Part 16 (1/2)

These letters from a boy of sixteen would scarcely give one the idea that Napoleon was the selfish and sullen youth that his enemies are forever picturing; they rather show him as he was,--quiet, reserved, reticent, but with a heart that could feel for others, and a sympathy that strove to lessen, for the mother he loved, the burden of sorrow and of loss.

That the death of his father, and the ”hard times” that came upon the Bonapartes through the loss of their chief bread-winner, did sober the boy Napoleon, and made him even more retiring and reserved, there is no doubt. His old friend, General Marbeuf, was no longer in condition to help him; and, indeed, Napoleon's pride would not permit him to receive aid from friends, even when it was forced upon him.

”I am too poor to run into debt,” he declared.

So he became again a hermit, as in the early days at Brienne school. He applied himself to his studies, read much, and longed for the day when he should be transferred from the school to the army.

The day came sooner than even he expected. He had scarcely been a year at the Paris school when he was ordered to appear for his final examination. Whether it was because his teachers pitied his poverty, and wished him to have a chance for himself, or whether because, as some would have us believe, they wished to be rid of a scholar who criticised their methods, and was fault-finding, unsocial, and ”exasperating,” it is at least certain that the boy took his examinations, and pa.s.sed them satisfactorily, standing number forty in a cla.s.s of fifty-eight.

”You are a lucky boy, my Napoleon,” said his roommate, Alexander des Mazes; ”see! you are ahead of me. I am number fifty-six; pretty near to the foot that, eh?”

”Near enough, Alexander,” Napoleon replied; ”but I love you fifty-six times better than any of the other boys; and what would you have, my friend? Are not we two of the six selected for the artillery? That is some compensation. Now let us apply for an appointment in the same regiment.”

They did so, and secured each a lieutenancy in an artillery regiment.

This, however, was not hard to secure; for the artillery service was considered the hardest in the army; and the lazy young n.o.bles and gentlemen of the Paris military school had no desire for real work.

The certificate given to Napoleon upon his graduation read thus:--”This young man is reserved and studious, he prefers study to any amus.e.m.e.nt, and enjoys reading the best authors, applies himself earnestly to the abstract sciences, cares little for anything else. He is silent, and loves solitude. He is capricious, haughty, and excessively egotisical, talks little, but is quick and energetic in his replies, prompt and severe in his repartees, has great pride and ambition, aspiring to any thing. The young man is worthy of patronage.”

And upon the margin of the report one of the examining officers wrote this extra indors.e.m.e.nt--

”A Corsican by character and by birth. If favored by circ.u.mstances, this young man will rise high.”

Napoleon's school-life was over. On the first of September, 1785, he received the papers appointing him second-lieutenant in the artillery regiment, named La Fere (or ”the sword”), and was ordered to report at the garrison at Valence. His room-mate and friend, Alexander des Mazes, was appointed to the same regiment.

It was a proud day for the boy of sixteen. At last his school-life was at an end. He was to go into the world as a man and a soldier.

I am afraid he did not look very much like a man, even if he felt that he was one. But he put on his uniform of lieutenant, and in high spirits set off to visit his friends, the Permons.

They lived in a house on one of the river streets--Monsieur and Madame Permon, and their two daughters, Cecilia and Laura.

Now, both these daughters were little girls, and as ready to see the funny side of things as little girls usually are.

So when Lieutenant Napoleon Bonaparte, aged sixteen, came into the room, proud of his new uniform, and feeling that he looked very smart, Laura glanced at Cecilia, and Cecilia smiled at Laura, and then both girls began to laugh.

Madam Permon glanced at them reprovingly, while welcoming the young lieutenant with pleasant words.

But the boy felt that the girls were laughing at him, and he turned to look at himself in the mirror to see what was wrong.

Nothing was wrong. It was simply Napoleon; but Napoleon just then was not a handsome boy. Longhaired, large-headed, sallow-faced, stiff-stocked, and feeling very new in his new uniform (which could not be very gorgeous, however, because the boy's pocket would not admit of any extras in the way of adornment on decoration), he was, I expect, rather a pinched-looking, queer-looking boy; and, moreover, his boots were so big, and his legs were so thin, that the legs appeared lost in the boots.

As he glanced at himself in the mirror, the girls giggled again, and their mother said,--

”Silly ones, why do you laugh? Is our new uniform so marvellous a change that you do not recognize Lieutenant Bonaparte?”

”Lieutenant Bonaparte, mamma!” cried fun-loving Laura. ”No, no! not that. See! is not Napoleon for all the world like--like Lieutenant Puss-in-Boots?”

Whereupon they laughed yet more merrily, and Napoleon laughed with them.