Napoleon: A Sketch of His Life, Character, Struggles, and Achievements

by Thomas E. Watson

Officers of the Corsican National Guard were soon to be elected, and Napoleon formed his plans to secure for himself a lieutenant colonelship. The leaders of the opposing faction were Peraldi and Pozzo di Borgo.

Three commissioners, appointed by the Directory of the Island, had the supervision of the election, and the influence of these officers would have great weight in deciding the contest. Napoleon had recently been over the island in company with Volney, inspector of agriculture and manufactures, and had personally canvassed for votes among the country people. He had made many friends; and, in spite of powerful opposition in the towns, it appeared probable that he would win. It is said that he resorted to the usual electioneering methods, including bribes, threats, promises, and hospitality. Napoleon made a good combination with Peretti and Quenza, yielding to that interest the first lieutenant colonelship. The second was to his own. But one of the commissioners, Murati, took up lodgings with Bonaparte’s rival candidate, Peraldi. This was an ominous sign for Napoleon. On the night before the election, he got together some of his more violent partisans, sent them against the house of Peraldi, and had Murati seized and brought to the house of the Bonapartes. “You were not free at Peraldi’s,” said Napoleon to the amazed commissioner; “here you enjoy liberty.” Murati enjoyed it so much that he was afraid to stir out of the house till the election was over.

Next morning Pozzo di Borgo commenced a public and violent harangue, denouncing the seizure of the commissioner. He was not allowed to finish. The Bonaparte faction rushed upon the speaker, knocked him down, kicked him, and would have killed him had not Napoleon interfered. In this episode is said to have originated the deadly hatred with which Pozzo ever afterward pursued Napoleon, who triumphed over him in the election.

Ajaccio was torn by revolutionary passion and faction. Resisting the decrees of the National Assembly of France, the Capuchin friars refused to vacate their quarters. Riotous disputes between the revolutionists and the partisans of the Old Order ensued. The public peace was disturbed. The military ousted the friars, and took possession of the cloister. This added fuel to the flames, and on Easter day there was a collision between the factions. One of the officers of the militia was killed. Next morning, reënforcements from outside the town poured in to the military. Between the volunteer guards on the one hand, the citadel garrison and the clerical faction on the other, a pitched battle seemed inevitable. Commissioners, sent by Paoli, arrived, dismissed the militia, and restored quiet by thus virtually deciding in favor of the Capuchins.

Napoleon was believed by the victorious faction to have been the instigator of all the trouble. The commander of the garrison bitterly denounced him to the war office in Paris. Napoleon, on the contrary, published a manifesto in his own defence, hotly declaring that the whole town government of Ajaccio was rotten, and should have been overthrown. Unless Ajaccio differed radically from most towns, then and now, the indictment was well founded.

At all events, his career in Corsica was at an end, for the time. He had strained his relations with the French war office, had ignored positive orders to rejoin his command, had been stricken off the list for his disobedience, had exhausted every resource on his Corsican schemes, and was now at the end of his rope. And what had he gained? He had squandered much money, wasted much precious time, established a character for trickiness, violence, and unscrupulous self-seeking; and had aroused implacable enmities, one of which (that of Pozzo) had no trifling share in giving him the death-wound in his final struggles in 1814–15. What, after it all, must he now do? He must get up a lot of certificates to his good conduct during the long time he had been absent from France; he must go to Paris and petition the central authority to be taken back to the French army. There was no trouble in getting the certificates. Paoli and his party, the priests and the wealthy towns-people, were so eager to get rid of this dangerous young man that they were ready to sign any sort of paper, if only he would go away. Armed with documentary evidence of his good behavior, Napoleon left Corsica in May, 1792, and reached Paris on the 28th of that month.

Things were in a whirl in France. War had been declared against Austria. Officers of royalist principles were resigning and fleeing the country. Excitement, suspicion, alarm, uncertainty, were everywhere. No attention could be given to Napoleon and his petition just then. He saw that he would have to wait, be patient and persistent, if ever he won reinstatement. Meanwhile he lived in great distress. With no money, no work, no powerful friends, Paris was a cold place for the suppliant. He sauntered about with Bourrienne, ate at the cheapest restaurants, discussed many plans for putting money in his purse—none of which put any there. He pawned his watch to get the bare necessaries of life.

Bearing in mind that Napoleon had been so active in the republican clubs at Valence and Ajaccio, and recalling the urgent appeal for three hundred francs which he had made to his great-uncle in order that he might go to Paris and push himself to the front, his attitude now that he was in Paris is a puzzle. According to his own account and that of Bourrienne, he was a mere spectator. A royal officer, he felt no inclination to defend the King. A violent democratic agitator, he took no part in the revolutionary movements. Seeing the mob marching to the Tuileries in June, his only thought was to get a good view of what was going on; therefore he ran to the terrace on the bank of the river and climbed an iron fence. He saw the rabble burst into the palace, saw the King appear at the window with the red cap on his head. “The poor driveller!” cried Napoleon. And according to Bourrienne he said that four or five hundred of the mob should have been swept away with cannon, and that the others would have taken to their heels.

During the exciting month of July, Napoleon was still in Paris. He was promenading the streets daily, mingling with the people; he was idle, discontented, ambitious; he was a violent revolutionist, and was not in the habit of concealing his views: therefore the conclusion is well-nigh irresistible that he kept in touch with events, and knew what was in preparation. Where was Napoleon when the battalion from Marseilles arrived? What was his attitude during Danton’s preparation for the great day on which the throne was to be overturned? Was an ardent, intensely active man like Napoleon listless and unconcerned, while the tramp of the gathering thousands shook the city? He had long since written “Most kings deserve to be dethroned”: did he by any chance hear what Danton said at the Cordeliers,—said with flaming eyes, thundering voice, and wild gesticulation,—“Let the tocsin sound the last hour of kings. Let it peal forth the first hour of vengeance, and of the liberty of the people! To arms! and it will go!”

However much we may wish for light on this epoch of Napoleon’s career, we have no record of his movements. We only know that on the 10th of August he went to see the spectacle, and saw it. From a window in a neighboring house, he looked down upon the Westermann attack and the Swiss defence. He saw the devoted guards of the palace drive the assailants out, doubtless heard Westermann and the brave courtesan, Théroigne de Méricourt, rally their forces and renew the assault; was amazed perhaps, when the Swiss ceased firing; and looked on while the triumphant Marseillaise broke into the palace. After the massacre, he walked through the Tuileries, piled with the Swiss dead, and was more impressed by the sight than he ever was by the dead on his own fields of battle. He sauntered through the crowds and the neighboring cafés, and was so cool and indifferent that he aroused suspicion. He met a gang of patriots bearing a head on a pike. His manner did not, to this gang, indicate sufficient enthusiasm. “Shout, ‘Live the nation,’” demanded the gang; and Napoleon shouted, “Live the nation!”