Young Characters in History

YOUNG CHARACTERS IN HISTORY,

BY PROFESSOR WILLARD DONE, PRESIDENT OF THE LATTER-DAY SAINTS' COLLEGE, SALT LAKE CITY.

III.

NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. II.

The beneficial side of self-reliance must not be overlooked. Through it Napoleon was able to go out of the beaten tracks of government and custom, and to establish new systems which still remain the pride of France, and the object of the world's sincere admiration. Space will not permit a discussion of these, but the fame of two of the products of his unique genius is so great that a mere mention of them insures our recognition of his power of original thought.

Reference is made to the Code Napoleon and the Metric System. True, these did not have their origin in Napoleon's mind; that would be above possibility. But his suggestions were of value to those who had the work in charge, and his indomitable energy hastened its completion, and insured the adoption of the systems by France in his day.

Concerning the Metric System, nothing need be said; the Code Napoleon has exerted an influence of inestimable value on the subsequent laws not only of France but even of Europe at large. It is safe to say that, if it had not been for the genius and power of Napoleon, those two elements of our modern civilization would have come, if at all, from some other nation than France. It will therefore be seen that the

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good as well as the evil side of the self-reliance~developed in his childhood, was retained through life.

His childhood was marked by another trait, the contemplation of which does not afford us any satisfaction. Even while at home, between the ages of five and ten, he manifested a selfish pettishness and spite, which continued in his disposition during manhood, and constituted one of its most objectionable elements. He acknowledged this defect in his character, and attributed it to the influences that surrounded his birth and early childhood. His own words are interesting: "I was born while my country was dying. Thirty thousand French vomited on our shores, drowning the throne of liberty in waves of blood — such was the horrid sight which first met my view. The cries of the dying, the groans of the oppressed, tears of despair surrounded my cradle at my birth."

Concerning his own boyhood at home, Napoleon made this confession on his deathbed: "Nothing awed me; I feared no one. I struck one, I scratched another, I was a terror to everybody. It was my brother Joseph with which I had most to do: he was beaten, bitten, scolded, and I had put the blame on him almost before he knew what he was about; was telling tales about him almost before he had begun to know himself. I had to be quick: my mama Letitia would have restrained my warlike temper; she would not have put up with my defiant petulance. Her tenderness was severe, meting out punishment and reward with equal justice; merit and demerit, she took both into account."

With such a disposition, such a mother was needed to guide and restrain him. But when left to himself, even as a boy, the mischief was done before anyone could interfere. So in manhood. His self-willed, almost petulant movements partook of the same nervous, mischievous haste, the only difference being that they were guided and tempered by mature judgment, skillful scheming, and a design far from unselfish. But here was no mother to restrain him, and conscience, which should have taken her place, had become perverted by ambition, until its dictates were too weak or too wicked to guide him aright.

He manifested this petulance and selfishness on many

occasions while dealing out honors to his relatives and friends, and in his criticism of those who displeased him. Whenever he had realms to dispose of, the fruits of his conquest, he provided for his friends and relatives first, and took merit into account afterward. When any of these appointees displeased him, he employed the privilege of a relative to scold and denounce them unmeasurably. Some of his letters, written under such circumstances, have recently been published, and they prove beyond question, that he never overcame the tyrannical, selfish petulance of his youth. Allowed free rein in childhood, it increased to an overmastering passion and belittled the great achievements of his manhood.

But enough of his objectionable traits of character have received consideration. It would be a mistake to suppose that as a boy or as a man he was the monster some historians picture him, without any redeeming features, but utterly stupid in his own wickedness. Of failings he had his share. He was unreasonably ambitious, peevish, passionate, self-willed, cruelly despotic, overbearing, and insincere in his religious views. Yet he was possessed of characteristics which must command our respect and admiration. Among these were perseverance and vast capacity for work, originality of ideas, and great personal magnetism and power over men. These qualities developed early in life, and caused him to be marked for high destiny by his older associates. They could readily see that he would never be daunted by difficulty or discouraged by the amount of work required to accomplish an end. This indomitable courage entered into his military career, and colored all his campaigns. He was scarcely more than a boy when placed in charge of the French troops and sent to effect the conquest of Italy. Young as he was he recognized no obstacle in the way. He first awoke to a full realization of his great destiny and the powers of his wonderful courage when he met the Austrians at the famous field of Lodi. As he rushed across the bridge at the head of his grenadiers, he first realized what was in him; the youth was now a man. Ambition was aroused, and the "man of destiny" stood revealed to himself, as he was soon to be revealed to the world. Here it was that the fruit of his years of boyish study,

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application, solitary planning, and growth of moody genius began to appear. What did it matter to him that in his youth men had despised and pitied him; that poverty had oppressed him; that he had been forced to stand alone in his defense of home; that his family had been scorned as a crowd of begging sycophants; that debts almost too heavy to be borne, lay upon his shoulders; that he had been under the necessity of frequenting six-cent restaurants and pawning his watch? These experiences which had formed the school of his training, were forgotten, when, returning to Paris from his campaign, the "little corporal," boyish in appearance and manner, was received with open arms by veterans, and shouts of his praise rent the air. The past was now as the root of his life, hidden in the soil of forgetfulness; the present and the future spread their rich foliage and fruit for him and he hastened to enjoy them. The enemies of his youth had now become his willing tools and he did not scruple to use them to his own ambitious ends.

His youthful genius and originality of thought manifested itself in many directions, the most prominent being the military. As a boy he never traveled through a new region without carefully studying all its strategic points. This early care and attention proved of invaluable benefit to him in the conduct of his campaigns in those regions. Even while he was most unpopular among his schoolmates, they recognized his commanding military genius. One of their favorite pastimes in winter was the erection of snow forts, and the carrying on of siege and defense. Napoleon used his superior skill in mathematics and military tactics so well that he was always placed in charge of the attack or the defense, and it was noticed that his party was very seldom defeated. In his solitary moments, his favorite occupation was to draw figures of fortifications on paper or in the dust, supplementing this work with the formation of plans of attack on those fortifications. This early exercise made him proficient in offensive and defensive warfare, and prepared him for the great campaigns which made him famous. His military genius was universal— all-comprehending. Under its influence he could brave the perils of the Alps, the sands of the African desert,

the snows of Russia. He could speak, under its dictation, stirring sentences which have made him famous. "There shall be no Alps," said he, and the plains of Italy smiled upon him. "Soldiers, forty centuries look down upon you," he exclaimed in the shadow of the Pyramids, and the hostile Mamelukes fled before his victorious arms; and one of his marshals embraced him saying, "Sire, your greatness is like that of the universe!" "The reign of the lawyers is over," he said as he returned from Egypt, and immediately a military despotism sprang into existence, with him as supreme ruler. "Holland," said he, "is the sediment of the French rivers," and it became at once a part of France.

Nor was his genius confined to military affairs. The arts of peace gained much from him. The Metric System and the Code Napoleon have been named. During his brief respites from active campaigning, all his energies were directed toward the development of governmental matters at home, art, architecture, road-making, law-giving, financiering — all these received the impress of his powerful mind, and were bettered by it. His capacity for work was almost unlimited; in this consisted much of his genius. Four hours a day sufficed him for sleep. He had so accustomed himself to hardship and abstemiousness in his youth, that in more advanced life he could withstand rigors and privations which would have crushed a less hardy man. His dissipations were very limited, considering his vast opportunities, and most of these he overcame in early manhood. In morals he was no better, and perhaps no worse, than other military students and public men of his time and country. Judged according to the strict standard of the gospel, he would be found wanting, though his excesses were not notorious. His ambition and commanding genius enabled him to control his passions at least during periods of great emergency, when weakness, in this direction might have proved fatal to his hopes.

His qualities as a leader of his boy companions gave him a prestige with them, which mere popularity as a companion could not possibly have secured. This personal magnetism increased until he became the idol of his men. At Lodi he bound them to himself in bonds of devotion and admiration

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which grew stronger with each succeeding campaign, and impelled them to rush into any danger if he were their leader. Its most striking exemplification was in an incident which occurred on his return from the island of Elba, whither he had been banished by the European powers. He made his escape from the island and landed in the south of France. Some of his former officers and men were sent to arrest him and bring him in chains to Paris. As they saw the familiar figure, they forgot their duty, embraced him and promised him eternal fealty. They were sent to capture him, but he captured them. They all remained loyal to him until, a hundred days later, they laid down their lives for him on the field of Waterloo.

In conclusion, I will briefly trace the steps of his gradual growth, from youth to manhood, into a full sympathy with the principles of the French Revolution. This great movement began when he was scarcely sixteen years old. Its preliminary literature, and especially that produced by Rousseau, was eagerly devoured by the young misanthrope. He even attempted some writings of a revolutionary character, himself, but these productions gave no promise of the greatness he afterwards achieved. He was to act in the revolution, not to write about it. From his twenty-third to his twenty-sixth year, he was in Corsica and elsewhere, taking only a secondary part in the revolution, though his sympathies were tacitly with the common people. He became definitely connected with the revolution in October, 1795, when he was placed in command of the forces appointed to protect the newly appointed convention against the attacks of the national guard. The young Napoleon stationed his artillery so skillfully that he completely routed the attacking force. He was now, at the dawn of his manhood, the product and idol of the revolution, and was ready to enter upon the successful campaigns already briefly traced. The brilliant sun of victory which rose in Italy was to "sweep the sky to the zenith of Austerlitz, the eclipse of Elba, and the sunset of Waterloo," its course to be succeeded by the darkness of St. Helena.

Why was this splendid prodigy allowed to sink into the darkness of defeat and wretched, solitary death, so different

from the destiny of Washington? A youth of such commanding will and transcendent genius would seem to have deserved a better fate. The answer is given in merely naming one youthful trait carried into manhood — selfishness. For the sake of self he was able to and willing to betray his soldiers, his country, his wife, his honor. Nothing was too sacred to be sacrificed on the altar of his ambition. There is a limit to the reign of selfish genius — love is everlasting. True, the fruits of the first may be the more quickly gathered, but the fruits of love are perennial. Napoleon gathered on all sides the products of his genius, but, like Dead Sea apples, they turned to ashes at his lips. Washington waited patiently for the harvest of his love, and it lasted to the end, yielding holiest satisfaction. We admire Napoleon — we love Washington. "Napoleon's opportunity was a rare one, but he ingloriously missed it. If he had been wise, he might have seen at several stages in his career, that it was within his reach to found one of the most powerful and compact kingdoms in this world. He might have been Emperor of a France bounded by the Pyrenees, the Alps, and the Rhine, with by far the greatest military strength in Europe! Within this splendid territory he might have established a moral and intellectual power even more formidable and certainly more durable than military power. But his selfishness and lack of wisdom wrecked his throne."

Nineteen years after his death at St. Helena, his embalmed body was brought to Paris. "Men looked with reverence and pity upon the almost unchanged countenance of him who had been the glory and the scourge of his age."