m. Particularly
noteworthy is the letter to his uncle begging him to intervene so as
to prevent Joseph Buonaparte from taking up a military career. Joseph,
writes the younger brother, would make a good garrison officer, as he
was well formed and clever at frivolous compliments--"good therefore
for society, but for a fight--?"

Napoleon's determination had been noticed by his teachers. They had
failed to bend his will, at least on important points. In lesser
details his Italian adroitness seems to have been of service; for the
officer who inspected the school reported of him: "Constitution,
health excellent: character submissive, sweet, honest, grateful:
conduct very regular: has always distinguished himself by his
application to mathematics: knows history and geography passably: very
weak in accomplishments. He will be an excellent seaman: is worthy to
enter the School at Paris." To the military school at Paris he was
accordingly sent in due course, entering there in October, 1784. The
change from the semi-monastic life at Brienne to the splendid edifice
which fronts the Champ de Mars had less effect than might have
been expected in a youth of fifteen years. Not yet did he become
French in sympathy. His love of Corsica and hatred of the French
monarchy steeled him against the luxuries of his new surroundings.
Perhaps it was an added sting that he was educated at the expense of
the monarchy which had conquered his kith and kin. He nevertheless
applied himself with energy to his favourite studies, especially
mathematics. Defective in languages he still was, and ever remained;
for his critical acumen in literature ever fastened on the matter
rather than on style. To the end of his days he could never write
Italian, much less French, with accuracy; and his tutor at Paris not
inaptly described his boyish composition as resembling molten granite.
The same qualities of directness and impetuosity were also fatal to
his efforts at mastering the movements of the dance. In spite of
lessons at Paris and private lessons which he afterwards took at
Valence, he was never a dancer: his bent was obviously for the exact
sciences rather than the arts, for the geometrical rather than the
rhythmical: he thought, as he moved, in straight lines, never in
curves.

The death of his father during the year which the youth spent at Paris
sharpened his sense of responsibility towards his seven younger
brothers and sisters. His own poverty must h