#math anyone?

[jules-of-the-sea]

:3

[napoleondidthat]

The Canoness

Napoleon Buonaparte, now a general and in command of artillery in the army of Italy, spent the year 1794 and the beginning of 1795 on the Cote d'Azur and the Riviera. On the fall of Robespierre he was compromised, but quite shortly regained the saddle. Then, after a lull of several months, he received orders to join the army of the West (May, 1795). Along with an aide-de-camp (Junot), an officer (Marmont) and his brother Louis (ex-Luigi), he set out of Paris.

At Chatillon-sur-Seine he stayed a few days with Marmont, who introduced him into local society. Among the neighbours was Victorine de Chastenay, a canoness an a witty girl. Here is her account of him.

General Bonaparte was accompanied by his brother Louis, then aged sixteen, whom he was educating himself. This young man seemed good-natured, and in no way remarkable. I can only remember that his brother having set him to calculate the logarithm of 44, he was not allowed to come with us to the forge of Sainte-Colombe till Mamma begged him off, for he had not done his task, an the stern mentor would not excuse him.

Everyone has seen Bonaparte. He was then thin and pale, and his appearance was all the more distinctive. Mme de Marmont brought him to call on us the very day after his arrival. The good lady could not think what to do with her guest, whose complete and uniform taciturnity was driving her to despair.

During his first visit, to pass the time, I was asked to play the piano. The general seemed pleased, but his compliments were brief. I was called on to sing. I chose an Italian song which I had just set to music. I asked him if my pronunciation was good. He simply said no.

I had been struck by his countenance. Next day we dined at the Chatelot, in the general's honour. Our usual hour in those days was about two o'clock. We sat long at table, and afterwards, eager to converse with the general, whose monosyllables had impressed me differently from the rest of the company, I went up to him. I asked a question a question about Corsica, and our conversation began. I think it lasted more than four hours.

We were both standing, leaning on a marble console between the two windows of the drawing-room. Parties were made up, people came and went, an it was not till Mamma gave the signal for departure that our talk came to an end. I regret not having written it down. Now I can recall only fragments. It had keenly interested and amused me.

I was not long in perceiving that the republican general had no republican principles or beliefs. This took me aback, but he was completely frank on the subject.

I believe (and Bonaparte cared very little for the suspicion)--I believe that he would have emigrated, if that course had really offered any chance of success. Toulon might have had him as its defender, if business interest had not made its defeat an element in his plans. This young soldier had then his fortune to make. He was still an adventurer, and was never to take an unsuccessful step.

Bonaparte spoke of Ossian's poems, for which he was an enthusiast. I have always remembered that the novel also had its place in our talk. Bonaparte said that the tragic end of Paul and Virginia was the main cause of the interest their story excited.

We talked of happiness. He said that for a man it must lie in the greatest possible development of his faculties. At the time I did not know Condillac had said this, an I thought it dazzling.

We met every day, at the Chatelot or in my own home. I can still see him helping me  to make a bouquet of cornflowers. At that time I had been translating a little Italian poem on the fan, and I mentioned it to him. He said he had made a detailed study of the character of the fan. He saw in its fluctuations all those that swayed women themselves, an he had verified and confirmed his findings at the Theatre-Francais, watching the acting of Mlle Contat.

At the Chatelot we played parlour games, and in claiming a forfeit, I saw that man on his knees to me who was soon to see Europe at his. We danced rounds. Our compatriot Junot, then the general's aide-de-camp, later a general himself and Duke of Abrantes, bellowed the well-known round Mon berger n'est-il pas drole? and the glee was boisterous.

Napoleon in His Time, Jean Savant, pgs 22-23

[littlepawz]

Ahhh, this gives my type A soul a lot of joy!