The Life of Napoleon I | Page 9

Brienne[7]. In other
letters which are undoubtedly genuine, he refers to his future career
with ardour, and writes not a word as to the bullying to which his
Corsican zeal subjected him. Particularly noteworthy is the letter to his
uncle begging him to intervene so as to prevent Joseph Buonaparte
from taking up a military career. Joseph, writes the younger brother,
would make a good garrison officer, as he was well formed and clever
at frivolous compliments--"good therefore for society, but for a
fight--?"
Napoleon's determination had been noticed by his teachers. They had
failed to bend his will, at least on important points. In lesser details his
Italian adroitness seems to have been of service; for the officer who
inspected the school reported of him: "Constitution, health excellent:
character submissive, sweet, honest, grateful: conduct very regular: has
always distinguished himself by his application to mathematics: knows
history and geography passably: very weak in accomplishments. He
will be an excellent seaman: is worthy to enter the School at Paris." To
the military school at Paris he was accordingly sent in due course,
entering there in October, 1784. The change from the semi-monastic
life at Brienne to the splendid edifice which fronts the Champ de Mars
had less effect than might have been expected in a youth of fifteen
years. Not yet did he become French in sympathy. His love of Corsica
and hatred of the French monarchy steeled him against the luxuries of
his new surroundings. Perhaps it was an added sting that he was
educated at the expense of the monarchy which had conquered his kith
and kin. He nevertheless applied himself with energy to his favourite
studies, especially mathematics. Defective in languages he still was,

and ever remained; for his critical acumen in literature ever fastened on
the matter rather than on style. To the end of his days he could never
write Italian, much less French, with accuracy; and his tutor at Paris not
inaptly described his boyish composition as resembling molten granite.
The same qualities of directness and impetuosity were also fatal to his
efforts at mastering the movements of the dance. In spite of lessons at
Paris and private lessons which he afterwards took at Valence, he was
never a dancer: his bent was obviously for the exact sciences rather
than the arts, for the geometrical rather than the rhythmical: he thought,
as he moved, in straight lines, never in curves.
The death of his father during the year which the youth spent at Paris
sharpened his sense of responsibility towards his seven younger
brothers and sisters. His own poverty must have inspired him with
disgust at the luxury which he saw around him; but there are good
reasons for doubting the genuineness of the memorial which he is
alleged to have sent from Paris to the second master at Brienne on this
subject. The letters of the scholars at Paris were subject to strict
surveillance; and, if he had taken the trouble to draw up a list of
criticisms on his present training, most assuredly it would have been
destroyed. Undoubtedly, however, he would have sympathized with the
unknown critic in his complaint of the unsuitableness of sumptuous
meals to youths who were destined for the hardships of the camp. At
Brienne he had been dubbed "the Spartan," an instance of that almost
uncanny faculty of schoolboys to dash off in a nickname the salient
features of character. The phrase was correct, almost for Napoleon's
whole life. At any rate, the pomp of Paris served but to root his
youthful affections more tenaciously in the rocks of Corsica.
In September, 1785, that is, at the age of sixteen, Buonaparte was
nominated for a commission as junior lieutenant in La Fère regiment of
artillery quartered at Valence on the Rhone. This was his first close
contact with real life. The rules of the service required him to spend
three months of rigorous drill before he was admitted to his
commission. The work was exacting: the pay was small, viz., 1,120
francs, or less than £45, a year; but all reports agree as to his keen zest
for his profession and the recognition of his transcendent abilities by

his superior officers.[8] There it was that he mastered the rudiments of
war, for lack of which many generals of noble birth have quickly closed
in disaster careers that began with promise: there, too, he learnt that
hardest and best of all lessons, prompt obedience. "To learn obeying is
the fundamental art of governing," says Carlyle. It was so with
Napoleon: at Valence he served his apprenticeship in the art of
conquering and the art of governing.
This spring-time of his life is of interest and importance in many ways:
it reveals many amiable qualities, which had hitherto been blighted