Napoleon the Soldier of Fortune
(1794-1796)
France resounded with the tramp of armed men. No fewer than five
armies, largely made up of volunteers and probably numbering nearly
700,000, in addition to those on garrison duty, were facing the enemies
of the Republic. There was the Army of the North, of the Moselle, of
the Rhine, of the West, and of Italy. It is interesting to note that
many of those who held important positions in these forces were men
who, like Carteaux and Doppet, had followed other trades or professions
previous to the Revolution. By adapting themselves to circumstances,
exercising ingenuity when their slight knowledge of tactics failed
them, and proving their ability in the field, they had risen to
positions of power and influence. Jourdan, with the Army of the North,
had been a dealer in cloth; with the Army of the Moselle were Hoche and
Moreau, the former the son of an ostler, the latter once a lawyer in
beautiful Brittany; Kléber, of the Army of the West, had been educated
as an architect, while Masséna, who was with the Army of Italy, had
started life as a sailor. The promise of the Revolution to every son
of France, “A career open to talent,” was not a mere boast, but was
realised in many cases. Napoleon himself studied to make his soldiers
feel that no rank was beyond their aspiration. There was a marshal’s
baton in every knapsack.
Although Napoleon received an appointment in the Army of Italy in
the dual capacity of General of Artillery and Inspector-General, the
opportunity of showing his now recognised abilities as an executant
was denied him in this campaign. The chance came from another and an
unexpected direction, namely that of diplomacy. It cannot be said that
his diplomatic attempts in Corsica had been particularly brilliant;
this, however, did not preclude Augustin Robespierre, a Commissioner
of the Convention with whom Napoleon had struck up an intimate
acquaintance, from placing a difficult problem requiring the greatest
political skill and tact in his hands for solution. Genoa, once a
great Sea Power, but now in the evening of her decline and decay, was
supposed to be neutral, in other words, taking sides with none of the
warring nations. But she had allowed enemies of France to pass through
her territory, and by so doing had incurred the wrath of the mighty
Republic, notwithstanding her excuse that she was not powerful enough
to prevent them.
To Genoa, the city of palatial buildings and gorgeous churches,
Napoleon accordingly proceeded in July 1794, and so well did he manage
his cause that his mission was completely successful. On the 28th of
the same month he returned to the headquarters of the Army of Italy in
the full expectation of an ample recognition. His hopes were shattered
by the astounding news that his friend and patron had been executed in
company with his brother Maximilien Robespierre, the cruel chief of the
Jacobins.
During the reign of the “Incorruptible,” as the latter was named by his
friends and supporters, the streets of Paris ran with blood. By his
orders, and those of his satellites, scores of prisoners were dragged
daily from gaol and put to death. The flower of the Nobility of France
suffered in company with the lowest of the low, for the guillotine was
no respecter of persons.
Napoleon found that his diplomatic triumph did not avail to prevent
his arrest on account of what was held to be his suspicious conduct in
connection with the Army of Italy, his recent mission to Genoa, and his
intimacy with the younger Robespierre, whose admiration had gone so
far as to prompt a reference to Napoleon in a despatch to Government
as “a man of transcendent merit.” For a time his destiny hung in the
balance. Had Salicetti, Albitte and Laporte, the Commissioners of the
Convention who examined his papers, cared to condemn him, the General
in all probability would have met the same terrible fate as his friend.
There is more than a suspicion that Salicetti now viewed Napoleon with
jealousy, but, according to Marmont, he used his influence to procure
his release. It is difficult to arrive at the truth in a matter such
as this, when contemporary narrators do not agree. In history one must
not take too much for granted, and perhaps it may be a reasonable
conclusion to assume that Salicetti was not ignorant of the potential
powers of his countryman, and that he recognised that no good could be
done by condemning such a man, while much advantage might accrue to
himself if he supported him.
Meanwhile the enterprising General was deprived of his rank. Instead of
bemoaning his fate, Napoleon penned an energetic letter to his judges
in which he defended his case on the grounds of his patriotism, his
hatred of all tyrants, and his public services. On the 20th August a
counter-order was issued in which mention was made of the “advantages
which might be derived from his military information and knowledge of
localities, for the service of the Republic,” and recommending that
Citizen Bonaparte be “restored provisionally to liberty, and that he
should remain at headquarters pending further instructions from the
Committee of Public Safety.”
Napoleon spent fourteen days in suspense at Fort Carré, near Antibes,
but he was mercifully allowed a supply of books and maps which helped
to pass the time. On the last day of his imprisonment an officer came
at two o’clock in the morning to announce the pleasing intelligence
that his release was ordered.
“What! Are you not in bed yet?” he cried in astonishment as he entered
the cell and saw Napoleon poring over the litter of papers on the
little table.
“In bed!” was the contemptuous retort. “I have had my sleep, and am
already risen.”
“What, so early?” the officer replied, amazed beyond measure at so
unusual a statement.
“Yes,” continued the prisoner, “so early. Two or three hours of sleep
are enough for any man.”
To use a familiar and expressive simile, Napoleon had now “jumped
from the frying-pan into the fire.” Although he was restored to his
former rank he was not sent back to the army, but remained for a time
unemployed, living with his family at Marseilles. While there he fell
in love with Mademoiselle Désirée Clary, the daughter of a wealthy
soap merchant, whose sister Julie had married Joseph Bonaparte. The
enraptured lover went so far as to arrange for the wedding to take
place in the following autumn. “Perhaps I am doomed to shine like a
meteor,” he told the object of his affection, “but I will ensure you
a brilliant existence.” Love’s young dream was soon shattered by
the disturbing spirit of ambition, and vowing eternal faithfulness
Napoleon left his sorrowful sweetheart and promptly forgot his pledge.
An expedition against Corsica, which had passed into the hands of the
British, had been decided upon. In company with his brother Louis, now
a sub-lieutenant of artillery, he set sail on the 3rd March 1795, and
came near to being captured, two of the ships carrying the soldiers
falling prey to the “ravening wolves of the sea,” as Napoleon called
English sailors. The defeat sustained on this occasion added one more
to his long list of disasters in connection with Corsican affairs.
At the beginning of May he went to Paris to anticipate or await future
events. He now resumed his friendship with Bourrienne, who had been in
Germany. Offered an appointment as Brigadier-General of Infantry in
the Army of the West, then engaged in putting down the civil war in La
Vendée, he refused it on his usual plea of ill-health. In reality he
considered it beneath his dignity to accept the command. The Central
Committee retaliated by having his name struck off the active list.
This displeasure was not to be of considerable duration. Napoleon
turned his attention to the drawing up of a definite scheme of campaign
for the Army of Italy, now meeting with rebuffs at the hands of the
Austrians. The documents were sent to the Committee of Public Safety in
July, and helped him to secure a staff appointment in the topographical
department of the War Office, where he worked at plans and operations
for the benefit of the various French armies in the field. Incidentally
he made the acquaintance of various people likely to be of use to him
in the furtherance of his career, and renewing that with Barras whom
he had first met at Toulon.
Meantime Paris, well named the Gay City, had assumed something of its
former aspect. There was marriage and giving in marriage, the theatres
and other places of amusement opened anew, and the infallible barometer
of business began to rise. Almost everywhere the half-trained armies
had been victorious. Apparently “better times” had begun. The change
in the political weather, although clearer, was not so noticeable. To
be sure a constitution had been framed by the National Convention and
was given to the world on the 22nd September 1795, but it did not give
the universal satisfaction hoped for by the more enthusiastic of its
supporters. In certain minor respects the Legislative Body upon which
they had decided was not unlike our own Parliament, in so far as it
consisted of two Houses, the lower chamber being called the Council of
Five Hundred and the upper chamber the Council of Ancients. The former
drew up the laws, the latter passed, adjusted, or rejected them. From
the two Councils a Directory of five men vested with the executive
power was to be chosen, one of whom was to retire for re-election every
year.
Having decreed that one-third of the members of both Councils should
also retire in the same way, either to be re-elected or to surrender
their places to others, the Convention stirred up a hornet’s nest for
itself by deciding that two-thirds of its members should be retained
in the new Legislature, whereas it had originally assembled for the
purpose of drawing up a constitution and not to govern. Girondists and
supporters of the Mountain alike clung tenaciously to office, anxious
to retain the spoils of victory. The members of the Convention soon
found that public opinion was against them. “This measure,” says Baron
de Frénilly, “aroused general indignation, for nobody, apart from its
accomplices, wished that it should possess either power or impunity.”
Paris was again in a ferment as serious as it was unexpected. The
old battle cry of “Down with the aristocrats!” gave place to that of
“Down with the two-thirds!” A rival government called the Central
Committee was set up and almost as speedily suppressed by the regular
troops, acting on the authority of the Convention. They met with
more difficulty in attempting to disperse the insurgent electors of
Paris, who had 30,000 National Guards on their side. General Menou,
the commander of the troops, was taken prisoner, only to be put under
arrest on his release by the party whom he had attempted to defend. The
command was then given to Paul Barras, who among others chose Napoleon
as a lieutenant. He could not have selected a better man, as subsequent
events proved. Barras ordered cannon from the Sablons camp, and the
trained eye of his colleague enabled him to place them in the best
possible positions to command the various thoroughfares and bridges
which led to the Tuileries, the building against which the National
Guard and the citizens were marching. Napoleon had certainly not more
than 7,000 armed men at his disposal, but his troops were victorious
on the ever-memorable 13th Vendémiaire (5th October 1795), and the
“whiff of grape shot,” as he termed it, helped materially to pave the
way to the throne. For the present his skill was rewarded by the rank
of second in command of the Army of the Interior, and later, when
his friend Barras vacated the senior position, Napoleon received the
appointment.
The National Convention could afford to be generous to the beardless
young General who had saved the situation. It forthwith settled down
to elect five Directors, namely, La Réveillière-Lépeaux, Letourneur,
Rewbell, Carnot, and Barras.
Napoleon now began to take an interest in Society. He frequented the
_Salons_ where wit and beauty gathered for mutual admiration and
intellectual entertainment. It is doubtful whether he cared for either
to any considerable extent. Certainly he had no mock modesty, and
realising more than ever the value of being on speaking terms with
those likely to be of service to him, he regarded the precious hours
thus apparently wasted as a future asset. He preferred the _Salon_
of Barras to any other. This led to his introduction to his future
first wife, the fascinating Josephine de Beauharnais, whose courtier
husband had suffered the same fate as Robespierre during the Reign of
Terror. Addison, the famous essayist, tells us that “a marriage of
love is pleasant; a marriage of interest--easy; and a marriage where
both meet--happy.” Napoleon’s matrimonial venture may be regarded as
a judicious combination of the two, and to a certain extent it was
happy. The marriage, which was not blessed by the Church, it being a
Civil contract, took place on the 9th March 1796. The bridegroom was
twenty-six years of age, his bride thirty-four.
Ten days before Napoleon had been given command of the Army of Italy
at the instigation of Carnot. Barras, in his _Mémoires_, insinuates
that his influence led the Directory to this decision. In reality
the General had largely won his own case. His pen had not lost its
cunning, and further plans which he had brought forward for a decisive
campaign by the now moribund Army of Italy had attracted considerable
attention, although when sent to Schérer, who had succeeded Kellermann
in the command, they met with a rebuff at the hands of that worthy. As
a direct consequence he was superseded by the soldier who had dared to
interfere.
During his exile, when the glamour of his second marriage with the
daughter of the Cæsars had passed and the memory of better times was
the bitter-sweet consolation of his turbulent mind, Napoleon frequently
reflected on his affection for the vivacious woman who shared his
first triumphs and his throne. “Josephine was devoted to me,” he tells
Montholon, one of the little band of faithful followers who refused to
desert him in the hour of failure. “She loved me tenderly; no one ever
had a preference over me in her heart. I occupied the first place in
it; her children the next; and she was right in thus loving me; for
she is the being whom I have most loved, and the remembrance of her is
still all-powerful in my mind.”