The Schooldays of Napoleon
(1779-1784)
In France there were twelve royal military schools to which a certain
number of sons of the poor aristocracy were admitted without payment.
Marbœuf was successful in securing this benefit for Napoleon, although
his father had to prove to the satisfaction of the authorities that he
was without fortune and to present a certificate to the effect that his
family had belonged to the nobility for at least four generations. This
done, the way was made clear for the boy to begin his first serious
studies in the art of warfare. As the Corsicans spoke Italian and knew
very little, if anything, of the French language, it was decided that
Napoleon should stay for a time with his brother Joseph at the College
of Autun so that he might acquire some knowledge of the language both
were henceforth to speak. To the end of his days Napoleon never learnt
to spell correctly, his pronunciation was oftentimes peculiar, and his
writing invariably abominable.
Charles Marie de Bonaparte, duly accompanied by Joseph, Napoleon, Uncle
Fesch, and a cousin named Aurelio Varese, set off for the land of
their adoption in the middle of December 1778. The good Letizia sobbed
bitterly when she parted with her two sons, but there were now several
other children to be cared for, which must have consoled her to some
extent. The travellers passed through Tuscany, where the beautiful
city of Florence left an impression on the plastic mind of the embryo
soldier, and a momentary sight of the Grand Duke afforded him intense
pleasure. They were fragmentary foretastes of things to come, when
Napoleon’s troops would overrun the land of the Medici and the scions
of royal houses would appreciate a nod or a glance from the now unknown
lad whose eyes opened wide with astonishment at the sights and scenes
of pre-Revolutionary Europe.
On the 1st January 1779, Autun was reached, and the boys had their
first experience of what it means to be hundreds of miles from home
and in a country where rugged little Corsica, if mentioned at all,
was sneered at, and its inhabitants regarded as scarcely better than
savages. Another separation came towards the end of the following
April, when Napoleon left for Brienne, now inseparably associated with
his name and fame. Tradition has it that Joseph wept copiously at the
moment of departure, but down his brother’s cheek there coursed a
solitary tear. In the opinion of the Abbé Simon, who held the important
post of sub-principal of the College, this was proof that Napoleon felt
the wrench none the less keenly. Joseph allowed his emotions to govern
him; Napoleon controlled his heart by his will, then as always.
It may be thought peculiar that Brienne, like the other military
schools, was controlled by monks. The arrangement was really not so
extraordinary as it would appear. Religion, up to the time of the
Revolution, had always played an important part in the State, and that
great epoch-making volcano had done nothing more than rumble at the
period with which we are dealing. The Superior was, of course, the head
of the establishment, the various Fathers having particular subjects
to teach in which they more or less excelled. Occasionally a member
of the laity assisted in a subordinate capacity. Pichegru, who was
to become famous in the profession of Napoleon’s choice, taught the
elementary class at Brienne.
The pupils lived in almost monastic seclusion. They were not allowed to
leave the precincts for the whole of the six years which were allotted
to them for education, and during the holidays were never quite free
from lessons. What seems a most exacting régime in some ways was,
however, neutralised to some extent by rules judiciously forgotten.
St Germain, the energetic Minister of War who had advised the King to
found the military schools, had spent much time and thought in drawing
up elaborate regulations for their government. The studies included
geography, history, grammar, mathematics, Latin, French poetry, German,
drawing, music, and eventually English. Special attention was paid,
as was only natural, to the art of war, “the trade of barbarians,”
as Napoleon once termed it in a capricious moment. Although rich in
promise the colleges fell far short of the high ideals which St Germain
had hoped for them, as do so many plans for the improvement of the
existing order of things.
Notwithstanding all that has been written of Napoleon’s morose and
sullen disposition during his student days, it must not be forgotten
that the young cadet was at a decided disadvantage in making friends.
The matter of language alone was a sufficient barrier to intimate
intercourse at this stage of his scholastic career, and his habit of
diligent study ill-accorded with the frivolous frittering away of
time indulged in by so many of the King’s scholars. Napoleon was a
hard worker, but only in subjects which most appealed to him, such as
history, geography, and mathematics, all of which had a special bearing
on his future career. Latin he despised as being of no practical value
to a soldier; translations he positively loathed. He early learned
to eliminate the non-essential and trivial, and the easy mastery of
details became almost second nature to him.
[Illustration: Napoleon at Brienne
By Réalier Dumas
Photo Neurdein]
His patriotism for his own country burned like a consuming fire. It
is related that one day Napoleon came across a portrait of Choiseul,
the hated Minister of Foreign Affairs under Louis XV. who had been
the main instigator of the seizure of Corsica by the French. The most
insulting remarks were hurled at the painted presentment of the man he
so detested. On another occasion it is said that he averred he would
do the French as much harm as he possibly could. If the story is not
legendary, the statement was doubtless made in a moment of anger;
perhaps after some thoughtless fellow student had taunted him about the
poverty of his family, or the downfall of Paoli, the Corsican patriot
whom he so much admired. His hot Southern blood boiled with indignation
when anything was said which gave offence, and he scarcely, if ever,
endeavoured to curb his hasty temper. He went so far as to challenge
a cadet to a duel. To Bourrienne alone, a lad of his own age, did he
show a marked attachment, and a warm friendship was cemented between
them. Napoleon did not forget his school-chum in later years, and
when a General appointed him to the important position of his private
secretary. In his “Memoirs” Bourrienne gives us several intimate
glimpses of the obscure lad who was to make Europe his footstool. He
tells us that Napoleon frequently meditated on the conquest of his
native island; that the unworthy part played by his father was never
forgiven; that he spent much of his time in solitude. Bourrienne also
confesses that in exchange for assistance in Latin the future Emperor
would lend him a helping hand with his mathematics, the calculations
being made with extraordinary clearness and rapidity.
“At Brienne,” his school-fellow adds, “Bonaparte was remarkable for the
dark colour of his complexion, which the climate of France afterwards
very much changed, as well as for his piercing and scrutinising
glance, and for the style of his conversation, both with his masters
and companions. His conversation almost always gave one the idea of
ill-humour, and he was certainly not very sociable. This I think may be
attributed to the misfortunes of his family during his childhood, and
the impressions made on his mind by the subjugation of his country.”
In these trying days Napoleon’s reticent disposition served him in good
stead. He preferred the library of the school to the playground. While
the other boys were enjoying a game Napoleon was usually poring over
the pages of Plutarch, and deriving inspiration and encouragement from
the deeds of old-time heroes who figure in the “Lives of Illustrious
Men.” Greek poetry had a fascination for him not evident in many lads
of his tender age. “With my sword by my side,” he writes to his mother,
“and Homer in my pocket, I hope to carve my way through the world.”
Cæsar’s “Gallic War” was also a favourite. Although Napoleon was by no
means generally popular, and certainly never inclined to be genial,
the majority of the students gradually began to respect him. It is on
record that he was never a sneak, preferring to bear punishment himself
rather than to divulge the name of a miscreant.
The love of monks for the soil is proverbial; this may have been the
reason why a small portion of ground was allotted to each student at
Brienne. Whatever healthy exercise Napoleon was supposed to derive
from his garden was speedily discounted. He set to work with feverish
activity, transformed the desert into an oasis, planted trees and
shrubs, and surrounded the whole by a palisade in true military
fashion. This done, he troubled no more about agricultural pursuits
but was content to sit in his bower and read with little fear of
disturbance.
In the winter of 1783-4, an abnormally severe season, the anchorite
had an opportunity to show his military powers. Napoleon suggested to
the students that they should build a fort of snow complete in every
detail. The school was then divided into two armies, Napoleon sometimes
directing the assault, at others defending the fortifications. It was
rough play, and several serious accidents befel the cadets, who entered
into the spirit of the thing with more alacrity than the peace-loving
monks approved. Day after day this mock warfare was kept up, and
Napoleon was usually the hero of each encounter.
You can imagine him standing there in his picturesque costume: blue
coat with red facings and white metal buttons, blue breeches, and
a waistcoat of the same colour faced with white. Horace Vernet has
depicted the scene in one of his many Napoleonic paintings. The young
commander, erect and defiant, is directing the storming of the fort by
cadets who, for the most part, have taken off their coats in order to
secure a better aim. An attacking party is climbing the ramparts, some
of the units with success, others with disaster. The picture has been
reproduced many times, and is one of the few dealing with the early
period of the Conqueror’s career.
Without question these were the happiest days of Napoleon’s youth. He
was not a brilliant scholar, and there are no records to show that he
won particular distinction beyond sharing a first prize for mathematics
with Bourrienne, which goes to prove that the latter profited by the
teaching of his chum. Napoleon however, was made commander of a company
of cadets which amply atoned, from his own point of view, for all the
“ploughing” he underwent at examinations. The opinion of M. de Keralio,
one of the inspectors of the military schools, as to Napoleon’s
efficiency is as follows:
“SCHOOL OF BRIENNE: State of the King’s scholars eligible from their
age to enter into the service or to pass to the school at Paris;
to wit, M. de Buonaparte (Napoleon) born the 15th August, 1769, in
height 4 feet 10 inches 10 lines, has finished his fourth season; of
good constitution, health excellent; character submissive, honest and
grateful; conduct very regular; has always distinguished himself by his
application to mathematics; understands history and geography tolerably
well; is indifferently skilled in merely ornamental studies and in
Latin, in which he has only finished his fourth course; would make an
excellent sailor; deserves to be passed on to the school at Paris.”
In the light of after events this diagnosis of his character is
peculiar; it may be added that he had a deep-rooted affection for those
at home in the far-off little island in the Mediterranean. He took upon
himself the burden of thinking for the family, and provided them with
plenty of gratuitous advice not altogether without wisdom.
A few months before Napoleon placed his foot on the next stepping-stone
to fame and fortune he was joined at Brienne by his brother Lucien, who
had been at Autun. In a note to one of his uncles Napoleon expresses
his satisfaction with the newcomer, “for a beginning,” but pours out a
fierce diatribe against Joseph’s wish to give up his idea of becoming a
priest and entering the army. In reality there were more difficulties
in the way than those mentioned by the writer, and eventually the
eldest son was taken home to Corsica by his father. Neither was it
destined that Napoleon should become a sailor. Another inspector
named Reynaud de Monts visited the school in 1784, and decided that
the promising cadet should enter the Military School of Paris, for
which institution he left on the 30th October. To the certificate
which was forwarded, a brief but sufficiently comprehensive note was
added: “Character masterful, impetuous and headstrong.” A complete
contradiction of M. de Keralio’s statement.
No one seeing the dwarfed figure of the lad of fifteen, as he passed
through the entrance of the École Militaire, would have cared to
prophecy that in a few years the King’s scholar would be sitting as
Emperor of the French on the throne of his benefactor. Time reveals its
own secrets.