the fine Corsican youth for the regiment of
La Fere. But there is no record of any success in the enterprise.
Among the letters which he wrote was one dated April first, 1787, to
the renowned Dr. Tissot of Lausanne, referring to his correspondent's
interest in Paoli, and asking advice concerning the treatment of the
canon's gout. The physician never replied, and the epistle was found
among his papers marked "unanswered and of little interest." The old
ecclesiastic listened to his nephew's patriotic tirades, and even
approved; Mme. de Buonaparte coldly disapproved. She would have
preferred calmer, more efficient common sense. Not that her son was
inactive in her behalf; on the contrary, he began a series of busy
representations to the provincial officials which secured some
good-will and even trifling favor to the family. But the results were
otherwise unsatisfactory, for the mulberry money was not paid.

Napoleon's zeal for study was not in the least abated in the
atmosphere of home. Joseph in his memoirs says the reunited family was
happy in spite of troubles. There was reciprocal joy in their
companionship and his long absent brother was glad in the pleasures
both of home and of nature so congenial to his feelings and his
tastes. The most important part of Napoleon's baggage appears to have
been the books, documents, and papers he brought with him. That he had
collections on Corsica has been told. Joseph says he had also the
classics of both French and Latin literature as well as the
philosophical writings of Plato; likewise, he thinks, Ossian and
Homer. In the "Discourse" presented not many years later to the Lyons
Academy and in the talks at St. Helena, Napoleon refers to his
enjoyment of nature at this time; to the hours spent in the grotto, or
under the majestic oak, or in the shade of the olive groves, all parts
of the sadly neglected garden of Milleli some distance from the house
and belonging to his mother; to his walks on the meadows among the
lowing herds; to his wanderings on the shore at sunset, his return by
moonlight, and the gentle melancholy which unbidden enveloped him in
spite of himself. He savored the air of Corsica, the smell of its
earth, the spicy breezes of its thickets, he would have known his home
with his eyes shut, and with them open he found it the earthly
paradise. Yet all the while he was busy, very busy, partly with good
reading, partly in the study of history, and in large measure with