Mr. Bonaparte of Corsica | Page 5

as to his future course. Another anecdote, which is taken from the
unpublished memoirs of the grandson of one of his Corsican nurses,
illustrates in an equally vivid manner how, while a mere infant in arms,
he had a passion for and a knowledge of military terms. Early one
morning the silence was broken by the incipient Emperor calling loudly
for assistance. His nurse, rushing to him, discovered that the point of a
pin was sticking into his back. Hastily removing the cause of the
disturbance, she endeavored to comfort him:
"Never mind, sweetheart," she said, "it's only a nasty pin."
"Nasty pin!" roared Napoleon. "By the revered name of Paoli, I swear I
thought it was a bayonet!"
It was, no doubt, this early realization of the conspicuous part he was to
play in the history of his time that made the youthful Bonaparte
reserved of manner, gloomy, and taciturn, and prone to irritability. He
felt within him the germ of future greatness, and so became impatient
of restraint. He completely dominated the household. Joseph, his elder
brother, became entirely subject to the imperious will of the future
Emperor; and when in fancy Napoleon dreamed of those battles to
come, Joseph was always summoned to take an active part in the
imaginary fight. Now he was the bridge of Lodi, and, lying flat on his
back, was forced to permit his bloodthirsty brother to gallop across him,
shouting words of inspiration to a band of imaginary followers; again
he was forced to pose as a snow-clad Alp for Napoleon to climb,
followed laboriously by Lucien and Jerome and the other children. It
cannot be supposed that this was always pleasing to Joseph, but he
never faltered when the demand was made that he should act, because
he did not dare.
"You bring up the girls, mother," Napoleon had said. "Leave the boys
to me and I'll make kings of them all, if I have to send them over to the
United States, where all men will soon be potentates, and their rulers
merely servants--chosen to do their bidding."
Once, Joseph venturing to assert himself as the eldest son, Napoleon

smiled grimly.
"And what, pray, does that mean?" he asked, scornfully.
"That I and not you am the head of the family," replied Joseph.
"Very well," said Napoleon, rushing behind him, and, by a rapidly
conceived flank movement, giving Joseph a good sound kick. "How
does the head of the family like the foot of the family? Don't ever prate
of accidents of birth to me."
From that time on Joseph never murmured again, but obeyed blindly
his brother's slightest behest. He would have permitted Napoleon to
mow him down with grape-shot without complaint rather than rebel
and incur the wrath which he knew would then fall upon his head.
At school the same defiance of restraint and contempt for superior
strength characterized Napoleon. Here, too, his taciturn nature helped
him much. If he were asked a question which he could not answer, he
would decline to speak, so that his instructors were unable to state
whether or not he was in ignorance as to the point under discussion,
and could mark him down conscientiously as contumelious only. Hence
it was that he stood well in his studies, but was never remarkable for
deportment. His favorite plaything, barring his brother Joseph, was a
small brass cannon that weighed some thirty odd pounds, and which is
still to be seen on the island of Corsica. Of this he once said: "I'd rather
hear its report than listen to a German band; though if I could get them
both playing at the same time there'd be one German band less in the
world."
This remark found its parallel later on when, placed by Barras in
command of the defenders of the Convention against the attacks of the
Sectionists, Napoleon was asked the chairman of the Assembly to send
them occasional reports as to how matters progressed. His reply was
terse.
"Legislators," he said, "you ask me for an occasional report. If you
listen you will hear the report of my cannon. That is all you'll get, and it
will be all you need. I am here. I will save you."
"It is a poor time for jokes," said a representative.
"It is a worse time for paper reports," retorted Napoleon. "It would take
me longer to write out a legislative report than it will to clean out the
mob. Besides, I want it understood at this end of my career that
autograph-hunters are going to get left."

As he turned, Barras asked him as to his intentions.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To make a noise in the world," cried Napoleon; "au revoir."
That he had implanted in him the essential elements of