Chapter 25
In the months that followed, Napoleon was no
longer picked on by Alexander and his friends. He was still
regarded as a social inferior by most of the fee-paying sons of
aristocrats, but their snobbishness was tempered by a grudging
respect for his victory on the field. Indeed, the victory was so
comprehensive that Napoleon was asked to recount it in front of his
class by Father Dupuy and it was used as an example in their
consideration of ancient siege-craft. Naturally, Alexander
suggested a few refinements of his own, to the scarcely concealed
contempt of Napoleon who comprehensively demolished his rival’s
contribution to the debate.
Now that he was no longer being bullied Napoleon
was free to concentrate on his education and his teachers were
pleased by the improvement in his attitude as well as his
performance. All the time Napoleon kept his focus on the coming
assessment for a place at the Royal Military School of Paris. He
studied the curriculum of the school and revised the appropriate
subjects thoroughly. Conscious of his small size, he made efforts
to exercise more.With his brilliant but prickly nature he seemed to
burn nervous energy, which worked against gaining weight and he was
constantly frustrated by his small stature.
As the 1784 autumn assessment drew closer, Napoleon
spent long hours in the stuffy heat of the library, reading and
memorising as much as he could. He was always mindful of Father
Dupuy’s advice that for those outside of the aristocracy, the only
route to achievement was through the Military School of Paris. The
sooner he received his passing-out certificate, and a commission in
the service of the French Crown, the sooner he could build a
meaningful career for himself.
On the day of the assessment the boys who had been
selected for testing waited in the library to be called in turn.
Napoleon had never doubted that he would be put forward for this
moment and while some of the others fretted and talked nervously,
he sat quite still with his arms folded, until at last his name was
called.
The visiting Inspector of Military Schools was a
veteran officer, Monsieur Keralio. Slender and stiff, he wore a
powdered wig and gave Napoleon a long, searching look with sharp
blue eyes before he indicated the chair opposite the director’s
desk. He had a folder open on the desk in front of him containing a
sheaf of notes.
‘Cadet Buona Parte, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
The inspector tapped the notes in front of him.
‘You have an interesting background. A Corsican Frenchman must be
something of a rare breed in a place like this.’
Napoleon smiled. ‘Yes, sir.’
The inspector looked at him keenly. ‘So which are
you? Corsican or French?’
‘Both, sir.’ Napoleon replied directly. ‘Just as
another man might be a Norman, or French Burgundian.’
‘But those regions have long been part of France,
unlike Corsica. They have no Paoli to agitate for their
independence. Your father fought with Paoli, did he not?’
‘Yes, sir.That was many years ago.Today he is in
the service of the Comte de Marbeuf in Ajaccio, and a loyal
Frenchman. As am I, sir.’
‘Good. I am satisfied with that,’ the inspector
said quietly.‘Now then, young man, why do you want to serve in His
Majesty’s forces?’
The inevitable question Napoleon had been
expecting, and like every other aspirant he had worked hard at
preparing his answer. ‘It’s a man’s life, sir. A chance for
adventure, perhaps some glory, and I love my country well enough to
want to protect her with my life.’
‘And which country would that be, Cadet Buona
Parte? You seem to avoid being specific.’
‘Why, France, sir.’
The inspector looked at him a moment before he
chuckled. ‘Fair enough. A careful answer, Cadet Buona Parte.You
have the guile to go far in this world.’
‘Guile?’ Napoleon coloured.
‘Guile, perhaps. But, it seems, not patience nor
complete self-control. ’
Napoleon bowed his head, ashamed that he had fallen
into the trap so easily.
The inspector leaned back and shuffled the papers
into a neat stack. ‘You may go.’
‘Go, sir? Is that all?’
‘Yes.’
Napoleon swallowed nervously. Most of the other
cadets had had far longer interviews than this. How dare the
inspector dismiss him after such a short and superficial
interrogation?
‘Did I pass the assessment, sir?’
‘That is for me to know and for you to find out in
due course, Cadet Buona Parte. Please send for the next candidate,
Cadet Poilieaux.’
Napoleon returned to the library and, having passed
on the summons, he took his seat again and waited for the
assessment procedure to be concluded.The last interviewee came back
to the library just as the beams of the late afternoon sun angled
through the window.
Footsteps approached down the corridor and the door
opened as Father Dupuy entered the library.
‘Gentlemen, the director will see the following
cadets. Boureillon, Pardedieu, Buona Parte, Salicere and
Bresson.The rest of you are dismissed.’
While the other cadets filed out of the room
Napoleon felt a surge of joy course through his veins. He had been
accepted. He must have been. Unless it was those who were quitting
the room who had passed and now the director was about to break the
bad news to the rejects. Once the five named boys remained, Father
Dupuy held the door open and waved the boys out into the
corridor.
As he passed by Napoleon whispered, ‘Did I
pass?’
‘All in good time,’ Father Dupuy replied flatly.
‘The director will inform you of the result.’
They made their way to the director’s office in a
silence that belied their nervousness. As they approached the door,
it swung open and the inspector stepped out into the hall.
‘Thank you, once again, sir,’ he bowed. ‘It is
always a pleasure to visit Brienne.’
‘The pleasure is ours, Monsieur Keralio,’ the
director replied from within.
The inspector turned at the sound of footsteps and
nodded to them as the cadets took their places on a bench outside
the room and Father Dupuy disappeared into the director’s study.
‘Gentlemen, I look forward to meeting you again some day.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Napoleon replied.
The inspector smiled, then turned away and marched
down the corridor towards the main entrance. Father Dupuy emerged
through the door and looked down at Napoleon. ‘You first.’
Napoleon rose quickly, took a deep breath and
marched inside. The director looked up as the cadet stood to
attention in front of his desk.
‘It seems you have made something of an impression
upon my friend the inspector.’ He lifted a sheet of paper from the
desk and began to read. ‘“Cadet Buona Parte’s constitution and
health are excellent; his character is obedient, amenable, honest,
grateful; his conduct is perfectly regular. He is good academically
but his fencing and dancing are very poor.”’The director smiled.
‘Not all good news then.’
Napoleon shrugged. He’d just have to avoid
sword-fighting and social foreplay if he was to have a successful
career.
‘Of course, the inspector was basing most of his
assessment on the reports of your teachers and could not know your,
ah, quality as well as I do. So, he has passed you. You have been
awarded a place at the Military School of Paris commencing next
autumn. That is, assuming you wish to accept the place?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Very well, Cadet Buona Parte. That will be all.
You are dismissed.’
Outside the office, as the next cadet entered for
his debriefing, Napoleon shook hands with Father Dupuy, a huge
smile splitting his thin face.
‘I take it you were successful, then?’ Father Dupuy
teased him. ‘I’m proud of you, Buona Parte.You’ve come a long way.
Further than you think.’