Mr. Bonaparte of Corsica Part 4

If I go in with you, they'll give me everything they've got on the supposition that you will pay the bill. Come! En avant!"

"Vous etes un bouchonnier, vraiment!" said Barras, with a laugh.

"A what?" asked Napoleon, not familiar with the idiom.

"A corker!" explained Barras.

"Very good," said Napoleon, his face lighting up. "If you'll order a bottle of Burgundy with the bird I will show you that I am likewise something of an uncorker."

This readiness on Napoleon's part in the face of difficulty completely captured Barras, and as a result the young adventurer had his first real chance to make an impression on Paris, where, on the 13th Vendemiaire (or October 4, 1795), he literally obliterated the forces of the Sectionists, whose success in their attack upon the Convention would have meant the restoration of the Bourbons to the throne of France. Placed in command of the defenders of the Convention, Napoleon with his cannon swept the mob from the four broad avenues leading to the palace in which the legislators sat.

"Don't fire over their heads," said he to his gunners, as the mob approached. "Bring our arguments right down to their comprehension, and remember that the comprehension of a royalist is largely affected by his digestion. Therefore, gunners, let them have it there. If these a.s.sa.s.sins would escape appendicitis they would better avoid the grape I send them."

The result is too well known to need detailed description here.

Suffice it to say that Bonaparte's attentions to the digestive apparatus of the rioters were so effective that, in token of their appreciation of his services, the Convention soon afterwards placed him in command of the Army of the Interior.

Holding now the chief military position in Paris, Bonaparte was much courted by every one, but he continued his simple manner of living as of yore, overlooking his laundry and other bills as unostentatiously as when he had been a poor and insignificant subaltern, and daily waxing more taciturn and p.r.o.ne to irritability.

"You are becoming gloomy, General," said Barras one morning, as the two men breakfasted. "It is time for you to marry and become a family man."

"Peste!" said Napoleon, "man of family! It takes too long--it is tedious. Families are delightful when the children are grown up; but I could not endure them in a state of infancy."

"Ah!" smiled Barras, significantly. "But suppose I told you of a place where you could find a family ready made?"

Napoleon at once became interested.

"I should marry it," he said, "for truly I do need some one to look after my clothing, particularly now that, as a man of high rank, my uniforms hold so many b.u.t.tons."

Thus it happened that Barras took the young hero to a reception at the house of Madame Tallien, where he introduced him to the lovely widow, Josephine de Beauharnais, and her two beautiful children.

"There you are, Bonaparte," he whispered, as they entered the room; "there is the family complete--one wife, one son, one daughter. What more could you want? It will be yours if you ask for it, for Madame de Beauharnais is very much in love with you."

"Ha!" said Napoleon. "How do you know that?"

"She told me so," returned Barras.

"Very well," said Napoleon, making up his mind on the instant. "I will see if I can involve her in a military engagement."

Which, as the world knows, he did; and on the 9th of March, 1796, Napoleon and Josephine were united, and the happy groom, writing to his mother, announcing his marriage to "the only woman he ever loved," said: "She is ten years older than I, but I can soon overcome that. The opportunities for a fast life in Paris are unequalled, and I have an idea that I can catch up with her in six months if the Convention will increase my salary."

CHAPTER V: ITALY--MILAN--VIENNA--VENICE 1796-1797

After a honeymoon of ten days Napoleon returned to work. a.s.suming command of the army of Italy, he said: "I am at last in business for myself. Keep your eyes on me, Bourrienne, and you'll wear blue goggles. You'll have to, you'll be so dazzled. We will set off at once for Italy. The army is in wretched shape. It lacks shoes, clothes, food. It lacks everything. I don't think it even has sense. If it had it would strike for lower wages."

"Lower wages?" queried Bourrienne. "You mean higher, don't you?"

"Not I," said Bonaparte. "They couldn't collect higher wages, but if their pay was reduced they might get it once in a while. We can change all this, however, by invading Italy. Italy has all things to burn, from statuary to Leghorn hats. In three months we shall be at Milan. There we can at least provide ourselves with fine collections of oil-paintings. Meantime let the army feed on hope and wrap themselves in meditation. It's poor stuff, but there's plenty of it, and it's cheap. On holidays give the poor fellows extra rations, and if hope does not sustain them, cheer them up with promises of drink.

Tell them when we get to Italy they can drink in the scenery in unstinted measure, and meanwhile keep the band playing merrily.

There's nothing like music to drive away hunger. I understand that the lamented king's appet.i.te was seriously affected by the Ma.r.s.eillaise."

To his soldiers he spoke with equal vigor.

"Soldiers," he said, "sartorially speaking, you are a poor lot; but France does not want a tailor-made army at this juncture. We are not about to go on dress parade, but into grim-visaged war, and the patches on your trousers, if you present a bold front to the enemy, need never be seen. You are also hungry, but so am I. I have had no breakfast for four hours. The Republic owes you much; but money is scarce, and you must whistle for your pay. The emigres have gone abroad with all the circulating medium they could lay their hands on, and the Government has much difficulty in maintaining the gold reserve. For my part, I prefer fighting for glory to whistling for money. Fighting is the better profession. You are men. Leave whistling to boys. Follow me into Italy, where there are fertile plains--plains from whose pregnant soil the olive springs at the rate of a million bottles a year, plains through whose lovely lengths there flow rivers of Chianti. Follow me to Italy, where there are opulent towns with clothing-stores on every block, and churches galore, with their poor-boxes bursting with gold. Soldiers, can you resist the alluring prospect?"

"Vive l'Empereur!" cried the army, with one voice.

Napoleon frowned.

"Soldiers!" he cried, "Remember this: you are making history; therefore, pray be accurate. I am not yet Emperor, and you are guilty of an anachronism of a most embarra.s.sing sort. Some men make history in a warm room with pen and ink, aided by guide-books and collections of anecdotes. Leave anachronisms and inaccuracies to them. For ourselves, we must carve it out with our swords and cannon; we must rubricate our pages with our gore, and punctuate our periods with our bayonets. Let it not be said by future ages that we held our responsibilities lightly and were careless of facts, and to that end don't refer to me as Emperor until you are more familiar with dates. When we have finished with Italy I'll take you to the land where dates grow. Meanwhile, restez tranquille, as they say in French, and breathe all the air you want. France can afford you that in unstinted measure."

"Vive Bonaparte!" cried the army, taking the rebuke in good part.

"Now you're shouting," said Napoleon, with a smile. "You're a good army, and if you stick by me you'll wear diamonds."

"We have forgotten one thing," said Barras a few days later, on the eve of Napoleon's departure. "We haven't any casus belli."

"What's that?" said Napoleon, who had been so busy with his preparations that he had forgotten most of his Greek and Latin.

"Cause for war," said Barras. "Where were you educated? If you are going to fight the Italians you've got to have some principle to fight for."

"That's precisely what we are going to fight for," said Napoleon.

"We're a bankrupt people. We're going to get some princ.i.p.al to set us up in business. We may be able to float some bonds in Venice."

"True," returned Barras; "but that, after all, is mere highway robbery."

"Well, all I've got to say," retorted Napoleon, with a sneer--"all I've got to say is that if your Directory can't find something in the att.i.tude of Italy towards the Republic to take offence at, the sooner it goes out of business the better. I'll leave that question entirely to you fellows at Paris. I can't do everything. You look after the casus, and I'll take care of the belli."

This plan was adopted. The Directory, after discussing various causes for action, finally decided that an attack on Italy was necessary for three reasons. First, because the alliance between the kings of Sardinia and Austria was a menace to the Republic, and must therefore be broken. Second, the Austrians were too near the Rhine for France's comfort, and must be diverted before they had drunk all the wine of the country, of which the French were very fond; and, third, His Holiness the Pope had taken little interest in the now infidel France, and must therefore be humiliated. These were the reasons for the war settled upon by the government, and as they were as satisfactory to Napoleon as any others, he gave the order which set the army of Italy in motion.

"How shall we go, General?" asked Augereau, one of his subordinates.

"Over the Alps?"

"Not this time," returned Napoleon. "It is too cold. The army has no ear-tabs. We'll skirt the Alps, and maybe the skirt will make them warmer."

This the army proceeded at once to do, and within a month the first object of the war was accomplished.

The Sardinian king was crushed, and the army found itself in possession of food, drink, and clothes to a surfeit. Bonaparte's pride at his success was great but not over-weening.

"Soldiers!" he cried, "you have done well. So have I. Hannibal crossed the Alps. We didn't; but we got here just the same. You have provided yourselves with food and clothes, and declared a dividend for the Treasury of France which will enable the Directory to buy itself a new hat through which to address the people. You have reason to be proud of yourselves. Pat yourselves on your backs with my compliments, but remember one thing. Our tickets are to Milan, and no stop-overs are allowed. Therefore, do not as yet relax your efforts. Milan is an imperial city. The guide-books tell us that its cathedral is a beauty, the place is full of pictures, and the opera-house finished in 1779 is the largest in the world. It can be done in two days, and the hotels are good. Can you, therefore, sleep here?"

"No, no!" cried the army.

"Then," cried Napoleon, tightening his reins and lifting his horse on to its hind-legs and holding his sword aloft, "A Milan!"

"How like a statue he looks," said Lannes, admiringly.