us is sheer bare-faced untruth,
and he everywhere seeks to belittle the accomplishments of the young
soldier.
“Bonaparte, on the 13th of Vendémiaire,” he says, “performed no
functions but those of an aide-de-camp of mine. I was on horseback,
he was on foot; he could not follow my movements. The only order he
received from me was to go to the Pont Royal, and to report to me
what was taking place. He did not give, and had not to give, a single
order, and was seen at only one point of the attack, at the Carrousel.
He did not stir from thence; Brune was in command.” The statements
of Thiébault, Marmont, and many others prove beyond question that
Napoleon, and he alone, saved the day.
Books which unduly eulogise or condemn should be read therefore with a
certain amount of reserve. Of partisans such as Jung there are many,
and they doubtless fulfil a useful purpose provided always that a
representative of the other side is given a similar hearing. Lanfrey,
whose vitriolic volumes may be perused in English, represents a school
of thought which has no place in an age which refuses to listen or to
read only of the evil in a man.
Special attention has been paid in the present work to the genesis of
Napoleon’s career, because it is in what is known as the formative
period that we plant the seeds of future success. To-day and to-morrow
are inextricably interblended, although we so often fail to appreciate
what is assuredly one of the most vital facts of life. Periods of time
are no more real boundaries than periods of history, which are merely
make-believe divisions for purposes of clearness and reference. Of
course, one reign may be more enlightened than another, one Statesman
may confer more benefits on his country than his predecessor, but there
is always a previous foundation on which to build. Napoleon did not
create his vast Empire from nothing. A mosaic-worker who is given a
pile of vari-coloured marble chips with which to glorify a cathedral
pavement does not disdain the fragments because they are in confusion
and appear of little worth. With infinite patience and skill he sorts
them into their various grades, then combines them again, but giving
each its proper order in the scheme. Presently from apparent chaos he
produces a work of beauty. Napoleon came on the scene when the giant
upheaval known as the French Revolution had thrown the whole nation out
of gear. He brought the scattered masses together, recreated Government
and the army, made laws, re-established religion--in a word, led the
people back from anarchy and savagery to civilisation and order.
Napoleon’s true place in history is as an organiser. Conqueror he
undoubtedly was, and his overgrown ambition in this direction was the
cause of his downfall. Had he chosen to rule France solely all would
have been well; neighbouring nations could not have raised legitimate
objections. As it was they owe a debt of gratitude to him. Although
no part of his scheme to awaken dormant ideals of nationality and of
liberty, he unwittingly did so in the archaic Holy Roman Empire, Italy,
Spain, and Tyrol, to mention the more important. A century ago, Europe
hated the Man of Destiny, and not without cause; to-day, she has every
reason, if not to revere his memory, to be thankful for having felt
the iron grip of Napoleon. Surgical operations are extremely painful
whether individual or national.
Napoleon cannot be called a “good” man in the usually accepted sense
of so latitudinarian a word. He was the instigator of more than one
political crime, yet he had a heart that could beat for the afflicted;
he would say the most unkind and cruel things of Sir Hudson Lowe, to
whose care he was committed at St Helena, and play at bears with
little Betsy Balcombe during her stay in the same island. So complex a
personality must necessarily defy to a great extent the set-square and
compasses both of panegyrist and detractor. Guided by no standard code
of morality, he created his own, that of expediency. “No name,” says
Lord Rosebery, “represents so completely and conspicuously dominion,
splendour and catastrophe. He raised himself by the use, and ruined
himself by the abuse, of superhuman faculties. He was wrecked by the
extravagance of his own genius. No less powers than those which had
effected his rise could have achieved his fall.”
In a book limited to a certain number of pages many phases of a
crowded life such as Napoleon’s must necessarily receive somewhat
scant treatment. It has been found impossible to treat military events
in full, but the general outlines of the various campaigns have been
given, and the narratives of first-hand authorities quoted whenever
practicable. For general reading a description of a battle by a man who
was present is always to be preferred to the minute details of the most
painstaking student.
As regards authorities, special reference must be made to Volume IX.
of the monumental “Cambridge Modern History,” Dr J. Holland Rose’s
just and impartial “Life of Napoleon I.,” Sir John Seeley’s somewhat
disparaging “Short History of Napoleon the First,” Mr F. Loraine
Petre’s masterly studies of the Polish, Prussian, and Austrian
campaigns, Sir Archibald Alison’s “History of Europe,” which has by no
means lost its usefulness since more modern research has added to our
knowledge of the epoch, Mr Oscar Browning’s interesting “Boyhood and
Youth of Napoleon, 1769-1793,” and Mr Hereford B. George’s “Napoleon’s
Invasion of Russia.” A host of other volumes dealing with the same
inexhaustible subject which line the shelves of my crowded library have
also been utilised, I trust, to good purpose.
When the late Admiral Eden was a senior midshipman he was told by
his Admiral that he should accompany him on a visit to the fallen
Emperor at St Helena. “We waited for Napoleon in an outer room,” he
afterwards told a friend, “and you must imagine how eagerly I expected
his entrance. The door was thrown open at last, and in he came. He was
short and fat, and nothing very attractive but for his eye! My word,
sir, I had never seen anything like it.
“After speaking to the Admiral he turned to me, and then I understood
for the first time in my life, what was the meaning of the phrase ‘A
born ruler of men.’ I had been taught to hate the French as I hated the
devil; but when Napoleon looked at me there was such power and majesty
in his look that if he had bade me lie down that he might walk over me,
I would have done it at once, Englishman although I was. The look on
Napoleon’s face was the revelation of the man and the explanation of
his power. He was born to command.”
And there you have part of the secret of Napoleon’s career.
HAROLD F. B. WHEELER
Contents
CHAP. PAGE
I. NAPOLEON THE BOY 15
II. THE SCHOOLDAYS OF NAPOLEON 21
III. NAPOLEON AS OFFICER AND AUTHOR 29
IV. NAPOLEON AND THE CORSICAN VOLUNTEERS 41
V. THE EVE OF THE REIGN OF TERROR 47
VI. NAPOLEON’S FIRST FIGHT WITH THE ENGLISH 57
VII. NAPOLEON THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE 65
VIII. “THE SPARK OF GREAT AMBITION” 74
IX. THE ITALIAN CAMPAIGN 82
X. THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT 91
XI. FROM CAIRO TO FRÉJUS 99
XII. HOW NAPOLEON SEIZED THE REINS OF GOVERNMENT 106
XIII. THE PASSAGE OF THE ALPS 111
XIV. BLESSINGS OF PEACE 124
XV. THE DAWN OF THE EMPIRE 131
XVI. THE THREATENED INVASION OF ENGLAND AND ITS SEQUEL 138
XVII. THE WAR OF THE THIRD COALITION 146
XVIII. THE PRUSSIAN CAMPAIGN 155
XIX. THE POLISH CAMPAIGN 168
XX. FRIEDLAND AND TILSIT 174
XXI. NAPOLEON’S COMMERCIAL WAR WITH GREAT BRITAIN 181
XXII. THE GENESIS OF THE PENINSULAR WAR 192
XXIII. GLORY AT ERFURT AND HUMILIATION IN SPAIN 206
XXIV. THE AUSTRIAN CAMPAIGN 219
XXV. THE AUSTRIAN CAMPAIGN--_Continued_ 233
XXVI. THE WAR IN POLAND AND TYROL 241
XXVII. A BROKEN FRIENDSHIP AND WHAT IT BROUGHT 253
XXVIII. THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN 265
XXIX. THE TRIUMPHAL ENTRY INTO MOSCOW--AND AFTER 276
XXX. THE MARCH OF HUMILIATION 284
XXXI. THE BEGINNING OF THE END--THE LEIPZIG CAMPAIGN 291
XXXII. THE CONQUEST OF THE CONQUEROR 302
INDEX 315
Illustrations
NAPOLEON I., EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH _J. L. David_ _Frontispiece_
PAGE
NAPOLEON AT BRIENNE _Réalier Dumas_ 24
“IT IS THE EMPEROR!” _H. de T. Glazebrook_ 86
INSTALLATION OF NAPOLEON AS FIRST
CONSUL _L. Couder_ 108
THE DEATH OF GENERAL DESAIX _A. Le Dru_ 118
ON THE SANDS AT BOULOGNE _A. C. Gow, R.A._ 132
NAPOLEON GIVING THE EAGLES TO HIS
ARMY _L. David_ 140
NAPOLEON DECORATING HIS SOLDIERS
AT BOULOGNE _F. G. Roussel_ 146
THE NIGHT BEFORE AUSTERLITZ _A. Dawant_ 152
THE BATTLE OF FRIEDLAND _Horace Vernet_ 176
THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW _V. Werestchagin_ 266
AFTER MOSCOW: “ADVANCE OR
RETREAT?” _V. Werestchagin_ 280
MARSHAL NEY DEFENDING THE
REAR-GUARD _Adolphe Yvon_ 288
1814 _J. L. E. Meissonier_ 302
THE FLIGHT FROM WATERLOO _A. C. Gow, R.A._ 308
NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON _Sir W. Q. Orchardson, R.A._ 312
The Story of Napoleon
CHAPTER I
Napoleon the Boy
(1769-1778)
Whenever we hear the name of Napoleon mentioned, or see it printed
in a book, it is usually in connection with a hard-fought victory on
the battlefield. He certainly spent most of his life in the camp,
and enjoyed the society of soldiers more than that of courtiers. The
thunder of guns, the charge of cavalry, and the flash of bayonets as
they glittered in the sun, appealed to him with much the same force
as music to more ordinary folk. Indeed, he himself tells us that “the
cries of the dying, the tears of the hopeless, surrounded my cradle
from the moment of my birth.”
We are apt to forget that this mighty conqueror, whom Carlyle calls
“our last great man,” had a childhood at all. He was born nearly a
century and a half ago, on the 15th August 1769 to be exact, in the
little town of Ajaccio, the capital of picturesque Corsica. This
miniature island rises a bold tree-covered rock in the blue waters
of the Mediterranean, fifty miles west of the coast of Italy. It had
been sold to France by the Republic of Genoa the previous year, but
the inhabitants had fought for their independence with praiseworthy
determination. Then civil war broke out, and the struggle finally ended
three months before the birth of the boy who was to become the ruler
of the conquering nation. The Corsicans had their revenge in time,
although in a way very different from what they could have expected.
Letizia Bonaparte, Napoleon’s mother, was as beautiful as she was
energetic, and her famous son never allowed anyone to speak ill of her.
“My excellent mother,” said he, not long before his death, “is a woman
of courage and of great talent ... she is capable of doing everything
for me,” and he added that the high position which he attained was due
largely to the careful way in which she brought him up.
“It is to my mother, to her good precepts and upright example, that I
owe my success and any great thing I have accomplished,” he averred,
while to a general he remarked, “My mother was a superb woman, a woman
of ability and courage.” A truly great man always speaks well of his
mother.
Napoleon was Letizia’s fourth child, two having died in infancy,
while Joseph, the surviving son, was still unable to toddle when the
latest addition to the family was in his cradle. His father was a
happy-go-lucky kind of man of good ancestry, a lawyer by profession,
who on the landing of the French had resigned the pen for the sword.
He enlisted in the army raised by Pascal Paoli to defend the island,
for the Corsicans were then a very warlike people and much sought
after as soldiers, and it is supposed by some that he acted as Paoli’s
secretary. It is certain that the patriot showed him marked favour,
which was never repaid.
When Paoli and his loyal band were forced to make their escape to the
hospitable shores of England, Charles Bonaparte meekly accepted the
pardon offered to those who would lay down their arms and acknowledge
Louis XV. of France as their King. After events proved the wisdom of
his choice, but scarcely justified his action.
The house in which the Bonaparte family lived at Ajaccio is still
standing, but has been patched up and repaired so frequently that
probably little of the original fabric remains. It now belongs to the
ex-Empress Eugénie, the consort of Napoleon’s ill-fated nephew who is
known to history as Napoleon III. You would not call it a mansion,
and yet it contains a spacious ballroom, a large square drawing-room,
Charles Bonaparte’s study, a dining-room, a nursery, several bedrooms,
and a dressing-room. Some of the old furniture is left, namely the
Chippendale sofa on which the future Emperor was born, his mother’s
spinet, and his father’s desk. There is also a little etching of
Napoleon on horseback by the late Prince Imperial, and one or two
statuettes and portraits. In the Town Hall near by is a picture of
Letizia which testifies to her good looks--she was known as “the beauty
of Ajaccio!”
As a child Napoleon was impetuous, self-confident, and apt to be
bad-tempered. If a playmate did something which displeased him the
culprit was rewarded with kicks, bites and scratches. Letizia did
her best to break him of this bad habit, with little success, for he
resented interference to the end of his days. When he was Emperor he
used to tell an anecdote of his early life which proves that his mother
did more than scold him when he got into mischief.
There were some fig-trees in the garden attached to his home, and
Napoleon was very fond of climbing them. Letizia, fearing an accident,
forbade him to do so. “One day, however,” he relates, “when I was
idle, and at a loss for something to do, I took it in my head to long
for some of those figs. They were ripe; no one saw me, or could know
anything of the matter. I made my escape, ran to the tree, and gathered
the whole. My appetite being satisfied, I was providing for the future
by filling my pockets, when an unlucky gardener came in sight. I was
half-dead with fear, and remained fixed on the branch of the tree,
where he had surprised me. He wished to seize me and take me to my
mother. Despair made me eloquent; I represented my distress, promised
to keep away from the figs in future, and he seemed satisfied. I
congratulated myself on having come off so well, and fancied that the
adventure would never be known; but the traitor told all. The next day
my mother wanted to go and gather some figs. I had not left any, there
was none to be found: the gardener came, great reproaches followed, and
an exposure.” The result was a thrashing!
Probably the busy housewife taught Napoleon his letters, assisted by
his uncle Joseph Fesch, who was but six years his senior, while from
his great uncle, Archdeacon Lucien Bonaparte, he learned a little
Bible history. The three “R.’s” were drilled into him by nuns, and
as the establishment admitted girls as well as boys, Napoleon took a
fancy to one of the former, thereby incurring the ridicule of some
of his schoolfellows. They were never tired of jeering at him with a
little rhyme, specially composed for the occasion, to the effect that
“Napoleon with his stockings half off makes love to Giacommetta.” The
translation, of course, does not jingle as in the Corsican patois. It
must not be inferred that he was a good-looking or attractive boy. On
the contrary, he had a sallow complexion, was invariably untidy, and
inclined to be moody.
Later, he went to a more advanced school, and from thence to the
seminary of the Abbé Recco. If he was not a brilliant scholar he was
certainly more interested in mathematics than is the modern boy in
locomotives, and that is admitting a good deal. He also excelled in
geography. Both studies proved useful _aides-de-camp_ when Napoleon
began to master the intricate arts of strategy and tactics. It is on
record that when Napoleon was very young he rode on a high-spirited
pony to a neighbouring windmill, and after persuading the miller to
tell him how much corn it ground in an hour, quietly sat down and
worked out the quantity used per day and week. The tyrant then returned
to his panic-stricken mother, who had convinced herself that the boy
had probably fallen off his fiery steed and been trampled to death.
When opportunity occurred, the youthful Napoleon scribbled sums on
the nursery walls and drew crude outlines of soldiers marching in
regimental order. A fondness for the open air early manifested itself,
and the earnest student would remain out-of-doors for hours at a
stretch, provided he was allowed to follow his favourite pursuits
without being disturbed. Should his brother dare to interfere when he
was working in the little wooden shanty which his thoughtful mother had
caused to be erected for him, Napoleon’s hasty temper would get the
upper hand, and the intruder would be forced to beat a hasty retreat,
perhaps in a shower of sticks and stones.
“My brother Joseph,” he tells us, “was the one with whom I was oftenest
in trouble: he was beaten, bitten, abused. I went to complain before
he had time to recover from his confusion. I had need to be on the
alert; our mother would have repressed my warlike humour, she would
not have put up with my caprices. Her tenderness was allied with
severity: she punished, rewarded all alike; the good, the bad, nothing
escaped her. My father, a man of sense, but too fond of pleasure to
pay much attention to our infancy, sometimes attempted to excuse our
faults: ‘Let them alone,’ she replied, ‘it is not your business, it
is I who must look after them.’ She did, indeed, watch over us with a
solicitude unexampled. Every low sentiment, every ungenerous affection
was discouraged: she suffered nothing but what was good and elevated to
take root in our youthful understandings. She abhorred falsehood, was
provoked by disobedience: she passed over none of our faults.”
Napoleon’s father had no difficulty in deciding what profession to
choose for his second son. As for Joseph, he determined that he should
enter the priesthood. Napoleon was positive his brother would make a
good bishop, and said so.
In this matter of settling the life-work of his boys Charles Bonaparte
was helped by the kindly-disposed Marbœuf, one of the two French
commissioners appointed by the King to govern Corsica, who frequently
visited the house in the Rue St Charles. Napoleon, although only nine
years old was now about to enter a larger world, to have an opportunity
to appreciate the benefits of education on sounder lines, and to tread
the soil of the country which received him as a humble pensioner of the
King, and elevated him twenty-five years later to the Imperial throne.