1The writing of the life of Napoleone Buonaparte (sic) took off in 1797, at the same time as his career. And the language of that writing was English. Though Anne Plumptre (writing in English in 1810 – more of whom later) was to refer to numerous writings on Napoleon in France [1], there were none to rival the major contemporary biographical works produced in English (culminating with Van Ess’s mighty nine-volume series on the emperor’s life published from 1808-1813). Indeed, the jobbing, French author of the –ana series, Charles-Yves Cousin d’Avallon, noted in 1801 in the very positive pamphlet on the First Consul entitled Bonapartiana [2] that there was a relative penury of information on the subject in French. Given this situation, much of what was published in English was translated into French, thus providing French readers with biographical information unavailable to them. [3] Since these English works were so widely read they became bedrock of details on Napoleon’s life for all subsequent writers of the Napoleon story, both legendary and otherwise, and sometimes unbeknownst to those writers themselves. The aim of this paper is to discuss these contemporary English-language publications on Napoleon, with their sometimes carefully dosed and sometimes random mixtures of fact and fiction, and to see how far they can be useful to today’s historians of Napoleon.

2This is not a topic which has been much studied. The earliest monographic treatment in English I have identified of such matters was written, in 1914, by F. J. MacCunn, then lecturer in history at Glasgow University. It is full study of the British (though he called it English) view of Napoleon as seen by the people of the Corsican’s time. [4] MacCunn explicitly acknowledges his debt to the great ‘Whig’ historians of his time, namely John Holland Rose and H.A.L. Fisher, and he had a decided opinion on what was, and was not, an appropriate source. His positivist view was that chronological distance lends clarity to the view, and that therefore most documents contemporary with Napoleon were “so discoloured with passion as to be barely recognizable”, “influenced” as they were, “by momentary […] prejudice”. [5] “Contemporary history” [i.e., that contemporary with the events it describes], he went on to assert, “lacks the criterion of truth”. [6] He therefore avoided analysis of the contemporary biographical works and pamphlets, preferring to discuss the “principal authorities of the period”, in other words, the “speeches of the really great politicians, Pitt, Fox, Sheridan, [and] Windham”, [7] thereby hoping to avoid excess. Nearly one hundred years later, Stuart Semmel made a similar attempt to grasp the attitude of Britain towards Napoleon, only this time throwing caution to winds and delving directly into the morass of what MacCunn calls ultra-writing, hoping thereby to discover diverse aspects of Britishness. [8] My aim has been different. I have returned to this extraordinarily rich seam with aim of identifying the birth of legendary aspects typical to the story of Napoleon. At the same time I have attempted to identify elements which have been ignored by modern biographers of Napoleon but which are more than germane to the story, that possess the “criterion of truth”. In this essay, I have selected some exceedingly early biographical writing on Napoleon (1797, 1800 and 1804) and then some later writings (1808-1810), all however written before the 1815 watershed. Whilst MacCunn is correct to underline how these documents can resemble quick sand, it is possible, I would contend, that by comparing them to the accepted scholarship of today, to identify elements upon which weight can be placed. And unlike MacCunn, I would urge here that temporal proximity lends detail to the view.

3The first known short book on Napoleon (counting only 46 pages) is in fact on his school life and entitled “Some account of the early years of Buonaparte, at the Military School of Brienne; and of his conduct at the commencement of the French Revolution. By Mr C. H. one of his schoolfellows” [9] Mr C. H. has been identified by Arthur Chuquet as possibly the son of a “capitaine des chasses du prince Xavier de Saxe”, Cuming de Craigmillen, a religious who had come to teach at Brienne shortly after Napoleon had left the school. [10] This exceedingly rare publication was almost immediately to be translated into French by Jean-François Bourgoing, later a First Empire diplomat. [11] The pamphlet was discussed in the 1798-volume of The Critical review, or, Annals of Literature, [12] a periodical edited by Tobias Smollett, and the reviewer felt that this version of “Napoleon, the early years” did not give a foretaste of the later genius. However, typical elements of the legendary Napoleon can already be seen: that he was “reserved and insocial (sic), blunt in his manners, bold, enterprising and even ferocious; and that he gave no earnest of that ‘moderation towards his enemies’ for which he is here [i.e., in Britain] celebrated. The author is apparently charmed by his subject – perhaps more than his readers will be, when they balance the victories in Italy with the quackery of the general in Egypt”. Chuquet accepted that the source rang true. [13] Perhaps precisely the lack of emphasis on the “foretaste of genius” would imply verisimilitude. We might be justified in placing a little more weight on these ‘legendary’ characteristics of Napoleon. They could even not be false. Vincent Cronin in his biography of Napoleon used this work as his source for Napoleon’s time at Brienne.

4Almost simultaneously with “Some account” there appeared a biographical sketch of Napoleon in another British publication, namely, the anonymous “Biographical anecdotes of the founders of the French Republic: and of the other eminent characters, who have distinguished themselves in the progress of the Revolution” (firstly after September, 1797 and then again in 1799 in an augmented edition). [14] The first edition of Biographical anecdotes was published with an introduction, dated the 24^th, discussing the fallout of the Fructidor coup d’État which had taken place about three weeks earlier. And it is claimed in the preface that the details were “in great part… furnished by Frenchmen”. [15] In the first volume, alongside that of Napoleon stand biographies of other military men (Augereau, Hoche, Massena, Jourdan, Moreau, Pichegru, Rusca, Saliceti, Valence) as well as politicians (Barras, Carnot, Barrère, Barthelémy, Cambon, Garat, etc.). This brief account of the life of Napoleon Bonaparte is very “golden legend” in style. [16] After an introduction noting how revolutions often threw up great generals, Epaminondas and Leonidas (inter alios) from Greece, Brutus and Scaevola from Rome, then Benjamin Franklin and George Washington from America, we are told that following Dumourier, Jourdan and Moreau there is Bonaparte who “by uniting the warrior and the statesman in his own person, had consummated the glory of his adopted country”. [17] This is a striking statement of contemporary admiration for he who had not yet become First Consul. And yet, in addition to rhetorical flourishes and a host of incorrect smaller details (some of which recur as aspects of the legend), we can also identify elements which are accepted today as correct, supposedly derived from a “near relation of the family”: [18] the closeness of Napoleon’s father to Paoli, [19] the intimacy of the family and notably Napoleon’s mother with the French governor of Corsica, Marbeuf, especially after the death of Carlo. Napoleon is said to be a studious child particularly in mathematics, [20] always with a copy of Plutarch’s Lives in his pocket. He is said to have come twelfth out of the thirty-six successful in the contest for a commission in an artillery regiment. [21] He then entered the La Fère regiment. The unsuccessful mission to the island of Maddelena is mentioned. Then after the Bonaparte family flight to France, Napoleon’s links first to Saliceti and then Barras are highlighted – the matter leading to the former’s promotion to General of Artillery (from Chef de Brigade). Subsequently, the success at Toulon is not only advantageous to Napoleon but also Barras. A curious anecdote is recounted concerning the Vendemiaire uprising. That Barras was appointed military commander and that Barras appointed not Bonaparte but Gentili as his superintendent of the army. Napoleon later replaced Gentili since the former was said to be deaf. The biographer praises however Napoleon’s moderation in the pursuance of what was a civil war. Then comes an account of the First Italian Campaign, pride of place being given to the action at Lodi bridge, where the intrepidity of Bonaparte outstrips that of Berthier, Masséna and Cervoni. In what seems to be a confusion of the Arcole bridge incident, he is said to have snatched “a standard from a subaltern, like Caesar, on a similar occasion, placed himself in front, animating his soldiers by his actions and gesticulations – for his voice was drowned in the noise of the cannon and musketry – Victory once more arranged herself under Gallic banners.” Even Josephine is mentioned, Barras having “extended his protection to the widow [Josephine] defending her from certain death at the hands of the Comité de salut public.” In 1797, Napoleon’s victory is ascribed to the fact that his “mistress was the Commonwealth and [his] companion was Plutarch!” And the quality of his statesmanship is highlighted through his avenging of the murder of French citizens, the annihilation of the aristocracy of Venice, the organisation of the administration of Genoa, the Holy See and Pope Pius VI humbled. “Such is the summary of the political efforts and martial achievements of a General, who has as yet scarcely attained the 30^th year of his age!” [22] He is “small of stature’, has a “spare habit of body” though he is robust. His complexion olive, his eyes blue, his chin prominent, his forehead “square and projecting”. “In respect to mind, he possesses uncommon attainments. He converses freely, and without pedantry, on all subjects, and writes and speaks with fluency and eloquence. Above all things, he has attempted, and in a great measure obtained, the mastery over his passions. He is abstemious at his meals, and was never seen, in the slightest degree, intoxicated; he possesses many friends but has no minions; and preserves an inviolable secrecy, by means of a rigorous silence, far better than other men do by a loquacious hypocrisy.” [23]

5This English work is surprising for its laudatory pose – particularly in a year when the French had invaded Ireland and there was a British government crackdown on anything smacking of Revolutionary politics - and also for the way in which it lays the foundation of the myth. The reference to Plutarch (Paoli is said to have described Napoleon as a figure from the Greek author’s lives), the sobriety, the Arcole bridge incident, the potent marriage of political acumen and military genius. The Biographical Anecdotes would appear to have found a public since the second volume (of 1798) talked of huge popularity and foreign language translations, and a second augmented first volume was to appear a year later. [24] Barré, the author of a decidedly critical biography of Napoleon published in 1804 (more of which later) noted that the Biographical Anecdotes “have greatly imposed upon the public concerning many other characters, who have acted a conspicuous part in the French Revolution.”

6Is it then surprising that, with accounts of this sort, those at the head of radical politics in England, notably Charles James Fox thought of Napoleon as a sort of French Washington, a moderate man who would not seize power by force? And that when Napoleon did do precisely that, Fox would excuse him by saying that military men were often disposed to taking all power into their own hands – Washington too had been a military man. [25] William Burdon too, soon to publish a biography of Napoleon (1804), in the radical journal Cambridge Intelligencer would hail Napoleon in 1800 as a moderate who would “reconcile all parties”. [26]

7But the British public was not to be regaled only with generalities. The ‘liberal’ reader could have gleaned fascinating behind-the-scenes notes on meetings of the Directory. For a British bookseller and author, John Wright of Piccadilly, London, thought that a book on the Coup d’état of 18 Fructidor (4 September, 1797), of which Lazare Carnot, the regicide Republican, was the high-profile victim, would be of interest. Now since Carnot had published his defence in French in 1799 (it had been written in exile outside France and then published possibly in London), [27] this was to be translated into English and included in Wright’s book (amongst other translations) the following year. [28] The sections in which Carnot speaks of his relations with Bonaparte give the English-speaking public a fascinating view of politics within the Directory itself and the clash between two of the directors (the author and Napoleon’s supposed friend, Barras). One thing that comes out of Carnot’s treatment is that he stands by (relatively speaking) his alliance with the successful general, claiming (most surprisingly to modern readers) that it was he, Carnot, (and not Barras, as Barras later claimed) who appointed Bonaparte as general in chief of the army of Italy at the end of 1795, and that by 1797 Carnot alone in the Directory was Napoleon’s supporter, that Barras was really Napoleon’s sworn enemy, that during Directorial meetings Barras did not support Napoleon’s diplomacy at Campoformio (unlike Carnot) and that Barras made disparaging remarks about someone dear to Napoleon (could that be Josephine, once Barras’s lover?). [29]

8The ‘traditional/legendary’ accounts of Napoleon’s life give Barras, Napoleon’s initial patron and the contact through which he met his wife, as the nominator and friend. And as one recent biographer of Napoleon, Stephen Englund, has pointed out, Napoleon gives the impression of cynicism when he backed the Fructidor coup and abandoned Carnot. [30] Given this situation and since Carnot’s ‘Reply’ is the work of a bitter man, betrayed by his political enemies, one would expect Carnot to have a go at Napoleon. He does not. Indeed if we take Carnot’s remarks at face value, we get fascinating illumination of two things. The first is the ambivalence of the relationship between Napoleon and Barras, Barras who was enthusiastic for Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign (seen by contemporaries as the distancing of a dangerous rival) and Napoleon who spared Barras not at all after Brumaire. Is it significant that during the Fructidor coup of 97, Barras did not give the desired positive reply to his ‘friend’s’ repeated letters asking for a break from military service? [31] The second is Napoleon’s (surprising?) nomination of the arch-Republican Carnot as his first minister of war in the new Consular regime. We could see this appointment as not only an attempt to present an all-party face to the opponents of the Brumaire coup (as is generally believed), but also perhaps an expression of political trust and mutual satisfaction – they were certainly to be committed collaborators in 1815 when the ‘patrie’ was once again ‘en danger’. [32] This event is clearly important in the biography of Napoleon. William Barré in his 1804 biography makes great sport of it. It is however absent in that by Vincent Cronin and as mentioned above Steven Englund makes Bonaparte Carnot’s enemy. Not even Holland Rose thought the Carnot connection worth discussing; Madelin in his third volume discusses everybody except Carnot. [33] Whilst the reasons John Wright would have had for publishing an account of the Fructidor coup d’État would appear to be to disparage French Revolutionary politics – Wright’s shop was in 1798-99 known as “the morning resort of Pitt’s friends” [34] and the rest of the volume (parts 2, 3 and 4) are devoted to the hardships of those deported to Cayenne namely director Barthélemy, Pichegru, Willot, Marbois, etc.) – the light thrown on the early career of Napoleon and his participation in a coup before Brumaire is unmistakeable.

9Two biographies of Napoleon were to appear in 1804, one by William Burdon of Morpeth and the other by Franco-German émigré William Vincent Barré. [35] Burdon had been relatively favourable to Napoleon before the peace of Amiens, but along with other liberal Britons changed his allegiance after the collapse of the peace, coming to consider the French emperor a despot. [36] Now Barré’s work is ultra-writing (the DNB calls it a scurrilous attack on Napoleon), and his life story suggests why he would have penned such a tirade. Franco-German by birth, William Barré volunteered to join the French army for the First Italian campaign in 1796. Coming to the notice of Bonaparte since he was polyglot, Barré claims to have become Napoleon’s personal interpreter. After writing some satirical verses about the First Consul, Barré is said to have been forced to flee France, arriving in England in 1803 (after an adventurous escape). His first project on arrival (though he must have begun the work before leaving France) was a history of the consulate and Napoleon himself. Writing seven years after the first known work on Napoleon, Barré is now conscious of his position within a tradition. And he explicitly acknowledges this, criticising both the life in the Biographical Anecdotes and its sources, claiming greater accuracy. [37] In amongst the vitriol, he brings up nevertheless interesting points – some tittle-tattle, some important and others legendary, for example: the violent reprisals taken by the Revolutionary armies against the Fédérés after the taking of Toulon in which Napoleon played a part; Lucien Napoleon’s brother is said to be paying court to Lafayette’s daughter; Napoleon is said to be of the same sexual orientation as Cambaceres. Incidentally, this latter is interesting not because it is true, but because gives a source and a date for the intended slur (unknown it would appear to participants on the napoleonseries blog in 2006). It is contemporary with Napoleon, like that on Marbeuf’s special relationship with Napoleon’s mother, and it emerges from the context of ultra-writing. Other interesting remarks appear in Barré’s discussion of the First Italian campaign; Barré is not wrong to highlight the brilliant contribution of generals Joubert, Masséna, Augereau and Serrurier, and that this was subsequently played down by Napoleon himself. [38] He even reports a conversation with Augereau where the latter badmouthed Bonaparte claiming the success of the First Italian Campaign entirely for himself. It is of course fascinating that Augereau should have doubted Napoleon and said so to Carnot. And so Barré goes on for 535 pages. Barré even plays on both sides of the pitch (in classic diatribe fashion), launching both reactionary and ‘disappointed liberal’ critiques. He is just ‘contre’. But this does not prevent him from raising interesting debates. I would argue that passing Barré’s remarks through the sieve of currently accepted knowledge of the Napoleon can shed interesting new light.

10I shall deal only very briefly with my final three works (for reasons of time), Van-Ess’s massive biography published in nine volumes over seventeen years starting in 1806, [39] Anne Plumptre’s appendix on Napoleon [40] and John Scott Byerley’s “close analogy between the principles of Machiavelli and the action of Buonaparte” [41] (both coming out in 1810). All three works are measured in their criticism of the consul/emperor, Anne Plumptre least critical of all, her purpose being to defend Napoleon from calumny. Plumptre’s 172 pages devoted to her hero are arranged in three parts, one a history of Napoleon’s early years sourced from a Corsican in Paoli’s entourage who had lived in Britain, the second a reply to the famous contemporary criticisms of Napoleon as war criminal (notably at Binasco in 1796 and Jaffa in 1799), and a third (ironically) on the danger of ultra-writing and the hobby-horses of British critics of the imperial regime in France, namely, freedom of speech, conscription, the disposition of the French people toward Napoleon, the perception of the elevation to the imperial dignity, and the conspiracies (Pichegru, Moreau, and Cadoudal). Whilst much of the second and third parts is a casuistic defence of Napoleon against his British critics, the first part (chapter XVI) includes some fascinating details on Napoleon’s early life and his political activities on Corsica, notably the account of an officer who had fought under Paoli who was introduced to Napoleon, Joseph and Lucien in 1790, who supposedly fired them with a fascination for the British constitution of 1688. [42] And Napoleon in his letter to Buttafoco of January 1791 [43] famously invoked (inter alios) Lafayette as a founding father of the Revolution, Lafayette who was at that time a supporter of a sort of constitutional monarchy ‘à l’anglaise’…

11John Scott Byerley is more critical than Plumptre but he remains warily admiring, encouraging an altogether more practical, indeed Machiavellian approach to Napoleon – since Napoleon has been successful by following the theories laid out by the Italian author in his work The Prince and his Reflections on the First Decade of Livy, if we the British are to beat him (he notes), we must use the same author. His contention however that Napoleon read and used Machiavelli is persuasive and well-argued, notably regarding the Corsican’s policies towards the Holy See which (Byerley contends convincingly) seem almost to have taken the Florentine theorist’s Livian text as their starting point. [44] Thierry Lentz has come to a similar conclusion recently (though without citing Byerley) with respect to the preponderant (though not explicit) influence of Machiavelli on Napoleon, and I have written elsewhere on the subject noting (with Byerley) that Napoleon’s Machiavellianism comes to him in part via Rousseau. [45]

12Willem Van-Ess is on the other hand very scholarly and modern, producing period documents whenever possible to back up his moderate argument. This use of period documents is of course of primary importance for historians today. I have selected two striking examples, but there are doubtless others scattered throughout the nine volumes. In his fourth volume, Van-Ess has an in-depth discussion of the Marengo campaign. In addition to a long extract from an eyewitness account of the battle, on page 6, he gives a translation in English of a letter from Napoleon to the Second and Third Consuls, Cambaceres and Lebrun, using it to prove that Napoleon knew of Massena’s capitulation, his subsequent concentration in-between Savona and Oneglia, and the possibility of his junction with Suchet. These troops, could, in Napoleon’s opinion have operated a diversion on Melas’ rear. The interest of this letter, published in English in 1809, is that the French version was not published in Napoleon III’s correspondence or any subsequent collection of Napoleon’s letters (not even the Fondation’s recent edition…) – it presumably remains in a private collection somewhere. Consequently, it is a primary source for the history of the Battle of Marengo. Again in volume four, there is a letter to the prefect of the Vendée which does not appear to have been published elsewhere. (p. 58). Van-Ess’s biography of Napoleon is therefore of primary importance for the scholar of Napoleon.

13There are several implications to be drawn from this selective and exceedingly brief survey. [46]

14- These English-language sources in general precede some of the French sources of the same type and some were even written by French or sourced from France or Corsica. They are consequently of interest for the reconstitution of the life story of Napoleon Bonaparte.

15- These writings have largely been ignored in the writing of history of Napoleon; they are unknown to French authors. They have perhaps been ignored because they have been thought of as ultra-writing. However, even when they are examples of ultra-writing (such Barré negatively and Plumptre positively), if they are compared with the modern consensus on the history of Napoleon analytical weight can be placed upon them.

16- And even when they are transmitters of purely legendary elements, tittle-tattle, or slurs, these writings are useful in that they give a historical context for a particular theme. We can see from this survey, for example, that gossip concerning Letizia’s affair with Marbeuf and Napoleon’s homosexuality were brickbats hurled by contemporaries.

17I would also argue that when viewed carefully, “contemporary history” does not “lack the criterion of truth”.