he officer, Napoleon Bonaparte, who in an
imperious tone of voice exclaimed: "Send away that woman, who comes here
with her camp impudence." This was in 1782.

Bonaparte and I were eight years of, age when our friendship commenced.
It speedily became very intimate, for there was a certain sympathy of
heart between us. I enjoyed this friendship and intimacy until 1784,
when he was transferred from the Military College of Brienne to that of
Paris. I was one among those of his youthful comrades who could best
accommodate themselves to his stern character. His natural reserve, his
disposition to meditate on the conquest of Corsica, and the impressions
he had received in childhood respecting the misfortunes of his country
and his family, led him to seek retirement, and rendered his general
demeanour, though in appearance only, somewhat unpleasing. Our equality
of age brought us together in the classes of the mathematics and 'belles
lettres'. His ardent wish to acquire knowledge was remarkable from the
very commencement of his studies. When he first came to the college he
spoke only the Corsican dialect, and the Sieur Dupuis,

--[He afterwards filled the pout of librarian to Napoleon at
Malmaison.]--

who was vice-principal before Father Berton, gave him instructions in the
French language. In this he made such rapid progress that in a short
time he commenced the first rudiments of Latin. But to this study he
evinced such a repugnance that at the age of fifteen he was not out of
the fourth class. There I left him very speedily; but I could never get
before him in the mathematical class, in which he was undoubtedly the
cleverest lad at the college. I used sometimes to help him with his
Latin themes and versions in return for the aid he afforded me in the
solution of problems, at which he evinced a degree of readiness and
facility which perfectly astonished me.

When at Brienne, Bonaparte was remarkable for the dark color of his
complexion (which, subsequently, the climate of France somewhat changed),
for his piercing and scrutinising glance, and for the style of his
conversation both with his masters and comrades. His conversation almost
always bore the appearance of ill-humour, and he was certainly not very
amiable. This I attribute to the misfortunes his family had sustained
and the impressions made on his mind by the conquest of his country.

The pupils were invited by turns to dine with Father Berton, the head of