“It would be satisfactory to know,” Napoleon said twenty years after, “if my professor lived long enough to enjoy his discernment.”
In 1782, at one of the holiday school fêtes at Brienne, to which all the inhabitants of the place were invited, guards were established to preserve order. The dignities of officer and subaltern were conferred only on the most distinguished. Bonaparte was one of these on a certain occasion, when “The Death of Cæsar” was to be performed.
A janitor’s wife who was perfectly well known presented herself for admission without a ticket. She made a clamor, and insisted upon being let in, and the sergeant reported her to Napoleon, who, in an imperative tone, exclaimed, “Let that woman be removed, who brings into this place the license of a camp.”
Bonaparte was confirmed at the military school at Paris. At the name of Napoleon, the archbishop who confirmed him expressed his astonishment, saying that he did not know this saint, that he was not in the calendar, etc. The child answered unhesitatingly, “That that was no reason, for there were a crowd of saints in Paradise, and only 365 days in the year.”
Dining one day with one of the professors at Brienne, the professor knowing his young pupil’s admiration for Paoli, spoke disrespectfully of the general to tease the boy.
Napoleon was energetic in his defense. “Paoli, sir,” said he, “was a great man! he loved his country; and I shall never forgive my father for consenting to the union of Corsica with France.”