During the winter of 1783-84, so memorable for heavy falls of snow, Napoleon was greatly at a loss for those retired walks and outdoor recreations in which he used to take much delight.  He had no alternative but to mingle with his comrades, and, for exercise, to walk with them up and down a spacious hall.  Napoleon, weary of this monotonous promenade, told his comrades that he thought they might amuse themselves much better with the snow, in the great courtyard, if they would get shovels and make hornworks, dig trenches, raise parapets, cavaliers, etc.  “This being done,” said he, “we may divide ourselves into sections, form a siege, and I will undertake to direct the attacks.”  The proposal, which was received with enthusiasm, was immediately put into execution.  This little sham war was carried on for the space of a fortnight, and did not cease until a quantity of gravel and small stones having got mixed with the snow of which we made our bullets, many of the combatants, besiegers as well as besieged, were seriously wounded.  I well remember that I was one of the worst sufferers from this sort of grapeshot fire.

It is almost unnecessary to contradict the story about the ascent in the balloon.  It is now very well known that the hero of that headlong adventure was not young Bonaparte, as has been alleged, but one of his comrades, Dudont de Chambon, who was somewhat eccentric.  Of this his subsequent conduct afforded sufficient proofs.

Bonaparte’s mind was directed to objects of a totally different kind.  He turned his attention to political science.  During some of his vacations he enjoyed the society of the Abby Raynal, who used to converse with him on government, legislation, commercial relations, etc.

On festival days, when the inhabitants of Brienne were admitted to our amusements, posts were established for the maintenance of order.  Nobody was permitted to enter the interior of the building without a card signed by the principal, or vice-principal.  The rank of officers or sub-officers was conferred according to merit; and Bonaparte one day had the command of a post, when the following little adventure occurred, which affords an instance of his decision of character.

The wife of the porter of the school,

     —­[This woman, named Haute, was afterwards placed at Malmaison, with
     her husband.  They both died as concierges of Malmaison.  This shows
     that Napoleon had a memory.—­Bourrienne.]—­

who was very well known, because she used to sell milk, fruit, etc., to the pupils, presented herself one Saint Louis day for admittance to the representation of the ‘Death of Caesar, corrected’, in which I was to perform the part of Brutus.  As the woman had no ticket, and insisted on being admitted without one, some disturbance arose.  The serjeant of the post reported the matter to the 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.