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BOWAPARTE 
 
EARLY LIFE, AND FIllST CAMPAIGNS, 
 
 -'''*!?SR»?^fi?n.5;" 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE; 
 
 WITH A 
 
 HISTORY OF THE BONAPARTE FAMILY, 
 
 A REVIEW OF FRENCH POLITICS, 
 
 TO THE YEAR 1796. 
 
 BEN: PERLEY POORE, 
 
 Correspondins Member of the New York and the Rhode Island Historical Societies. 
 
 / 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS. 
 
 1851. 
 
Entered according to an Act of Congress, in tiie year 1851, by 
 
 Ben: Perley Poore, 
 
 in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Numerous as are the biographies of Napoleon Bonaparte, the reading public may 
 not look ungraciously upon a young American's attempt to chronicle, from original materials, 
 the early deeds of that extraordinary being, whose good and bad qualities have so intensely 
 fixed the attention of the world. While all-adoring Frenchmen have sought to enhance the 
 brilliancy of their idol's career, by the false glare of enthusiastic flattery ; British historians 
 have been stimulated by a fantastic zeal for hereditary royalty, to blacken the reputation 
 of the once powerful enemy of their nation : — and it is only by submitting these contra- 
 dictory views to the test of a trans-atlantic balance, that they can be reduced to the standard 
 of truth. This idea originated with Major Henry Lee, of Virginia, who was at Paris when 
 Sir Walter Scott published his notoriously unjust "Life of Napoleon." Considering the 
 name of the "author of Waverley" less glorious than that of the citizen Emperor — his memory 
 less sacred than truth, the talented American determined to repair the injustice by an 
 impartial history. The first volume was published at Paris, in January, 1837, and a few 
 days afterwards the labors of the gifted author were prematurely suspended by his untimely 
 decease. 
 
 Marshal Soult, Gen, Pelet, and other veterans of the Imperial Army, had taken a great 
 interest in Maj. Lee's work, and when (in 1846,) the subscriber commenced his re- 
 searches in the Archives of the War Department at Paris, (as Historical Agent of the 
 Commonwealth of Massachusetts,) he was induced to carry out the idea of his gifted 
 countryman. Every facility was afforded hiin by the French Government, and in 
 addition to the copies of important manuscripts from their Archives, he obtained 
 the curious journals of several notable Americans who were in France during Napoleon's 
 career. The Emperor's early homes, his palaces, and over forty of his sixty victorious 
 battle-fields were carefully visited, — the French, English and American newspapers of the 
 epoch were read, and many curious unpublished incidents were gathered from the lips of 
 the survivors. From these valuable materials the subscriber sought to recapitulate the prin- 
 cipal events of Napoleon's life, with their causes and their consequences. Not merelv 
 his conquests and his creation of king-vassals — but the more glorious phases of his civil 
 rule — his diplomatic intercourse, (particularly with the United States,) and his gigantic 
 public works — his social and his domestic life — his loves and his hatreds — his glory and 
 his exile — his virtues and his religion ! 
 
 The greater portion of the following pages were printed last Winter, when the -subscriber 
 was forced to suspend his labors — to glean historical materials in another field. Should this 
 narration of the most uninteresting portion of Napoleon's life prove acceptable to the public, 
 he will continue and complete it hereafter. The proofs of this volume, it is but justice to 
 state, have been revised by that able historian, Mr. C. C. Hazewell, to whom the subscriber 
 is greatly indebted for much valuable information. 
 
 Many statements in this work will conflict with those advanced by other historians, par- 
 ticularly. Sir Walter Scott. The " mithor of Waverhj " was unfitted for the task, for he 
 had been to long engaged in converting history into fiction, to succeed in recording contem- 
 poraneous events in the simple language of history. He had indulged too long in the realms 
 of imagination to confine himself strictly to the rigid boundaries of truth; nor is it, therefore, 
 surprising that discrepancies and mis-statements, omissions and mistakes, are to be found 
 profusely scattered through his pages. The correction of these errors — to use the words of 
 Maj. Lee — will counteract, in imposing form, and by a single operation, a diversified mass 
 of historical falsehood, and establish in the reader's mind, various and important truths. 
 It was observed by Lord Bacon, that " the enquiry of truth, which is the wooing of it ; the 
 knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it ; and the belief of truth, which is the enjoy- 
 ing of it ; is the sovereign good of human nature." 
 
 Ben: Perley Poore. 
 Indian Hill Farm, } 
 
 JFest Newbury, 1851. 5 
 
" The stormy joy, the trembling hope 
 That wait on mightiest enterprise; 
 The panting heart of one, whose scope 
 Was empire, and who gained the prize, 
 And grasps a crown, of which it seemed 
 Scarce less than madness, to have dreamed, - 
 All these were his ; glory that shone 
 The brighter for its perils past. 
 The rout, the victory, the throne. 
 The gloom of banishment at last, — 
 Twice in the very dust abased, — 
 And twice on Fortune's altar raised. 
 
 " His name was heard and mute with fear. 
 
 Contending centuries stood by, 
 
 Submissive, from his mouth to hear 
 
 The sentence of their destiny; 
 
 While he bad silence be, and sate 
 
 Between them, arbiter of fate. 
 He passed, and on a barren rock 
 Inactive closed his proud career, 
 A mark for envy's rpdest shock. 
 For pity's warmest, purest tear. 
 For iiatred's unextinguished fire. 
 And love that lives when all expire." 
 
 — Translated from Manzord. 
 
THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 
 
 CARLO BONAPARTE, Advocate,— born at Ajaccio, March 29, 1746— died at Mont- 
 pellier, Sept. 23, 1785. He married Letitia Ramolini, born August 24, 1750 — died 
 at Rome in 1836 — mortal remains removed to Ajaccio in 1851. 
 
 THEIR CHILDREN t 
 
 I. JOSEPH, born at Corte, January 7, 1768— King of Naples from March 30, 1806, 
 to 1808 — King of Spain from June 6, 1808, to 1813 — Exile in America, under the title of 
 Count de Survilliers, sixteen years, during which time he resided at Bordentown, New Jer- 
 sey — died in Italy, April 7, 1845. He was declared successor to the throne of France in 
 the event of the death of the Emperor and his son without heirs. He married Marie Julie 
 Clary, sister of one of the first merchants in Marseilles. She was also the sister of the wife 
 of Bernadotte, who was made King of Sweden in 1818; and whose son, Oscar BernadottCj 
 is the present King of Sweden. This Oscar in 1823 married Josephine, eldest daughter 
 of Eugene, who was the son of the Empress Josephine. 
 
 1. Zenaide Charlotte Julie, born 1804 — married June 30, 1822, to Charles, Prince 
 Musignano, son of Lucien, Prince of Canino. 
 
 2. Charlotte, born 1802 — married Napoleon Louis, son of Louis, King of Holland, 
 in whose favor Louis abdicated in 1810 — he was the eldest brother of the present Pres- 
 ident of France — he took part in the Italian revolution in 1831, in which year he diedj 
 and she died in 1839. 
 
 //. NAPOLEON, born at Ajaccio, August 15, 1769 — Emperor of the French, March 
 18, 1804— King of Italy, March 26, 1805 — died in captivity at Saint Helena, May 6, 1821 
 — mortal remains removed to France in 1841. He married: 1. Marie Rose Josephine 
 Tascher de la Pagerie, born at Martinique, June 23, 1763 — married first to the Mar- 
 quis de Beauharnais, and, secondly to Napoleon, March 9, 1796 — died at Malmaison, May 29, 
 1814. 2. Marie Louise, Arch Duchess of Austria — born December 12, 1791 — created 
 Grand Duchess of Parma, May 30, 1814^ — died, the mother of a large family, December 7, 
 1847. 
 
 1- Napoleon Francois Charles Joseph, bom at Paris, March 20, isii.and 
 
 proclaimed King of Rome — after the abdication of his father, he was conveyed to Aus- 
 tria, and named Prince of Parma, but was deprived of the right of succession to that 
 Duchy by the peace of Paris, in 1814 — in 1818 he was created Duke of Reichstadt, in 
 Bohemia. He died near Vienna, July 22, 1832. 
 
 ///. LUCIEN, born at Ajaccio in 1775 — President of the Council of Five Hundred at 
 its dissolution by Napoleon — Minister of the Interior under the Consular Covernment — Am- 
 bassador to Spain at the negociation for the creation of the kingdom of Etruria — retired 
 from public life on his brother's assumption of the diadem — resided some time in England, 
 where he arrived Dec. 18, 1810 — On Napoleon's abdication in 1814, he went to Rome, 
 was well received by the Pope, and purchased considerable estates, from whence he derived 
 the titles of Prince of Canino, Duke of Musignano, &c. — he joined his brother on his return 
 from Elba, was arrested after the battle Waterloo, but allowed to retire to the Roman States, 
 where he died June 25, 1840. He married: 1. Christine Boyer. 2. Alexandrine Laurence 
 de Bleschamp. 
 
 1. Lolotte, born 1796 — married to Prince Galincia. 
 
 2. Christine Egypta, born 1798 — married to Lord Dudley Coutts Stuart, twelfth 
 son of Lord Bate. 
 
 3. Charles Lucien, born May 24, 1803 — a zealous naturalist — married hia cousin 
 Zenaide. 
 
 4. Lcetitia, born 1804 — married Thomas Wyse, an Irish Catholic Member of Parli* 
 ament, who left her on account of her infidelity. 
 
 5. Louis Lucien, born 1813. 
 
 6. Pierre J^apokoni born 1815 — elected to the Natiolial Assembly in 1818. 
 
 7. Antoine, bom 1816. 
 
 8. Alexandria Marie, bora 1818 — married to Count ValOntini. 
 
 9. Constance, born 1823 — a nun at Rome* 
 
 10. Paul, died in Greece. 
 
 11. Jeanne, married to the Marquis Honoratio. 
 
vni THE BONAPARTE FAMILY. 
 
 IV. MARIE ANNE ELISA, born January 3, 1771— Princess of Lucca— died at 
 Trieste, August 9, 1820. She married, March 5, 1797, Prince Felix de Bacciochi, who 
 died August, 1820. 
 
 1. J\rapoleone Elisa, born 1803 — married to Count Camerata. 
 
 2. Frederic, born 1810 — died at Rome. 
 
 V. LOUIS, born September 2, 1778— High Constable of France, 1804— King of Hol- 
 land from May, 1806 to July 1810. He married Hortense, daughter of Josephine and 
 the Marquis de Beauharnais, from whom he was afterwards separated — she died Oct. 5, 
 1837; and he in Italy, July 25, 1846. 
 
 1. JVapoleon Charles, born 1802 — heir to Napoleon on failure of his own issue — died 
 1807. 
 
 2. J\''apoleon Louis, born 1804 — married his cousin Charlotte — died 1831, supposed to 
 have been poisoned. 
 
 3. Louis Nauoleon, bom at Paris, April 20, 1808 — took part in the Italian 
 revolution of 1831 — invaded France at Strasbourg in 1836 — visited the United States 
 in 1837 — invaded France at Boulogne in 1840, and was imprisoned for life — escaped 
 in 1845 — elected Representative in 1848, and chosen President the same year, by 
 5,974,020 votes. 
 
 VI. MARIE PAULINE, born October 20, 1780— created Princes of Guastalla, 1806 
 — married: 1. General Le Clerc — 2. Prince Camille Borghese^ — died at Florence, June 9, 
 1825. 
 
 VIL MARIE ANNUNCIADE CAROLINE, born at Ajaccio, March 25, 1782— 
 married Joachim Murat, King of Naples, July 15, 1808 — died at Florence, May 18, 1839. 
 He was shot in Calabria, Oct. 15, 1815. 
 
 1. JVapoleon AchiJle Charles Louis, born January 21, 1801 — Prince Royal of the 
 two Sicilies — emigrated to Florida, where he died, April 15, 1847. 
 
 2. Lcetitia Josephe, born April 25, 1802 — married Count Pepoli, of Bologna. 
 
 3. Lucien Charles Joseph Francis JVapoleon, born March 16, 1803 — emigrated to 
 South America, and thence to New Jersey — returned to France in 1848, and was elected 
 a member of the National Assembly. 
 
 4. Louise Julie Caroline, born March 22, 1805 — married to Count Rasponi, of 
 Ravenna. 
 
 VIIJ JEROME, born at Ajaccio, December 15, 1784 — King of Wirtpmberg — created 
 Prince de Monlford, 1816 — named by his nephew Louis Napoleon, Governor of the Hopital 
 des Invalides, at Paris, 1850. [Married in 1803, while in command of a French fleet at 
 Baltimore, Miss Betsey Patterson, a native of Belfast, Ireland, then residing in that city. 
 He carried her to France, but Napoleon had a divorce decreed, and sent her back to Balti- 
 more. She had a son, Jerome, who has visited Europe, and been kindly received by his 
 father — his son Jerome was recently a cadet at West Point.] Married, 2, Frederique 
 Catherine Dorothee, Princess Royal of Wirtemberg — born February 21, 1783 — died No- 
 vember 28, 1835. 
 
 1. Jerome JVapoleon, born at Trieste, August 24, 1814 — Colonel in the army of 
 Wirtemberg — died in 1847. 
 
 2. jyi'ithilde Lmtitia Wilhelmine, born at Trieste, May 27, 1820 — married Prince 
 Demidoff in 1841 — separated in 1848 — at the head of the Presidential mansion of her 
 cousin in 1850. 
 
 3. JVapoleon Joseph Charles Paul, born at Trieste, Sept. 9, 1822 — elected to the 
 National Assembly in 1848. 
 
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE: 
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte was a native 
 of Corsica, a mountainous island in the Tus- 
 can sea, about one hundred and fifty miles in 
 length, and fifty in breadth. Large forests of 
 oak, pine and chestnut trees cover its high- 
 lands, while in the fertile valleys are mul- 
 berry, fig, citron, and orange groves. Herds 
 of black sheep find sufficient pasture through- 
 out the year, and an abundance of wine, 
 grain, oil and fruits reward the labors of the 
 husbandman. Industrious, temperate and 
 frugal, the Corsican yeomen are strangers to 
 poverty, devoted to their families, and as un- 
 tameable in spirit as the stormy sea-winds 
 that sweep their mountain-tops. Tracta- 
 ble under the control of reason and religion, 
 we find thai when these restraints do not 
 exist, as in Corsica, a love of Independence 
 degenerates into an egotistical resistance to 
 all authority, while family pride leads to 
 excesses which would be ridiculous, if they 
 were not unfortunately unnatural and atro- 
 cious. 
 
 The Vendetta, as this barbarous social 
 code is termed, obliges all the male relations 
 of a murdered man, to the third degree of 
 consanguinity, to avenge his death. Bur- 
 glary, counterfeiting, poisoning, fraudulent 
 bankruptcy — in fact, few if any of the crimes 
 which spring from a refinement of civilization 
 — are almost unknown in Corsica, but the 
 victims to a savage thirst of family vengeance 
 are numerous. Merciless and relentless, the 
 self-appointed executioners of the Vendetta 
 do not even give their doomed enemies a 
 chance to fight for life. Amid the mountains 
 are large plains of table-land, covered with 
 the luxurious growth of the arbutus, the myr- 
 tle, and the gum cistus. Here the executioner 
 of hereditary vengeance will lie concealed for 
 hours, and even days, until the doomed vic- 
 tim passes unconsciously along one of the few 
 tracks which are formed through the bushes, 
 more by cattle and horses than by the labor 
 of man. A bullet sends the unfortunate 
 wretch to his last account " unhouseled, un- 
 
 annealed," and a rough wooden cross man^ 
 the spot where he fell. Sometimes, different 
 sections of the same village are at war with 
 each other, pitched battles ensue, families 
 remain for weeks barricaded in their houses, 
 and, worse than all, children cannot be sent 
 to school, as there would be no mercy for 
 them. In fact, they inherit this love of 
 vengeance and blood, often attacking one 
 another with loaded pistols. Even women 
 lose the characteristic softness of their sex in 
 this fiery atmosphere of hatred and wrath, 
 and are to be seen loading and firing by the 
 side of their fiithers and husbands, in the 
 thickest of the fight.* 
 
 Many of the principal Corsicans at the close 
 of the last century, were bandits, a word of 
 Italian origin, which signifies a banished per- 
 son, and implies no degradation. Exiled 
 from their Tuscan and Roman homes on 
 account of their political opinions, they car- 
 ried with them to the colony of Republican 
 Genoa a high standard of mental capacity, 
 and a love of Freedom. There was also a 
 colony of the descendants of those ancient 
 Spartans, whose actions all nations have ad- 
 mired, but no one has ever successfully imi- 
 tated. Driven from Lacedfemonia, after its 
 rulers had ceased to observe the wise institu- 
 tions of Lycurgus, the exiled Greeks preferred 
 Corsica to any other location, because its 
 mountainous surface presented them with the 
 image of their native land.f In the course 
 of time these immigrant races intermarried 
 with the native Corsicans, thus mingling 
 prominent traits of their national character in 
 the blood of their offspring. Napoleon Bona- 
 parte inherited an Italian love of independ- 
 ence from his father — a Spartan sobriety and 
 military spirit which had characterised the 
 ancestry of his mother — and a native Corsican 
 jealousy of family reputation which ever 
 urged him to ennoble his name, and to ele- 
 
 * Traits of Corsican Character. — Burdett. 
 t Description of Corsica. — Prince Frederic. 
 
10 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE: 
 
 vate the people who delighted to call him 
 "Sire." 
 
 Men who rise to eminence by their own 
 exertions, seldom allude to those of their an- 
 cestors who may have been distinguished, 
 and when the Ernperorof Austria once alluded 
 to the noble parentage of his Imperial son-in- 
 law. Napoleon, remarked that he was the Ro- 
 dolph of his family — a prince of that name 
 having established the rule of the House of 
 Hapsburg at Vienna. Yet genealogists — who 
 turn from the actions of great men to their 
 pedigrees, as travellers leave_ the currents of 
 noble rivers to explore their sources — tell us 
 that the name of the Bonaparte family is 
 linked with Italy's past greatness. The ear- 
 liest mention of them occurs in Bonifazio's 
 History of Treviso, at the year 1178, when 
 Giovanni Bonaparte was sent as envoy of the 
 Trevisans to Padua, to leai^n the political sen- 
 timents of that city. This Giovanni was one 
 of the first knights of the Spanish order of 
 St. Jago, instituted in 1170, and founder of 
 the hospital of that order in his native city. 
 His descendant, Nordillo Bonaparte, as Syn- 
 dic of Treviso, concluded in 1271 a treaty of 
 commerce between that city and Venice, and 
 died in 1290, leaving his fortune to a hospital 
 which still bears his name. Pietro Bona- 
 parte, a brother of Nordillo, took a prominent 
 part in a league of noblemen, formed in 1312, 
 to oppose certain monarchial oppressions, and 
 in 1319 he visited the court of Frederic of 
 Austria, as Ambassador from Padua. 
 
 About 1450, the Bonaparte family estab- 
 lished themselves at San Miniato del Tedes- 
 00, a picturesque village near Florence, where 
 the remains of its feudal castle still exist. 
 Here, in the archives of the house, was pre- 
 served, "A History of the sacking of Rome 
 by the Constable de Bourbon, in 1527," by 
 Jacobo Bonaparte, who vv'itnessed, and boldly 
 denounced the vandal-like conduct of the 
 French — repeated, by order of the historian's 
 descendant, in 1849. This work, which is 
 now in the Royal Library at Paris, is a clever 
 composition, but does not display either the 
 brilliant style which is seen in "La Verdova," 
 an early comedy from the pen of Niccolo 
 Bonaparte ; or the profound thought which 
 characterises the essays of Ranieri Bonaparte, 
 who was the founder of the far-famed class 
 of jurisprudence at the University of Pisa. 
 
 Ardent partisans of the Ghibellines, the 
 Bonapartes were mostly exiled from Tuscany 
 by the victorious Guelphs, though one — a 
 student, who cared more for astrology than for 
 civil war — was permitted to retain the estate 
 at San Miniato. One of his younger broth- 
 ers, Ludovico Maria Fortuna Bonaparte, 
 went to Genoa, from whence he emigrated to 
 the " island of refuge" in 1612, and settled 
 at Talavo, where he became the head of a 
 "pieve,'^ or clan. All the Italian branches 
 gradually became extinct, and when the re- 
 nowned Corsican scion visited the home of his 
 fathers, at the head of a victorious army, his 
 only living kinsman was the Abbe Filippo Bo- 
 naparte, canon of San Miniato. This was an 
 old man, well-informed on the family history, 
 and well to do in the world, though not rich 
 
 enough, as he complained to his victorious 
 kinsman, to procure the canonization of a 
 certain father Bonaventura Bonaparte, who 
 had died in a Capucin monastery at Bo- 
 logna, in all the odor of sanctity. "The 
 Pope will not refuse you," said the good 
 Abbe, " if you ask him ; and should it be 
 necessary to pay the sum now, it will be a 
 mere trifle for you." 
 
 Saints were not the order of the day at that 
 stormy period, so Napoleon contented himself 
 with creating his namesake a Knight of the 
 Order of St. Stephen, though the old man 
 was much less anxious about the favors of 
 this world than the religious justice which he 
 so pertinaciously claimed. Pope Pius VII., 
 when he came to Paris to crown the Empe- 
 ror, also referred to the claims of Father 
 Bonaventura. "It was doubtless he," said 
 the Pontif}', "who, from his seat among the 
 blessed, had led his relative by the hand, as 
 it were, through the glorious earthly career 
 he had traversed, and who had preserved 
 Napoleon in the midst of so many dangers 
 and battles." The Emperor, however, al- 
 ways turned a deaf ear to these remarks, 
 leaving it to the Pope's own discretion to pro- 
 vide for the glory of Bonaventura. As for 
 the old Abbe of San Miniato, he died during 
 the Empire, bequeathing his fortune to Na- 
 poleon, who presented it to one of the public 
 establishments in Tuscany.* 
 
 Carlo Marie de Bonaparte, who was born 
 in Corsica in 1747, was less fortunate and 
 shorter lived than many of his ancestors, yet 
 it is said of him that he was the Sire of 
 Sovereigns, and among them of a Monarch, 
 to whom Emperors were suppliants, and who 
 prostrated, pardoned and created Kings, 
 His grandfather left three sons — Joseph, 
 Napoleon, and Lucien — he was the only 
 child of Joseph ; Napoleon left only a daugh- 
 ter, Elizabeth, (who married the head of the 
 Ornano fiiiuily,) and Lucien was a priest. 
 The young man who was thus the eldest in 
 descent, as well as the sole representative of 
 his name on the island, was educated by a 
 priest among his picve, at Talavo, and 
 afterwards sent to the mother country in 
 order to complete his education. Commenc- 
 ing his studies at the Roman Jesuits' college, 
 he had a difficulty (which was never arrang- 
 ed) with the fraternity, and went to Pisa. 
 He was there warmly received as a descend- 
 ant of one of the founders of the University, 
 and took the degree of Doctor of Laws. 
 
 Returning to Corsica, Carlo Bonaparte 
 commenced the practice of law. Proud and 
 high tempered, he became involved in fre- 
 quent disputes, especially as he was openly 
 hostile to the Jesuits, but his integrity or his 
 honor were never questioned. The members ^ N 
 of his profession respected his learning and t i 
 admired his genius, while his genial humor ^ I 
 excited enthusiastic affection among his inti- J I 
 mate friends. Though not above the middle ■ i 
 height, he had a symmetrical, imposing figure, i ,H 
 and a handsome face ; his complexion was of j 
 a clear olive tint, his eyes were piercing, and 
 
 * Memorial of St. Helena. — Las Caaas. 
 
ANCESTRY AND FAMILY. 
 
 il 
 
 there was an expression of delicate sentiment 
 about his finely formed mouth. Fastidious 
 in his dress, he wore the* powdered wig and 
 embroidered velvet of those times, with the 
 sword that his rank entitled him to carry, and 
 lie was noted for bland and courteous man- 
 ners, with a spice of gallantry for the fair sex. 
 
 When but nineteen years of age, he won 
 the atiectious of Letitia Ramolino, and they 
 ivere married in the cathedral at Ajaccio, 
 lespite the disapproval by the families of this 
 premature connexion. A descendant from 
 ihat glorious people who banished Archilogus 
 Prom Sparta for saying in jest " that it would 
 be wiser to run away than to fall sword in 
 liand," the young bride was a woman of rare 
 palilies. Her graceful figure, passionate 
 iark eyes, and bewitchingly beautiful fea- 
 tures, were imprinted on the hearts of all 
 who saw her ; and we are told that at an as- 
 lemblage of the loveliest women in Corsica, 
 it the Governor's palace, in order to soften 
 ;he hearts of some Sloslem ambassadors from 
 Funis, iMadame de Bonaparte was pronounc- 
 sd the most beautiful. Sir \\'alter Scott gives 
 publicity to a pretended rumor of her crnni- 
 lal intimacy with the octogenarian French 
 jovernor, Count de Marboeuf, but there exists 
 10 reason for calling in question her honorable 
 conduct, dignity and intelligence, throughout 
 ler chequered life. 
 
 Though she became a widow at the age of 
 ;hirty, Letitia de Bonaparte was the mother 
 •f tiiirteen children : Joseph, King of Spain. — 
 \apoleon — Lucien, Prince of Canino — 
 Louis, King of Holland, (the father of Louis 
 Vapoleon) — Jerome, King of Westphalia — 
 Eliza, Grand Duchess of Tuscany — Pauline, 
 Princess Borghese — Caroline, Queen of Na- 
 ples — and five who died in infancy. 
 
 Carlo de Bonaparte's country Jiomestead 
 ivas so burthened with mortgages, that he 
 ivas unable to reside there in the feudal state 
 ,vhich became the head of a pievc, and moved 
 nto a house owned by his bride, in Ajaccio, 
 he principal city on the island. This build- 
 ng, to which many a gallant man has made 
 jilgrimage as the birthplace of the object of 
 lis veneration, fornis one side of a court 
 ,vhich leads out of Charles street. It is of 
 (tone, four stories in height, and fitted up 
 with elegance and comfort. " You have per- 
 laps visited it," said Napoleon to gaoler 
 iludson Lowe, when speaking of his confined 
 )rison shed at Longwood, " You have per- 
 laps visited it — at any rate you resided long 
 inough in Corsica to know that it was by no 
 Beans the worst house on the island, and that 
 [ have no reason to be ashamed of my family 
 ;ircumstances." * 
 
 Opposition to despotism characterized Carlo 
 le Bonaparte's early married life. In 1755 
 he Corsicans had proclaimed the independ- 
 ince of their island, and opposed, sword in 
 land, the forces of their Genoese masters, 
 'asquale Paoli, a young patriot who had not 
 een thirty summers, was chosen their leader, 
 ind although he could not drive the Genoese 
 rom the island, he forced them to cede to 
 
 • Manuscript note. — Montholon. 
 
 France that which they could not retain. 
 This transfer was by no means acceptable to 
 the Corsicans, and no one was more indignant 
 at the annexation than Carlo de Bonaparte, 
 who made a speech in the Assembly which 
 electrified the democracy of the island, while 
 it also taught them the necessity of modera- 
 tion. "If it only depended on the will to 
 become free," said he, "all nations would 
 be so ; yet history teaches us that very few 
 have attained liie blessings of liberty, because 
 few have had energy, courage, and virtue 
 enough to deserve them." 
 
 Madame de Bonaparte was also enthusias- 
 tic for the restoration of her country's free- 
 dom. Putting Joseph, her first-born son, to 
 nurse, she joined her husband at die head of 
 his picve, and shared with him the dangers 
 and privations of a mountain warfare with the 
 French invaders. Encouraging the timid, 
 nursing the wounded, and inspiring all with 
 invigorating examples of devotion to the cause 
 of independence, she remained with the Cor- 
 sican army until it was dispersed at the dis- 
 astrous battle of Ponte Novo. Paoli fled to 
 Leghorn, and Carlo de Bonaparte only delay- 
 ed his own departure to obtain a safe-conduct 
 for his wife, whose situation required the 
 comforts of her home. It is for physiologists 
 to determine whether the character of her 
 expected oft'spring was influenced by this 
 campaign, ennobled by the idea that it was 
 carried on for the protection of hearths and 
 homes. 
 
 The fifteenth of August, 1769, was the 
 Festival of the Assumption, and Madame de 
 Bonaparte, who was a devout Catholic, at- 
 tended the celebration of mass at the cathedral 
 of Ajaccio. Warned homeward ere the cere- 
 mony was concluded, she encountered on the 
 way a military acquaintance, who, observing 
 an uncommon glow in her countenance and 
 lustre in her eyes, and never thinking that 
 they were the effects of pain and agitation, 
 complimented her on her unusual beauty. Ex- 
 cusing herself, she hastened home, and with 
 diriiculty managed to reach her parlor, and 
 ring the bell. W'hen the domestic arrived, 
 the irolher was found on the sofa, in a faint- 
 ing fit, and the child was born — though not, 
 as Scott chronicles, on " an ancient piece of 
 tapestry, representing the heroes of the Iliad." 
 He came into the world as he rose to great- 
 ness, without assistance.* 
 
 Carlo de Bonaparte was at Porto Vecchio 
 when he received the intelligence of this 
 accession to his family, and had engaged his 
 passage to England, but his uncle Lucien, the 
 archdeacon, persuaded him to remain. In 
 conformity with the custom in his family, the 
 second son was christened Napoleon. 
 
 Every summer, the young Napoleon visited 
 Talavo, where he was idolized by the shep- 
 herds who tended his father's flocks, and soon 
 listened with interest to their tales of vendettas 
 and civil strife. When at Ajaccio, his favo- 
 rite retreat was a grotto, formed by an arch- 
 ing rock and overlooking the sea, at the villa 
 
 * Statement of Madame de Bonaparte to Mf^or 
 Lee, in 1830. 
 
12 
 
 NAPOLEON 
 
 of his maternal half-uncle, a priest who after- 
 wards became Cardinal Fesch. Often during 
 his captivity at St. Helena did he allude to 
 these happy years of his childhood, declaring 
 that "the very smell of the earth would 
 enable him to distinguish his native land, even 
 were he conducted blindfold to her shores." 
 A small brass cannon was his constant play- 
 thing, and Scott submits to the enquiry of 
 philosophers, whether the future love of war 
 was suggested by the accidental possession 
 of such a toy ; or whether the tendency of 
 the mind dictated the suggestion of it ; or, 
 lastly, whether the nature of the pastime, 
 corresponding with the taste which chose it, 
 may not have had each their action and re- 
 action, and contributed between them to the 
 formation of a character so warlike. 
 
 Little is known of Napoleon's earlier years, 
 and he has informed us that they were marked 
 by stubbornness and curiosity. His charac- 
 ter, remarkable for its impetuosity, had in it 
 something of a petulant restlessness, and it 
 was his delight to hector and tease his elder 
 brother Joseph, though his mother used to 
 keep him in tolerable subjection. He after- 
 wards said of her, that she never overlooked 
 a good or bad action of her children, and 
 expressed his belief that he owed his eleva- 
 tion to her tuition. She said of him that, 
 though wild and headstrong, he was a kind 
 brother and a good son. In conversation 
 with Major Lee, (in 1830,) she mentioned 
 the extreme fondness and partiality of Napo- 
 leon's father, who often saved his favorite 
 from her correction, and controlled him fre- 
 quently by threatening to tell her of his diso- 
 bedience, saying: "Very well, sir, I shall 
 tell your mother, and she will teach you to 
 behave better." "This threat," Madame 
 de Bonaparte added, " usually checked Na- 
 poleon ; but sometimes I had to switch him 
 well." 
 
 When six years of age, he was sent to a 
 girl's school, kept at Ajaccio by Madame 
 Muselii, and was noted for his slovenly attire, 
 as well as for the preference he displayed for 
 a pretty little girl who was his class-mate. 
 Some of the other school-girls, jealous and 
 fond of tormenting the youthful admirer, used 
 to shout after him in their native Italian — 
 
 "Ifapo/eone di mezza calzetta. 
 Fa Vamore a Giaeominetta.'" 
 
 BONAPARTE 
 
 -♦ 
 
 Which is translated : — 
 
 "Nap, with his stockings dangling at his heels. 
 To Giacominetta's love appeals." 
 
 This was the signal for impetuous attack. 
 With characteristic bravery the insulted lover 
 would pelt his tormentors with stones until 
 they were glad to retreat, and leave him to 
 enjoy the society of his sweetheart. 
 
 When he was somewhat older, his mother 
 forbade the children climbing the fig-trees in 
 the garden, but Napoleon, when the fruit be- 
 came ripe, could not resist the temptation, 
 and was one day sitting on a branch, filling 
 his pockets, when up came the gardener. 
 Napoleon knew that this man had orders to 
 tie any of the children thus detected, and 
 carry them to the house, but he made so elo- 
 
 quent an appeal that the gardener's heart was 
 touched, and he did not deliver up the culprit 
 to the dreaded switch. The next day, how- 
 ever, Madame de Bonaparte missed her fruit, 
 and the gardener, in order to clear himself, 
 exposed Napoleon, who was duly chastised. 
 How difficult to conceive the twice-crowned 
 conqueror, whose frown darkened the face of 
 Europe, trembling in a fig-tree at the threat 
 of a peasant. 
 
 Napoleon and Joseph were instructed inl 
 Latin and Greek by their uncle, the archdea- 
 con Lucien, who was a man of great learning 
 and wisdom, venerated by his parishioners, 
 whose disputes he used to settle amicably. 
 Careful and econoniical, he had saved the 
 patrimony, and reestablished the fortune ol 
 Carlo de Bonaparte, which had been materi- 
 ally deranged by the war of Independence, 
 and the unsuccessful issue of an enterprist 
 for draining and cultivating salt marshes. Ht 
 also persuaded Carlo to take the oath of alle- 
 giance to the French, and then procured hini 
 the appointment of assessor to the Roya; 
 Court of Ajaccio, a situation which made hL 
 income sufficient for the respectable mainte* 
 nance of his family. 
 
 The worthy archdeacon observed, witli 
 equal curiosity and satisfaction, the rare intel' 
 lect, independence of character, and higlj 
 spirit of Napoleon, though they did not alwayn 
 agree in opinion. One dispute arose from ; 
 wish expressed by Napoleon that goats migb! 
 be restrained from going at large, an idei 
 which his uncle disapproved of, for he pos 
 sessed large herds, and defended them like 
 patriarch against the threats of his imperioui 
 pupil. His last words, spoken to the famil 
 gathered around his death-bed, were like 
 prediction of the future greatness of his favc 
 rite nephew. Enumerating his bequests, h 
 said ; " As for Napoleon, it is useless to giv 
 his fortunes a thouo'ht, for he will create them j 
 Joseph is the eldest, but Napoleon is thehea ' 
 of the family." 
 
 When ten years of age. Napoleon an ,, 
 Joseph accompanied their father to Franci (, 
 where he was sent as a Deputy to the Kin ,1 
 from the Assembly of Corsica. The joy wii 
 which Napoleon had prepared for the journe 
 however, was damped by his sorrow when 
 was necessarv to bid his mother adieu ! 
 historian states that their sorrow was mutua 
 — he hung upon her neck with true filial afl'e 
 tion, and shed floods of tears as he craved h 
 blessing — while she clung to her child vvi 
 the fondness of maternal love, wept over L 
 tender years, and was only reconciled to Y 
 departure by the prospects of his advanc 
 ment. The scene made such an impressi( 
 on Napoleon's naturally ardent mind that, 
 the end of his life, he tvas wont to say ', 
 should never forget the bitterness of that fii 
 separation from a parent to whom he was 
 devotedly attached, and of whom he was 
 deservedly fond. 
 
 Passing through Florence, Carlo de Bon 
 parte found that his name and the rank of 1 
 family were not forgotten, and the Gra 
 Duke Leopold gave him a letter to Marie A 
 toinette, his sister. Arriving at Paris, t 
 
THE SCHOOL OF BRIENNE 
 
 13 
 
 unfortunate queen, then in the height of her 
 beauty and her power, welcomed the Corsi- 
 can deputy to her brilliant festivals at Ver- 
 sailles, and through her influence, when 
 Joseph was placed in a classical seminary at 
 Autmi, Napoleon entered the royal military 
 school at Brienne as a King's scholar. 
 
 The monks who had the superintendence 
 of the school at Brienne soon became attached 
 to their young Corsican pupil, and he quickly 
 made himself conspicuous by his progress and 
 application. This excited the jealousy of his 
 comrades, who used to insult him, and make 
 his Italian accent the subject of their mirth. 
 At first he used to resent these taunts by 
 blows, but his sensitive mind soon sought 
 relief in solitude. In 1814, during the bloody 
 campaign, he pointed out a tree near Brienne 
 under which he used to sit for hours when a 
 boy, reading "Jerusalem Delivered," and 
 pondering over his wrongs and mortifications. 
 
 Ere many months had elapsed, the perse- 
 cuted Corsican was not only respected by his 
 school-fellows, but exerted such an influence 
 over them that he was chosen director and 
 regulator of their amusements. In the sum- 
 mer he would have fortresses reared of turf, 
 and in winter of snow ; then, dividing the 
 school into attacking and defensive parties, 
 he would lead the assailants, while he direct- 
 ed the resistance made against them. Even 
 then he studied the capabilities of those around 
 him, and this Lilliputian warfare was but a 
 prelude to his gigantic victories. 
 
 Dramatic entertainments were given at the 
 quarterly examinations of the school, and on 
 oneoccasion, when the "Death of Caesar" was 
 to be represented. Napoleon was officer of the 
 guard at the door. Orders had been given to 
 admit no one without a ticket, but a woman 
 named Haute, who was portress at the school 
 gates and a retailer of cakes and milk to the 
 boys, hoped to gain admission through the 
 favor of some of the young guards. Finding 
 every sentinel determined to do his duty, she 
 began to express her indignation in a loud 
 voice, and the sergeant of the guard reported 
 the fact to Napoleon. Though only thirteen 
 years of age, he did not hesitate between the 
 inclination of the boy and the duties of the 
 officer, but, with that firmness of character 
 for which he was always remarkable, went 
 to the door and exclaimed: "Remove in- 
 stantly that woman, who is bringing here the 
 license of a camp." The tone of his voice 
 and gesture imposed a calm at once on the 
 spectators, and the disappointed woman 
 walked away. When the stern boy became 
 Emperor of the French, he established her 
 and her husband in the porter's lodge at his 
 palace. 
 
 Napoleon was of an extreme sensibility, 
 and when a brutal assistant-teacher sen- 
 tenced him one day to wear a penitential 
 dress, and dine on his knees at the door of 
 the refectory, his proud spirit so revolted at 
 the humiliation that he fell into convulsions. 
 The principal of the school happened to pass 
 at the time, and Father Patrault, the profes- 
 sor of Mathematics, obtained a pardon for his 
 favorite pupil, observing that " in treating 
 
 Napoleon with such undeserved severity, 
 they did not understand what they were 
 dealing with." In after years. Napoleon 
 appointed Father Patrault financial agent at 
 Alilan, and the ex-professor soon accumulated 
 a large fortune, with which he returned to 
 Paris. One day he obtained an interview 
 with his old pupil, and asked another office, 
 stating that misfortunes had reduced him to 
 beggary. Telling him to return the next day, 
 Napoleon ordered an investigation, which 
 proved that Patrault had lent his capital at 
 exorbitant rates of interest, and then lost it by 
 the bankruptcy of his creditors. Usury never 
 found favor in Napoleon's eyes, so when the 
 applicant appeared for a reply to his request, 
 (he answer was : " I was indebted to you, 
 but I paid my debt by your Milan appoint- 
 ment — nor can I make a man's fortune 
 twice." 
 
 The usher of the mathematical class at 
 Brienne was Pichegru, a charity scholar. 
 France was thus rearing in the same class the 
 patriot who was the terror of the Bourbons, 
 and the traitor who endeavored to restore 
 their cruel rule. He formed a correct opin- 
 ion of young Bonaparte, however, and when 
 asked m 1796 whether it would be possible 
 tor the Royalists to gain the victorious gene- 
 ral, he replied : " To attempt that would be 
 a waste of time^ — from my knowledge of him 
 when a boy at school I am sure he must be a 
 most inflexible character — let him once em- 
 brace an idea, and he will never relinquish 
 it."* 
 
 Though distinguished in the studies directly 
 embraced in the profession of arms — mathe- 
 matics, history and geography — the Principal 
 had not a very high opinion of Napoleon's 
 abilities. Bourrienne, who was his class- 
 mate, says that he had no taste for the study 
 of the languages, polite literature, or the fine 
 arts, but used to pass many of the play-hours 
 in reading Plutarch and Ossian. Dining with 
 the Duke of Orleans during a visit made by 
 that profligate politician to the chateau near 
 the school, a lady who was conversing with 
 him on the subject of his studies, alluded to 
 Turrenne. " He was certainly a great man," 
 said she, " but I would have liked him better 
 had he not burned the Palatinate." "And 
 why not, madame," eagerly demanded the 
 future victor, " if it was necessary to the suc- 
 cess of his designs?" This anecdote — in 
 the spirit of which may be discovered the 
 embryo of that gigantic decision which was 
 exemplified in his raising the siege of Mantua 
 — shows how soon his understanding was 
 capable of combining the extended reasoning 
 of military policy, with the technical conclu- 
 sions of the art of war.t 
 
 Buoyant with aspirations of a future career 
 which would enable him to win honor and 
 glory. Napoleon gradually lost faith in the 
 Roman Catholic doctrines which his pious 
 uncle Lucien had instilled into his infant mind. 
 There was not, however, any diminution in 
 his family affections, nor did he ever write a 
 
 * The Royalists in Exile. — Larochejacquehn. 
 t Life of Napoleon. — Lee. 
 
14 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE: 
 
 more characteristic letter than one to his 
 mother, dated at Brienne. After repeated 
 thanks for her devoted attention to his early 
 education, and for her solicitude respecting 
 his future advancement, he said — " With my 
 sword by my side, and my Homer in my 
 pocket, I hope to find my way through the 
 world." 
 
 Brienne was one of twelve military schools, 
 from which the best pupils were annually 
 selected, for the Military College at Paris. 
 The examiner in 1784 was the Chevalier de 
 Keralio, an amiable old soldier, who used to 
 play with the boys during their hours of recre- 
 ation, and conceived a strong partiality for 
 ^' Lapaille au nez," (straw in his nose,) a 
 nickname given to young Bonaparte from the 
 Corsican accent with which he pronounced 
 his name, as if written " Na-poil-lo-ne." 
 He even singled him out as one of the num- 
 ber to be promoted from Brienne to Paris, 
 although he was under the requisite age. As 
 the lad was not very far advanced in any 
 branch of education except those previously 
 mentioned, the monks proposed detaining him 
 a year longer, that he might acquire more 
 knowledge of the French and Latin languages 
 — above all, he was not fifteen. But this the 
 Chevalier de Keralio would by no means 
 agree to : "I know what I am about," said 
 he, " and if I transgress the rule, it is not on 
 account of any family influence, for I am not 
 acquainted with any friends of this youth — it 
 is solely on account of his superior merit. I 
 discover in him a spark of genius which can- 
 not be too carefully cherished." 
 
 In the Chevalier's report to the King, of the 
 pupils which he had selected for promotion, 
 we find the following entry: " Monsieur de 
 Buonaparte, (Napoleon,) born the 15th of 
 August, 1769. Height, four feet, ten inches, 
 ten lines.* Has finished his fourth degree. 
 Of good constitution, excellent health, a char- 
 acter docile, frank and grateful, and strictly 
 regular in conduct. Has always distinguished 
 himself by his application to mathematics — is 
 tolerably conversant with history and geogra- 
 phy, but rather deficient in polite accomplish- 
 ments, as well as Latin. Would make a 
 good seaman." 
 
 The friends of Washington, when in his 
 fifteenth year, were so confident that he 
 "would make a good seaman," that they 
 obtained for him a warrant of midshipman in 
 the British navy. At the persuasion of his 
 mother, he subdued his inclination to mari- 
 time adventure, but still displayed, on shore, 
 his predilection for arms. How difl^erent, 
 from what it now is, niight have been the 
 condition of Christendom, had Washington 
 and Napoleon, or either one of them, been 
 induced by their friends to enter upon a naval 
 career. 
 
 In October, 1784, young Bonaparte, with 
 four other students, left Brienne for Paris, 
 where he saw his father for the last time. 
 Attacked with cancer of the stomach. Carlo 
 de Bonaparte sought the medical advice of 
 the metropolis, and his pride was flattered by 
 
 X Five feet, six and a lialf inches of our measure. 
 
 the compliments paid to his favorite son, who 
 he had not seen since he entered at Brienne. 
 A few months afterwards, the hand of death 
 arrested the happy father at Montpelier, on 
 his way to Corsica. Joseph, his first borni 
 son, smoothed his dying pillow, but in mo-- 
 ments of delirium he used to call for Napoleon, 
 and invoke the succor of his mighty sword — 
 as if the clouds which darkened the mind ofi 
 the parent, were tinged with the prospects of 
 the greatness and glory that were to descend 
 upon his son.* During Napoleon's Imperial 
 reign, the city authorities at Montpelier asked 
 leave from him to erect a magnificent monu- 
 ment over the humble grave of Carlo de 
 Bonaparte. "No," was his sensible reply, 
 " Had I lost my father but yesterday, it 
 would be natural to pay his memory some 
 mark of respect consistent with my present 
 situation. But many years have passed since 
 the event, and it is one in which the public 
 can take no concern. Let us leave the dead 
 in peace." 
 
 The Military College at Paris was estab- 
 lished by Louis XV. as a nursery for suchi 
 scions of nobility as were to be trained for 
 officers in the French army — able to fight 
 hard and to drink hard, to live hard and to 
 die hard. Sumptuous diet, luxurious furni- 
 ture, gay uniforms and fine saddle-horses 
 were liberally furnished each cadet, — an en- 
 ervating luxuriousness which Napoleon sooni 
 saw would be incompatible with the vicissi- 
 tudes of a soldier's life. Though not sixteen 
 years of age, he drew up a memorial showing: 
 that the system of education was pernicious,^: 
 and making suggestions which were worthy 
 of his Spartan descent. 
 
 In this memorial, vvliich is curious as the 
 first essay of Napoleon's ministrative genius,- 
 he submitted to the officers of the college 
 " that the plan of education was pernicious,- 
 and could never accomplish the end desiredi 
 by every wise government — that the royal 
 pensioners, being all the sons of gentlemen ci 
 decayed fortune, instead of having their mind? 
 improved, could derive nothing therefrom, 
 save a love of ostentation, together with sen- 
 timents of conceit and vanity, so that, on 
 rejoining the domestic circle, far from relish- 
 ing the frugal gentility of their parents, the) 
 will feel inclined to despise their modes' 
 homes, and even to blush for the authors o 
 their being — that, therefore, in lieu of retain- 
 ing a numerous crowd of domestics aboiil 
 these young men, setting before them meah 
 of two courses daily, making a parade with ; 
 very expensive establishment of horses aii( 
 grooms, would it not be better to oblige then 
 to do everything for themselves, with tlit 
 exception of a little cooking — to place befor* 
 them ammunition bread and soldier's rations 
 and accustom them to camp life, by makin< 
 them brush their own clothes, clean their owi 
 shoes, and mend their own stockings .' That 
 since they are far fiom being rich, and are 
 destined for the military service, the duty o 
 that service is the only education which the) 
 should receive — that, thus habituated to a lifi 
 
 *■ Life of Napoleon. — Lee. 
 
THE PARIS MILITARY COLLEGE, 
 
 15 
 
 of sobriety, to maintain with steadiness the 
 life of a soldier, they would at the same time 
 grow more robust, would be able to brave the 
 inclemencies of the seasons, to support with 
 courage the fatigues of war, and inspire the 
 men under their command with respect and 
 profound devoted attachment." 
 
 These ideas, which evince a surprising ma- 
 turity of judgment, did not find much favor 
 when considered by the officers to whom they 
 were addressed — men, whose maxim was: 
 on duty, discipline, and oil" duty, dissipation — 
 but in after years Napoleon carried his pri- 
 mary conception of a military education into 
 successful operation. 
 
 An assiduous student. Napoleon's superi- 
 ority was more marked at the College of Paris 
 than it had been at Brienne. The celebrated 
 Monge, who was his instructor in geometry, 
 formed a high opinion of his talents. ]\Ion- 
 sieur L'Eguille, the professor of history, de- 
 clared that he would beconje a great man, 
 and to his name in the class-book atlixed this 
 note, (alluding probably to his vivacity of 
 genius and passionate application, which gave 
 an oriental warmth to his elocution) — "A 
 Corsican by birth and character — he will dis- 
 tinguish himself if favored by circumstan- 
 ces." 
 
 Years afterwards. Napoleon used often to 
 invite his teacher to breakfast at the palace, 
 and talk over the old lessons. " That which 
 made the deepest impression on me," he said 
 one day to 3Ionsieur L'Eguille, "was the 
 revolt of the Constable of Bourbon, though 
 you did not present it to us precisely in its 
 proper light. You made it appear that his 
 great crime was his having fought against his 
 king, which certainly was but a triHing fiult 
 in those days of divided nobility and sove- 
 reignty — particularly considering the scanda- 
 lous injustice of which he was the victim. 
 His great, his real, his only crime, and that 
 on which you did not sufficiently dwell, was 
 his having come wath foreigners to attack 
 his native soil." It is to be regretted that 
 Bernadoite, jMoreau, and Pichegru could not 
 have been inspired with this genuine patriot- 
 ism. 
 
 Monsieur Domairon, the professor of belles 
 lettres, used to speak of Bonaparte's compo- 
 sitions as " blocks of granite issuing red hot 
 from a volcano," and the splendor of the 
 young Corsican's genius was only doubted by 
 Herr Bauer, the professor of German, who 
 could not induce him to master the Teutonic 
 tongue. One day it so happened that Bona- 
 parte was not in his place, and the professor 
 was informed that he was attending his 
 examination in the artillery class. "Oh! 
 ho !" said the linguist with a sneer, " then he 
 does learn something.'" " Why, Monsieur 
 Bauer," exclaimed a student, " he is the best 
 mathematician in the school." "Well," 
 responded the opinionated professor, " it may 
 be so. I have ever heard it remarked, and 
 have ever believed the remark to be true, 
 that none but a fool could learn mathematics." 
 "It would be curious," said Napoleon at 
 St. Helena, to Las Cases, "to know whether 
 Bauer lived long enough to ascertain my real 
 
 character, and to enjoy the confirmation of his 
 own judgment." 
 
 The reputation of the young Corsican 
 reached beyond the college yard, for it was 
 rare, in those days, to see a studious cadet. 
 A large majority of Napoleon's comrades 
 were continually indulging in wild freaks or 
 gallant intrigues, but he ))assed even the hours 
 set apart for relaxation in studying Vauban, 
 or Muller, with a firm determination to merit 
 an officer's epaulette — the height of his am- 
 bition. Once only was he provoked into an 
 altercation, by a cadet named Bussy, who 
 persisted in practising on the French horn in 
 a room adjoining his dormitory. Napoleon 
 ordered him to discontinue his music — Bussy 
 challenged him — and it was with difficulty 
 that their comrades prevented a duel. In 
 1814, Napoleon, who was then Emperor, 
 again met the horn-player, who was residing 
 on his estate near Soissons, and who furnished 
 some important information respecting the 
 position of the enemy. Recognising his old 
 opponent, the Emperor adverted with good- 
 humored frankness to their former dispute, 
 shook him heartily by the hand, and appointed 
 him one of his aides-de-camp.* 
 
 Invited into society, he was soon a welcome 
 visitor at the most notable saloons of Paris ; 
 from the magnificent receptions of Madame 
 Necker, where diplomatists and academicians 
 held solemn converse, to the cosy boudoir of 
 Madame Helvetius, that favorite resort of 
 Franklin during his residence at Auteuil. 
 Though short, his appearance was preposses- 
 sing, for his olive-tinted complexion was as 
 intelligent in expression as his limbs were 
 vigorous and well-proportioned. His flashing 
 black eyes had a sagacious expression, indi- 
 cating a vehemence of character, checkered 
 and tempered by a cautious and observing 
 spirit. Firmness and intrepidit}' were strongly 
 marked about his mouth, and when at all 
 excited, his broad nostrils appeared to breathe 
 fierceness and disdain. His manners were so 
 reserved as to forbid a sudden intimacy, and 
 yet were characterised by a sincerity of expres- 
 sion which could not but encourage confidence. 
 
 The husband of Madame Helvetius was, 
 until his death, a zealous Freemason, and it 
 was at her house that Bonaparte became ac- 
 quainted with the principles of that venerable 
 institution which unites its members by a mys- 
 tic tie. He was initiated, and became a mem- 
 ber of the lodge of " Les JVevf Saurs," 
 inscribing his name with that of many distin- 
 guished brethren who were admitted or affili- 
 ated into this poetical section of the craft — 
 Benjamin Franklin and Paul Jones among the 
 rest. Bonaparte was never a " bright Ma- 
 son," but he always protected the fraternity, 
 and when he became Emperor of the French, 
 a lodge-room was fitted up in the palace of the 
 Tuilleries. It was there, in April, 1805, that 
 Joseph Bonaparte was initiated, that he might 
 at his Imperial brother's request, act as Grand 
 Master of the Grand Lodge of France. In 
 this palace lodge, Cambaceres (the arch- 
 chancellor,) sat in the East, while the sove- 
 
 Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. — W. Hodson. 
 
16 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 reign of Europe was content to serve as 
 Marshal. Those who part on the " square" 
 meet on a " level." 
 
 " A Preliminary View of the French Revo- 
 lution," occupies nearly seven hundred pages 
 of Sir Walter Scott's "Life of Napoleon," 
 forming the two first volumes. A beautiful 
 historic tissue, finely wrought with reverential 
 loyalty, it impresses upon the reader that 
 there were neither treasons nor sudden death, 
 neither slavery nor tyranny, neither want nor 
 woe, so long as the Capets ruled over France 
 and Navarre. " A simple, virtuous, and re- 
 ligious people," the Baronet of Abbottsford 
 tells us, " would have rested content," and 
 the French Revolution is accordingly described 
 as a viilanous plot to wake the world out of 
 that sweet sleep which it had enjoyed for 
 three thousand yearp, by thrusting the torch 
 of modern philosophy in its eyes. "The 
 derangement of the finances," we are assured, 
 was the proximate cause of the fearful strug- 
 gle, and no mention is made of the blood- 
 stained chronicles of that race which had its 
 " legitimate" claims to treat thirty millions of 
 men as its property, cut shorter by a head. 
 Those who believe in "that retributive jus- 
 tice which God implants in earthly actions," 
 will find stronger cause for merciless ven- 
 geance in the history of the Capet race. 
 
 Hugh Capet, in the year 996, succeeded as 
 mayor of the palace, in seizing on the crown 
 of France. This usurper caused Lothaire 
 and Louis V., the two last kings of the Carlo- 
 vingian race, to be poisoned. The right 
 claimed by the Bourbons to reign over France 
 in perpetuity, seems therefore to be founded 
 not in the " Grace of God," but in rebellion 
 and regicide. 
 
 Passing over several vindictive and cruel 
 kings, we are horror struck at the excessive 
 dissipation, and the inflexible atrocity of 
 Philip the Fair, a prince without faith, who 
 violated all the rights of the nation and of 
 individuals. Posterity will always remember 
 the massacre of six thousand Knights Tem- 
 plars in one day, and the unjust division of 
 all their property between the King, the 
 Pope, and the Order of Malta. His son, 
 Louis X., during his short reign, shewed him- 
 self the inheritor of his father's avarice. 
 Sacrificing every thing to this passion, he 
 made a common traffic of justice, nor could 
 anything excuse the cold barbarity with which 
 he caused the ignominious death of Enguer- 
 rand de Marigny. 
 
 Philip the Long did not abandon the arbi- 
 trary system of his predecessors — that is, he 
 asserted his "right divine to govern wrong" 
 to the letter, by prostituting the magistracy, 
 and levying contributions by his own author- 
 ity. Charles the Handsome imitated his 
 father and his brothers in trampling on his 
 people, and Philip VL combined all the vices 
 of the most odious of his predecessors. We 
 fi,nd in his disastrous reign the assassination of 
 fourteen Breton and Norman gentlemen, who 
 had come to Paris by the invitation of the 
 king, on the public faith, and were, notwith- 
 standing, beheaded without a show of justice. 
 
 The execution of the Count d'Eu without 
 
 judgment, that the court favorites might share 
 his property, the detention of the King of 
 Navarre, and the massacre of his faithful 
 adherents, are stains upon the history of John 
 n., who covered France with misery and 
 shame. He caused to be choked one day, 
 and decapitated the next night, Raoul de 
 Nesle, High Constable of France, who was 
 lately returned from the prisons of England — 
 and it was to gratify his jealous revenge that 
 the two brothers Harcourt, the Lord of Mau- 
 buet, and Colinet Doublet had their heads 
 chopped off without any form of trial. 
 
 Charles V. passes for one of "the best of 
 kings." He was so. He was also called 
 the wise, because his father was a fool, and 
 his son a madman. Take tne following as an 
 example of pure "legitimacy ;" — The town 
 of Montpelier complained respectfully that the 
 officers of the king infringed on their rights and 
 privileges — no redress was afforded to their 
 grievances — a tumult arose, and twenty-four 
 of the royal officers were killed. Well. 
 Charles sent the Duke of Berri there with an 
 army. At his approach, the inhabitants and 
 magistrates presented themselves before him, 
 with ropes round their necks, their clothes 
 rent, with the keys of the city gates, followed 
 by the priests and clergy with the cross, dis- 
 solved in tears, and crying misericordia ! 
 In the midst of this deplorable scene, the 
 Duke passed through the gates which were 
 left open, and found the rest of the people on 
 their knees in the streets — men, women, chil- 
 dren, the old and the young — all repeating the 
 heart-rending cry, misericordia, misericor- 
 dia ! — a detail which cannot be read in the 
 history, without drawing tears of pity. But 
 the Duke, being of a mild, paternal race, saw 
 the actual scene without being in the least 
 moved — he had a scaffold raised on the spot, 
 and pronounced a sentence by which six hun- 
 dred of the inhabitants, taken discretionally 
 among the people, were condemned to death 
 — two hundred to be hanged, two hundred to 
 be burnt, two hundred to be beheaded — the I 
 children of all to be declared infamous, and 
 their goods confiscated. This Duke of Berri 
 was a very "legitimate" personage, and the 
 name remained in the time of Bonaparte and 
 the First Revolution. 
 
 The reign of Charles le Bien-Aime was sig- 
 nalised during its forty years continuance by 
 avarice, ambition and ferocity. During a 
 war with Flanders he beheaded the governors 
 of all the towns which he took, and he hanged 
 up before the gates of his palace three hun- 
 dred of the principal inhabitants of Paris, 
 Rouen and Orleans, who had ventured to re- 
 monstrate against certain taxes. 
 
 Charles VH. had Alexander d'Orleans as- 
 sassinated for speaking ill of hnn and his 
 amours. He suff^ered Gilles de Retz, Mare- 
 chal of France, accused of witchcraft, to be 
 burnt alive ; and, from pure cowardice, he 
 refused to save from the flames the heroic 
 Joan of Arc, to whom he owed the preserva- 
 tion of his crown. 
 
 The name of Louis XL is synonymous 
 with all that is treacherous, despotic and su- 
 perstitious — a bad son, a bad father, a bar-] 
 
THE CAPET 
 
 RACE 
 
 ♦ 
 
 OF KINGS 
 
 17 
 
 barous brother, an ungrateful master, a dan- 
 gerous friend, a perfidious enemy — he made 
 the executioner Tristan his chief favorite and 
 his constant companion. Among the thous- 
 ands who were sent by him to the scaftbid for 
 remonstrating against the increase of taxation, 
 was Jacques d'Armagnac, Duiie of Nemours. 
 This nobleman was devotedly attached to his 
 children, and the barbarous king had them 
 placed under the scaffold, clothed in white 
 robes, on which the blood of their father fell. 
 Led from this horrible scene, bathed in tears, 
 and covered with the blood from which they 
 received their own, the young princes were 
 confined in dungeons, made in the form of 
 panniers, pointed at bottom, so that they 
 might have no rest. They were taken out 
 twice a week in order to be scourged, and 
 every three months had a tooth or two 
 drawn.* 
 
 Charles VIII. sacrificed his subjects to the 
 pretensions which the House of Anjou had 
 given him to the throne of Naples. In his 
 reign commenced those terrible wars in Italy, 
 which gave the most terrible blows to French 
 liberty, and even to that of all Europe, by 
 necessitating the expedients of finance, and 
 the illegal and unbounded augmentation of the 
 royal revenues. Doomed to wear "a fruit- 
 less crown," and hold "a barren sceptre in 
 his gripe, thence to be wrenched with an un- 
 lineal hand, no son of his succeeding," he 
 beggared France. 
 
 Under the reign of Francis I. the French 
 soil was deeply stained with Protestant blood. 
 The executioners beheaded thousands of vic- 
 tims, who were guilty of no other crime than 
 having prayed to God in a language which 
 they understood. The " Hero of the Field of 
 the Cloth of Gold" was despotic and unmer- 
 ciful — the patron of American colonization, 
 the friend of literature, but the deadly foe of 
 the Reformation. 
 
 Henry II. came to the throne by the death 
 of the Dauphin, who was poisoned by the 
 Count de Montecoculo. He delivered over 
 his subjects to farmers of the revenue, favo- 
 rites and persecutors, and gave the signal of 
 civil and religious wars. Sacrificing his honor, 
 his interests, his nation and his glory to a 
 ridiculous passion for the Duchesse de Valen- 
 tinois, he permitted her to condemn Protes- 
 tants to death, and then enjoy their confiscated 
 estates. Killed in a tournament, he left the 
 crown to his boy-son, whose short reign was 
 stained by persecution, civil war, and blood- 
 shed. Atrocious laws were published against 
 the Protestants, whose sect had increased by 
 the light of the funeral pile, and under the 
 steel of the executioner — the firm resistance 
 of the Chancellor De I'Hopital prevented the 
 establishment of the Inquisition at Paris, but 
 it was advocated by the king, his council, and 
 the parliament. 
 
 Charles IX. came to the crown in 1560, 
 when only ten years of age, and executed in 
 childhood what Caligula had only wished. 
 After meditating with profound darkness the 
 most abominable perfidy, he exterminated at 
 
 * Memorial of the Princes to the States — 1483. 
 
 one blow an hundred thousand Protestants, 
 giving the fatal signal on the evening of St. 
 Bartholomew. In the capital the streets re- 
 sounded with the discharges of fire-arms, the 
 cries of the dying, the supplications for mercy 
 of the doomed, and the demoniacal shouts of 
 the murderers. The dastardly monarch fired 
 on the fugitives from his palace windows, and 
 the massacre was repeated in all the towns 
 of France. 
 
 Henry III., an indolent prince, enslaved 
 by worthless favorhes, and sunk in the most 
 shameless libertinism, gave himself up to the 
 perfidious counsels of his mother, Catherine 
 de Medicis, who cannot be named without 
 horror. 
 
 France revived at last under a king who 
 was only a private gentleman. Henry IV., 
 formed in the school of adversity, was accus- 
 tomed to appreciate men, because he had long 
 need of them, and had proved all the vicissi- 
 tudes of fortune. Yet his most prominent act 
 was that odious code by which— as a sample of 
 the edicts — " any peasant taken with a fowl- 
 ing-piece, near a thicket where there is game, 
 shall be driven with a whip all around the 
 spot until he drops blood." We have an 
 equal right to reproach this prince with his 
 criminal passion, at the age of fifty-six, for 
 the Princess de Conde — a passion which was 
 the cause of a disastrous war with Spain. 
 
 The reign of Louis XIII., called "the 
 Just," was signalised by the destructive pro- 
 ceedings of the sanguinary Richelieu, conjbin- 
 ing the mischiefs of ministerial and fiscal 
 oppression, and disgracing the nation by that 
 insidious shuffling policy, which became, by 
 way of excellence, the science of the court. 
 The massacre of the Protestants at La Ro- 
 chelle and at Montrevel, the abandonment of 
 the queen-mother, (Mary de Medicis,) and 
 the decapitation of such men as the Marshal 
 de Marillac and Cinq Mars, inspire one with 
 horror and contempt for " Louis the Just." 
 Credulous and fanatic, his reign is nothing 
 but a chaos of intrigues, baseness, perfidy and 
 atrocities, in a court where steel and poison 
 were not spared. 
 
 Louis XIV., "the Grand," in the course 
 of a very long reign, finished, by outrages of 
 all kinds, the work of despotism. A proud 
 Sultan, who never knew any other rule but 
 his will, and united to the madness of arbi- 
 trary power the fury of intolerance, he drove 
 out of the kingdom a hundred thousand fami- 
 lies, carrying with them the arts, the manu- 
 factures, the riches of France, to distant na- 
 tions. The north of Germany, a country yet 
 without industry, held out her arms to these 
 fugitives — a whole suburb in London was 
 peopled with refugee silk-weavers from Lyons 
 — Holland gained some excellent officers and 
 soldiers — and many valuable citizens found a 
 home in the new world. While the proscrip- 
 tion was going on, Louis sought to enlarge his 
 colonial possessions, and althougl he had 
 " little opinion" of the value of the newly 
 discovered Mississippi valley, he formed sev- 
 eral expeditions for the capture of Boston, 
 and the subjugation of "heretic New Eng- 
 
18 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 land" to Catholic Canada.* Having-spent 
 during his reign near twenty thousand mil- 
 lions, he left at his death four thousand five 
 hundred millions of national debt. He was 
 barbarous, dissolute, perfidious in his treaties, 
 a pitiable egotist, an unfit administrator, who 
 sacrificed the natural and incalculable riches 
 of France to ruinous illusions. 
 
 The reign of Louis XV., called " the Well 
 Beloved," dishonored him and France for 
 forty years in the eyes of the world. Aban- 
 doned females often directed his weak-minded 
 ministers, and English gold so corrupted min- 
 isters and generals, that battle flags were 
 lowered in defeat — for a consideration. His 
 son died when a youth, leaving a child, whose 
 subsequent bridal with the Austrian Marie 
 Antoinette was marked by the sacrifice of 
 1200 Parisians, who were crushed or tram- 
 [)led to death during the festivities. In 1774 
 he succeeded to the throne, (as the thirtieth 
 successor to Hugh Capet,) and as h was 
 greeted king, exclaimed prophetically — "O ! 
 God ! what a misfortune to me." 
 
 After this brief sketch of the " mild pater- 
 nal sway" which was exercised by the " Le- 
 gitimate" rulers of France, it is difficult to 
 believe Sir Walter Scott's statement that 
 " the devoted loyalty of the people to their 
 king had been for several ages the most 
 marked characteristic of the nation." Long 
 before young Bonaparte entered upon his 
 career, tides of blood had washed away " the 
 species of devoted attachment with which 
 France formerly regarded the ancient line of 
 her kings." 
 
 Bonaparte, unlike most of his feUow pu- 
 pils, did not regard the Military College as 
 a forge for those mental fetters which despot- 
 ism seeks to rivet on the salient spirit of its 
 subjects. True, he was a Royal pensioner, 
 and a suppliant for Royal favor. Receiving 
 his commission in August, 1785, he took the 
 prescribed oath of allegiance, but never ac- 
 knowledged " that power above the law, 
 accountable only to heaven for its exercise, 
 its use or its abuse" — Legitimacy. Uncon- 
 taminated by power, his Corsican heart could 
 not collect the sighs and moans 'of the 
 wretches that she (Legitimacy,) had doomed 
 to pine without a cause in dungeons, to prove 
 that she was the dread sovereign of the human 
 heart — or the groans and shrieks of victims 
 stretched upon the rack, to prove that the 
 minds of men belonged to her — or the cries of 
 hunger, the rags, the emaciated wan looks, 
 by which she proved that the bodies of men 
 were hers. Neither could he forget the wide 
 spreading desolation which she had breathed 
 from her nostrils — the famine and pestilence 
 which she had scattered before her for her 
 wantonness — the desolate Protestant hearth- 
 stones crushed under her feet — and the op- 
 l)ressed peasantry, who reverentially bowed 
 before the sacred doctrine of " millions made 
 for one." 
 
 These sentiments of hostility to the degene- 
 rate Bourbons were not softened by his pre- 
 
 * Massachusetts Archives. — French Documents. 
 
 sentation at court on receiving his commission. 
 Legitimacy (as there personified in Louis 
 XVL and his brilliant court) passed her time 
 in masque, and dance and dainty revel. The 
 unbounded extravagance of the government 
 had deranged the debt-laden finances, an in- 
 solent hereditary nobility exercised odious 
 privileges, while avaricious tax-collectors, and 
 strict monopolies, were meanwhile alienating 
 the affections of the people, whose aversion to 
 Royalty was fanned by the returned volun- 
 teers from America. 
 
 The young lieutenant and his comrades 
 used to discuss the doctrine of "divine right," 
 and were divided into three parties : — The 
 "Royalists^' were of opinion that a copious 
 distribution of leaden balls with the stringent 
 powers of steel, were quite sufficient to cure 
 the complaints of the multitude, and to restore 
 vigor to the all but worn out system. The 
 Patriots felt desirous to keep the skeleton of 
 government entire, and wished to remove 
 some of the most diseased parts, that they 
 might be replaced with matter of a more 
 healthy complexion. A third party, the "Re- 
 publicans," sought to overturn the Bourbon 
 throne, toabolish hereditary nobility, to secure 
 liberty of conscience, and to build up a free 
 and independent government like that of the 
 United States.* 
 
 Bonaparte was certainly not a Royalist, 
 and although he avowed himself a Patriot, 
 his ideas were decidedly Republican. They 
 are stated at length in an essay which he 
 anonymously offered for a prize given by the 
 Academy of Science at Lyons, and which 
 was adjudged to him. "It is impossible," 
 says Sir Walter Scott, " to avoid feeling curi- 
 osity to know the character of the juvenile 
 theories respecting government, advocated by. 
 one who at length attained the power of prac- 
 tically making what experiments he pleased.. 
 Probably his early ideas did not exactly coin- 
 cide with his more mature practice ; for 
 when Talleyrand, many years afterwards,, 
 got the Essay out of the records of the Acade- 
 my, and returned it to the author, Bonaparte 
 destroyed it after he had read a few pages, "t 
 
 The above statement is as untrue as it is 
 unjust. When a prisoner at St. Helena, Na- 
 poleon gave Gen. Montholon a copy of this- 
 essay — his original theory of government— .- 
 with orders to have it published twenty-five 
 years after his death. Its interest calls for its 
 re-production here, as revised after the ratifi 
 cation of the author's experience. | 
 
 "Q,UESTION, by the Abbe Raynal, 
 What are the principles and institutions, 
 by application of which mankind can be 
 raised to the highest pitch of happiness 7 
 
 " ESSAY. Literary societies ought never 
 to have been animated by any other feeling 
 than the love of truth and honor ; but there is 
 no truth without prejudice. There art no 
 men where kings are despotic ; there is only 
 the slave oppressor, still more vile than the 
 slave oppressed. This explains why literary 
 
 * Life of Napoleon. — Hodson. 
 
 f Life of Napoleon. — Scott. 
 
 \ Address before the Academy. — Robinson. 
 
POLITICAL 
 
 societies, since the beginning of time, have 
 offered the melancholy spectacle of flattery, 
 and the most disgraceful adulation. 
 
 "This explains why the really useful sci- 
 ences, those of morals and of politics, have 
 been suff'ered to languish in oblivion, or have 
 been lost in the labyrinth of obscurity. They 
 have, however, made rapid progress in latter 
 times. This has been owing to some men of 
 spirit, who, urged forwards by their genius, 
 have feared neither the thunders of a despot 
 nor the dungeons of a Bastile. These rays of 
 light illumined the atmosphere, threw a new 
 light upon public opinion, which, proud of its 
 rights, destroyed the enchantments which had 
 bound the world, as with a spell, for so many 
 centuries. Thus was Rinaldo restored to 
 virtue and to himself, as soon as a courageous 
 and friendly hand held up to him the buckler, 
 in which were traced at the same time his 
 duty ind his apathy. 
 
 " To what can we with more propriety 
 compare the immortal works of these great 
 men, than to the divine buckler of Tasso ? 
 The liberty thus acquired after an energetic 
 struggle of twenty months, and the most vio- 
 lent exertions, will be forever a glory to 
 France, to philosophy, and to literature. 
 Under these circumstances, the Academy 
 proposes to determine those truths and feel- 
 ings which it is most necessary to inculcate 
 upon man for his happiness. This question, 
 really worthy of the consideration of the free 
 man, is in itself an eulogy on the sages who 
 proposed it. None is more likely to answer 
 the purpose of the founder. 
 
 "Illustrious Raynal ! If, in the course of 
 a life harassed by prejudice and the great 
 whom thou hast unmasked, thou hast ever 
 been constant and immovable in thy zeal for 
 suffering and oppressed humanity, deign this 
 day, in the midst of the applause of an im- 
 mense nation, — which, called by thee to lib- 
 ert}', renders to thee its first homage, — deign 
 to smile upon the efforts of a zealous disciple, 
 whose feeble attempts thou hast been kind 
 enough sometimes to encourage. The ques- 
 tion which I am about to consider is worthy 
 of thy pencil ; but, without aiming at possess- 
 ing its power, I have exclaimed, ' /, too, am 
 a painter /' 
 
 "It is indispensably necessary, in the first 
 place, to fix clearly our ideas of happiness. 
 
 "Man is born to l)e happy. Nature, a 
 beneficent mother, has endowed him with all 
 the organs necessary to this first design of his 
 creation. Happiness, then, is nothing more 
 than that enjoyment of his life, which is most 
 conformable to his organization. Men of all 
 climates, of all sects, of all religions ! are 
 there any among you, the prejudices of whose 
 dogmas should prevent you from acknowledg- 
 ing the truth of this principle ? Let such, if 
 any there be, consider truly and honestly, — 
 and then let them say whether they do not be- 
 lieve with me in this. 
 
 " We must live, then, in a manner con- 
 formable to our organization, or we cannot be 
 happy. 
 
 "Our animal organization feels certain in- 
 dispensable cravings, those of eating, drink- 
 
 PRIZE 
 
 ■♦ 
 
 ESSAY, 
 
 ing, procreation ; nourishment, therefore, a 
 lodging, a covering, a wife, are indispensably 
 necessary to our happiness. 
 
 "Our intellectual organization gives rise to 
 demands no less imperious, and the satisfac- 
 tion of which is much more precious. It is in 
 their full development that happiness is really 
 to be sought. Perception and the reasoning 
 powers form the essence of man. Ihese are 
 his titles to the supremacy, which he has ac- 
 quired, which he retains, and will retaui for- 
 ever. 
 
 " Our feelings revolt against restraint, ren 
 der dear to us the beautiful and the just, and 
 disagreeable to us the oppressor and the 
 wicked. Wo to him who does not acknowl- 
 edge these truths ! He knows nothing of life 
 but the shade ; he knows no pleasure but the 
 enjoyment of sense. 
 
 "Our reasoning powers lead ns to make 
 comparisons. From reasoning arises perfec- 
 tion as the fruit from the tree. Reason, the 
 inexorable judge of our actions, ought also to 
 be their invariable guide. The eyes of rea- 
 son preserve man from the precipice of his 
 passions, in the same way as its decrees 
 modify ever the feelings of his rights. Feel- 
 ing gives rise to society ; reason maintains it 
 entire. 
 
 "It is necessary for us therefore to eat, to 
 drink, to procreate, to feel, and to reason, in 
 order to live like men ; that is, in order to be 
 happy. 
 
 "Of all the legislators, whom the esteem of 
 their fellow-citizens has raised up to give them 
 laws, none appear to have been more con- 
 vinced of these truths than Lycurgus and 
 Paoli. It was by very different courses, how- 
 ever, that they have put them in practice by 
 their legislation. 
 
 "The Lacedremonians enjoyed an abund- 
 ance of food, they had convenient habitations 
 and dress, their wives were robust, they 
 reasoned in their social meetings, and their 
 government was a free one. 1 hey enjoyed 
 their strength, their glory, the esteem of their 
 countrymen, the prosperity of their country. 
 These were all means of gratifying their feel- 
 ings. Their affections were excited — their 
 families, their emotions, roused — by the vari- 
 ous views and the beautiful climate of Greece; 
 but it was principally at the sight of strength 
 and virtue that they felt moved. Virtue con- 
 sisted hi courage and strength. Energy is the 
 life of the soul, as well as the mainspring of 
 reason. 
 
 " The actions of a Spartan were those of a 
 strong man ; the strong man is good, the weak 
 man wicked. The Spartan lived in a manner 
 conformable to his organization ; he was 
 happy. 
 
 ' ' But all this is but a dream. On the banks 
 of the Eurotas, at the present day, resides a 
 pasha of three tails ; and the traveller, griev- 
 mg over this sight, retires affrighted, almost 
 doubting for a moment the goodness of the 
 Governor of the universe. 
 
 "But to conduct men to happiness, must 
 they, then, be equal in means '. To what 
 point must the love of an equali > if faculties 
 be inculcated upon tli-m? f^:. _ feelmg ig 
 
20 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 necessary to a happy life, what are the feel- 
 ings with which they should be inspired ? 
 What are the truths which ought to be ex- 
 plained to them ? You say, without reason- 
 ing no happiness can be complete. 
 
 " FIRST 'PART. 
 
 "Man, at his birth, brings with him into 
 the world a right to that portion of the fruits 
 of the earth necessary for his subsistence. 
 
 "After the buoyancy of childhood comes 
 the commencement of passion. He chooses, 
 from among the companions of his sports, her 
 who is to be the companion of his destiny. 
 His vigorous arms, in connection with his 
 wants, demand labor ; he casts a glance 
 around him ; he sees the earth, divided 
 among a few possessors, affording the means 
 of luxury and superfluity. He asks himself, 
 'By what right do these people possess this ? 
 Why is the idler everything, the laborer noth- 
 ing ? Why have they left me nothing of all 
 this, — to me, who have a wife, an aged father 
 and mother, to maintain ?' 
 
 "He runs to the minister, the confidant of 
 his secrets ; he explains to him his doubts. 
 'Man,' answers the priest, 'never reflects 
 upon the existence of society ; God conducts 
 all ; abandon yourself to Providence ; this 
 life is only a passage ; all things are disposed 
 by a Justice, the decrees of which we should 
 not seek to explain. Believe, obey, never 
 areson, and work ; — these are your duties.' 
 
 " A proud soul, a sensitive heart, a natural 
 reason, cannot be satisfied with this answer. 
 He wishes to communicate his doubts and his 
 inquietude, and goes to the wisest man of the 
 country, — a notary. ' Man of wisdom,' says 
 he, ' they have divided the goods of the 
 country, and have given me nothing.' The 
 wise man laughs at his simplicity, takes iiim 
 into his study, leads him from act to act, from 
 contract to contract, from testament to testa- 
 ment, and proves to him the legitimacy of the 
 division of which he complams. 
 
 " ' What [ are these the titles of these gen- 
 tlemen?' he exclaims, indignantly; 'mine 
 are more sacred, more incontestable, more 
 universal ; they are renewed with my breath- 
 ing, circulate with my blood, are written on 
 my nerves and in my heart ; they are the 
 necessity of my existence, and, above all, of 
 my happiness.' And, with these words, he 
 seizes these papers, and casts them into the 
 fire. 
 
 " He immediately begins to fear the pow- 
 erful arm called justice ; lie flees to his hut, 
 and throws himself in violent emotion on the 
 calm body of his father. The venerable old 
 man, blind and paralyzed with age, seems 
 only still to live by the forgetfulness of the 
 great tyrant. Death. 'My father,' he cries, 
 ' you gave me life, and with it a lively desire 
 for happiness ; and now, my father, robbers 
 have divided everything among themselves. 
 I have but my arms left ; for these they 
 could not take from me. I am condemned, 
 then, to the most ceaseless labor, to the most 
 degrading toil, for money. Neither under the 
 sun of August, nor during the frosts of Janu- 
 ary, will there be any repose for your son. 
 
 And, as the reward of such great labor, others 
 will gather the harvest produced by the sweat 
 of my brow ! And if I could even supply all 
 that is necessary, I must feed, clothe, and 
 keep warm a whole family ! We shall be in 
 want of bread, my heart will be torn at every 
 moment, my sensibility will be blunted, my 
 reason will be obscured. O, my father, I 
 shall live stupid and miserable, and perhaps 
 wicked ! I shall live unhappy. Was I born 
 for this ? ' 
 
 "'My son,' answers the venerable old 
 man, ' the sacred characters of nature are 
 traced in your bosom in all their energy ; pre- 
 serve them carefully, in order to live happy 
 and strong ; but listen attentively to what the. 
 experience of eighty years has taught me. 
 My son, 1 reared you in my arms, I witnessed 
 your joung years ; and now, when your heart 
 begins to palpitate, your nerves are doubtless 
 accustomed to labor, but to moderate labor, 
 which refreshes the body, excites the feelings, 
 and calms the impatient imagination. My 
 son, have you ever wanted for anything ? 
 Your dress is coarse, your habitation rustic, 
 your food simple ; but once more I ask, have 
 you ever had a desire unsatisfied ? Your sen- 
 timents are pure as your sensations, as your- 
 self. You wished for a wife ; my son, you 
 have chosen one. I aided with my experi- 
 ence to direct your youthful heart. O, my 
 tender friend, why do you complain? You 
 fear for the future ; act always as you have 
 hitherto done, and you need not fear it. 
 
 " ' My son, if I had been among the num- 
 ber of those miserable men who possess noth- 
 ing, I should have trained your body to the 
 animal yoke ; I should myself have stifled 
 your feelings and your ideas ; I should have 
 made you the first of the animals in your shed. 
 Bent under the dominion of habit, you would 
 have lived tranquil in your apathy, contented 
 in your ignorance ; you would not have been 
 happy, O my son, but you would have died 
 without knowing that you had lived ; for, as 
 you yourself say, in order to live, it is neces- 
 sary to feel and to reason, and then not to be 
 weighed down by physical wants. Yes, 
 good young man, let this information console 
 and refresh you ; calm your inquietude ; these 
 fields, this hut, these cattle, are oi»»b. I have 
 ^purposely kept you in ignorance of this ; it is 
 so happy and so sweet to rise, so hard to 
 descend ! 
 
 " 'Your father will soon be no more ; he 
 has lived long enough, he has known true 
 pleasures, and now feels the greatest of all, 
 since he once more presses you to his bosom. 
 Impress one thing on your heart, my son, if 
 you v^'ish to imitate him : your soul is ardent, 
 but your wife, this sweet gift of love, and 
 your children, what objects are these, with 
 which to fill the void in your heart ! Do not 
 nourish a cupidity of riches. Riches only 
 influence happiness in as far as they procure 
 or refuse phys'ical necessaries. You have 
 these necessaries, and with them a habit of 
 labor. You are the richest man in the coun- 
 try ; bridle, then, your disordered imagina- 
 tion ; you require but to call reason to your aid. 
 
 " 'Are the rich happy? They have it in 
 
POLITICAL PRIZE ESSAY. 
 
 21 
 
 their power to be so, but not more than you 
 have ; they have it in their power, I say, for 
 they are rarely happy. Happiness resides 
 especially in your station of life, because it is 
 that of reason and feeling. The station of the 
 rich is the empire of a disordered imagination, 
 of vanity, sensual enjoyments, caprice, and 
 fantasy ; — never envy it. And even should 
 all the riches of the country be offered you, 
 cast them far from you ; except, indeed, 
 you should receive them for the purpose of 
 dividing them immediately among your fel- 
 low-citizens. But, my son, this struggle of 
 strength of mind and magnanimity is only 
 fitting for a god. Be a man, but a true one ; 
 live master of yourself. Without strength 
 of mind there is neither virtue nor happiness.' 
 
 " I have thus demonstrated the two ex- 
 tremes of the social chain ; yes, gentlemen, 
 let the rich man be made one, I consent to 
 this ; but let not the miserable man be made 
 the other ; let it be the small proprietor, or 
 small merchant, or the skilful artisan, who 
 may, by moderate labor, feed, clothe, and 
 lodge his fiimily. You will recommend, then, 
 to the legislator, not to establish the civil law 
 under which a few men might possess every- 
 thing. He must resolve his political problem 
 in such a manner that even the least may 
 have something. He will not by this means 
 establish equality •, for the two extremes are 
 so distant, and the latitude so great, that in- 
 equality may exist in the intervening ranks. 
 Man can be happy in the hut as well as in the 
 palace, covered with skins as well as clothed 
 with embroidery from Lyons, at the frugal 
 table of Cincinnatus as well as at that of 
 Vitellius ; but then he must have this hut, 
 these skins, this frugal table. How can the 
 legislator bring this about? How can he 
 resolve his political problem in such a manner 
 that even the lowest may have something ? 
 The difficulties are great, and I know of no 
 one who understands better how to overcome 
 them than Monsieur Paoli. 
 
 " M. Paoli, whose solicitude for the welfare 
 of humanity and of his fellow-countrymen 
 is his distinguishing characteristic, who for a 
 moment revived in the middle of the Mediter- 
 ranean the splendid days of Sparta and of 
 Athens, — M. Paoli, full of those feelings and 
 of that genius which Nature sometimes unites 
 in one man Cor the consolation of nations, ap- 
 peared in Corsica, and drew the eyes of 
 Europe upon himself. His fellow-citizens, 
 tossed hither and thither by wars at home and 
 abroad, recognized his ascendant, and pro- 
 claimed him nearly in the same manner as 
 the citizens of Athens formerly did Solon, or 
 those of Rome the triumvirate. 
 
 "Affairs were in such disorder, that a 
 magistrate, clothed with great authority, and 
 possessing transcendent genius, alone could 
 save his country. 
 
 '* Happy the nation in which the social 
 chain is not firmly enough riveted to cause 
 fear of the consequences of such a rash step ! 
 Happy wh^n it produces men who justify this 
 unbounded confidence, who render themselves 
 worthy of it ! 
 
 " Placed at the helm of affairs, and sum- I 
 
 moned by his countrymen to give them laws, 
 M. Paoli established a constitution, founded 
 not only on the same principles as the exist- 
 ing one, but even on the same administrative 
 divisions ; there were municipalities, districts, 
 procurators, and a system of the procurators 
 of the country. He overthrew the clergy, 
 and appropriated the property of the bishops 
 to the nation. In short, the course of his gov- 
 ernment was almost that of actual revolution. 
 He found, in his unequalled activity, in his 
 warm and persuasive eloquence, and in his 
 penetrating and supple genius, means of pro- 
 tecting his new constitution from the attacks 
 of the malicious and his enemies, for Corsica 
 was then at war with Genoa. 
 
 "But M. Paoli's principal merit in our eyes 
 is, that he seemed convinced of the principle, 
 established by civil law, that the legislator 
 should assure to every man such a portion of 
 property as would suffice, with moderate 
 labor, for his support. For this purpose, he 
 separated the territories of each village into 
 two kinds ; those of the first order, plains fit 
 for sowing or for pasturage ; and those of the 
 second order, mountains fit for the cultivation 
 of olive-trees, chestnut-trees, and trees of all 
 kinds. The lands of the first order, called 
 pasture-lands, became public property ; but 
 the temporary use of them was enjoyed by in- 
 dividuals. Every three years, the pasture- 
 ground of each village was divided among the 
 inhabitants. The lands of the second order, 
 susceptible of peculiar cultivation, remained 
 under the inspection of individual interest. 
 
 " By this wise arrangement, every citizen 
 was born a proprietor, without destroying in- 
 dustry, or injuring the progress of agriculture; 
 in short, without having helots. 
 
 " But all legislators have not found them- 
 selves in the same circumstances ; they have 
 not all been able to manage affairs, and to 
 conduct them to such a happy issue ; but j'et, 
 pressed by the principle, they have rendered 
 homage to it by excluding from society all 
 those who possessed nothing, or did not pay 
 a certain tax. Why this second injustice ? 
 Because the man whom the laws have not 
 enabled to be happy cannot be a citizen, — 
 because the man who has no interest in the 
 maintenance of the civil law is its enemy, — 
 a portion of property ought to have been se- 
 cured to him, in order to interest him and 
 attach him to this law ; but, in default of 
 this, it has been necessary to exclude him, as 
 a degraded, dull creature, and, as such, in- 
 capable of exercising a portion of the sove- 
 reignty. These are doubtless the political 
 reasons ; but what are they in the eyes of 
 morality, of humanity ? When I see one of 
 these unfortunate creatures transgress the law 
 of the state, and sufi^er for it, I say to myself, 
 ' It is the strong making the weak their vic- 
 tim.' I imagine I see the American perishing 
 for having violated the law of the Spaniard. 
 
 "After having persuaded the legislator that 
 he should care equally for the fate of all ranks 
 of citizens in the enaction of his civil law, 
 you will say to the rich man, 'Your riches 
 constitute your misfortune : remain within the 
 limits of your senses ; you will then be no 
 
22 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 longer uneasy or fantastical. How saany the peaks of Mount Blanc ; watch the sun 
 younor house-keepers run to ruin, because emerging by degrees, bringing consolation and 
 they are in want of the very thing which 
 
 makes you so uneasy I You have too much, 
 and they have not enough. Your lot is the 
 same, with this difference, — that you, being 
 wiser, might remedy it, whilst they can only 
 groan. . . . Man of ice, does your heart, 
 then, never beat ? I pity you ; I abhor you ; 
 you are unhappy, and the cause of unhappi- 
 ness in others.' 
 
 Without marriage, we have said, there : choly of Nature. 
 
 warmth to the hut of the laborer. Let the 
 first beam which he sheds dwell and be 
 remembered in your heart. Bear in mind the 
 pleasure you enjoy. 
 
 " Descend to the coast of the sea ; observe 
 the god of day sinking majestically into the 
 bosom of infinity ; — melancholy will over- 
 power you, — you will abandon yourself to ita 
 impression : no man can resist the melan- 
 
 is neither health nor happiness ; you will, 
 therefore, teach the numerous class of advo- 
 cates of celibacy, that their pleasures are not 
 
 Stand under the monument of St. Remi, 
 — contemplate its majesty ; the picture of 
 these proud Romans, traced in past ages. 
 
 true ones, except you find that, convinced ; transports you into the society of .iEmilius, 
 that they cannot live without wives, they seek ! Scipio, and Fabius. You return to yourself 
 in those of other men the gratification of their to gaze on the mountains at a distance, cov- 
 
 appetites ; you will then publicly denounce 
 them. You will teach them that the happy 
 man alone is worthy of his Creator ; that tiie 
 
 ered with a dark veil, crowning the immense 
 plain of Tarascon, where a hundred thousand 
 Cimbrians lie buried. The Rhone flows at 
 
 Fakir who mutilates himself is a monster of its extremity more rapid than an arrow ; a 
 depravity and folly. i road lies upon the left, a small town in the 
 
 " You will laugh with indignant disdain, | distance, a flock in the meadows. You 
 when they endeavor to persuade you that per- I dream, without doubt. It is the dream of 
 fection consists in celibacy. You have opened sentiment. 
 
 tthe great book of reason and feeling, and will 
 pherefore disdain to answer the sophisms of 
 prejudice and hypocrisy. 
 
 "Let the civil law secure to every one 
 physical necessaries ; let the inextinguishable 
 thirst for riches be displaced by the consoling 
 feeling of happiness. At your voice, let the 
 old man be the father of his children ; let 
 him divide the property equally among them; 
 and let the pleasant sight of eight happy 
 households cause the barbarous laws of pri- 
 mogeniture to be forever abhorred. Let 
 man, in short, learn that his true glory is to 
 live as a man ; and at this voice let the ene- 
 mies of Nature be silent, and bite their ser- 
 pent tongues with rage. Let the minister of 
 the most sublime of religions, who should 
 bring peace and consolation to the wounded 
 souls of the unfortunate, learn to know the 
 sweet emotions of love ; let the nectar of 
 pleasure make him sincerely sensible of the 
 greatness of the Author of his being ; then, 
 truly worthy of public confidence, he will be 
 a man of Nature, and an interpreter of her 
 decrees. Let him choose a companion ; that 
 day will be the triumph of morality, and the 
 true friends of Nature will celebrate it hearti- 
 ly. The minister, awakened to a feeling of 
 these new joys, will bless the age of reason 
 as he tastes its first benefits. 
 
 "These, gentlemen, are the truths, as far 
 as regards animal necessities, which must be 
 taught to men for their happiness. 
 
 "second part. 
 
 " What is sentiment ? It is the bond of 
 life, of society, of love, of friendship. It is 
 that which unites the son to the mother, the 
 citizen to his country ; it is especially power- 
 ful in the child of Nature ; dissipation and 
 the pleasures of sense destroy its delicacy and 
 refinement, but in misfortune man always 
 finds it again ; it is that spirit of consolation 
 which never abandons us but with our lives. 
 
 "Are you not satisfied ? Climb to one of 
 
 " Wander abroad into the country ; take 
 shelter in the miserable cabin of a shepherd ; 
 pass the night stretched upon sheep-skins, 
 with your feet to the fire. What a situation ! 
 IMidnight strikes ; all the cattle of the neigh- 
 borhood go forth to pasture ; their lowings 
 commingle with the voices of their conductors. 
 It is midnight, — forget it not ; this is the mo- 
 ment to hold deep communion with yourself, 
 to meditate on the origin of Nature, and to 
 taste its most exquisite delights. 
 
 "On your return from a long walk, you are 
 overtaken by the night ; you arrive by the 
 light of the silvery rays in the perfect silence 
 of the universe ; you have been oppressed by 
 the burning heat of the dog-star ; you taste 
 the delights of the evening freshness, and the 
 salutary balm of meditation. 
 
 "Your family is gone to bed, your lights 
 are extinguished, but not your fire ; the cold 
 and frosts of January obstruct vegetation in 
 your garden. What do you for several hours ? 
 I do not suppose that you wander forth, pos- 
 sessed with the passion or ambition for 
 wealth ; in what are you engaged ? You 
 commune with yourself. 
 
 " You know that the metropolitan church 
 of St. Peter's at Rome is as large as a town ; 
 a single lamp burns before the grand altar. 
 You enter there at ten o'clock in the evening, 
 and grope your way ; the feeble light does 
 not enable you to see anything but itself ; you 
 believe you are only entering when the morn- 
 ing is already arrived ; Aurora sheds her light 
 through the windows, and the paleness of the 
 morning succeeds to the darkness of the night; 
 you at length begin to think of retiring, but 
 you have been there six hours ! Could I 
 have written down your thoughts, how inter- 
 esting to morality would they have been ! 
 
 " Curiosity, the mother of life, has led you 
 to embark for Greece ; you are driven by the 
 currents on the isle of Monte Christo ; < t night 
 you seek for shelter ; you traverse the little 
 rock, and you find one upon a height, in the 
 
POLITICAL PRIZE ESSAY 
 
 23 
 
 midst of the ru'ms of an old monastery, behind 
 a crumbling wall covered with ivy and rose- 
 mary ; you arrange your tent ; you are sur- 
 rounded on all sides by the mighty sea, and 
 the hoarse roaring of its waves, as they dasli 
 against the rocks, suggests to you the idea of 
 this element so terrible to the feeble voyager. 
 A light covering and a wall fifteen centuries 
 old form your shelter ; you are excited by the 
 agitation of sentiment. 
 
 " Are you, at seven o'clock in the morning, 
 in the midst of flowery thickets, or in a vast 
 forest, during the season of fruit .' Are you 
 asleep in a grotto surrounded by the waters of 
 the Dryads, during the raging heat of the 
 dog-star? You will pass whole hours alone, 
 unable to tear yourself away from the scene 
 or to bear the intrusion of those who come to 
 interrupt your enjoyment. 
 
 "He is not human who has not experi- 
 enced the sweetness, the melancholy, the 
 thrill which most of these situations afford. 
 How deeply do I pity him, who cannot com- 
 prehend, or has never been affected by, the 
 electricity of Nature ! If sentiment made us 
 experience these delightful emotions only, it 
 would even then have done much for us ; it 
 would have afforded us a succession of enjoy- 
 ments without regrets, without fatigue, with- 
 out any kind of violent excitement ; these 
 would have been its precious gifts, had not 
 patriotism, conjugal affection, ani divine 
 friendship been also among the number of its 
 bounties. 
 
 "You return to your country after many 
 years of absence ; you traverse the scenes of 
 your youth, which were witnesses to the agi- 
 tation which the first knowledge of men and 
 the morning of passion produced in your 
 senses. In a moment you live through the 
 life of your youth, and participate in its plea- 
 sures. You say you have a father, an affec- 
 tionate mother, sisters still more innocent, 
 brothers, at the *ametime friends ; O, happy 
 man ! run, fly, lose not a moment ! Should 
 death stop you on the way, you will not have 
 known the delights of life, those of sweet 
 gratitude, of tender respect, and of sincere 
 friendship. But you say, ' I have a wife and 
 children.' A wife and children ! It is too 
 much, my dear friend, it is too much ; never 
 leave them more. Pleasure would overwhelm 
 you on your return, grief oppress you at your 
 departure. A wife and children, father and 
 mother, brothers and sisters, a friend ! And 
 yet we complain of Nature and say, 'Why 
 were we born ?' We submit with impatience 
 to the transitory evils of life, and run with 
 wild impetuosity after the emptiness of vanity 
 and riches ! What, then, O unfortunate 
 mortals, is the depraving draught, which has 
 thus altered the inclination inscribed in your 
 blood, your nerves', and your eyes? Had 
 you a soul as ardent as the fires of Etna, if 
 you had a father, a mother, a wife and chil- 
 dren, you would have no reason to dread the 
 anxieties and wearisomeness of life. 
 
 " Yes, these are the only, the real pleasures 
 of life, from which nothing can distract you. 
 It is vain for man to surround himself with all 
 the blessings of fortune. As soon as these 
 
 sentiments fly from the heart, tedium seizes 
 upon him, sadness, gloomy melancholy, and 
 despair succeed ; and if this condition con- 
 tinues, he relieves himself by death. 
 
 " Pontavcri was torn away from Tahiti, 
 conducted to Europe, watched with care, and 
 loaded with attentions ; no means of distrac- 
 tion were neglected or forgotten. One single 
 object attracted his attention, and snatched 
 him from the arms of grief. It was the mul- 
 berry tree. He embraced it with transport, 
 exclaiming, 'Tree of my country! tree of 
 my country !' All that the court of Copen- 
 hagen could offer was lavished in vain on five 
 Greenlanders ; anxiety for their country and 
 their family brought on melancholy, and 
 melancholy was the precursor of death. In- 
 stead of this, how many English, Dutch, and 
 French are there, who live among savages ! 
 These unhappy men were degraded in Europe, 
 the sport of the passions, and the melancholy- 
 refuse of the great, whilst the man of nature 
 lives happily in the bosom of sentiment and 
 natural reason. 
 
 "We have now seen how sentiment en- 
 ables us to enjoy ourselves, nature, our coun- 
 try, and those who surround us. It remains 
 to observe how it makes us thrill at the con- 
 templation of the different vicissitudes of life. 
 Here we become convinced, that if it makes 
 us friends of what is lovely and just, it fills us 
 with repugnance towards the oppressor and 
 the wicked. 
 
 "A young beauty has just entered her six- 
 teenth year ; the roses on her cheeks are 
 changed for the lily, the fire of her eyes is 
 extinguished ; the vivacity of her graces de- 
 generate into the languor of melancholy ; — 
 she loves. Docs she inspire you with respect, 
 with confidence ? It is the respect, the confi- 
 dence, of sentiment. Does she inspire you 
 with contempt for her weakness ? I3e it so ; 
 but never utter it, if you value my esteem. 
 
 " Nina loved ; her well-beloved died ; she 
 would have died with him ; she survived him 
 long, but only to remain faithful to him. 
 Nina knew well that the object of her affec- 
 tions was dead, but sentiment could not con- 
 ceive of his annihilation. She waited for it 
 always, she would wait for it still. You com- 
 plain contemptuously of her folly. Harsh 
 man I instead of that, feel esteem for her con- 
 stancy and the tenderness of her heart. This- 
 is the esteem and tenderness of sentiment. 
 
 "An adored wife has died ; she was the 
 wife of your enemy. The unfortunate hus- 
 band is overwhelmed with his loss. He flees 
 from the society of men ; the drapery of 
 mourning displaces the garments of rejoicing. 
 Two torches are upon the table. Despair is 
 in his heart. Thus he passes the languishing 
 remnant of his life. With a good soul, you 
 feel your hatred appeased ; you run to her 
 tomb, and lavish upon it marks of the recon- 
 ciliation of sentiment. 
 
 " You have read Tacitus ; which of yon 
 has not cried out with Cato the younger, ' Let- 
 some one give me a sword, that I may kill 
 the monster' ? Now, at the expiration of two 
 thousand years, the recital of the deeds of 
 Marius, Sylla, Nero, Caligula, and Domitian, 
 
24 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE; 
 
 excite feelings of apathy and repvrgnance. 
 Their memory is that of hatred and execra- 
 tion." 
 
 Flattered by the praises bestowed upon his 
 prize essay, Bonaparte commenced a " His- 
 tory of Corsica," which he intended to have 
 dedicated to the Abbe Raynal. Quartered 
 at the iiouse of a Valencian bookseller, who 
 allowed him to peruse the works on his 
 shelves, the young Lieutenant pushed his 
 studies beyond the limits of his profession, 
 into the regions of ecclesiastical history, and 
 Roman jurisprudence. Animated by an ar- 
 dent desire to enrich his mind by every 
 means within his power, he never slighted 
 any opportunity that presented itself for 
 study. Asked at St. Helena how it was pos- 
 sible he had become so familiarized with the 
 intricacy of law as to have conceived the 
 "Code Napoleon," he replied: " When I 
 was merely a lieutenant, at Valence, I was 
 put under arrest — unjustly, it is true, but 
 that is nothing to the point. The little room 
 which was assigned for my prison, contiined 
 no other furniture but an old chair, an old 
 bed, and an old cupboard; — in the cupboard, 
 however, was a ponderous folio volume, old- 
 er and more worm-eaten than all the rest ; it 
 proved to be the Roman Digest of laws. As 
 I had no paper, pens, ink, or pencils, you 
 may easily imagine that this book was a val- 
 uable prize to me. It was so voluminous, 
 and the leaves were so covered with marginal 
 notes in manuscript, that, had I been con- 
 fined a hundred years, I should never have 
 been idle. I was only ten days deprived of 
 my liberty — but, on recovering it, I was sat- 
 urated with Justinian and the decisions of the 
 Roman legislators. Thus it was that I picked 
 up my knowledge of civil law."* 
 
 Madame Colombier, a wealthy widow la- 
 dy, whose house was the most fashionable 
 resort in Valence, was struck with the young 
 Lieutenant's strong and brilliant faculties. 
 Under her patronage he was introduced into 
 society, and shook off many of his unsocial 
 habits, although he never neglected his stud- 
 ies, even when he conceived an attachment 
 for the daughter of his kind friend. Mad- 
 emoiselle du Colombier was about his own 
 age, and their affection — .judging from his ac- 
 count of it in after years, — was truly 
 " Love's young dream." "We were (he 
 said) the most innocent creatures imagina- 
 ble — we contrived short interviews together 
 — I well remember one which took place on 
 a midsummer morning, just as daylight began 
 to dawn. It will scarcely be believed that all 
 our happiness consisted in eating cherries to- 
 gether !" 
 
 This " first love," pure as the dew on the 
 cherries, proved to be as transient, and when 
 the fond pair met again, (it was at Lyons, in 
 1805,) there was a wide social difi'erence be- 
 tween the Emperor Napoleon and the humble 
 Madame de Bressieux. It was with difficul- 
 ty that she obtained access to her old admir- 
 er, but she found him grateful for the kind- 
 ness which her deceased mother had evinced 
 
 Coaversatione. — O'Meara. 
 
 towards him. He appointed Monsieur de 
 Bressieux Tobacco Inspector at Lyons, and 
 bestowed on his old sweetheart the lucrative 
 situation of Lady of Honor to his sister 
 Pauline. 
 
 Ordered with his company from Valence 
 to Lyons, in consequence of popular disturb- 
 ances, Bonaparte was for some months an 
 attentive observer in the most revolutionary 
 of French cities. Oppressed by misrule, and 
 denied that protection which all good govern- 
 ments give to the manufacturing interests, 
 the Lyonnais boldly discussed the doctrine of 
 divine right. Every post from Paris brought 
 philosophical essays, recommended to the 
 hearts of the people by their wit, energy, 
 learning, and novelty of subject. The crimes 
 of the Capet dynasty were denounced — the 
 claims of the people to be governed for their 
 good were asserted — the sophisms, avarice, 
 and ignorance of a bigotted and intolerant 
 clergy were detected and exposed. 
 
 A king who could have profited by these 
 new lessons, who could have imbued himself ' 
 with the full spirit of liberty, and the perfect 
 consciousness of right which were now man- 
 ifested, might have held his seat, have been 
 obeyed and immortalised as the saviour of his 
 country. Louis was a different character. 
 With the best wishes, he had not the knowl- 
 edge necessary to secure the happiness of his 
 people. Positive of his hereditary rights, he 
 was blind to his ignorance — he could not be 
 persuaded that he must be taught how to gov- ■' 
 em a great nation, or yield the reins to those ; 
 who had the skill to guide it — but the cup of ' 
 aggression was full, and soon ran over. The • 
 people were not so enlightened as to be able t 
 constitutionally to improve the existing order 
 of things, but they saw the necessity and felt . 
 the power to destroy and to re-model it. At : 
 Lyons, as throughout France, individuals saw 
 this necessity and felt this power. Their ' 
 ideas were communicated — clubs were form- ■ 
 ed — and combination produced its natural 11 
 effect. I 
 
 Louis, who, at his succession, felt in some ■ 
 degree the popular wants, and appeared anx- 
 ious to meet them, by employing popular' 
 ministers and issuing popular ordinances, was 
 overpowered by the influence of his queen, 
 the unceasing efforts of the noblesse and the 
 privileged clergy, and by the conviction that 
 every advance he made towards concession 
 appeared to render the people more eager in 
 their demands and more unsatisfied with 
 their situation. He was disgusted with the ill 
 success of his eflforts. Marie Antoinette and 
 the courtiers laughed at his failures, and I 
 lured him from his patriotic career to the 
 frivolities of the court, and the arbitrary! 
 measures that usually emanate from extrava- 
 gance and folly. Every courier from Paris 
 carried news of masques, revels, and dissi- 
 pation, into towns where thousands lacked 
 the necessities of life. It was not strange, 
 then, that Napoleon's anti-monarchical opin- 
 ions were strengthened during his residence 
 among the destitute silk-weavers of Lyons. 
 
 The assembly of the "States-General" 
 at Versailles, on the 5th of May, 1789, has 
 
THE FRENCH COURT 
 
 been called by historians the first day of the 
 Revolution. Gouverneur Morris, who was 
 then in France, (prosecuting a claim of Rob- 
 ert Morris against the Farmers Cieneral lor a 
 shipment of tobacco,) described this funereal 
 ceremony over the Capet dynasty, in the fol- 
 lowing letter to a female relative in Phila- 
 delphia : 
 
 " I had the honor to be present on the fifth 
 of this month at the opening of the States- 
 General ; a spectacle niore solemn to the 
 mind, than gaudy to the e.ye. And yet, there 
 was displayed everything of noble and of 
 royal in this titled country. A great number 
 of fine women, and a very great number of 
 fine dresses, ranged round the Hall. On a 
 kind of stage the throne ; on the left of the 
 King, and a little below bin), the Queen ; a 
 little behinel him to the right, and on chairs, 
 the Princes of the blood ; on the right and 
 left, at some distance from the throne, the va- 
 rious Princesses, with the gentlemen and la- 
 dies of their retinue. Advanced on the stage, 
 to the left of the throne, the Keeper of the 
 Seals. Several officers of the household, 
 richly caparisoned, strewed about in diflerent 
 places. Behind the throne, a cluster of 
 guards, of the largest size, dressed in ancient 
 costumes, taken from the times of chivalry. 
 In front of the throne on the right, below the 
 stage, ihe IMinisters of state, with a large ta- 
 ble before them. Oh the opposite side of the 
 hall some benches, on which sat the Mare- 
 chals of France, and other great otlicers. lu 
 front of the Ministers, on benches facing the 
 opposite side of the hall, sat the Representa- 
 tives of the Clergy, being priests of all col- 
 ors, scarlet, crimson, black, white, and grey, 
 to the number of three hundred. In front of 
 the Marechals of France, on benches facing 
 the Clergy, sat an equal number of Represen- 
 tatives of the Nobility, dressed in a robe of 
 black, waistcoats of cloth of gold, and over 
 their shoulders, so as to hang forward to their 
 
 his genuflexions to the throne, and nirnjblcd 
 out, in a very ungraceful maimer, ;. spe3cli 
 of considerable length, which noliody pre- 
 tends to judge of, because nobody Inward it. 
 He was succeeded by M. Necker, who soon 
 handed his speech to his clerk, being unable 
 to go through with it. The clerk delivered h 
 much better than the IMinister, and that is no 
 great praise. It was three hours long, con- 
 tained many excellent things, but too much 
 of compliment, too iinich of repetition, and 
 indeed too much of everything, for it was too 
 long by two hours, and yet fell short in some 
 capital points of great expectation. He re- 
 ceived, however, very repeated plaudits from 
 the audience, some of which were merited, 
 Init more were certainly paid to his charac- 
 ter, than to his composition. M. Necker's 
 long speech now comes to a close, and the 
 King rises to depart. The Hall resounds 
 with a long loud Vive h Roi. He passes 
 the Queen, who rises to follow him. At this 
 moment some one, imbued with the milk of 
 human kindness, originates a faint Vive la 
 Reine. She makes a humble courtesy and 
 presents the sinking of the high .Austrian 
 spifit ; a livelier acclamation in return, and 
 to this her lowlier bending, which is succeed- 
 ed by a shout of loud applause. Here drops 
 the curtain on the first great act of this great 
 drama, in which a Bourbon gives freedom. 
 His courtiers seem to feel, what he seems to 
 be insensible of, the pang of greatness going 
 off." 
 
 On the 17th of June, the " third estate " 
 or popular branch of the States-General, (af- 
 ter having in vain invited the " nobles " and 
 the "prelates" to join them,) constituted 
 themselves into a National. Assembly. 
 The King, during an excursion with Marie 
 Antoinette and her courtiers, resolved to put 
 down this revolutionary demonstration by 
 force, and on the 20th of June the " third es- 
 tate " found their hall closed by royal order. 
 
 waists, a kind of lappels, about a quarter of i They immediately repaired to a large build 
 
 a yard wide at the top, and wider at bottom, 
 made of cloth of gold. On benches, which 
 reached quite across the hall, and facing the 
 stage, sat the Representatives of the People, 
 clothed in black. In the space between the 
 Clergy and Nobles, directly in front of the 
 Representatives of the People, and facing the 
 throne, stood the heralds at arms, with their 
 staves, and in very rich dresses. 
 
 ing used for playing tennis-ball, and there, en- 
 closed by bare walls, with heads uncovered, 
 and a spontaneous burst of enthusiasm, made 
 a solemn vow, never to .separate until they 
 had given France a Constitution. 
 
 On the 23d, the King tried his power to 
 dissolve the Assembly which he had inaugu- 
 rated with pomp and ceremony, but although 
 the nobility and clergy obeyed, the deputies 
 
 When the Kiiig entered, he was saluted i of the people sat still. " Go tell your mas- 
 vvith a shout of applause. Some time after ter," said Mirabeau to the officer who order- 
 he had taken his seat, he put on a round bea- ■ ed the deputies to disperse, "that we are 
 ver, ornamented with white plumes, the part , here by oreler of the people; and that we 
 in front turned up, with a large diamond but- | shall not retire but at the point of the bayo 
 
 ton in the centre. He read his speech well 
 and was interrupted at a part, which affected 
 his audience, by a loud shout of Vive le 
 Roi. After this had subsided, he finished 
 his speech, and received again an animated 
 acclamation of applause. He then took off 
 his hat, and after a while put it on again, at 
 which the Nobles also put on their hats, which 
 resembled the King's, excepting the button. 
 The ell'ect of this display of plumage was 
 fine. 
 
 " The Keeper of the Seals then performed 
 
 net."*"' An armed insurrection broke out at 
 Paris on the 11th of July, and on Tuesday 
 the 14th, the Bastile was taken by the popu- 
 lace. Earth was lightened of a load that op- 
 pressed it, nor did this ghastly object any 
 longer startle the sight, like an ugly spider 
 lying in wait for its accustomed prey, and 
 brooding in sullen silence over the wrongs 
 which it had the will, though not the power 
 to inflict. t 
 
 * Louis Blanc considers this apocryplial. 
 t Life of Napoleon. — Haililt. 
 
26 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE: 
 
 Oil the 1st of June, 1789, Bonapart* was 
 ordered from Lyons to Auxonne, wliere there 
 was a Royal school of Artillery. Politics 
 continued to occupy his attention, and the 
 stirring events at Paris but fanned his oppo- 
 sition to royalty, though his letters show that 
 he thought more of securing the blessings of 
 liberty to Corsica than to I'rance. A bitter 
 epistle to Buttafoco, the Corsican deputy of 
 the nobles in the Assembly, was republished 
 by the patriotic club of " Ajaccio," who un- 
 der its influence, passed a resolution, attach- 
 ing the epithet " infamous " to the name of 
 this noble representative. The following 
 characteristic letter, addressed to Gen. Paoli, 
 (then an exile in England,) exhibits the Cor- 
 sican " Vendetta'" of the writer, with a 
 democratic spirit which places the political 
 opinions of tlie future Emperor in a clear 
 light :— 
 
 " General — I was born when my country 
 was perishing. Thirty thousand Frenchmen 
 landed upon our coast, bathing the throne of 
 liberty with streams of blood. Such was 
 the odious spectacle which first presented it- 
 self to my sight. The cries of the dying, 
 the groans of tlie oppressed, the tears of des- 
 pair, were the companions of my infant days. 
 You quitted our island, and with you disap- 
 peared all hopes of happiness ; slavery was 
 the reward of our submission. Loaded with 
 the triple chain of the soldier, the legislator, 
 and the tax-gatherer, our countrymen lived 
 despised by those who have the conniiand 
 over us. Is it not the greatest pain that one 
 who has the slightest elevation of sentiment 
 can suffer .' Can the wretched Peruvian, 
 writhing under the tortures of the avaricious 
 Spaniard, feel a greater ? No I Wretches, 
 whom a desire of gain and plunder corrupts, 
 to justify themselves, have invented calum- 
 nies against the National Government, and 
 against you, sir, in particular ; authors, con- 
 fiding in their veracity, transmit them to pos- 
 terity. While perusing them, my heart boils 
 with indignation, ar.d I have resolved to dis- 
 sipate these delusions, the ofl'spring of igno- 
 rance. An early study of the French lan- 
 guage, long observation, and the memorials 
 to which I have had access in the portfolios 
 of the patriots, have led ine to promise my- 
 self some success. I wish to compare your 
 government with the present one. I wish to 
 blacken with the pencil of dishonor those 
 who have betrayed the common cause ; I 
 wish to call before the tribunal of public 
 opinion those who are in power ; set forth 
 their vexatious proceedings, expose their se- 
 cret intrigues, and, if possible, interest the 
 present virtuous minister in the deplorable 
 situation that we are now in. If my fortune 
 permitted me to live in the capital, I should 
 have found out other means of making known 
 our complaints ; but being obliged to serve 
 in the army, I find myself thus compelled to 
 make use of this, the only means of publici- 
 ty ; for, as to private memorials, either they 
 would not reach the government, or, stifled 
 by the clamors of the parties concerned, 
 they would only occasion the ruin of the au- 
 thor. 
 
 " Still young, my enterprise may seem 
 daring ; but love for truth, of my country 
 and fellow citizens, that enthusiasm which 
 the prospect of an amelioration in our state 
 always gives, bears me up. If you. Gener- 
 al, condescend to approve of a work in 
 which your name will so often occur, if you 
 condescend to encourage the eftorts of a 
 young rnan whom you have known from in- 
 fancy, and whose parents were always at- 
 tached to the good cause, I shall dare to au- 
 gur favorably of my success. I hoped at one 
 time to be able to go to London, to express 
 to 3 ou the sentiments you have raised in my 
 bosom, and to converse together on the mis- 
 fortunes of our country ; but the distance is 
 an objection ; perhaps a time will come 
 when I shall be able to overcome it. What- 
 ever may be the success of my undertaking, 
 I know that it will raise against me the nu- 
 merous body of Frenchmen who govern our 
 island, and whom I attack ; but what matters 
 it, so as the welfare of my country is con- 
 cerned .' I shall hear the wicked upbraid; 
 and if the bolt fall, I shall examine my heart 
 and shall recollect the lawfulness of my mo- 
 tives, and at that moment I shall defy it. 
 
 "Permit me. General, to ofler you the 
 homage of myfamilj' — why should I not add, 
 of my countrymen ? They sigh at the re- 
 collection of a time when they had hoped for 
 liberty. My mother, Madame Laetitia, has 
 charged me, above all, to recall to your re- 
 membrance the years long since passed at 
 Corte. I remain with respect, General, 
 Your most humble 
 
 And most obedient servant. 
 Napoleon Bonaparte, 
 Officer in the regiment of La Fere." 
 
 In reply to this letter. Gen. Paoli furnished 
 his young countryman with valuable materi- 
 als for the work upon which he was occupied, 
 and it was soon completed. Monsieur Joly, 
 a printer at Dole, had published Napoleon's 
 " Letter to Buttafoco," and was invited to 
 Auxonne, in order to make arrangements for 
 publishing the "History of Corsica." Cir- 
 cumstances prevented the execution of the 
 contract, and Sir Walter Scott says : " the 
 work on Corsica was never printed, nor has 
 a trace of it been discovered." This is an 
 error. Napoleon had the manuscript at St. 
 Helena, and sent it with other valuable doc- 
 uments to Cardinal Fesch. In 1840 it was 
 the property of M. Libri, an officer in the 
 French Department of public instruction. 
 
 It was the steady aim of the author of 
 Waverley to represent Napoleon as originally 
 " na indigent adventurer," and to give a 
 mean coloring to his early life. He accord- 
 ingly states that M. Joly, on visiting Aux- 
 onne, " found the future Emperor in a naked 
 barrack room, the sole furniture of which 
 consisted of a wretched bed without curtains, 
 a table placed in the embrasure of a win- 
 dow, loaded with books and papers, and two 
 chairs. His brother Louis, whom he was 
 teaching mathematics, lay on a wretched 
 mattress in an adjoining closet." In answer 
 
PECUNIARY CIRCUMSTANCES 
 
 27 
 
 lo which, Louis Bonaparte observes :* " This \ 
 passage contains ahiiost as many fulsehoods ' 
 as lilies. I recollect very well that, on my 
 account, a larger and more commodious i 
 apartment was assigned to my brother than' 
 to the other olticers of his rank. The furni- 
 ture could not be either better or worse than 
 that of his comrades, because they were ail 
 in barracks, and of course lodged and fur- 
 nished by the state. I remember that I had 
 a very good chamber, and an excellent bed. 
 My brother directed my studies, but I had 
 projier masters, cveri in literature.'' We al- 
 so find that Napoleon prepared Louis fcu' his 
 confirmation in the Ivouian Catholic church, 
 and so strong was the respect of the young 
 Lieutenant for religious observances, that he 
 was entrusted with the altar furniture of the 
 regiment, when tiie otlico of chaplain was 
 abolished. 
 
 Promoted lo a 1st liiiutenaucy in the regi- 
 ment of Grcnobks (the 4th artillery,) he 
 joined it at Valence. Obtaining a short 
 leave of absence, he made an excursion with 
 a comrade into Burgundy, and stopping at 
 Nuits, they were invited to pass the evening 
 with .M. Gassendi, (a captain of their regi- 
 ment,) who had married the daughter of a 
 physician residing there. Gassendi was a 
 royalist, his father-in-law a patriot. Their 
 opposition was displayed by a warm discus- 
 sion at supper, in which Bonaparte's superi- 
 or intelligence and logic were so efiicient on 
 the side of the doctor, that he visited his 
 guest next morning in his chamber, and 
 thanked him in flattering terms for his inter- 
 posiiion. The eloquence and patriotism of 
 the young olheer, became the subject of con- 
 versation in the town. It was Sunday, and 
 when he walked out, the people in the streets 
 pulled o(f their hats to him as the champion 
 of their cause. But ihe triumph of the morn- 
 ing was 0%'ercast at night. He was invited 
 to pass the evening at the house of Madame 
 Mery, a lady of wealth and fashion, who en- 
 tertained all the aristocracy of the district.' 
 Here having expressed some of his opinions, 
 they were assailed and reprobated with the 
 utmost violence. He attempted a war of 
 words, but overpowered by noise and num- 
 bers^ was able to extricate himself only hj' 
 the assistance of his hostess, who gracefully 
 parried the blows which he could not resist. 
 This incident, though it mnrtified him for the 
 moment, contributed still farther to connect 
 his name and feelings with the cause of the 
 people. Of this trip, in which his curiosity 
 and friendship were both gratified, and 
 which appears to have been the last as wel 
 as the first he ever performed from mere mo- 
 tives of pleasure, his recollection was so 
 agreeable, that he conceived for the moment 
 an idea of writing a description of it after the 
 manner of Sterne, and spoke of it in after 
 life with peculiar complacency, calling it his 
 sentimental journey. \ 
 
 In September, 1791, Bonaparte received a 
 furlough, and hastened to Corsica, where he 
 
 * Reiily to Scott. 
 
 t Life of Niipoleon,'— /^ee. 
 
 received a warm welcome frnin his proud 
 mollier. She never went out unless accom- 
 panied by her soldier-son in full uniform, and 
 endeavored to negotiate a marriage, which 
 would have made Napoleon a wealthy l)ride- 
 groom. 
 
 '!'he young Lieutenant's heart was not to 
 be caught with golden bait, and his love for 
 Corsica left no room for other aflections. 
 Gen. Paoli had appeared at the bar of the 
 National Constituent Assembly, (at Paris,) 
 and hud entreated, in the name of the people 
 of Corsica, that they might be irrevocably 
 united, by a legislative decree, to the French, 
 nation. 'J'he then all-powerful Mirabeau ad- 
 vocating this request, Corsica was iniinediate- 
 ly "annexed," as an eiglity-lhird depart- 
 ment, to Fr;uice. Gen. Paoli was appointed 
 Coannander-in-chief of the militia, and he 
 selected his young friend Bonaparte as Major- 
 Commandant of the battalion at Ajaccio. 
 
 For the first time since the death of her 
 husband, Madame Bonaparte had her children 
 under their domestic roof. .Iose|i!), the old- 
 est son, had graduated with honor at the col- 
 lege of Autun, in France, and on his return 
 had received the appointment of President of 
 the Ajaccio Court of Common Pleas; — Liicieii 
 had also returned, a zealous revolutionist, and 
 was the orator of a democratic club; tlie other 
 children were at school. All looked up to 
 Napoleon with reverential afioction, and his 
 brother Louis, alluding to this ascendancy 
 many years afterwards, said: "It was in 
 his own family that Napoleon began to exhib- 
 it his great superiority — not after glory and 
 power had elevated iiim, hut in his early 
 youth." 
 
 The emigration of royalist otHcers made a 
 general promotion necessary, and Bonaparte 
 received a commission as captain in the 4th 
 Regiment of Foot Artillery, dated February 
 (Jth, 1792. His name iiad been placed on 
 the list some month's previous, by Monsienr 
 Duportail, then Minister of ^Var, who had 
 served in the American Revolution as an of- 
 ficer of Engineers,* and was a member of the 
 same !\Iasoiiic Lodge. The name of Captain 
 Bonaparte is on a list of olhcers destined for 
 the army invading Flanders under Count Ro- 
 chambeau,t but Monsieur de Narbonne re- 
 placing Duportail in the Department of War, 
 the young Corsican was overlooked. He 
 was not idle, however, and the battalion of 
 Ajaccio, under his command, was the most 
 efiicient and the best drilled corps in the Cor- 
 sican militia. 
 
 Meanwhile English intrigue hhd seduced 
 Gen Paoli from his allegiance. He had ac- 
 cepted the amnesty held out by the law of 
 the National Assembly, and had also accept 
 ed an appointment of high trust and honor 
 
 * After leaving the Ministry, Monsieur Diipnrtfiil 
 was proscribed, and to escape the guillotine he lied 
 to America, where he remained until 1802, and died 
 on his passage back to France. • 
 
 t The commander of the French troops sent over 
 during tlie American Revolution. It was to avoid 
 wounding his military susceptibility that General 
 Washington was created " Field Marshal of France 
 and Navarre." 
 
28 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE: 
 
 under the Republic, but suLldeiily manifested 
 a willingness to yield the provnice committed 
 to his superintendence, to a hostile nation. 
 Scott extols this treacheroijs " opposition to 
 the prevailing infection of Jacobinism," as 
 nobly contrasted with the conduct of that 
 portion of the Corsicans, who continued 
 faithful to the allegiance oi their own choice. 
 The loyal baronet of Abbotsford, (to use the 
 words of a coteniporary writer,) appears to 
 esteem perjury and treason in favor of Eng- 
 land the first and highest duties of a French 
 citizen. 
 
 On Good Friday, the Vicar of Ajaccio took 
 occasion in his discourse to rebuke this disre- 
 gard of sacred obfigations. His conservative 
 sentiments maddened the English faction, 
 and a party of rioters v^'ould have pulled 
 down the vicarage the next day, had not 
 Captain Bonaparte, at the head of his bat- 
 talion, promptly hastened to the spot, and 
 dispersed the mob at the point of the bayonet. 
 Peraldi, the leader of the discomtitted rioters, 
 had an old vendetta against the Bonapartes, 
 and lost no time in denouncing Napoleon as 
 the secret instigator of the riot which he had 
 openly quelleil. This accusation, prompted 
 by vengeance, was unsupported by truth. 
 But it renderetl a journey to Paris advisable, 
 where, though the sanguinary temj)er of pow 
 ei was beginning to encourage delation, Bo- 
 naparte found no dilliculty in vindicating his 
 conduct. 
 
 Meeting Bourrienne, with whom he had 
 been intimate while at the military college, 
 Bonaparte remained some months at the 
 French capital, and the two young men wit- 
 nessed the insurrection of the 20th of June. 
 " We met by appointment, (says Bourri- 
 enne,) at a restaurateur's, in the Rue St. 
 Honore, near the Palais-Royal. On going 
 out, we saw a mob approaching, in the di- 
 rection of the market-place, which Bonaparte 
 estimated at from five to six thousand men. 
 They were a parcel of blackguards, armed 
 with weapons of every description, and 
 shouting the grossest abuse, whilst they pro- 
 ceeded at a rapid rate toward the Tuilleries. 
 This mob appeared to consist of the vilest 
 and most profligate of the population of the 
 suburbs. ' Let us follow the rabble,' said 
 Bonaparte. We got the start of them, and 
 took up our station on the terrace, bordering 
 the river. It was there thit he was an eye- 
 witness of the scandalous scenes that ensued ; 
 and it would be ditficult to describe the sur- 
 prise and indignation which they excited in 
 him. Such weakness and forbearance, he 
 said, could not be excused; but when the 
 king showed himself at a window which 
 looked out upon the garden, with the red cap, 
 which one of the mob had just placed upon 
 his head, he could no longer repress his in- 
 dignation ; ' What madness !' he loudly ex- 
 claimed ; ' how could they allow that rabble 
 to enter ? why do they not sweep away four 
 or five hundred of them with the cannon ? 
 and then the rest would take themselves oft 
 very quickly.' When we sat down to din- 
 ner, he discussed with great good sense the 
 causes and consequences of this unrepressed 
 
 insurrection. He foresaw, and developed 
 with sagacity, all that would follow, and in 
 this he was not mistaken."* 
 
 Napoleon was still more shocked by the 
 sanguinary excesses of the 10th of August — 
 " that awful night, when the despotic nion 
 archy of a thousand years went down, like 
 some imposing ship of war, in the midst of 
 hurricane and tempest, never to raise its head 
 in France."! The brave and immolated 
 Swiss Guards, Iheir bodies lying in heaps on 
 the pavement of ihe court, and their heads 
 paraded about on pikes by demons in human 
 shape, struck him with horror, and presented 
 a spectacle which he remembered as "hide- 
 ous and revolting." Instinct with heroic 
 fire, his soul shuddered at scenes of cruelty 
 and murder, and his just understanding re- 
 garded the violence of a mob as the ferocity 
 of a monster. t 
 
 Governeur Jlorris — Minister Plenipotenti- 
 ary of the United States to France — was a 
 federalist of the Washingtonian school, and 
 sympathised with the unfortunate monarch. 
 Early in July, he had counselled the Royal 
 family to escape from Paris, and arrange- 
 ments for their flight were made at his resi- 
 dence, No. 488 in the Rue de La Planche.§ 
 On the 10th of August, IVfessrs. de Monceil, 
 Bremond and de Coigny, who were concern- 
 ed in this scheme, together with the Count 
 d'Estaing, and others who had served in the 
 American army, hastened to Mr. Morris, 
 with their families, and asked his diplomatic 
 protection. It was granted, and the chival- 
 rous American remarked to a countryman — 
 " I have no doubt, sir, but there are persons 
 on the watch, who would find fault with my 
 conduct as IMinister, in receiving and protect- 
 ing these people, but I call on you to witness 
 the declaration, which I now make, and that 
 is, that they were not invited to my house, 
 but came of their own accord; whether my 
 house will be a protection to them, or to me, 
 God only knows, but I will not turn them out 
 of it, let what will happen to me ;" to which 
 he added, " you see, sir, they are all per- 
 sons to whom our country' is more or less in- 
 debted, and it would be inhuman to force 
 them into the hands of the assassins, had 
 they no such claim upon me."|| 
 
 To the greater portion of the Parisians, 
 this conduct of Mr. Morris gave great dis- 
 pleasure, which was increased by a disposi- 
 tion on the part of the American Government 
 to defer the payment of the national debt due 
 
 * Bourrieniie's Memoir. 
 
 t Lamartiiie's Giroiidins. 
 
 i Lee's Napoleon. 
 
 § Mr. Morris acted as treasurer of tlie part)-, ami 
 wlien the catastrophe of the 10th of August destroy- 
 ed all hopes of success, he had in his possession 
 748,000 livres touriiois belonging to Louis XVL A 
 part of these funds he employed in aiding notable 
 Royalists to escape, and after his lecall (in 1796,) 
 he repaired to Vienna, to render an account of his 
 stewardship to the daughter of Ihe unfortunate king, 
 (afterwards the Duchesse d'Angoiileme,) and to pay 
 her the balance which reinanied in his hands. As 
 he passed through London on his mission, he nobly 
 opened a credit of fifteen hundred pounds sterling, 
 for the use of Louis Philippe, of Orleans, who was 
 much embarrassed in his pecuniary circumstances. 
 
 II Life of Morris. — Spar/cs. 
 
THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 29 
 
 France, to the Revolutionists. Tiio unlii(;I;y 
 use of the diplomatic phrase " ma cour,'^ in 
 referring to his own government, sounded so 
 harshly in the ears of these newly fledged 
 Repuhlicans, that they added injury to insult. 
 Mr. Morris was at one time arrested in the 
 street because lie had not a Police passport in 
 his pocket — a few days afterwards his house 
 was entered by a band of armed policemen, 
 although by the laws of nations it w;is ex- 
 empted from such intrusions — and again, on 
 a short journey into the country, he was ar- 
 rested and sent baclv, under pretence that his 
 passpo4-t was out of date. These insults, it 
 is true, were followed bv apologies, but they 
 came with a reluctance that showed little love 
 for the United States. Even the sacred 
 name of Washington was calunu-iiated by the 
 infuriated demagogues, because in an otticial 
 letter to the l<ii)g, he had spoken of "your 
 ■people,'" instead of using tlie more republi- 
 can term " citizens." On one occasion a 
 radical journal informed its readers that there 
 was " a statue of that moiuuxhical despot of 
 tiie Western Republic — Washington — at a 
 studio on the boulevard," and recommended 
 its decapitation, as " a warning to the diplo- 
 matic minion of Madame Veto." 
 
 Bonaparte was thus, early in life, preju- 
 diced against the United States, by poi)ular 
 report — nor were his associates men who 
 were favorably disposed towards the govern- 
 ment at Philadelphia. Thomas Paine, an 
 English infidel, who claimed the title of the 
 " Apostle of America," and Edmund C. Ge- 
 net, who afterwards made so much trouble 
 as Minister of the French Republic, under 
 Washington's administration, were constant- 
 ly at a literary club which the young captain 
 of Artillery visited dailv — and both of these 
 worthies have left behind many proofs of their 
 hostilit}' to the " Father of his Country." 
 
 Not obtaining a post in the French army 
 on the frontier, Bonaparte returned to Corsi- 
 ca in September, 1792, and resumed the 
 command of his battalion. In December a 
 squadron arrived, commanded by Vice-Ad- 
 miral Truguet, who had been selected to con- 
 quer Sardinia. Bonaparte was ordered to 
 march with his battalion to the straits of Bon- 
 
 met Barberi, who complained ihat he never 
 saw me, and proposed an excursion of pleas- 
 ure. I consented, on condition that it should 
 be on the water. lie nuide a signal to tiie 
 sailors on board a vessel of which he was a 
 proprietor ; they came, and we set out. I 
 wanted to measure the extent of the gulf, and 
 made them direct their course to theRecanto. 
 I placed myself at the stern, undid my ball 
 of packthread, and obtained the result which 
 I wished for. Arrived at Costa, we ascend- 
 ted it ; the position was magnificent; it is the 
 same that the English afterwards surmounted 
 with a redoubt; it commanded Ajaccio. I 
 was desirous to examine it : Barberi, who 
 took little interest in researches of this kind, 
 pressed me to have don 3 ; I strove to divert 
 him and gain time, but appetite made him 
 deaf. If f spoke to liim of the width of the 
 bay, he replied that he had not yet breakfast- 
 ed : if of the church-steeple, 'of such or such 
 a house, which I could reach with my bomb- 
 shells, ' Good,' he said; ' but I am in haste, 
 and an excellent breakfast awaits me ; let us 
 go by all means !' We did so, but his friends 
 were tired of waiting for him ; so that on his 
 arrival he found neither guests nor banquet. 
 lie resolved to be more cautious in future, and 
 to mind the hour when he went on a recon- 
 noitring party." 
 
 Paoli soon became openly hostile to France, 
 and was encouraged in his treason by the 
 Roman Catholic priests, who found that the 
 Revolution was fast undermining their ])ov.-- 
 er. Napoleon and Lucien Bonaparte, how- 
 ever, preferred the country of their adoption 
 to English allegiance, despite the eflbrts of 
 Paoli, who implored them, in the name of his 
 old friend, their father, to espouse his cause. 
 The microscopic scene of Corsica was too 
 narrow for the daring young soldier, who as- 
 pired to " a kingdom for a stage, and nations 
 to behold the swelling act." His profession- 
 al pride and instinctive feeling were affected, 
 (as he says,) with antipatlnj for the treason- 
 able project of Paoli, and as vigorous plants 
 shoot upward to the sun, his genius, which 
 would have been imprisoned in the contracted 
 circuit of his native isle, gravitated towards 
 the important events of France, and the 
 
 ifacio, and to feign an attack on that side of the ; powerful emotions which produced them.* 
 island, while the Admiral, with his fleet, di- 
 rected operations against Cagiiari. The ex- 
 pedition was defeated, but Bonaparte, not 
 content with making a diversion, took sever- 
 al batteries. The failure of the Admiral 
 made it impossible for him to retain the posi- 
 tio;is he had taken, but he retreated with so 
 much discretion as to win high honors. 
 
 A passion for military glory is inseparable 
 from great military talents, and Bonaparte's 
 
 The last interview between Paoli and Bo- 
 napirte terminated in hard words, and as the 
 latter was retracing his steps homeward, he 
 was taken prisoner in a mounlain pass by 
 some of Paoli's guard. Confined for the 
 night in a cottage, he escaped in female at- 
 tire brought him by a servant-maid, and suc- 
 ceeded in joining the French troops at Calvi, 
 Bastia. When the news of this attempt to 
 capture Napoleon reached .Ajaccio, the Rev- 
 
 ambition was so fired by his first campaign, olutionary club of that city determined to ask 
 
 that he pursued his military studies with in- 
 creased assiduity. " I was as yet, (he said 
 at St. Helena,) only a captain : I foresaw 
 that the war would be long and sanguinary: 
 I prepared myself for it. I had fixed my 
 study in the quietest part of the house ; I had, 
 in fact, gotson the roof; I saw no one, sel- 
 dom went out, but studied hard. One Sun- 
 day morning, as I was crossing the pier, I 
 
 'inforcement of troops from France. A 
 deputation was chosen, of which Lucien Bo- 
 naparte was chairman, and they sailed at 
 once for Marseilles. 
 
 This enraged the partizans of Paoli, and 
 they declared they would eradicate the Bo- 
 naparte family. Madame Bonaparte had 
 
 Life of Napoleon. — I.ee. 
 
80 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE : 
 
 witli lier live small children, !)at displayed 
 that firm and courageous spirit which had 
 characterized her early years, during the war 
 of independence. She despatched nuinerous 
 messengers to Joseph and Najxileon, hoping 
 to receive their protection, but awakened 
 suddenly in the middle of the next night, she 
 beheld her chamber tilled with armed men. 
 Her first thought was that she had been sur- 
 prised by her enemies, but by the light of a 
 fir torch carried by the leader of the party, 
 she saw Costa, chief of the piei-e of Bastel- 
 ica, her devoted friends. A hunter of his 
 dan had encountered a numerous band of 
 Paoli's troops, on their way to Ajaccio, with 
 orders to take all the Bonaparte fimily pris- 
 oners, and to destroy their properly. Hast 
 ening with the tidings to Bastelica, the clan 
 was soon aroused, and three hundred armed 
 men, headed by their chief, had nuide a 
 forced march, which enabled them to reach 
 Ajaccio first. " Quick, make haste, Signo- 
 ra Letizia, (said Costa,) Paoli's men are 
 close upon you — you have not a moment to 
 lose. Thank Heaven, I am here with all my 
 men, and will save you or perish in the at- 
 tempt." 
 
 Rising up in haste, Madame Bonaparte 
 mid her children half clothed themselves, and 
 hurried out into the street, where they were 
 placed on horseback, in the centre of (7osta"s 
 colunm. Leaving the ciiy without awaken- 
 ing the inhabitants, the fugitives entered into 
 the deepest recesses of the mountain forests, 
 and halted in a chestnut grove, from whence 
 the city was visible. On one occasion a 
 scouting party of the etiemy traversed a 
 neighboring valley, and the iinfortunale fam- 
 ily could ])lainly hear (he threats of their ex- 
 asperated pursuers. In the afternoon, a thick 
 column of smoke was seen to arise from the 
 middle of the city. " They are burning 
 your house, Signora Letizia !" said the brave 
 Costa. "Ah! never mind! (she replied,) 
 we vi'il! build it up again much better — Vii:e 
 la France." Two night-marches, and the 
 Spartan mother and her young flock were 
 joyously welcomed on board of a French 
 frigate by Napoleon and Josei)h. "Thus, 
 (said Lucien, in narrating the above facts,) 
 the rage of our enemies was reduced to ex- 
 pend itself upon the stores of our house." 
 
 The decree of banishment against the Bo- 
 napartes, which followed the confiscation of 
 their property, made Napoleon an active al- 
 ly of the French troops, who were directed 
 by Salicetti and La Combe, Representatives 
 of the people. On one occasion Bonaparte 
 was sent from Calvi to surprise Ajaccio. He 
 embarked in a frigate, and landing on the 
 north side of the gulf wilh a party of fifty 
 men, took possession of a fort called the 
 Torre I'i Capitello. He had no sooner car- 
 ried this point, than ihe frigate was driven to 
 sea by a gale. While thus insulated and un 
 supported, the insurgents attacked him with 
 great violence, by land and water. He de- 
 fended himself with spirit, and with such 
 pertinacity, that he and his hemic little gar- 
 rison were reduced to lations of horse-flesh. 
 During the siege, lie called out from tiie walls 
 
 to a parly, and harangued his misguided 
 countrymen in a strain of eloquence so im- 
 pressive that he made many converts. After 
 five days of conflict and starvation, the frig- 
 ate returned to her station, and he re-enibark- 
 ed, having first partially blown up the fort. 
 He himself mentions, that in one of his land- 
 ings, he got a few guns ashore, and with a 
 round or two of grapeshot, dispersed a body 
 of the insurgents who opposed him. They 
 returned to the attack, however, and mixed 
 reproaches with their warfare, expressing in- 
 dignation that he, a Corsican, should be fight- 
 ing for France. In order to make themselves 
 both seen and heard, they ascended the 
 neighboring hills, and even mounted up into 
 trees. Bonaparte had a gun loaded with 
 ball, and aimet' it so well, that he cut oft' a 
 limb on which one of those exclusive patriots 
 was perched. His fall, which created a gen- 
 eral laugh, was followed by the instant flight 
 of his party.* 
 
 Lord Hood, the English Admiral, took pos- 
 session of Corsica, at the request of Paoli, 
 and the French found it impossible to resist 
 their united forces. Leaving nominal garri- 
 sons at Bastia and Calvi, the Representatives 
 re-embarked with their army for France, and 
 Bonaparte was united to his fugitive family. 
 His mother and her young children had land- 
 ed at Nice, but afterv\ards moved to Mar- 
 seilles, where thev were deprived of every 
 resource, but full of courage and gocd 
 health. Napoleon devoted the chief part of 
 his income towards their supitort, and soon 
 obtained a situation for Joseph in the Quar- 
 termaster's department, while Lucien, at his 
 brother's request, was sent to St Maximin, a 
 small tovin in the vicinity, as keeper of mili- 
 tary stores, and the children were placed at 
 school. 
 
 Though embarrassed by poverty, the exiles 
 had mucli attention shown them at Marseilles, 
 and associated with the first families. Mad- 
 ame Clary, the widow of a merchant who 
 had amassed a large fortune by trading with 
 the \V'est Indies, was very kind to them, and 
 sanctioned the betrothal of Joseph to lier 
 daughter Julie. It has been stated that Na- 
 poleon was attached to a younger sister, but 
 that her father refused his consent to their mar- 
 riage, saying that "one Bonaparte was enough 
 in the san:e family." Hazlitt repeats this 
 story, and alleges that it was to make the ob- 
 ject of his early aflection a queen, that Napo 
 leon consented to Bernadotte's succeeding to 
 the throne of Sweden, and put the power 
 into the hands of a capricious rival, who af- 
 terwards deprived his benefactor of his crown. 
 This is a romantic tale, but at St. Helena 
 Napoleon denied ever having thought of mar- 
 rying Mademoiselle Clary, and Joseph Bona- 
 parte denies that the disdainful expression 
 attributed to his father-in-law was ever used. 
 " Monsieur Clary (wrote the Count Survil- 
 liers) never could have uttered the ridiculous 
 expression, for he died several years before 
 my marriage, and I never knew hiin."t 
 
 * Life of Napoleon. — Lee. 
 t Letter to Major Lee. 
 
PROGRESS OF THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 31 
 
 Lucien, soon after the marringe of Joseph, 
 espoused Christine, the daughter of Monsieur 
 Boyer, who was his landlord at St. IMaxi- 
 min. Although her early life had been passed 
 in waiting on her father's guests, she is said 
 to have been a woman of pleasing manners, 
 and great goodness of heart. Lucien was 
 devotetlly attached to her, and never would 
 listen to propositions for a divorce in after 
 life, preferring domestic happiness to a royal 
 alliance. 
 
 Marie Antoinette followed her husband to 
 the scaffold, where hetacombs were daily 
 sacrificed, by- order of rulers who rapidly 
 succeeded each other — as in a temple in an- 
 cient Rome, where the nuirderer of the of- 
 ficiating priest became his successor. The 
 struggle developed the abilities of many com- 
 petent to govern; but after blazing in their 
 orbits for awhile, they were invariably jolted 
 from the political firmament by the envy 
 which genius ever attracts, or fell beneath 
 the axe which they iiad so unsparingly wield- 
 ed, until the temple of French Libertj-, like 
 that of Juggernaut, was known by the immo- 
 lated victims with which the road leading to 
 it was overlain. France is described as one 
 vast conflagration of revolt and vengeance, 
 lit up by emissaries from the capital, who 
 mocked Humanity and outraged Patriotism. 
 Peasant girls were beheaded for dancing with 
 the enemies of the republic — mothers sufier- 
 ed death because they lamented the fate of 
 their sons — and the most refined cruelty was 
 devised. As an example of this demoniacal 
 sport, a writer cites the noyades at Nantes, 
 where barges, crowded with victims, were 
 anchored in deep water, and then scuttled. 
 Young Royalists and their affianced brides 
 were stripped naked, tied together, and then 
 drowned — this was termed a " Republican 
 Marriage." 
 
 Napoleon's regiment was quartered at 
 Nice, (where General Dugear was endeav- 
 oring to organize an army for the invasion of 
 Italy,) but he was chiefly at Bfarseilles and 
 Avignon, negotiating with a body of insur- 
 gents, who had seized the magazines of am- 
 munition and munitions of war. In order to 
 convince these malcontents that they were in 
 the wrong, and that they could easily be 
 forced into submission, the young ofticer pub- 
 lished a political essay, entitled the " Supper 
 of Beaucaire." A party was supposed to 
 assemble at the supper-table of a hotel at 
 Beaucaire, at the close of a fair, consisting of 
 two merchants from Marseilles, a mechanic 
 from Nismes, a gentleman from Montpelier, 
 and an artillery officer, who is the writer. 
 The conversation turning on the insurrection, 
 the ftlarseiilais advocate opposition to the ar- 
 my, and endeavor to show their city can re- 
 sist it — ideas which the other civilians advo- 
 cate. But the officer shows the superiority 
 of veterans over raw recruits, and compels 
 his opponents to admit that perseverance in 
 their lawless project would result in failure, 
 disgrace, and punishment. Citizens of an 
 opulent city like Marseilles, he said, should 
 support the authority of government. " Let 
 poor countries fight to the last extremity. The 
 
 native of Vivarais, of the Cervencs, of Cor- 
 sica, may expose himself without fear to the 
 event of battle. If he gain the figlit, he has 
 attained his purpose. — if he loses, he is in no 
 worse situation than before for making peace. 
 But you, Marseillais — if yo^l lose a battle, 
 the fruit of a thousand years of fatigue, of 
 labor, of frugality, of good fortune, bercn e 
 the prey of the soldier." 
 
 Scott speaks derisively of this pamjdilet as 
 a "small Jacobin publication," though he 
 admits in a subsequent note that, having 
 then for the first time seen a copy, " nothing 
 can be more inaccurate " than his original 
 account of it. It is but charitable to hope 
 that many other "inaccurate"sta1ementsmay 
 be attributed to lack of niatcrials, and the im- 
 perfect library of French authors at Abbotts- 
 ford. 
 
 The English agents in the Mediterranean, 
 well supplied with golden Louis, (coined in 
 Birmingham,) spared no eflbrts to sow dis- 
 sension in the French seaports, and to engage 
 traitors to revolt. At Toulon they were suc- 
 cessful. That fine naval station, with its 
 forts, arsenals, magazines, and twenty-five 
 ships-of-the-line, was surrendered by itsccm- 
 nmnder to the combined fleets of France and 
 Spain, under Admiral Lord Hood. Ihis was 
 a severe blow to the Revolutionary govern- 
 ment, who felt that the pride and safet)' of 
 the nation required the in:niediate recapture 
 of Toulon. Money and men — the sinews of 
 war — were lavishly supplied, and a large 
 force soon besieged the city. 'I he English, 
 on their part, were not idle. Redoubts were 
 erected on all the heights in the immediate 
 vicinity, and furnished with the cannon taken 
 from the lower decks of the captured French 
 line-of-battle ships. The English fleet brought 
 large reinforcements of Spanish, Sardinian, 
 and Neapolitan troops, and Lirnt. General 
 O'Hara, Governor of Gibraltar, came, 
 with all his disposable force, to ccmmand 
 this allied army of 44,000 men. This officer 
 had commanded a regiment of Guards in the 
 army under Lord Cornwallis, ^^hic■h served 
 in the Southern States during the American 
 Revolution. He distinguished hiiiiself at 
 Guilford Court House, and other engage- 
 ments, and was designated by his unlucky 
 commander to head the British troops, when 
 they marched out of their lines at Yorktown, 
 to ground their arms befere the victorious 
 Washington. It may naturalky be supposed 
 that he wished t< revive his tarnished laurels 
 by successfully defending Toulon. 
 
 Bonaparte was at Paris when the Ccnven- 
 ti(Ui was organizing its besieging army, and 
 calling at the War Office to transact some 
 business for General Brunet, he attracted the 
 attention of the Minister. Referring to the 
 files of the office, it was found that the young 
 Corsican not only possessed high military 
 abilities and personal merit, but that he had 
 given many proofs of his devotion to the op- 
 ponents of Royalty. He was at once prcnio 
 ted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, and 
 received orders to repair to the army before 
 Toulon, and direct the besieging artillery. 
 
 On his arrival at head-quarters, on the 
 
32 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 12lh of September, the young Coloner wait- 
 ed oil General Cartaux, a Parisian house- 
 puiiiter, who had been raised from the adju- 
 tancy of a militia battalion to the rank of Major 
 General in one cViy- He was a tall, haughty 
 man, with the ignorance incidental to his 
 rapid career, and covered from head to foot 
 with gold lace and embroidery. Glancing 
 contemptuously at the diminutive form and 
 plain apparel of Boiiaparfc, after he had 
 read his credentials, the braggadocio twisted 
 his moustache and said, with an air of dis- 
 dain : " This was quite unnecessary, fori 
 need no assistance to capture Toulon. [low- 
 ever, you are welcome, and you may share 
 the glory of burning the town tomorrow, 
 without having experienced any of the fa- 
 tigue. Stay and take supper with me." 
 
 The next morning Bonaparte found that 
 the artillery department displa3'ed the igno- 
 rance of its directors, and ap])ealed to the 
 agents of the Convention, who were so con- 
 vinced by his reasoning that they gave him 
 the uncontrolled ccmmand. His knowledge, 
 activity, and energy, were soon manifest, and 
 in less than six weeks he had organized his 
 men, appointed reliable oflicers, erected bat- 
 teries, and brought tv\o hundred guns to bear 
 upon the enemy. He slept in his cloak every 
 night by the side of his guns, was foremost 
 in repelling sallies, and invigorated his men 
 by his enthusiasm. One day he seized the 
 rammer of an artilleryman who had been 
 killed, and charged the gun repeatedly. Un- 
 fortunately the dead man had been afilicted 
 with a cutaneous complaint, which Bonaparte 
 contracted, and from the effects of which he 
 did not entirely recover for years. 
 
 On another occasion, so many men were 
 shot at an exposed battery, that tlie gunners 
 refused to serve the pieces. Bonaparte 
 neither punislied nor reproached his men, but, 
 resorting to that magic by which genius sub- 
 jects to its authority the impulses of mankind, 
 directed his orderly to post a sign over the 
 deserted guns, on which was inscribed : 
 " The battery of men without fear." The 
 appeal flew electrically through the ranks, 
 and the artillerymen now contended for the 
 
 battery, was captured by a battalion of 
 infantry headed by Bonaparte. Severely 
 wounded, the disappointed Briton refused his 
 captor's personal offer of civility. "All I ask 
 is to be left alone, and to owe nothing to 
 pity," was ihe surly, yet dignified reply of 
 the only ofKcer who had to surrender to 
 Washington and to Napoleon. 
 
 Bonaparte himself was wounded in the 
 thigh by a bayonet, and among the defeated 
 British was Col. Hudson Lowe, afterwards 
 infamously known as the jailer of St. Helena. 
 
 At length the young Colonel of Artillery 
 gained his desired positions — two promonto- 
 ries which conmianded the outer and inner 
 roadsteads, and thus menaced the fleet. He 
 had seen that when these positions were 
 gained, Toulon would not be tenable, and 
 no sooner did he open his fire from them, 
 than Lord Hood and his officers took meas- 
 ures as well for the embarkation of the troops, 
 as for pillaging and burning the French ships 
 and magazines. It was a fearful night, the 
 blaze resembling the eruption of a volcano, 
 and the explosion of the magazines adding to 
 the horrors of the scene. At daybreak, the 
 hostile squadron was seen under weigh in the 
 distance, "freighted with plunder, ignominy 
 and grief." 
 
 General Dugommier, who had succeeded 
 Cartaux, and who was a brave old soldier, 
 was convinced that he owed the victory to 
 Bonaparte. He not only placed his name at 
 the head of a list of officers Vvhom he recom- 
 mended for promotion, but he added in a 
 note that "his merits and talents were so 
 great, that if the Committee of Public Safety 
 neglected him, he would advance himself." 
 
 Promoted to the rank of General by brevet 
 Bonaparte was ordered to make a military 
 survey of the southwestern coast of France, 
 and to superintend the erection of proper 
 fortifications. This task he performed in a 
 manner which gave striking evidence of the 
 analytical power of his understanding, and 
 his contempt of the local magistrates, whose 
 officious self-conceit led them to demand ex- 
 pensive batteries to protect each insignificant 
 hamlet. Bonaparte, having finished his sur- 
 
 honor of serving the deserted guns. To con-' veys, divided the "positions" on the coast in- 
 firm their spirit. Colonel Bonaparte took his to three classes, of which the large naval har- 
 station on ihis battery, and ordered the "men j bors were the first, the commercial posts the 
 without fear" to open their fire. Thus out ofi second, and the inlets where invaders might 
 discouragement he created heroism.* , laud the third — and he prescribed for each 
 
 The siege lingered for months, and not a j class, fortifications adapted to its importance 
 week passed in which Bonaparte did not give I and exposure. By njinute calculations, he 
 some additional proof of his talents and hero- assigned to each battery ordnance of a proper 
 
 ism. He was often hampered however, by ■ 
 the civil and military officers who held supe- 
 rior rank, but who were too ignorant to com- 
 prehend his well jjlanned schemes. Barras, 
 one of the national commissioners, asked him 
 one day, in the midst of an engagement, to ! 
 have a gun pointed in another direction. I 
 
 calibre, and even laid down the angle of ele- 
 vation at which each gun was to be fired, 
 should the enemy approach. His observa 
 tions on coast defences, w hich he afterwards 
 dictated to Gen. Gourgaud at St. Helena, 
 are master-pieces of military knowledge. 
 In February, 1794, Bonaparte was cora- 
 
 No sir ! " was the reply, " I will do my missioned as Brigadier-General, and ordered 
 
 duty according to my judgment, and be an- 
 swerable for the consequences with my 
 head." I 
 
 General O'Hara, sallying out to capture a 
 
 Life of Napoleon. — Lee. 
 
 to join the army of Italy, then stationed at 
 Nice— Muirou and Junot accompanying him 
 as Aides-de-camp. The conmiander. Gen- 
 eral Dumerbion, a veteran soldier, having 
 heard of the hero of Toulon, immediately de- 
 tailed Bonaparte to reconnoitre the enemy's 
 
ARREST FOR TREASON. 
 
 33 
 
 line, and endeavor to devise a plan for 
 crossing the Alps into Italy. In ten days, a 
 memorial was prepared, proposing a simple, 
 yet novel scheme, by which a small fraction 
 of the army could hold tiie enemy in check 
 on the mountains, while the main body 
 could force a passage where the last of the 
 Alpine rar^ge melts into the first of the Appe- 
 nine. 
 
 Robespierre the younger and Ricord, Rep- 
 resentative delegates, approving this plan, it 
 was immediately carried into execution. — 
 General Masseha, at the head of 14,000 men, 
 penetrated into his native mountain defiles, 
 and held the enemy at bay; while General 
 Bonaparte, at the head of the second 
 division, advanced eighty miles along the sea- 
 coast, driving the Sardinians before him. — 
 By this well concerted scheme, the French 
 army (which for two years had vainly en- 
 deavored to advance,) surmounted the frown- 
 ing barrier of the Alps, drove back the 
 Austrian and Sardinian troops, captured six- 
 ty pieces of cannon, with large supplies of 
 ammunition and provisions, and cut oft' the 
 enemy's communication with the English 
 cruisers. General Dumerbion, in announcing 
 this triumph to tie Convention, said: "It 
 was to the skilful dispositions of the General 
 of Artillery that he in a great measure owed 
 the success of the expedition." 
 
 Tlie victorious cainpaigii ended, Bonaparte 
 was sent by Robespierre the younger, on a 
 secret mission to Genoa, wilh orders to ex- 
 amine the fortifications, and ascertain, if 
 possible, the political intentions of the Geno- 
 ese. During his absence, both the tyrant 
 Robespierre and his younger brother were 
 guillotined, and upon Bonaparte's return, he 
 was arrested by an order from Paris, charg- 
 ing him with treason. It was alleged that he 
 was a mercenary accomplice of Robespierre 
 and Ricord, in a scheme to betray the French 
 army into the hands of the Austrians. He 
 was imprisoned, and his papers were sent 
 to Paris. 
 
 In a fortnight, a counter-order appeared, 
 restoring the prisoner to liberty and to his 
 rank. The officer who came to release him 
 from arrest found him busily engaged in his 
 dungeon, poring over the map of Lom hardy 
 — his subsequent actions evinced that he hud 
 not wasted liis time even in this embarrass- 
 ment, as it will be seen that he made ample use 
 of the geographical information he had thus 
 unpleasingly gleaned. His habits of early 
 rising were so strongly implanted, as not to 
 be overcome by any difficulty. During his 
 confinement a friend had occasion to visit 
 him long before day-break — not entertaining 
 a doubt but that he was still in bed, he 
 knocked at the door; on opening which he 
 was surprised to find him dressed, and seat- 
 ed at the table with plans, maps, and books 
 spread before him. "What," exclaimed 
 his visitor, " not yet in bed ?" " In bed !" 
 reiterated Bonaparte, " do not mistake me, 
 I have already risen." "Indeed, what so 
 early ?" inrpiired his acquaintance. " Yes, 
 so early, if you will have it so; I consider 
 two or three hours quite long enough for any 
 
 man to sleep, I never indulge in more," was 
 the reply of Bonaparte. This would appear 
 to have been his uniform custom, not only to 
 which he adhered to the end of his life, but 
 one from which he very frequently derived 
 the greatest advantage over his opponents. 
 
 The winter of 1794-95 Bonaparte em- 
 ployed in completing the fortifications of Vado 
 andOneille; in inspecting the line of mari- 
 time forts from the Var to the Rhone, which 
 were in the progress of construction under 
 his superintendence; and in perfecting his 
 acquaintance with that part of the grand 
 chain of the maritime Alps, in which he had 
 been personally employed. So intent were 
 his observations that, in company with Gen- 
 eral St. Hilaire, he passed a night in Janu- 
 ary on the top of a mountain near the Col de 
 Tende; whence, at sunrise, in the gorgeous 
 light of the eastern horizon, he descried the 
 lovely plains of Italy, and the distant waters 
 of the Po. So strong was his emotion that 
 he was tempted to exclaim, " Haliaml 
 Italiam !" his ardent genius prophetic of 
 future glories, and dazzled by the visions 
 which itself inspired. 
 
 , But his time was not altogether engrossed 
 by the toils of war or the rude grandeur of 
 mountain prospects. Scenes less inclement, 
 and softer contests occasionally engaged him. 
 Among the members of the convention in at- 
 tendance on the army of Italy, was M. 
 Thurreau, a gentleman whose personal in- 
 significance in the deputation was redeemed 
 by the wit and beauty of his wife. This 
 lad}' was not insensible to the merit, nor un- 
 kind to the devotion of the young general of 
 artillery, who, proud of his success, ventured 
 to manifest his adoration, by ordering for her 
 amusement, as they walked out on the great 
 theatre of the Alps, an attack of the advanced 
 posts stationed below them. The French were 
 victorious, but Bonaparte never forgave him- 
 self for thus wantonly sacrificing human life, 
 and at St. Helena the remembrance of his 
 amorous infatuation was accompanied with 
 regret.* 
 
 This attachment for Madame Thurreau, 
 (which was unnoticed by Norvins, Hazlitt, 
 Scott and Lockhart,) 3Iajor Lee ascribes as 
 the reason which prevented Bonaparte's ac- 
 ceptance of an invitation from Robespierre 
 the younger to accompany him to Paris — 
 had the general accepted, he would have un- 
 doubtedly been beheaded on the 9th Ther- 
 midor. 
 
 Years had revolved — the general of artil- 
 lery filled the imperial throne, whilst the fair 
 one whose attractions had pleased and pre- 
 served him was become a poor and faded 
 widow. After many petitions which failed 
 to pass the barrier of indifTerence that envi- 
 rons power, Madame Thurreau obtained, by 
 accident, an interview with the Emperor. — 
 " Why," said the sovereign kindly, "have 
 you not before made known your situation; 
 many of our former acquaintances at Nice 
 are now personages of the court, and in con- 
 stant intercourse with me." The answer of 
 
 Memorial from St. Helene. — Las Cases. 
 
34 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 the widow is yet another proof that friend- 
 ship is fMithful only to prosperity. "Alas, 
 sire, since my misfortunes, they have ceased 
 to know me." He felt for her distress, and, 
 if he remembered her former weakness, he 
 felt also that he was certainly not the proper 
 person to chastise it. Her wants \«'ere in- 
 stantly relieved, and her future comfort liber- 
 ally provided for.* 
 
 In March, 1795, the "army of Italy " 
 was incorporated with the " army of the 
 Alps," and the companies of Gen. Bona- 
 parte's brigade were annexed to other com- 
 mands, in obedience to a general order 
 reducing the number of field otlicers. Bona- 
 parte at once set out for Paris, with a view 
 of applying for other and suitable employ- 
 ment. On his route he visited his mother at 
 Marseilles, to whose heart his safety from 
 danger, and his rising fame, must have com- 
 municated the tenderest pleasure. He found, 
 too, his brother Joseph happily iviarried, and 
 the comforts of the family, which had been 
 seriously impaired by tiie cruelty of Paoli, in 
 a great measure renovated by his mother's 
 prudence. At Marseilles he met General 
 Kellermann, on his way to assume the cont- 
 mand of the combined forces, and communi- 
 cated to him much information respecting the 
 theatre of war, on which the hero of Val- 
 my was not destined to gain laurels. — 
 Then adopting his brother Louis, whose edu- 
 cation he had particularly superintended, as 
 an extra aide-de-camp, he proceeded on his 
 way to Paris. At Chatillon-sur-Seine, he 
 met intelligence of the insurrection of the 1st 
 of Prairial, in which the Jacobins were, 
 after temporary and terrible success, again 
 overcome. The father of his aide-de-camp, 
 Marmont, resided at Chatillon ; and to grati- 
 fy this officer, at whose instance he had taken 
 Chatillon in his route, as well as to wait the 
 return of public order in the capital, having 
 been sufficiently disgusted with popular tu- 
 mults, he remained there several days. The 
 father of INIarmont, a knight of St. Louis, 
 was a rich proprietor of iron works in Bur- 
 gundy. His son, who felt a strong inclina- 
 tion for a military life, after failing to obtain 
 entrance into the Royal Artillery, had been 
 contented to join a provincial regiment. He 
 was recommended to the friendship and pro- 
 tection of Bonaparte by an uncle who was a 
 schoolfellow of the latter at Brienne, and his 
 comrade and friend in the regiment of La 
 Fere. A royalist, this uncle forsook his 
 country to follow the emigrant princes, and 
 bespoke of Bonaparte that care of his 
 nephew, which he himself could no longer 
 bestow on him. It is needless to say that 
 this confidence of the exile was not misplaced. 
 Marmont's Hither, though avaricious, was 
 profuse and extravagant in entertaining the 
 hero of Toulon and Saorgio, and the liberal 
 patron of his son. Though the weather was 
 warm, his hearths blazed with fires, so that 
 his hospitality amused more than it comforted 
 his guest. t 
 
 Life of Napoleon. — Lee. 
 Life of Napoleon.— iee. 
 
 Ihe date of Bonaparte's arrival in Paris 
 has been variously stated by Scott, Hazlitt, 
 Norvins, Lockhart and Bourrienne. The 
 two last named authors not only place him in 
 Paris before the first Prairial, but indirectly 
 implicate him in the defeated conspiracy of 
 that day. Yet Napoleon himself very dis- 
 tinctly states that he arrived at the metropolis 
 subsequent to the insurrection.! He occu- 
 pied a small suite of rooms, and lived a re- 
 tired life, although there is not the least 
 evidence that he was destitute, as some 
 writers have averred. 
 
 The Minister of War, to whom Bona- 
 parte applied for employment, was an ex- 
 captain of the royal artillery, nqmed Aubry, , 
 who had little sympathy for those who had 
 been brought forward by the revolution. — 
 Accordingly, when, in applying for a com- 
 mand, Bonaparte represented lliat he had 
 commanded the artillery at the siege of Tou- 
 lon; had superintended the work of fortify- - 
 ing the coast and harbors of Provence; hadl 
 ever since commanded the artillery of the ' 
 army of Italy; and added that it would be; 
 extremely painful for him to leave a corps s 
 in which he had served from his very in-- 
 fancy; Aubry coldly observed that there J 
 were a great many artillery generals, that; 
 Bonaparte was the youngest of the number,, 
 and could not be employed out of turn. Ass 
 Aubry had not been on duty during the vv'ar,^ 
 and nevertheless had the eftVontery to pro-- 
 mote himself, from a retired captaincy, too 
 the rank of general of division and inspectori 
 of artillery, tliis observation was received] 
 and retorted as unjust and impertinent. — \ 
 " Officers soon grow old on the field of bat-^ 
 tie," was the mixture of irony and logic, i 
 with which Bonaparte abashed and irritated! 
 the inexperienced veteran. A few days af-' 
 tervvards, more in punishment than reward,! 
 lie was ordered to join the army of the west,, 
 engaged in the Vendean war, and take comi| 
 mand of a brigade of Infantry. The servicet 
 was unpleasant to his feelings, the destina- 
 tion an outrage to his pride, and actuated by 
 a proper feeling of dignity, he sent in his 
 resignation. This was not accepted, nor was 
 it at once refused. % 
 
 Kellermann, meanwhile, had been defeated' 
 several times, and it was feared that he- 
 would be forced to evacuate the Genoese 
 territory. The Committee of Public Safetj 
 became alarmed, and called together tht 
 different representatives who had been de- 
 puted to the army of Italy, in order to consul 
 them. Pontecoulant, who succeeded x\ubr) 
 in the vv^ar department, was one anion" 
 others who pointed out Napoleon as eminent-i 
 ly qualified to give an opinion on tlie subject 
 — a piece of service for which Bonapart< 
 showed his gratitude by promoting the minis 
 ter to a seat in the Senate when he after 
 wards became consul. Napoleon was sum^ 
 moned to the topographical committee, anc 
 laid down the line of the Borghetto for thi 
 troops — a suggestion that saved the Trend 
 
 * Life of Napoleon. — Lre. 
 
 t Conversalions at al. Helena. — 3Iontlwlon. 
 
POLITICAL CHANGE. 
 
 35 
 
 army and preserved the coast of Genoa, not- 
 withstanding the repeated attacks of the ene 
 my. At the end of the year (1795) 
 General Sciierer superseded Kellerniann in 
 the command; and on the 20th of Noveniher, 
 having received reinforcements from the 
 army of tlie Pyrenees, attacUeJ the Piedmon- 
 tese general Devins at Loano, drove him 
 from ail his positions, and had he heen suf- 
 ficiently enterprising, might have conquered 
 all Italy; but instead of pursuing his advan- 
 tages, he returned to Nice, and went into 
 winter quarters. The enemy did the same.§ 
 It was while thus temporarily employed by 
 the Topographical Committee, forming plans 
 for others to carry out with honor, that Bona- 
 parte thought of entering the Turkish service. 
 His ambition, cramped at home, and kept 
 from the heroic fields of Italy, turned to- 
 wards the Orient, and he presented to the 
 Conniiiltee of the Convention a memorial, in 
 which he offered to undertake a mission to 
 Constantinople, for the purpose of remodel- 
 ing the artillery of the Sultan, and thus ren- 
 dering the Porte more formidable to the ex- 
 panding ambition of Russia. This, he con- 
 tended, would, by assisting to preserve the 
 balance of European power, render good ser- 
 vice to the French Republic. The East at 
 this period seemed to open a wide field of 
 glory and of power. Visions of empire al- 
 ready floated before his young imagination. 
 " How strange it would be," he is reported 
 to have said to a friend, with whom he was 
 on terms of intimacy, " if a little Corsican 
 officer were to beconse king of .Jerusalem !" 
 His application, however, was never answer- 
 ed; and the name and achievements of Bona- 
 parte remain the property of France. '• If a 
 Coinmissioner-at-war," remarks de Bour- 
 rienne, " had written ^ granted' upon his 
 note, that little word might have changed the 
 face of Europe." 
 
 Bonaparte was noted for his punctual ar- 
 rival at the bureau where he was employed, 
 and for his diligent attention to business. In 
 the evening he used to frequent the theatres, 
 and, at a later hour, go with his friend Tal- 
 ma into private circles, where they were wel- 
 come guests. The tragedian, of course, was 
 the " lion," but all listened with interest and 
 respect to the brilliant remarks of "little 
 Bonaparte." 
 
 And about this time, Bonaj)arte's lo\e of 
 Democracy began to waver. He could see 
 that the slaves of Bourbon despotism, having 
 tasted of the spirit of freedom, had drained 
 the e.xhilerating draught to the very dregs. 
 Intoxication had followed, and by the draught, 
 to borrow allegory in illustration, the angel of 
 liberty had been transformed into a demon. 
 Reason and philosophy, tbat first awakened 
 the sleeping energies of the people, had dis- 
 covered — alas! too late — that the unregu- 
 lated desires of a race of men freed from 
 moral obedience and rciligious obligation pro- 
 duced anarchy instead of reducing society 
 into form and unity. The excesses of the 
 worst vices were the inevitable results of the 
 
 § Life of Napoleon.— /faj/jY<. 
 
 abused principles of truth, and the chief 
 magistracy was like a temple in ancient 
 Rome, where, by murdering the priest, one 
 could succeed him. 
 
 Bonaparte saw, also, that whilst France 
 boasted of her freedom from tyranny, her 
 own counsels were torn to pieces by little 
 knots of tyrants, who violated all rights, and 
 undermined the pillars of her freedom. En- 
 thusiasm carried to madness^ — confidence, 
 the result of ardent resolution — talents the 
 most extraordinary — and principles the most 
 base — wielded her energies, and directed 
 her powers. But the ambitious young Gen- 
 eral felt that the good sword by his side was 
 more powerful than democracy or legitimacy, 
 than republican or monarchial ])rinciples. — 
 France could only be ruled by the sword ! 
 
 Nor is this surprising, when it is considered 
 how firmly the War Spirit had taken root in 
 the land of the ancient Gauls. During the 
 first three-quarters of the eighteenth century, 
 her arniies were forty-six years absent on 
 hostile expeditions, and when the hour of 
 reckoning came, the impoverished people took 
 sanguinary revenge. Years of warfare had 
 engendered a frightful indifference to the Di- 
 vine command, " thou shalt not kill," and 
 so lowered the standard of morality, that the 
 social bond was easily broken, giving full 
 sway to individual passions. The struggle 
 developed the abilities of many competent to 
 govern, but after blazing in their orbits for a 
 while, they were invariably jolted from the 
 political firmament, by the envy which genius 
 ever attracts, or fell beneath the axe they had 
 so unsparingly wielded. " La icrreur rcg- 
 nait dans Paris,'" is the impressive remark 
 of M. Thiers, and terrible it must have been 
 to see fiction succeeding faction, each party 
 marching over the headless corpses of its 
 predecessors, towards " Liberty, whose tem- 
 ple, like that of Juggernaut, waste be known 
 hy the immolated victims with which its road 
 was overlain." The Constituents were 
 crushed by the Girondists, the Girondists by 
 the Dantonists, the Dantonists by the Ther- 
 midorians, and in each party, the military 
 chieftains sought to occupy the place of the 
 extinct aristocracy, lording it over the rest. 
 Titles of nobility were passports to the scaf- 
 fold, and the sans culottes denounced well- 
 dressed men as aristocrats, yet never were 
 oflicers more imperiously rigid in requiring 
 the " honors due their rank," or more gaudi- 
 ly clad, than the " citoye}is generaux.^' 
 
 This was not unobserved by Bonaparte, 
 who resolved to substitute his arbitrary will, 
 backed by bayonets, for the despotism of the 
 many. Already his ambition had seen the 
 throne of France in the horizon, and now his 
 star began to rise steadily and proudly, as if 
 by an irresistible influence, above the desti- 
 nies of his contemporaries.* 
 
 The Convention, fully aware of its preca- 
 rious existence, sought to remodel the Gov- 
 ernment by adopting a more conservative 
 Constitution. The executive power of this 
 
 * France: Social, Literary, Political.— 5!'r i/. Z,. 
 Bulwer. 
 
36 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE: 
 
 new system of government was to be held by 
 a directory of five members — the judicinl 
 power in a body of elective magistrates, 
 whose sentence, in criminal cases, were to 
 be founded on the verdict of juries — and the 
 legislative power, in two houses, the upper, 
 or council of ancients, consisting of two hun- 
 dred and fifty members, and the lower, con- 
 sisting of twice that number, and called the 
 council of five hundred. The legislative 
 bodies were to appoint the members of the 
 directory, and to reappoint one out of the five 
 every year, and were themselves to be chosen 
 by electors delegated for that purpose by the 
 people in their primary assemblies. One- 
 third of each council was to be triennially re- 
 newed by the popular will, and the entire 
 directory quinquennially, by the will of the 
 legislature. 
 
 Unfortunately for the Convention, it added 
 two supplementary decrees, which evinced 
 the determination of its members to retain 
 control of the government. They were : 
 " First. IMiat the electoral bodies, in choos- 
 ing representatives to the two new councils, 
 must elect, at least, two-thirds of the then 
 members of the Convention. Second. That 
 if full two-thirds of the then members of the 
 Convention were not returned by the electors, 
 then the Convention sho^jld possess the right 
 to supply the number that might be deficient 
 out of their own body." 
 
 These decrees proved to the Parisians that 
 they had merely changed masters, instead of 
 gaining their Independence, and they deter- 
 mined to offer resistance — the members of the 
 Convention were equally zealous in preparing 
 to enforce their edicts. The troops of the line 
 had always held the National Guards m jeal- 
 ous contempt, and looked upon them as 
 mushroom soldiers, who were not in a condi- 
 tion to stand up against veterans, who' had 
 passed their lives either in camps or upon ac- 
 tive service. This feeling was well under- 
 stood by the mendiers of the Convention, who 
 turned it to account, caused it to be carefully 
 fostered !)y their emissaries, who were inde- 
 fatigable in their endeavors to widen the 
 breach. Of the latter description of force, 
 there were in and near Paris upwards of five 
 thousand men, well officered ; upon these, 
 therefi)re, the Convention concluded, and con- 
 cluded justly, reliance might safely be placed; 
 added to this, there were several hundred ar- 
 tillery-men who were also disposed to assist 
 their views : over and above which, the Con- 
 vention, to make " assurance doublv sure," 
 organized a body designated by the sounding 
 title of *' The Sacred Band," which compri- 
 sed some fifteen hundred of the most san- 
 guinary desperate rutfians to be found among 
 the offscourings of the metropolis, most of 
 whom had been the vile instruments of Robes- 
 pierre, men without a particle of principle, 
 who were ready for any enterprise, provided 
 they were but paid for their treachery. Ty- 
 rants are indispensably necessitated to league 
 themselves with the most worthless of man- 
 kind : it is the penalty irrevocably imposed 
 them as the price of their unhallowed meas- 
 ures. With Such auxiliaries, the Convention 
 
 bid defiance to their opponents, arranged the 
 tactics to be adopted, and nothing inore re- 
 mained to be done on their part, but to seek 
 out a general to whose skill they could con- 
 fide the command, to whose discretion they 
 could safely commit the execution of a plan, 
 upon the success of which their very exist- 
 ence, not only as legislators, but as men, de- 
 pended, seeing that defeat would most assur- 
 edly have introduced them to the tender mer- 
 cies of the guillotine. Fortunately for Bona- 
 parte, General Menou, an officer not very well 
 calculated for such an undertaking, was the 
 individual selected, and representatives were 
 appointed to attend and watch his motions.* 
 
 A club formed from the radical citizens of 
 the Lepelletier ward of Pans, was particu- 
 larly violent, and at last declared itself in 
 open rebellion to the government. Six other 
 clubs, (or " sections " as they were called,) 
 hastened to arms — the tocsin was sounded, 
 and the city was soon in a state of insurrec-- 
 tion. Gen. Menou was ordered to restore or- - 
 der, and marched against the insurgents on i 
 the evening of the 12th Vendemiare, (3d oft 
 October, 1795.) He headed a strong force,, 
 with a detachment of dragoons and two field I 
 pieces, but hesitated to attack a convent! 
 which the " Sectionaires " had fortified, and| 
 finally retreated. | 
 
 Fond of dramatic entertainments. Bona--! 
 parte was that evening at a theatre near thed 
 scene of action, and witnessed Menou's re-^, 
 pulse. He then repaired to the Convention,; 
 where he found dismay painted on every,; 
 countenance. The Commissioners of War, , 
 in order to exculpate themselves, accused 
 Menou of treason, and his arrest was or- 
 dered. It was then unanimously agreed 
 that the public safety demanded the immedi- 
 ate appointment of some one with greater 
 nerve and military skill to command thei 
 troops. Several members had ascended thei 
 tribune, each to recommend his own favorite^ 
 general. It was then that, supported by thai 
 Representatives who had been with the ar- 
 my at Toulon and at Nice, and by others 
 who had become acquainted with the 
 amazing resources of his genius as a member 
 of the 'J'opographicai Committee, Barras pro- 
 posed Napoleon, as an officer whose abilities, 
 promptitude, energy of character, and gen- 
 eral moderation, best qualified him for tho 
 emergency. The nomination being approved 
 by Mariette, the leader of the RIoderates, 
 and chief of the Council of Forty, was con- 
 firmed by the Assembly, and messengers 
 were despatched into the city in search oi 
 the General elect. Bonaparte, who had' 
 heard all that passed, deliberated for a while 
 what course he should pursue. His reflec- 
 tions have been recorded by himself. Ever 
 success, he reasoned, would be attendee 
 with a degree of odium: while failure would, 
 in a few hours, add his name to the list c 
 revolutionary tyrants, and devote it to lh( 
 eternal execration of future generations. Or 
 the other hand, the defeat of the Conventior 
 would destroy the possibility of a beneficia ' 
 
 Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. — Hodson- 
 
THE 12TH VENDEMAIRE. 
 
 37 
 
 result fioin so much toil and blootlsiied as the 
 Revolution had already cost. The national 
 enemy, so often vanquished, would again be- 
 come triumphant, would load France with 
 insult and ignominy, would indulge the ty- 
 ranny of revenge, and rule her by force. — 
 These considerations, assisted by the enthusi- 
 asm of youth, and his confidence in his own 
 powers, decided him. lie went to the Com- 
 mittee, and after stating that he had wit- 
 nessed the proceedings in the Rue Vivienne, 
 and that the failure there was chiefly attribut- 
 utable to the interference of the Conniiission- 
 ers, expressed his readiness to accept the 
 proffered command, provided he was left 
 free to act upon his own responsibility. To 
 have dispensed with the presence of the 
 Representatives, however, would have been, 
 at that time, a breach of the law; the matter 
 was therefore compromised by the Com- 
 mittee, whidi named Barras as General-in- 
 cliief, but vested the actual command in Na- 
 poleon.* 
 
 Bonaparte immediately laid his plans of 
 action, and first sent ftlurat, then a major ol' 
 cavalry, to Sablons, with orders to bring the 
 forty pieces of artillery there to Paris. The 
 intrepid IMurat performed his duty before 
 sunrise, and Bonaparte had the guns so plant- 
 ed around the Tuileries palace, where the 
 Convention was in session, as to be able to 
 repel attack. Ammunition and provisions 
 were collected, a line of retreat to the coun- 
 try was kept open, and the cannoniers, with 
 lighted matches, stood by their grape-charged 
 guns. Battalions of well-armed troops occu- 
 pied the Place du Carrousel, as also the gar- 
 dens of the Tuileries, in which Bonaparte 
 himself cooly awaited the attack of the sec- 
 tionaries, under the guidance of Danican, 
 their general, whose conduct contributed to 
 their defeat, by suffering himself to be 
 amused with messages from the Convention, 
 while they completed their arrangements, 
 and strengthened the various positions of the 
 Liberticide army. 
 
 Late m the afternoon, the Insurgent force 
 began to move against the Tuileries from 
 different directions. When they arrived 
 within musket-shot of Bonaparte's posts they 
 were summoned to disperse in the name of 
 the law — their advanced divisions answered 
 by firing their muskets, and then Bonaparte's 
 cannoneers opened upon their dense masses a 
 destructive fire of grape-shot, which carried 
 confusion into their ranks, and after a des- 
 perate effort at charging their guns, the col- 
 unms dispersed themselves. The cavalry 
 and infantry of the Convention pursued them, 
 iand after some resistance upon one or two 
 Other points, the streets were cleared of the 
 Section men, most of whom gave up their 
 arms during the night. In less than two 
 hours, the insurgents were defeated in all 
 their attacks, and their cannon sent from St. 
 Grerniain being intercepted, they lost all hope. 
 Bonaparte, in taking in his turn the offensive, 
 A'ith a sentiment like that of Cfcsar at Phar- 
 ialia, ordered blank cartridges only to be 
 
 ■ Life of Napoleon — George Moir Bussey. 
 
 fired, justly inferring that, when sucli crowds, 
 after the indulgence of confidence and a des- 
 perate exertion of courage, were once put to 
 flight, the .sound of a gun would keep U]) their 
 j)aiiic. 'Ihis forbearance saved many lives. 
 During the night, he cleared the streets 
 of barricades, patroled the streets, dis- 
 lodged a party from the church of St. 
 St. Roche, and surrounded with detach- 
 ments of infantry and artillery another 
 party in the Palais Royal. The next day it 
 was easily dispersed, us was a body who 
 had collected in the convent at the head of 
 the rue Vivienne. By noon on the 5th of 
 October, the insurrection was suppressed, 
 and tranquility perfectly restored. 'Die 
 killed and wounded, of which rather the 
 smaller number belonged to the troops of the 
 convention, amounted to between four and 
 five hundred. Bonaparte had a horse shot 
 under him. 
 
 'J his victory, which caused infinite satis- 
 faction to the real friends of the republic, 
 who saw in it the defeat of Bourbon hopes, 
 foreign intrigues, and domestic treason, re- 
 newed and augmented the authority of the 
 convention, very seasonably for the eslabiish- 
 ment of the new constitution. Ihe members 
 of that assembly were sensible of its value, 
 as well in regard to the imminence of danger 
 from which it rescued themselves, as to the 
 series of convulsions from which it saved 
 their country. In a report from the connnit- 
 tee of public safety, which was adopted by 
 the Convention in the sitting of the 5th, it is 
 described as, " a victory gained over a coali- 
 tion of royalism and anarchy, the most 
 glorious of the revolution, and also the most 
 fortunate, as it was likely to close that 
 great struggle." * 
 
 Bonaparte was soon appointed Command- 
 er-in Chief of the home forces, and reorgan- 
 ized the regular and citizen troops of the 
 capital with great skill, securing the esteem 
 of all. Refractory companies of the National 
 Guard were disbanded — armed political clubs 
 were broken up — and the efforts of intriguing 
 agents of the Bourbons, well supplied with 
 English gold, were promptly frustrated. Fam- 
 ine, too, appeared to aid in exciting the popu- 
 lace to outbreaks, and the young General was 
 often obliged to call out his troops to suppress 
 riots. On one occasion, when hastening with 
 his staff to disperse a mob, he was surround- 
 ed by a crowd offish-women, menacingly de- 
 manded bread, and became so clamorous, that 
 his situation was rather critical: his presence 
 of mind, however, did not desert him, but 
 shone forth conspicuously. He had nearly 
 persuaded them to disperse, when a sturdy 
 robust fish-wife, having somewhat of the Fal- 
 staff appearance, was most vehement in her 
 exhortations to those assembled to keep their 
 places, exclaiming, with shrill tones and vio- 
 lent gesticulation, pointing to the ofhcers, — 
 " These coxcombs, with their fine epaulettes 
 and gorgets, only laugh at our distress; pro- 
 vided they can feed well and fatten, they care 
 not if the poor people die of hunger." Na- 
 
 Life of Napoleon — Lee. 
 
NAPOLEON 
 
 BONAPARTE: 
 
 -^ 
 
 poleon, who was then perhaps the lennest of 
 his race, with imperturable nonchalance, turn- 
 ed to her with great good-huuior, saying, — 
 " My good woman ! praj' look at me : which 
 do you thinii is the fattest, you or I ? You 
 may easily perceive that, compared with 
 yourself, I am but a slip of parchment." — 
 The naivete of this address, so congenial with 
 Parisian feelings, caused a general burst of 
 laughter, the fury of the populace was dis- 
 armed, they separated enjoying the joke, 
 while the general continued his round without 
 further annoyance.* 
 
 Tranquility was now restored, and the gay 
 Parisians, elated by the joy of their deliver- 
 ance, gave themselves up to pleasures and 
 refinements. Art, taste, luxury, revived. — 
 Female beauty regained its empire — an em- 
 pire strengthened by the remembrance of all 
 the tender and all the sublime virtues which 
 women, delicately bred and reputed frivolous, 
 had displayed during the evil days. Refined 
 manners, chivalrous sentiments, followed in 
 the train of love. The dawn of the Arctic 
 summer day after the Arctic winter niglit, the 
 great unsealing of the waters, the awakening 
 of animal and vegetable life, the sudden soft- 
 ening of the air, the sudden blooming of the 
 flowers, the sudden bursting of whole forests 
 into verdure, is but a feeble type of that hap- 
 piest and most genial of revoiutions — the 
 revolution of the ninth of Thermidor.f 
 
 Prominent among the beauties who graced 
 the gay resorts of the metropolis, and were 
 the acknowledged queens of fashion m the 
 republican Arcadia, was IMadame Josephine 
 de Beauharnais. Born at St. Pierre, in Mar- 
 tinique, on the 23d of June, 1763, Madame 
 de Beauharnais was educated by her father, 
 a respectable planter, and at an early age 
 reigned in the hearts of all who knew her. — 
 Terpsychore was her favorite goddess, and 
 one who witnessed her dancing describes her 
 light form, rising scarcely above the middle 
 size, as seeming in its faultless synnnetry to 
 float rather than to move — the verv persona- 
 tion of Grace. She exercised her pencil, and 
 her needle and embroidering frame, with 
 beautiful address. A love of flowers, that 
 truly feminine aspiration, and, (according to 
 a master of elegance,) infallible index of a 
 purity of heart, was with her no uninstructed 
 admiration. She had early cultivated a know- 
 ledge of botany, and in after years introduced 
 into Europe one of the most beautiful of vege- 
 table productions — the Camelia. In all to 
 which the empire of woman's taste rightly 
 extends, hers was exquisitely just, and simple 
 as it was refined. Her sense of the becoming 
 and the proper in all things, and under every 
 variety of circumstances, appeared native and 
 intuitive. She read delightfully; and nature 
 had been here peculiarly propitious; for so 
 harmonious were the tones of her voice, even 
 in the most ordinary conversation, that in- 
 stances are common of those who, coming 
 unexpectedly, and unseen, within their influ- 
 ence, have remained as if suddenly fascinated 
 
 * Life of Napoleon. — Hodgson. 
 t Edinburg Quarterly Review. 
 
 and spell-bound, till the sounds ceased, or 
 fears of discovery forced the listener away. 
 Like the harp of David on the troubled breast 
 of Israel's King, this charm is known to have 
 wrought powerfully upon Napoleon. His own 
 admission was, "The first applause of the 
 French people sounded to my ear sweet as the 
 voice of Josephine." 
 
 During the period of her youth, a strange 
 prediction, made by a negro woman, obtained 
 such an influence over her imagination, as to 
 color the whole of her subsequent life, and 
 we will give it in her own words, as she sub- 
 sequently related it to the liidies of her court : 
 " One day, some time before my first mar- 
 riage, while taking my usual walk, I observed 
 a number of negro girls assembled round an 
 old woman, engjiged in telling their fortunes. 
 I drew near to observe their proceedings. The 
 old sibyl, on beholding me, uttered a loud ex- 
 clamation, and almost by force seized my 
 hand. She appeared to be under the greatest 
 agitation. Amused at these absurdities, as I 
 thought them, I allowed her to proceed, say- 
 ing, ' So you discover something extraordi- 
 nary in my destiny.'' — 'Yes.' 'Is happi- 
 ness or misfortune to be my lot? '■ — ' Misfor- 
 tune. Ah, stop ! — and happiness, too.' 'You 
 take care not to commit yourself, my good 
 dame; j'o«r oracles are not the most intelli- 
 gible.' — 'I am not permitted to render them 
 more clear,' said the woman, raising her eyes 
 with a mysterious expression towards heaven. 
 ' But to the point,' replied I, for my curiosity 
 began to be excited; 'what read you con- 
 cerning me in futurity ? ' — ' What do I see in 
 the future .' You will not believe Hie if I 
 speak .' ' ' Yes, indeed, I assure you. Come, 
 my good mother, what am I to fear and hope ?' 
 
 'On your own head be it, then; listen: 
 you will be married soon; that union will not . 
 be happy; you will become a widow, and 
 then — then you will be Queen of France! 
 three happy years will be yours; but you will i 
 shun an hospital amid civil commotion.' 
 
 'On concluding these words," continued 
 Josephine, "the old woman burst fron: the 
 crowd, and hurried away as fast as her limbs, 
 enfeebled by age, would permit. I forbade 
 the bystanders to molest or banter the pre- 
 tended prophetess on this ridiculous predic- 
 tion ; and took occasion, from the seeming 
 absurdity of the whole proceeding, to caution 
 the young negresses how they gave heed to 
 such matters. Henceforth, I thought of the 
 affair only to laugh at it with my relatives. 
 But afterwards, when my husband had per- 
 ished on the scafl\ild, in spite of my better 
 judgment, this prediction forcibly recurred to > 
 my mind, after a lapse of years; and though i 
 I was myself then in prison, the transactioni 
 daily assumed a less improbable character, 
 and I ended my regarding the fulfilment as 
 almost a -matter of course. t 
 
 When fifteen years of age, Josephine went 
 to reside with an aimt, who lived at Fontain- 
 bleau, in France, and soon afterwards was 
 married to the Marquis de Beauharnais. This 
 young nobleman, (a descendant of the Beau- 
 
 J Memoirs of Josejihine. — Jo/in S. Mernes. 
 
JOSEPHINE DE BEAUIIAllN AIS. 
 
 39 
 
 harnais who governed Canada witli sucli 
 marked ability,) introduced his bride into the 
 dissolute court circles, and her heart was soon 
 poisuneei by the tierce pangs of jealousy. At 
 lust, remonstrances increased to reproaches, 
 and they separated by mutual consent, she 
 returning to her native island, where she re- 
 sided until a revolt of the negroes drove her 
 back to France in a state of destitution. — 
 Beauharnais had embraced the principles of 
 the revolution, and, in the shocJv of the dang- 
 ers of that period, Josephine became recon- 
 ciled to him. The beauty of her character 
 was, perhaps, never more admirably exhibit- 
 ed than in that act of dovotedness at a time 
 when others shrank from the responsibility of 
 frinidsliip with those who were deeply em- 
 barked in the political proceedings of the day. 
 
 The next scene in the eventful drama was 
 the arrest of M. de Beauharnais, who had 
 been one of tlie noble reformers of abuses, 
 one of the advocates of lil)erty , who so eagerly 
 hailed the dawn of the revolution in France; 
 who had sat in the first meeting of the Tiers 
 Etat ; who had voted for the abolition of all 
 privileges, and for the equal rights of all citi- 
 zens who fought for the republic valiantly, 
 who had eiid)raced the people's cause ardent- 
 ly, and broke the lies of kindred, and gave 
 up the claims of rank readily to serve the 
 people; whose heart and soul were devoted 
 to liberty, whose constancy and virtue were 
 unabated, and who was at last beheaded for 
 no other crime than that of noble birth, after 
 years of popular service, and after receiving 
 bU the honors the republic could bestow. lie 
 died on the scaflbld at the age of thirty-four, 
 on the 23d of July, in the year 1794. 
 
 Josephine was also arrested and cast into 
 prison, where her energetic and confiding con- 
 duct, under appalling circumstances, appear 
 to have sprung from the double influence of 
 lier own mind, and her lingering belief in the 
 propiiecy of her future greatness. Her nar- 
 rative uf the execution of her husband, and 
 [if the momentary anticipation of a similar 
 destiny awaiting herself, is full of painful in- 
 terest. At length Robespierre fell. — "then 
 (wrote Josephine,) my cot-bed was again 
 brought into my cell, and I passed the most 
 delightful night of my life upon it. I fell 
 isleep, after saying to my companions, — 'You 
 see 1 am not guillotined — and I shall yei be 
 Queen of France! ' " 
 
 Exercising a potent influence with Barras, 
 tfadame Josephine de Beauharnais next 
 noved in the first circles, and was one of the 
 riumvate of beauty who were styled the 
 'Three Graces" by the rhymsters of the 
 lay — the other two being Mesdames Tallien 
 nd Recamier. With the revolution in gov- 
 rnment these beautiful women fascinated 
 ill Pciris with a revolution in female attire, 
 nd appeared in the costumes of ancient 
 lome. Tunics a la Diane, (and succint as 
 luntress ever wore,) depended siiriply to the 
 cnee, and left the arms bare to the very 
 houlder, while naked feet were simply tied 
 o sandals. Thus attired in a costume which 
 eveloped her voluptuous form, and with her 
 hick raven hair studded with onyxes, the 
 
 " ox-eyed" brunette was to be seen at all 
 the gay resorts, at all the concerts where 
 Garat sang, and at every ball where Trcniitz 
 danced, (poor Trenitz ! who gave bis name 
 to the figure Trenis, and died mad at C'haren- 
 ton,) and was the acknowledged queen of 
 fashion, at a lime when royalty was abol- 
 ished. 
 
 Bonaparte was rarely seen in the gay cir- 
 cles of the metropolis, and lived in a retired' 
 unostentatious manner at the IL'Acl de la 
 Colonnade uilhii rue A'cnve dcs Capucines, 
 until an incident occurred which may be con- 
 sidered as a prominent epoch in his life. One 
 morning, an interesting boy, about twelve 
 years of age, presented himself to the Com- 
 mander-in-chief, saying " he came to recover 
 the sword of his father, who had served as a 
 general otHcer in the republican army on the 
 Rhine," stating "that he was the son of the 
 late Viscomptede Beauharnais, who had fall- 
 en under the axe of the guillotine during the 
 reign of terror, by order of that fell tyrant 
 Robespierre," adding " that he was himself 
 christened Eugene : " pleased with the fervid 
 manner of the supplicating youth, naturally 
 alive to every thing that wore a chivalrous ap- 
 pearance, Bonaparte granted the request. — 
 When the lad received the relic of his sire, 
 he bedewed it with his tears, kissed it with so 
 much devotion, pressed it to his breast with 
 such itnpassioned earnestness, that he quite 
 won the good opinion of the General, exciting 
 in his bosom a desire to know more of his 
 young supplicant; consequently he treated the 
 youthful Eugene with so much kindness, that 
 it influenced his mother Josephine to come the 
 next day to offer him thanks for the attention 
 he had bestowed upon her child. Her un- 
 common beauty, added to the singular grace- 
 fulness of her address, coupled with her fas- 
 cinating polished manners, made so deep an 
 impression upon Napoleon, that he began se- 
 riously to entertain wishes for a closer union 
 with a female who appeared gifted with every 
 desirable requisite to insure domestic happi- 
 ness. § 
 
 Passing over as unworthy of notice the foul 
 calunuiies which Scott, Lockhart, and other 
 British writers have circulated in connection 
 with Nopoleon's courtship and marriage, we 
 copy an interesting letter written by Joseph- 
 ine to one who had shared her imprisonment. 
 
 " The advice, I may say, of all my friends, 
 urges me, my dear, to marry again ; also the 
 commands of my aunt, as well as the prayers 
 of my children. Why are you not here to 
 help me by your advice on this important oc- 
 casion, and to tell me whether I ought or 
 ought not to consent to a union, which cer- 
 tainly seems calculated to relieve me from 
 the discomfort of my present situation ? Your 
 friendsiiip would render you clear-sighted to 
 my interest, and a word from you, would 
 suffice to bring me to a decision. 
 
 " Among my visitors you have seen Gen- 
 eral Bonaparte : he is the man who wishes to 
 become a father to the orphans of Alexander 
 De Beauharnais, and a husband to his widow. 
 
 §, Life of Napoleon. — W. Hodgson, 
 
40 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE 
 
 " Do you love him ? will naturally he your 
 first question. My answer is perhaps — No — 
 Do you disliUe him ? — No, again ; but the 
 sentiments I entertain towards him are of 
 that lukewarm kind, which true devotees 
 think worst oi" all in matters of religion. — 
 Now, love being a sort of religion, my feel- 
 ings ought to be very dilFerent to what they 
 are. 'i'his is the point on which I want your 
 advice, which would fix the wavering of my 
 irresolute disposition. To come to a decision 
 has always been too much for my creole in- 
 ertness, and I find it an easier task to obey 
 the wishes of others. 
 
 "1 admire the general's courage; the ex- 
 tent of his information on every subject on 
 which he converses; his shrewd intelligence, 
 which enables him to understand the thoughts 
 of others, before they are expressed ; but I 
 confess I am somewhat fearful of that control 
 which he seems anxious to exercise over all 
 about him. There is something in his scru- 
 tinizing glance that caimot be described; it 
 even awes our directors, therefore it niay 
 well be supposed to intimidate a woman. He 
 t-ilks of his passion for me with a degree of 
 earnestness which renders it impossible to 
 doubt his sincerity; yet this very circum- 
 stance, which you would suppose likely to 
 please me, is precisely that which has hitherto 
 withheld me from giving that consent, which 
 I have often been on the very point of utler- 
 
 " My spring of life is past. Can I then 
 hope to preserve for any length of time, that 
 ardor of affection which, in the General, 
 amounts almost to madness ? If his love 
 should cool, as it certainly will after our mar- 
 riage, will he not reproach me for having pre- 
 vented him from forming a more advantage- 
 ous connection .' What then shall I say .' 
 What shall 1 do ? I may shut myself up and 
 weep : fine consolation, truly ! methinks I 
 hear you say. But unavailing as it is, I as- 
 sure you, I know weeping to be my only con- 
 solation whenever my poor heart receives a 
 wound. Write to me quickly, and pray scold 
 me if you think me wrong. You know evary 
 thing is welcome that may come from you. 
 
 " Barras assures me if I marry the Gen- 
 eral, he will get him appointed commander- 
 in-chief of the army of Italy. This favor, 
 though not yet granted, occasions some mur- 
 murings among Bonaparte's brother officers. 
 When speaking to me yesterday on the sub- 
 ject, [the General said : ' Do they think I 
 cannot get forward without their patronage .' 
 One day or other they will all be but too hap- 
 py if 1 grant them mine. I have a good 
 sword by my side, which will carry me on.' 
 
 "What do you think of this self-confidence.' 
 Does it ^not savor of excessive vanity ? a 
 general of brigade to talk of patronising the 
 chiefs of the government ! It is very ridicu- 
 lous ! Yet I know not how it happens, his 
 ambitious spirit wins upon me so far, that I 
 am almost tempted to believe in the practica- 
 bility of any project he may take into his 
 head; — and who can foresee what he may 
 attempt ? 
 
 "All here regret your absence; and we 
 
 only console ourselves by constantly speaking 
 of you, and by endeavoring to follow you step 
 by step in the beautiful country in which you 
 are journeying. Were I sure to find you in 
 Italy, I would consent to be married to-mor- 
 row, on condition of being permitted to ac- 
 company the General. But we might cross 
 each other in the way, therefore I deem it 
 more prudent to await your answer : pray 
 send it speedily. Madame Tallien desires 
 me to present her love to you. She is still 
 fair and good as ever. She employs her 
 immense interest only for the bentifit of the 
 unfortunate; and when she confers a favor, 
 she appears as pleased and satisfied as though 
 she herself were the party obliged. Her 
 friendship for me is most afliectionate and 
 sincere, and of my regard for her, I need 
 only say, that it is equal to that which I en- 
 tertain for yourself. 
 
 " Hortense grows more and more interest- 
 ing evei-y day. Her pretty figure is getting 
 fully developed, and if I were so inclined, I 
 should have ample reason to rail at Time, 
 who confers charms on the daughter, at the 
 expense of the mother; but truly, I have 
 other things in my head. I strive to banish 
 gloomy thoughts, and look forward to a more 
 propitious future, for v^'e shall soon meet, 
 never to part again. But for this marriage, 
 which harrasses and unsettles me, I could be 
 gay in spite of everything; were it once over, 
 happen what might, I could resign myself to 
 my fate. I am inured to suffering, and if I 
 be destined to taste fresh sorrow, I can sup- 
 port it, provided my children, my aunt, and 
 you remain to comfort me. 
 
 " You know we have agreed to dispense 
 with all formal terminations to our letters. 
 So adieu, my friend." 
 
 Bonaparte was married on the 9th of 
 March, 1796, by a magistrate, and the Di- 
 rectors signed the record as witnesses. The 
 bride was about six years older than her hus- 
 band, and had two children by her former 
 marriage, Eugene, afterwards Viceroy of 
 Italy, and Hortense, who became for a time 
 Queen of Holland, and was the mother of 
 Louis Napoleon. 
 
 The beauty of the bride we have previously 
 spoken of, and at the period of her marriage 
 her classic features still retained the charm 
 and freshness of youth. Luxuriant black 
 hair shrouded her noble forehead, and her 
 dark eyes melted in the soft languor of tropi- 
 cal climes, or flashed with intelligence. She 
 spoke with purity — supported her opinions 
 with judgment and vivacity — and was alike 
 ready in conversation with delicate irony, 
 sound logic, or passionate enthusiasm. 
 
 Bonaparte was then slender in person, with 
 an erect carriage, and hands and feet of femi- 
 nine delicacy. His countenance was manly, 
 yet o'ercast with a shade of thought, which 
 bespoke the energetic mind, fitted for a high 
 destiny. His dark-blue eyes were fiery, his 
 nose aquiline, his chin prominent, (like that 
 of the Apollo Belvidere,) and he wore his 
 dark chestnut hair long, according to the j 
 fashion of the time. | 
 
DEPARTURE 
 
 FOR ITALY 
 
 ♦ 
 
 41 
 
 The honeymoon was of brief duration, for 
 eight days after the marriage ceremony. Gen- 
 eral Bonaparte left his bride to assume the 
 command of the " army of Italy." That her 
 influence aided in procuring this high office 
 for the young soldier, is proved by her letter 
 oa the preceding page, but Sir Walter Scott 
 never uttered a fouler innuendo than when he 
 declared, witli euphonic boldness, that the 
 command was " the dowry of tiie Bride" — 
 an insinuation that the appointment was given 
 to reward Bonaparte for espousing the cast-off" 
 mistress of Barras. Achilles did not bribe 
 Agamemnon to force Briseis from his tent. 
 
 Rejecting this cruel and unfounded insinu- 
 ation as putrescent slander. Major Lee pro- 
 nounces this a marked and one of the happi- 
 est periods of Napoleon's life. The woman 
 of his choice was the wife of his bosom, and 
 the field of glory, in which he longed to shine, 
 was now expanded to his enterprise. Around 
 him were the pleasures of love ; before him 
 the prospects of honor: and within him the 
 impatience of a martial spirit fretted with the 
 reluctance of an enraptured heart. In the 
 pauses of hope and joy, if lie looked back on 
 the growth of his fortune, from its infancy 
 when he was an orphan scholar at Brienne, 
 to the vigorous promise of its present state, 
 his reflections must have been fraught with 
 pure and solid satisfaction. In a season of 
 faction, strife, selfishness, suspicion, and cru- 
 elty, he had passed from subordination to em- 
 inence, without swerving for a moment from 
 the path of independence, openness, and hon- 
 or: had condescended to no solicitation, stoop- 
 ed to no compliance, mixed with no intrigue, 
 contracted no obligation, participated in no 
 injustice. Persecuted by the deputies, he had 
 not sunk into submission; flattered by the 
 
 army, he had not been inflated with self-love: 
 so that he escaped the guillotine without pro- 
 pitiating the government, and more difljcult 
 still, excelled his own commanders without 
 disobliging them. His opportunities, which 
 were common to officers of his rank, had, in 
 every instance, been surpassed by his exploits, 
 while his advancement always lagged behind 
 his services. Conscious of being indebted to 
 no man, he felt that to him Generals owed 
 their fame, armies their success, individuals 
 their lives, and the government its existence. 
 Such may well have been his reflections at 
 this dawning season of his fame; for nothing 
 is more remarkable in his history, than the 
 direct, and undesigning steps by which his 
 elevation was accomplished. Filled with 
 such thoughts as these, and "snuffing the bat- 
 tle from afar," upon the difficulty of succeed- 
 ing where older Generals had failed 
 being suggested to him, he said, "in one cam- 
 paign I shall be old or dead;" meaning that 
 he would have gained innnortality or lost his 
 life.* 
 
 Before leaving for the frontier. General 
 Bonaparte sat to David for his portrait. 
 When about to return from his victorious 
 campaign, a gentleman who wished to obtain 
 a favor from Madame Bonaparte, ordered a 
 fm, covered with allegorical and emblemati- 
 cal designs, with a portrait of her husband in 
 the centre. Chaudet, a celebrated draughts- 
 man, furnished the design — and the portrait, 
 engraved by J. Godefroy, is the frontispiece 
 of this vvork.t 
 
 * Life of Napoleon. — Lee. 
 
 t It has been printed from the original plate, by 
 Mr. Geor-je (i. Smith, of Boston. 
 
 Autography of Napoleon Bonaparte. 
 
 Facsimile of his signature when General- 
 
 Facsimile of his signature v)hen Einpernr- 
 
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